wondering, mumbling and a world crumbling

'it's their fault', screams the suited man as his dreams come to naught. he had money in his hands but it was never real, only shadows of interest, to which he payed too much interest, and sold his life for it all to be taken away and now he's left with nothing, or even less, or more. what's more than nothing? a wise man used to say, 'the half of it's not much', but not everyone can understand that realm of logic. nothing is what you get when you pay everything on top of debts in which you owe more than the seller sold. a devious trick to distort the mind and wage war on the Benefactor, the most High who decides all price.. so at what cost comes nothing? it's priceless, and unbuyable. there is no nothingness anymore, it's been had. except when everything is dead and the Almighty king says, 'Whose is the kingdom today? - Allah, the One, the Irresistable'. and a day of reckoning when all those who had been suited in their best prada and dol...

man makes things more difficult for himself, because he's got nothing better to do. he wont take the help of anyone else, he's afraid to walk in another's shoes. arguing he can't find a solution, not even looking for one anyway, instead wandering in blind confusion expecting to find an answer some day. ego hurt by this inability self-esteem shattered almost to the core. revealed man's innocent fragility. he doesn't want to exist any more. oh man, dont take these problems to heart. force the self into making a new start..

seems like you're in a little paddling boat trying to get to the middle of the ocean - thinking you'll find something there. but if you arrive all you'll find, is that you're a million miles from any shore with nowhere to land and no solid ground. so it's better to stay on your island of knowledge, slowly building it up against the stormy seas - til you have a continent, then you can begin to build bridges to reach the others, instead of looking for cracks in ideas without knowing the plan..

gone are the times, one would suppose, when the pen can run free. as constraint pulls in from everywhere and the thoughts that could be seen, never heard, to be unpalateable are so hard to put into words. this makes reading so much more difficult, and the writer's imprisoned in a self-imposed h-block. as in those ozzy soaps, the walls are mere paper, and atoms, weak to the mind that perceives beyond all that, seem to tower above in structures too great to overcome. however, all minds are susceptible to that kind of restraint. our world is designed to confuse us in this way, so as to test us in our ability to realise. the path to realisation is long, and frought with so many obstacles that all travellers need a guide. we see so many who dont even know they're on a path to begin with - those who perceive their existence as a mere frolic through the garden of desires and pleasure, without direction or limit to what it is permissible or no, and it's so tempting just to join tha...

Why do we think everything takes so long, when it's really all over before you can even blink.?The chances we've been given still give us that ability to change the problems of the past. A repentance will always be accepted, unless we leave it too late... In a month were fasting is prescribed, and the chance has been given to self-rectify, we find so many just letting this chance slip away, and putting themselves on the edge of a chasm which they can very easily fall into. Their patience, if there was ever any, is totally unexistent; they seem to have no control over their own self. The demons are chained up in this month, so that moment of insanity comes from within and cant be blamed on any other. On three occasions in the past few days, this author has witnessed some angry instances of inhuman impatience - and by the way, in any other month it is extremely rare to see these things, where people are moved almost to physical violence against their brothers by verbal exchanges ...

Here sits a stranger, a reflection, of a perfection he wishes to acheive. Hoping to embody a fragment of light- perhaps even outshine the sun. While sons of past seekers wander 'round; Their ancestors were keepers of the keys, to open mysteries, beyond second sight, of What was before anything was begun. Sadly now the keys have been passed on, But the keepers imagine them, in their hands- Because matter has dulled their hearts, and they think they've nothing left to find. Now they see the stranger, and he sees them- But perhaps they exist on different plains. Maybe he has inherited the keys, Still waiting for history to unwind. They laugh at the stranger's ...

we've forgotten where we came from, and where we're going to, and taken things easier than they were ever meant to be. born into a vastness we dont have a clue, open your heart and your eyes will see. every breath breathed is another chance- a beautiful unrecognised grace, turning back to the path enhanced love's warm and welcome embrace. so eyes heart and universe in tune, what then, our soft gaze lost in perfection? if the path taken is out of gloom. then you're going in the right direction.

Things swiftly run along in the stream of time, and life's tides smash the rocks of the human frailty, making echoes resound through the vast realms in all spheres of existence. Yes, each of us has an individual universe as important as any other's. When we hear and see through electronic mediums the shouts and booms and carnage in all those 'other' universes of our Adamic siblings, whose destiny has decreed that their existence corresponds to ours, we cannot help but think of how many lives are wasted... without care for the consequences, and long-term effects, or even the enormity of this kind of behaviour. As our beloved Prophet Muhammad, (May God's peace and blessings be upon him) told us, 'the taking of one life is as if one has taken the lives of all humanity'... Now let's hang back and not take sides, or go around blaming one or another party, because we are all responsible for good and bad things, so 'he without sin cast the first stone...

butter wouldnt melt in the mouth, it could be said, but what when the jaws of hell have been opened? the air is hot, and a stifling wind creeps through the air, and sweat flows from every pore. there's an intensity in the air as of an emptiness before something terrible happens. but are we worried? hell no. and the heat's going up, but we're just lying in the sun... catching rays, sun-worshipping, life flowing away faster than you can breathe. ...if you glance towards the skies you might see the lovely butterflies, but as they soar gently closer to the sun they begin to melt, everyone. like little icaruses they feel they can break all the bounds of limitation, and physics matters not to them (even if icarus was plaigiarising firnas bin arnas). like moths around the flames, and that golden-hearted man still stood there, trying to catch them with his bare hands, out of his love for them, but he's not responsible for them... so they begin to drip, drip, melt and fry to a c...

a word, so fast. seemd like it'd gone before it'd even been heard. man lives to keep his pocket overflowing, or to keep food on the table, and kill the enemy, and just be at peace. really? that's the aparent, but false nature of it my friends. we're zooming along here faster than the speed of a bullet, through galaxies, and it's just getting faster and faster. so when will it just stop ? when you stop and think, that everything will continue never-the-less, no matter what you do, cos you're quite inconsequential in the grand scheme of things, then it is a blow to the part of the self which tends to think 'the universe revolves around me'... and still, what can you do? you cant change that or anything, so mayhap if you think about it, the only way to balance it all is to change the self , and come to acceptance. not so hard? the self says 'i can do that no problem', and at the same time questions whether or not it's worth wasting any energy. ...

if one pulled veils over one's own eyes, one would be doing oneself dis-service right? well, perhaps it's the self's own ignorance - to continue to convince that delusion's better than the reality. and do it continuously. so many have gone before us that sucessfully kept the self under control and moved on to higher things. there are realms to explore beyond desire, and they pass by too because they're not real either. 'everything except Allah is empty' when does the self become restrained, and the soul yearn only for proximity to the Source? doesnt understanding the obligations towards the Creator give enough of a push in the right direction? we know that we only exist to worship Allah, so what a strange position it is for one to still manage to know this and at the same time not know it? how does satan convince us to be in this position. do we say, 'it's ok, i can repent before i die'? then how do we know when death will take us...? ok, that...

testing, ok lets give it a whirl. round and round the wheels have turned, and the tires burned, and nothing's left to learn, except there was something - but we couldnt quite put our finger on it. was it large or small? or moving too fast, and was around the world before time had even taken note. old man watched the hands spin round the clock, and remembered something that once happened, but no-one was there to hear what he had to say, and it was important too, but he died... and who learns from that? arent my lessons clear enough? or is the teacher so incoherent that he no longer cares to feed the pupils with what he knows, and the whole system crumbles, and the knowledge is lost just like a dead old man, a whiff on the wind. all these things happen day after day, and the people get stupider. there are people whose paths cross, and they never benefit from each other. if one has a grasp on the truth, and another knows it, but doesnt point his unknowing companions in the direction o...

when has anything ever been like it is today? or has anything ever been really that different from how it's always been. maybe man's behaviour is just a blueprint in a platonic idea of the world of ideas, but we can say we're individual, and someone else can scream 'Im not', pretending he's understood something that everyone else just didnt quite grasp. he knew it was his last gasp, and his air's running out, and the clock's ticking away. there's a world of spirits they say, and interwoven dimensions, and so many things we dont understand, so why not? even if there is, or isnt, what are you going to do about it? do you have any power? except over yourself. maybe you give life and take it away, but can you resurrect? did you make life come inside your own mother's womb - to come into being, i mean, did you choose to exist? none of us has chosen that, but we exist, and what does that mean? here and there lonely people call out their refrains, and ...

The sea cried, and cries. The water is salty tears, And the waves are emotional energies. An action of a human being attributed to a vast entity. A man stands on the shore, watching. He calls out, 'the sea is crying'. His heart is the key to what he sees and says. If the sea is weeping For you, And the fish ask for your forgiveness, All is well - and that's conditional, As are many things.

There hasn't been any word of the ones who went away, Letters didnt arrive like had been expected. Whispers on the wind. Echoes bound off a vast mountain, Who's roots hadnt really so much to explore - Yet deepened, and fastened, holding on. Old wives tales; from marauding tiger to kingdom come We haven't heard enough to understand what we say. Ideas hadn't had time to become realised, Shadows in the cave. Fading world is a crumbled dream, Who's images werent captured in any sense of the word - But remembered, unforgotten, reassured. There's one of the ones who's been fooled - Fooled into thinking it's easy to unexist. Reasoned to a wish that all turns to dust - And blows away. To immateriality... Now, in dream's essence the spirit has always been, Since blown into the mould and held in esteem, And holding to account it's own peurile promise - A Just action. Your own doings are wrong. And forgotten naivetes emerge and solidify. A script already w...

if one were inclined, it would be folly, though never undermined, to live and unwind, to forget the end of time, and to be lost in that untold misery of the blind, unseeing, and unhearing, and never wanting to know any more a blot on the landscape, ever-growing, ever bored never knowing what you're here for knowing only that you are you, and that's all no matter what you want, we're enthralled all for you, and other is trampled upon worship you, you are the one. but only you know your weakness and low esteem they'll never trample on your dreams because you never acknowledge their right to be they're nothing but followers, uneasy so the darkness has long since taken hold you're too old, your soul has been sold and there's no chance to turn back anyway. you've exceeded the bounds a hundred-fold cant regret, abused times have flown away. there comes a time, eternity, where always is your ever-more death comes once, but then life only begins, and death no mo...

Whatever happened to that energy? That Father Ted 'I could convert gays' -esque energy. Was it naive, and has realism set in - or is it just creeping apathy? The world is full of 'ethical hunger' (so says some English cardinal on BBC), and at the same time has numerous aggressive atheists/secularists peddling their wares. They're convinced that 'religion' was created by humankind as a means of societal control, and cling to some faux-rationalism of probabilities - moving from God probably exists, to God probably doesnt exist, to God doesnt exist. What an illogical statement! If God didnt exist then there wouldnt be a subject for that predicate.. i.e. if He didnt exist then no-one would be spending time trying to prove He didnt, because there wouldnt be a He in the first place. Ill-logic. Yes, it is a sickness - possibly (and now academically termed) ' affluenza ', where the world's stuck in a middle-age 'big fish eats the little ones' wo...

i had a good chat with a nice egyptian man, who does odd-jobs around the mosque. previously we hadn't talked much cos i was not in an understanding mood - plus, if you've ever talked to an egyptian in his language (a warped version of arabic) then you'd know what i was talking about. well, it was after friday prayer, on a lovely sunny day, and we'd gathered at the little tea-stall that the prayer-caller's brother owns, and drinking something called sahlab - which is milk-based, and really sweet, with cinnamon powder and coconut flakes, and i got to chatting this guy. we chatted about farming, and the differences invloved in irish and egyptian farming, and i was surprised at my own ability to speak on those topics - it being such a long time since i've done anything remotely resembling farming, but the more i spoke the more it came flooding back. those old roots don't die - merely hibernate, ready to be revived. the farmer is close to the earth, and far from...

tweedle-dee and dum, i dont type with my thumbs, but is that what they're really there for? grumbling tums, as no food man comes, but thats what they call hunger, i wanna be an imagineer, but dont have the tools, cos i lost myself back when i was an irreligious fool, a wanderer always but never finding the way, and dark all around more than i can say. dark is where there's no light and it's always night, and the end's not in sight, right? waves pound and crash and cover and desolate an island under the stars, but they've forgotten how to read...

spring rains tho summer's peaked out once or twice, but it hasnt settled into a pattern as of yet, and things are generally going that way in these times. it's a slight disorder perhaps harking to greater things. there's definite turbulence, everywhere, and at this poor man's door the ripples can be felt. it was a matter of time before it came to be, and didnt come unexpected. perhaps its a case of now being ready to face those realities, having had the time required to settle into the correct mode of understanding, so now its time to stand there and not to waver, no matter how many ripples turn into waves, designed to let yourself be washed away.. its a hearkening back to those days when we were in the belly of the whale, in the darknesses of misguidance, then the only Guide is the same as how now the Guide is the One, and the path has been lighted, so you just take strength from that and carry on. being, thankful to have been shown the path in the first place, yet sti...

Wandering in soft delusion As the world has taken hold Momentary soft confusion As the tale slowly unfolds. Trying to take a decision that's already said and done But in our time we cant see what is to come Heart is not totally at peace with whatever it's to do Still jolted from far corners into which it's been flung. You're one of the characters in this nursery rhyme Though til this time it's all been just a dream Dark clouds and lonely mountains you've climbed But nothing's ever been what it seemed. Tear the veil from your eyes Stare, and hold them open wide Look and see what's meant to be Face the fear felt inside. What's real? Look in the glass See the last drop slip away And the crumbled dust residue. Think of the time that has passed Years, months, weeks and days And have you ever had a clue? The dark mark is around your heart And the light's not shining through. It's the self that's been released The first one you need to fight is ...

wheels turning and cogs grinding these grains of corn - modified and chemically accentuated to a tasteless but star quality money-making product, and if it exceeds the quota just dump it in the ocean so the little fishies can grow fat and swell and burst thru greed in their little survival of the fittest game. if it never stopped cos that soya waste oil wouldnt stop belching from the fountain of youth to keep barbarosa's eyes from drowning the world - a prison broken from the chain-gang's tribal markings and bald hispanics, but there's no low-riders here - thats cos tito didnt grease his hydrolics (cos he had no soy-beans) and his illegitimate daughter fell under the wheels of a schoolbus driveby. yellow death bought by a top-hatted east india company revived, but now it's focus is it's big brother over the sea to the west, however tired it may be getting of scratching his back, and now they've sneakily come back round to a kind of polite shadow-play empire they...

Eye, hot; dropped tear Lip quivers and jaw tight Tear, drop; round and clear Heart shivers and blurred sight. Draw near; love's embrace Existence reassured Eye's yearn; heart's race Loneliness is cured. Eye's tear; inner fear Through matter spirit soars Fear, Loved; warm and dear What you've always waited for. Cry, real; clear and true Heart opened to pure love True, feel; me and You Im low and You're above. Life, lived; fear and hope Death is everlasting youth Hope, freed; hold the rope Submit your essence to the Truth.

Well, philosophy aside, since some of us have difficulty grasping plain sentences in that particular realm, what else is going on? Well, current world events; re: Iraq, and Georgy's wish to increase troops, as the violence spins on into unprecendented levels, also see Palestine for a version of insanity that probably has some reason behind it, but everyone is letting themselves get lost in the turmoil, then weather patterns changing, and world heating up, and European car-exhaust-emmission rules changing, and Turkish Armenians being murdered or exucuted for 'anti-Turkishisms', and 14 year olds being raped by US soldiers, and Chinese (and Indian) economy booms, in these times of a British police-state (but only for it's Muslim residents), and Blair's stepping-down to be replaced by Brown. Deep breath... We also have natural disasters piling up and since no-one believes in God anymore, they're all looking for someone to blame, while they fight over who can control...

Lately I read a book called 'Maya', by Jostein Gaarder. He's a Norwegian author, and I've read two of his other books called 'Sophie's World' and 'The Solitaire Mystery' respectively. He usually puts in pieces of philosophy in his stories, and it makes for quite good reading. With this book he appears to hold a very firm 'evolutionary' and atheistic standpoint (or at least the characters do), but that's not quite what I want to observe today. No, I want to do a little bit of my own philosophy, which has probably been done before, but if it has, I'm not aware of it. So, we've heard on inumerable occasions Descartes' legendary premise Cogito Ergo Sum , 'I think therefore I am'. Now many people criticise this as flawed logic, that even if one is, it doesnt necessarily depend on them thinking , or some other convuluted twisting of thoughts and the merry-go-round usage of reasonable logic. Today I was thinking on the issue...

'Dont you ever feel lost?', an old man asked his wife, as they lay in their beds one cold dark night. 'But of course not, now I lay here with you', she replied. How many years they'd lain together, and parented, full of pain and delight? Never thinking past the necessities until the moment one of them died. The ancient scissors snipped the cord of life - an umbilical tube connected to the realm of life, and edge-of-the-seat pre-eternal existence. The life squeezed out, til the body just crumbles to the floor through the hands of the wife, all panicked grief and superstitious insistance. 'It cannot be', she cries, 'why couldnt it be me?' and she screams her anger at a power she cant percieve, and no longer deny. 'That's what some had called a 'cross to bear'', she supposed she had to agree, but on what then is there left for her to rely? She hadn't thought about herself in all that time, even in grief giving her all to the chil...

I saw a funeral yesterday, it was my friend's great aunt - so no-one very close to me, but I went along for the experience and because I'd like to think someone would be bothered to follow my funeral. It was the first Muslim funeral I attended were I saw the burial. Amman has a giant graveyard outside the city, where everyone who dies in this city finds their place, and we arrived in the late afternoon. The weather was chilly, but there was an amazing yellow/orange sun, so the shadows were growing longer, as the dirt was shovelled over the body. I couldnt help pondering on whether or not the dead person is worried about the cold.. So, a man gave a speech after that to remind us of death, and that our grave awaits us. Our life is as a mere day, in terms of how we will come to see it. And we return to our mother's embrace, and an interrogation by the two angels Munkar and Nakir. They will ask us, 'Who is your Lord?', What is your religion?, and 'Who do you say thi...

Today I am sick, and I was sick yesterday, but this has served to make me hyper-sensitive to things one wouldnt usually notice. Being unable to eat properly for two days, I was feeling quite low. My head was throbbing and swirling, and dizzy, and if I tried to get out of bed it would spin (not literally, you understand, but the fluid in the balance-centre was out of control). I had been lying half in and out of sleep, trying to decide if I had it in me to make some soup, which would have involved at least 40 mins for the potatoes and lentils to be properly cooked - and at the same time I wasn't sure if I'd be able to stomach it. My other option was to make some hot lemon and add ginger, but I thought this wasnt solid enough. The time came for the dawn prayer, and I was quite unable to get out from under the covers, but eventually I controlled my self, and denyed Satan, and made my way to the sink to make ablutions. Then I prayed (very weakly) but in that state it seems easier t...

Through divine intervention or whatever, I've come to realise that sometimes my writings become difficult to understand - if the reader doesnt happen to be me. This is a little problematic. At times I tend to use complicated words (that even I dont understand) which seem to jump at me from the depths of my sub-conscious, and at the time of writing I think they are suitable to get the meaning across that I intend, but instead it comes out as blurred pretentiousness, and murky inclarity (sorry, there I go again). But then, I hadnt reckoned on the fact that most people simply dont have the time to really sit and think about the intricacies of my word formation, as everyone has a busy life to get through, and to waste precious moments trying to decipher my little codes cannot be expected. So in present and future writings I will try to come out of my ivory tower , and step into the caring, sharing world of making oneself understood - hopefully by moderate language useage, and clearer e...