I'm dressed, yes, maybe not dressed to impress, maybe not defined by society as the best, but let me stress that I carry myself for me and only me. I don't want 'em eyes, checking my size, and the other 'ish that runs through the minds of those consumed by their carnal desires. A fuel that's ignited and never to be satisfied for the soul craves a deeper craving. I can see it in your eyes, I can see those questions floating around in the room, words of nuns, ninjas and things making you feel as though your bling is a superior standing. As though before you is a vision of oppression, a victim of Osama's mess unable to see that in the land of the brave, home of stupidity I am undeniably free. Lemme take this second to define freedom, because until we're on the same level you'll never see me as human. Freedom is the right to preserve ones dignity to the highest calibre given to humanity.It's the ability to pick a path one is content with from the depths of their soul. It's choices we make for our own sake. Not the laws a nation imposes on us, trying to expose every last inch of flesh convincing us we're now liberated working nine to five, dinner at six, laundry, then hockey practice, oh wait, I think you missed it....... you just doubled your load now you're on night shift ! Honey, I won't judge you and you don't judge me. I don't hate you and you don't hate me. My mind is not limited to butterflies and fashion, no it's a mind challenged by upholding dignity and respect. If you never met one like me, the so called 'nun-jabi', then let it be known my life represents a path I chose. A love that I know. And though you don't get it, I ask you at least respect it. Rearrange those question marks, one back to front ʕʔ .......find the love to understand each other and we'll be on the path to healing homes and hearts beyond the capacity calculated by any man. For the heart is our vehicle of truth and justice....peace and contentment...the heart erases every colour, every race, every language, every place, the heart unites us to by a power beyond the scope of man. Let's make it pure, open our clenched fists and give out a hand. Let's make salaam, peace, a greeting spread only by Islam!
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Friday, July 18, 2008
Diagnosis: Verbal Diarrhea
What is the word of a man worth in this time?...
It's merely a ringing bell, a chime, sounds that are benign, that can't get past the hymn. It's a pleasantry upon the palate, beyond that it's just a malice. Words that are baseless, just spill and are tasteless. The words of a man should not be a mere noise or sound.It's a transaction, a receipt of interaction. It's a mark left to console, for the word of a real man is not just a word. It's an intent, it's a step into action. If you don't have your word, then you are nothing more than a soothsayers attraction. Define character by making your talk walk, and not just your talk rock. Words that move come with proof of it's groove. A rare quality to find in these times, where all talk does is talk, and all walk does is get your ego in a buzz. Make the words that you utter be the truth in its entirety.Let it be more than just a disillusioned piety but rather an adjective designed to elevate your weight by the Power of the Most High.C'mon, make your soul fly!!
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