Monday, April 23, 2012

In His Footsteps

I live in the shadow of my brother
I am the dusk, he is the glorious dawn
                         — golden and resplendent
I harbour a great sad love for him
much like a rock who yearns to fly
                      — a rock is not alive, I am not alive.

My failures hold trials against me in my heart
where they are judge, jury and persecutor
                      — I stand alone
Half of my being is against me
My witness is but my voiceless body
                     — caged, I am muffled in my chest

I look for his elusive footsteps
in the sands of time, they burn brighter still.


Note: Abang, if you're reading this (because you're known to occasionally lurk around these parts), don't think of anything and just walk away. *segan*

This came to me earlier this afternoon as I was reading Kundera's Life is Elswhere. Sometimes, while reading and pondering what is said in the book, in the dragnet of my musings a poem pops up and here's one of them. So yeah, that's all I'm saying about it.

Friday, April 20, 2012


I present to you a ring of ivory
inscribed on it is my fealty.
Nothing that walks this universe
may tarnish my loyalty.
If you, after many an eternity
decide to call upon me
and seek from me empathy
I will yield
I will yield to you as light to darkness.

Sunday, April 15, 2012

The finitude of things

Shadows move, clouds move
blood flows as do air
leaves fall, so does hair.

Conversations end, roads end
seasons change as do friends
they move on, we move on.

Seconds tick by, today dies
you grow old as your coffee colds
the dead, their voices fade.

Life crumbles
all that remains is dust
what say you of its quietness?

Saturday, April 14, 2012

Away With This World

Not even the will to care how this reads
My audience is myself, I cater to only me
And this evening, I loathe my spectator.

Away with your idle chatter, your pedestrian talk
I rule my solitariness, I own my speak
Not a word to me of your stale fancies
You can dispute my repute all you want
I refuse to house your half-baked head;
                   there's only room for my own.

Your banalities are not mine
My wonders are not yours, so be it.
I dictate this malevolence to myself
I will not entertain you, so be gone!
Away with this world;
                   I've endured enough.

Friday, April 13, 2012

To she who plays us;

A game of chess played not to win
but for the sake of the pawns.
To tempt us to master ourselves
but pawns we are, nonetheless.
Do not despair when we depart
in servitude to you, starveling.
Take out instead, the King.

Thursday, April 12, 2012

The Sea

I left the city to swallow the Sea
To watch light flee and dive over her edge
To rest my ears upon her melody
And haul my dead thoughts by a rusty kedge.

Knelt at her feet, caressed her foamy dress
The glee by which she received my cleaved chest
Crushed my breath with a wave of happiness.
Inhibitions sunk, all my woes confessed.

Night came swiftly as I silently brood
Of staying. Stolen cindered stones bearing
echoes of  the throes of my solitude.
By the Sea, in the Sea, lies my mooring.

She whistled my name, I choked a reply
Eye to eye, I bade a drunken goodbye.


Note: First attempt at a sonnet (14 lines, ten syllables per line, last two lines a rhyming couplet, abab cdcd efef gg)

Tuesday, April 10, 2012


If I could find it in my heart the sincerity
to strip myself and succumb entirely
to the poetry of Your mercy, and rid myself
of my vanity, my poverty, my hypocrisy
I shall be within reach of Happiness
in this illusory reality

This heart of mine is hollow
it seeks excuses to wallow
in empty existence, futile destinations
So I trace Light in the words sent from the Sky
hoping to see what the eyes cannot see
in this ever-darkening age

So that I could make You my Home
and stop missing my homeland
So that I could make You my Universe
and stop wasting my Love
So that I could make You my Life
and stop wasting my breath

I no longer wish to curse myself
and pledge my Muse to Roman candles
that do nothing but burn, burn, burn
Having exhausted myself, I am out of wick
The pool of liquid desire in the crucible
of my waxen chest had drunk itself dry

Surely, the Fear of regressing impales me
yet I am done decaying, bitterly unmoving
The skin of my mind is scarred
by the razors of slothfulness
I would rather throw the knives of my sins
into the air and let them stab me everywhere

Let me bleed every drop of ill-deed
and purge every lawless urge
This is the time for Justice
I will cower no more
For the One that feeds the birds
shall provide for me too

Saturday, April 7, 2012


This is ironic. In my previous post (like an hour ago lol) I mentioned my giving up on talking yeah? Well get this, I've just spent the last 45 minutes talking to the 'woman sleeping on my doorstep' (as mentioned in previous post). She said she's waiting for a friend of hers to get back but she's not sure if her friend's at home since it's the holidays.

I only went out to give her some bread and a baked oat slice but we ended up talking. I spent quite a while peeping through the peep-hole deciding whether I should go out or not and then she waved at me & that made me feel silly so I just went out & gave her the food. I wondered if you could see people peeping from the outside and figured that she probably could hear me walking in my rustling tracks. Go figure.

First things first, she's paranoid. Like for real, DSMV-VI  textbook paranoid. Told me she's on the run from corrupted police. Likened them to the mobster, mafia, trying to "get at her", "bad people chasing me down" etc. Repeatedly corrected herself saying "Oh, I really shouldn't have told you that" as she kept on talking. Some more words she used to describe them: vigilantes, neighbourhood-watch-sort-of-thing, like the CIA but bad, etc. How she's been estranged from her family. Her sister, who kept calling her and emailing her when she absolutely wanted no contact because she's worried bad people will find out where she is. From all the things (numerous I think I've included enough to paint the picture) she said, what I can piece together is this: She haven't been paying rent, she basks in the city doing fortune telling, pretty much homeless. Oh, she even said that these people chasing her down might fancy her because she's pretty (she was quite pretty, but the cap shadowed her eyes too much), said that they might even have a fanclub dedicated for her. Hyeapp.

God preserve me, I haven't the words to really describe this whole thing but I feel it's important to type this down because we also talked of religion, of Islam in particular. 

Said she's a former Christian, now she's into New Age. She had a battered copy of Bhagavad Gita with her so I asked her if that's why she's reading it, she said yes. We talked about Jesus. Today's Good Friday so we talked about that at length. She doesn't approve I guess of being sad on Good Friday. Talked about the crucifixion (a lot about this). About how she believes that maybe Jesus's body was switched. I told her of how Jesus is really our prophet Isa in Islam and that he's not really son of God and that the one that died wasn't him but a bad guy made to look like him and she really dug that. Talked some about Buddhism, Sufism (just a teency bit, asked her if she knows anything about it she said a little because of the New Age thing she's into) etc.

Then, we talked of Islam quite at length. The subject came about because she noted that I came home pretty late (it was 11 something when I got back and discovered her sleeping at my doorstep) and asked me if I was up studying at uni. Told her I just got back from an Islamic conference (Twins of Faith fyi) at the building behind the Melbourne Museum. She really approved of that, said how that's really good. Said she likes that Australians are cool with things like that and I told her that people are nice here.

She repeatedly told me how kind I am giving her food and telling her she could just knock on the door if something comes up. I told her well, I'm a Muslim, it is our religion to be merciful. Told her that my being kind to her she could in turn be kind to someone else later, "like a pay-it-forward kind of thing" I said. She really liked that. We talked about tolerance for people with different religion backgrounds & how she doesn't like it when some atheists have a go at her etc. I explained to her that Islam is a monotheistic religion, that there's only one God. 

Then she dropped a bomb by asking, "In Islam, are there evil people?" asked me what we think of the concept as Muslims. I told her that I suppose people who do bad things are those who are lost. That they're in need of guidance. I told her that Syaitan is what's evil and that Syaitan is the one that seduce us to do bad. Of course I told her that even though this is true in the end it us who make the decision to do good or bad. Told her it's a matter of discipline. I made it a point to tell her that Syaitan is not like a voice you could hear for real (because she brought up, "Like the opposite of God's voice then?" and I'm not sure whether she believes she could hear God or yeah) but the interfering thoughts that prevent us from doing good. 

At some point in the conversation, her being into New Age said that she thinks there's really just one God but in different names, that all religion is equal. Buddha, the prophet Muhammad (p.b.u.h.) etc. all achieved enlightenment in the end. I'm not sure what happened next, she probably went on saying how I've shown her kindness and all or it could be when we were talking about the purpose of existence in Islam Idk, but I said "We were placed upon this Earth to do good. To strive to be good." and that really made an impression on her. 

To conclude this, what brought a sweetness to my heart unlike anything I've ever felt before is when she said (in these exact words), "The next time I talk to a Muslim, I am going to think of you. Of the kindness you've shown me." and this is what matters most.

p.s. I apologize for anything bad/offensive/misleading I've written here for it comes from my ignorance, and all that is good comes from Allah SWT. Also, as I type this down, the poor woman is still waiting outside waiting for her friend.
I am bone tired. The past two days have sapped me. The city, its lights, Yarra river, flames, horse-drawn carriages, tired animals, poor beasts, nipped at me, broke my heart, Malaysian pak ciks wanting to buy bikes, just hanging out by the river listening to Chopin as we waited for hellfire, parties on boats, the bridges, the water, talking of Nolan, beautiful winds, man with the telescope, the Moon, Saturn, Orion, star-strewn sky, street performers: old man with violin in China town,  guy in bunny suit shredding on an electric guitar, guy in a daffy duck suit playing electric bagpipes, easyway, party at laura's, couple fighting in the tram, random dreams about aathiyyasen, open house this morning, girls chatting, how disappointing, twins of faith, God, sheikhs, dark skinned women wrapped in hijabs, bearded middle-eastern men, beautiful syrians, iranians, africans, kids in caps, skinny jeans, shades and kicks, crying babies, excited children, little italy, ice cream mahal, kopitiam mahal, more beautiful breeze, walking alone along the cobbled pathway at night, woman sleeping at my doorstep, more talking. Just crowds upon crowds upon crowds. 

I give up. On talking I mean. I'll tag along but don't expect me to say anything. Nothing substantial anyway. I slip sometimes and say shit and they start to think I'm the 'discerning type' but I don't know man, I've enough disappointments on my plate already, know what I mean? I don't need any of this.

p.s. "A world without Eternity." and that ayah about rivers are the two things that resounded with me today. Everything else was good but I simply can't stand having to maneuver myself through social conventions. Being polite tires me out but I'm awkward. If I'm not polite, I might as well be a brick wall.

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

Monoxide Love

A monochromatic city by the Sea
you tipped your cap of smog, greeting me
I can always see you through this haze
for nothing escapes your iron gaze
but embracing you is a never.

I am lost in the river
of brake lights coursing through your veins
of freeways, I trace in my mind
the cords of copper in your arms
burning them with electric kisses.

As one in our reminisces
I look for you in each tinted window
standing in your shadow, I shudder.
Your towering beauty terrifying,
lonesome, and colossal.

I discovered stillness in the restless
multi-coloured lights adorning you
I opened my mind to your sad song
Every bit of machinery, every
passing pedestrian, they sang with you.

Cold and hard, your metal heart
is the zenith of humanity, yet the world dies
around your undying skeletons.
This is the tragedy
of our monoxide love.

My love-hate relationship with the city.
Let's practice this dua shall we?

Monday, April 2, 2012

"Severe insomnia was the profound cause of my break with philosophy. I realised that in moments of great despair philosophy is no help at all, and offers absolutely no answers. So I turned to poetry and literature, where I found no answers either, but states of mind analogous to my own. I can say that my sleepless nights brought about the break with my idolatry of philosophy."