Monday, April 29, 2013


Something innumerable by nature
ungraspable by the mind
unfathomable by the heart
something you will never have
foreign to the touch
that your thoughts reel
your eyes roll and your soul
spasm in sheer desperation
of wanting to know it
this impossible yearning
for the unattainable
the way it gnaws your bones
claws your insides
and fracture your sanity
some thing, unnameable,
unreachable, inconceivable
all-consuming, all-ravishing
thoroughly irrevocable
of its unforgiving existence,
 this thing has set you on fire,
irredeemably, deliriously,
desirious of
       -The unknown.

Something moldy from the drafts folder

Saturday, April 27, 2013


Feel it,
Feel the coldness of the unfeeling
their heartless hearts,
their joyless joys,

But feel also
The suffering of your suffering
And forgive
Them, yourself with them,

We meet in the end
This dissonance too must end.

Thursday, April 25, 2013

Of yearning

That nameless yearning for solitude, for estrangement from this world, that some sometimes mistake for a yearning for death, it's actually for God isn't it?

For Truth. For certainty of happiness.

When a soul would no longer feel cleaved. Raw, bleeding, dying. All of its tribulations unseen seeing that a soul is not corporeal.

The island of peace one finds when reading the Qur'an, praying, dzikiring, is a soul's only solace, only reprieve.

Wednesday, April 24, 2013


I shall walk my solitary walk
Until my end comes
And alone, everybody will be
With nought but their own company.

In all honesty

I have discarded all notions of trying to 'come across' to anybody. Not that I have ever cared much, which I can testify by my utter lack of concern with people back in high school (and now even).

There was an odd thing going on in high school. I and a friend of mine, we were not 'in the scene' so to speak. We were not exactly outcasts, no, those unfortunate souls were picked on, bullied. They had no voice. They were ridiculed openly, mercilessly and nobody ever cared to do anything about it.

But that's not what I'm talking about here. You see, it seems like we were living on different planes from our peers or something. We were there but we were not 'in'. I suppose our talents made us distinguished, respected even.

I know this for a fact because it used to be a thing that whenever I decided to speak up about something, I was listened to or regarded warily by my peers. For example, when other people tell the class/peer to 'shut up', it's usually responded with a retaliation, a joke, or no reaction at all. When I said 'shut up', the effect was different. Maybe because I simply spoke very little & when I do it is something of an occasion. Eventful even. And when I asked a classmate in the middle of verbally abusing another, the kid seemed to feel intimidated. I was not their kind, the usual responses did not apply to me.

All that is well and good but I have been trying to change these past few years. Especially here in Melbourne. People think me the quiet kind but when they get to know me, the easy-going joke-cracking sort.

I actually do that. Crack jokes. I do it all the time with my room mate / in usrahs (the only social activity I engage in hahah). I'm not sure why because I most certainly don't do it with my family or friends-friends. Old friends. Humor is just a buffer anyway. It draws attention away from yourself in the most wholesome way possible. Being too quiet actually draws attention more than when you simply speak every now and then. Blend in.

That being said, I don't feel like people-pleasing anymore. *sigh* Let's just say I'd just rather not say anything then speak and be met with the oh so predictable responses. People do not surprise me. 

You say one thing and they say what they think of what you said. Pass judgment. I have met very few people that are actually good 'listeners'. I tend to let people yap away and tell them what they like to hear (mostly) just because it's easier. Well screw that. 

I am done. Shite people ought to know how shitty they are when they are being shitty. Nobody is perfect, as the saying goes. I shall mete out ample amounts of dead silence when I deem appropriate.

I shall not cling to the past or ideas anymore. I will let people go, even those that I call my people. I am just so very tired of being the one who makes efforts. Who plans & reaches out.

Nobody deserves my loyalty. Not anymore. I am done being disappointed.

Tuesday, April 16, 2013

On the subject of 'dudes'

Some people equate being single to being miserable. As if it is a curse that needs to be lifted. The metaphorical tower, the metaphorical enchanted sleep, that there will be a 'prince' who will 'rescue' you from your 'prison' that is quite simply 'being single'. 

Especially girls. All they ever talk, tweet etc. about is this guy or that guy, weddings, honeymoons. I concede that marriage-talk is somewhat more productive (if talking is ever).

So the eternal question of "Kamu, bila lagi?" flung towards you, over & over again is just, annoying. 

I don't need a 'dude' to ensure my happiness. I'm self-sufficient on that aspect, thanks very much. So you girlfriends can go spill your souls and drown in giggles all you like. I do not need another to affirm my existence.

I do not belie my life to the attaining of the 'perfect' man. Such things are written. There will be a time for it. Just because we're in our 20s doesn't mean anything. 

Heck, we might even die first. I'd much rather chew on that.

Contra Mundum

I am positively miffed by the dissent I am met with in regards to my fangirling. It has always been this way. People are so predictably disappointing. They see your passion and deem it 'mindless' because they do not understand. 

The finer points of being interested, to actually be interested in anything is that you are able to appreciate the finer points that the casual glancing most definitely will miss.

Most infuriating of all among these people is that some of them think they're not judgmental! The nerve. What then do you call measuring another's views in the frame of your own and proclaim your decidedly biased  and UNSOLICITED opinions? Pompous hypocrites. (Yes I can be as scathing as I like here). 

To my fellow fangirls / fanboys out there, CONTRA MUNDUM my friends, CONTRA MUNDUM. Let the hoi polloi caterwaul their apathy ridden unimaginative views. 

Fwuh. Now I feel a bit better. 

Saturday, April 13, 2013

Acronym: GFFA

            The suns bathed the desert in an orange glow, their scorching heat mellowed by the approaching dusk. A lone figure trudged up a sloping sand dune, his tattered brown cloak billowing softly behind him. Once he reached the top he paused to gaze at the twin sunset. 
He lingered, hoping the beauty before him would move his dead but still beating heart. 
He felt nothing. The silence that echoed through the Force since the genocide reverberated still.  It had only been a week, what was he expecting? A lesser man would have screamed, cried or at least sighed but not Obi-Wan Kenobi. He clung still to the principles of his extinct kind. He was Jedi. Despair is not the way of the Jedi. It was important, more than ever before that he should uphold their beliefs.

            The wind picked up, whistling. Obi-Wan closed his eyes, enjoying its soothing caress, smoothing away the creases between his brows. It made him look a little younger, unguarded. This was the only indulgence he could afford. Sleep was no reprieve. Jedi do not have nightmares but things have changed. This was it, his slice of escapism. Breathing deeply, he let his arms hang loose and focused on relaxing his muscles. Before, he would have reached for the Force, flooding his extremities with its warmth. In its present state, the Force offered no such comfort. Loss sang throughout the gouges of silence. No. He had to learn to meditate without its aid.


Obi-Wan whirled around, his eyes wild, icy panic coursed through his veins. The metal of his lightsaber felt cold in his palm, wrenching him back to reality. It had happened again. He had heard the phantom voice of his former Padawan. It was as if the planet was threatening to drive him to insanity. Tatooine, homeplanet of Anakin Skywalker. These whispers always triggered blind panic in his part. It was disturbing. He disliked how disarming it was. What was more irksome to the Jedi Master was that the voice sounded young and innocent. It was Anakin. His Anakin. The brother and friend he used to know. All that was no more.

Hues of purple bled from the orange-red horizon. Darkness was coming. Memories of Anakin’s, no, Vader’s yellow-red eyes flashed in Obi-Wan’s mind. He could smell the pungent ash of Mustafar, He could feel the heat of the lava licking at his skin. Most of all, he could taste the betrayal. Such was the memory of a Jedi. Obi-Wan blinked. He clipped his lightsaber back to his belt, its weight against his hip comforting. He tugged his tattered cloak closer to his body and inserted his hands into the opposite sleeves as was his habit when feeling exposed. It was cold now. Obi-Wan let go of the moment and walked on.  There is no emotion, there is peace.

Note: Unwittingly, you've read a vignette star wars fanfic written by me. Hah. Maybe I'll write more and put it up on Idk. We'll see. Let's call this No Country For Old Men - Prolouge Set immediately after Episode III: Revenge of The Sith. The aftermath of Order 66. Obi-Wan's life in the deserts of Tatooine as he kept a watchful eye over young Luke. 


Dear you,

The multitudes that lies in the way I regard you, is forever lost. Seeing as it never came to light, even though I did lead you to the source, expectantly. These machinations ingrained within me, all but settled as rust into the skeleton of my mind. Desperately I tried to coax from you what I thought I was deserving of. But truly, all that I felt, some of it I still feel, was all imaginary. A beautiful & dark illusion. The produce of my own twisted mind. You are like a diamond. You reflect yet I thought you shined. Still, you are precious to me, not as you previously were perhaps but still.

Unforgiving is all that I am. I wanted from you what you could not, cannot ever, grant me. I have always known. Such attachment in my part. Always, in my part alone.

Regardless, you give to me what you can. What you give others. Equality. I think it is a strong suit in you. Impersonal.

My loyalty to you is not a thing of the past. It is battered I admit but it is rooted still in every sinew of my heart.

Never doubt that.

What this drunken confession aim to achieve is (as ever) something that eludes me.

I am Werther never in love. I am Meursault staring at the Sun, without a gun.

I confront my desires, aware of their aimlessness. Wanton and undirected.

Still this is not Love. Please never misconstrue this incognito feeling I feel for you as that lifeless imitation.

Very sincerely yours,

P.S. I'll recoil at this display by tomorrow, I'm sure. It's a vicious cycle. Longer hiatuses but unbroken.

Tuesday, April 9, 2013


More than anything, I've always wanted to be calm, quiet & impenetrable. But I feel too much. I emphatize, I cry. A terrible flaw if you ask me.

I find it disappointing sometimes that I should be quite so attached to people. My people anyway.

I revere empathy.

Monday, April 8, 2013


I exist in my realities, this illusion, not striving (not hard enough) for that 'Great End' al-ghazali spoke of;

"Know, O beloved, that man was not created in jest or at random, but marvellously made and for some great end."

It's not a good thing to dwell on your weaknesses, I know. To reflect & ponder it a while keeps you humble but to wallow? It breaches the realm of self-indulgence.

I try to be mindful of my thoughts (unintentional Obi-Wan reference, I swear), motivations & actions. I chastise myself quietly all the time. I wonder what it's like to not have ill thoughts. Everybody probably has some of them I imagine.

Again, it comes back to active learning of the Quran and hadiths. To reach that serenity in our dealings. To be that calm and stoic yet still be kind and gentle.

I idealise the quest to ennoble the self. Good character is the testament of a believer. Good character comes from awareness. Awareness from knowledge. All leading to that thirst for Goodness. To want to gain the pleasure of The One.

Sincerity only comes from purity. Purity from humility. Humility from Piety.

I idealize, I'm not doing enough. This I realize.

Saturday, April 6, 2013


I'm not kidding when I refer to Melbourne as a prison. I'm on voluntary confinement (solitary, when roomie's not around, which is fine by me. She's sweet btw). 

It's just that sometimes I just want to go out & drive or something. Walking is cool. It's fine. But you're just never, alone. Ever. There's always someone walking too. I don't like that. I only ever walk when I need to go to the pick something up at the local post office anyway.

Not in a city. You're never alone, but at the same time you always are. It's weird. Not that I go out, much or at all for the matter. What I'm saying is, I get sick of myself sometimes.

I get sick of my routine. I find stability in it, comfort too, to an extent but it's crippling. It really is.

Summers & Winters in Malaysia. Autumns & Springs in Melbourne. The cycle continues.
Another metaphorical bullet through the head & you realise what a low-life you are.

How does one ever shake off the feeling of being hypocritical?

Tuesday, April 2, 2013


At what point exactly do passions turn into obsessions that consumes more of you than should be allowed, in such a way that you unintentionally (or very much intentionally) sacrifice what is important for what only seemed to be important?

There's a fine line between being enthusiastic about something and being a complete fanatic. There are after all many kinds of idolatry that people aren't particularly aware of. Need to be very careful with this.

This concerns me. I'm the average fangirl who invests herself into fandoms. Plural, yes. I don't think I'm into all of them all at once, one at a time. I've phases. Typical anti-social behaviour perhaps.

The thing about all these nonsense is, they reek of dunia. Part of the nafs I suppose. My particular weakness. Mind you, I feel it important that I'm especially hard on myself because I need to give myself reality checks every now and then. So I keep toeing the line so to speak.

I can't be like them pure, focused, kakak naqibahs that seem to only take pleasure in doing good. They seem to be wholly undistracted by shite things (like I am). They always say that it's not an easy journey, to give up on these duniawi things. Ibadah being the purifying practice that governs their daily lives.

I haven't the strength of character to suddenly give up my fandom things (...I'm just not on that level yet. Pray that I will someday), I just need to remind myself, constantly, to not get too distracted.

To desire what God desire for us. To live life seeking the pleasure of The One. To taste the sweetness of iman, all the time. The straight path that I always need to remind myself of (Why usrah is instrumental as part of one's tarbiyyah btw).

With that, I greet April. Hello, hello.

p.s. I haven't penned a poem in such a while now. I don't have any feelings about it either. Just an observation.