Sunday, December 30, 2012

luminous you

Darling darkling,
with light I shall unveil you.
Upon the pedestal of poetry
I shall disembody your beauty.

As light touches the tip of your nose,
ascends to your temple,
traces the arcs of your brows,
and trickle into your eyelashes,
sharding into tiny rainbows
that reflect in your gaze
         — You kiss me with your eyes
              and swallow me whole.

Light may unshadow your countenance

but not that of your luminous soul.
The terrain of your mind
remains exclusively mine.


I forced this. I don't know what to do anymore.

Friday, December 28, 2012

O' muse

The truth is, I have been seeking solace in painting. The bold pigments of acrylics, the broad reassuring strokes of crayons, the abundance of cheap drawing block paper. I do not play at fancying myself becoming an artist, no. I have seen true talent in a friend of mine to know that I am just a hobbyist haha. (no inferiority complex there, nope. heh). 

I paint for the sake of painting. To me, there is just as much beauty in the concentration & effort needed to produce a reasonable piece of art compared to the final artwork itself. When one musters all powers of observation one has to study a subject, and then to find the courage needed to let the hand roam across the paper to trace the lines, curves & angles in the mind's eyes, it is liberating.

I return to the real subject matter at hand now: Painting is my refuge. Refuge from the silence that has crept up on me yet again. The same silence that has visited me ever so often. I want to pen poetry, not lament on it's absence. Alas.

Tuesday, December 18, 2012


This painting is inspired by Rimbaud's poem 'Ophélie', which tells of Shakespeare's Ophelia from Hamlet. Probably the only poem by Rimbaud I actually love in its entirety.

Medium: Water-colour, acrylics, water-colour pencils.
Paper: crappy drawing block paper.

Intially intended this for some snazzy metallic crayons I bought the other day alas, when I did the line art for this I got carried away & there's just no way I'm skilled enough to pull it off with crayons. 

Monday, December 10, 2012

Dear Star IV

Dear Star,
         (before I pass out)
I met him today,
The one you Love.
         You were bashful,
It's sweet.
This is no poem,
just a confession.


Snapshot of a page from Love - National Geographic 2008 @ Big Bad Wolf 2012

I am so very tired. Have been venturing out into the world daily since Thursday but here I am. I think it's important to write while soaked with fatigue. It unearthes something deep inside of you.

The letter L. yet again. How should I proceed with this? This has nothing to do with the world at large, nor the people that reside in it. Although, I still believe that something internalized is always birthed from an external influence be it conscious or subconscious. The letter L.The word Love. It's shades of meanings, it's connotations, it's significance, it's exclusive experience. What else?

I love goodness in people. It brings out the goodness in me. I want to be surrounded with eternal goodness. Such clarity. I never feel more alive then when I feel like I've made someone happy or when I see the people I love happy. Ah, but we've been over this many times. I'm no saint. I am simply, romanticizing the self-sustaining nature of altruism. It is an impenetrable circle, the circle of paying a good deed forward. It goes on & on for ever. A circuit of purity.

At this point, I do not care to make myself clear anymore. The soul can only be complete when it is reunited with its creator. That nameless perfection of the self you can sort of grasp through wordless music. Like some shit from Sigur Ros or a piece by Chopin say. That feeling when you are collected and perfectly at ease with your existence. 

Inner peace. 

Is it possible to burn and yearn and be perfectly at peace with the suffering it conjures? I think it is the pinnacle of faith. All beauty in this world is a benevolence of The One. Out of the 99 parts of Mercy, only 1 is bestowed in this world as we know it. What of the other 99? One can't even begin to hope to imagine.

Paradise, heaven, jannah, is more than rivers of honey & wine, flower gardens and beautiful lovers. It is the feeling of completion that is ungraspable in this world. It is all that passionate fire and mute calmness molded into one. A Oneness that is not in this lifetime. Eternity.

Eternity my flying soul across the dark Sky who pines as it falls and burns and cries for a sentient peace.

Wednesday, December 5, 2012

Cheetah at full-sprint

Cheetahs on the Edge--Director's Cut from Gregory Wilson on Vimeo.

Bones, muscles & sinews working together in a symphony of perfection.
I shed a few tears watching this I kid not.

Subhanallah. Praise be to Allah the Most High.

p.s. To anybody who watches, when the vid fades to black, don't stop! there's more!