Through my eyes

2009-02-23T01:52:00.006Z

Where do we draw the line?

Taking into account the thoughts and experiences of those around us including family and friends is absolutely vital at any stage in ones life. Sometimes we may become so emotionally involved in what it is we’ve endeavoured in, it becomes difficult to take a step back and get a good look at the bigger picture, often missing things that would otherwise literally hit us in the face. This is where hearing, comprehending, understanding and implementing come into play. I would even go a step further in suggesting that even the views of those around us, our societies and communities should be taken into account in the thought and decision making process. Before everyone jumps at me, understand that I don’t mean we should live our lives by rules set out by others, I am probably the last person who would see it that way.

I’ve lived a large proportion of my life abiding by what others “see fit” due to circumstances beyond my control. It was one trip to Syria in 2007 which I believe was the beginning to my true venture into adulthood; my eyes were opened to an array of delightfully pleasant as well as painful droplets of reality. I realised that the world was not as simple as I had assumed and not everyone I met during the course of my life looked at me with the same sincere intensions as I did them. In a pivotal moment that was to shape the women I was to become (slight exaggeration) I came to the conclusion that people are so preoccupied with their own lives that they really don’t have the time to probe into mine, so why should I care about what they think at all?

Although I’ve swerved slightly off topic I return to my previous point, reiterating that I cannot but feel its necessary to stay true to ones traditions and cultures, even though society today has severely dented and redefined the two. This anyway was not the point of my writing today. What I wanted to say is that I feel it’s important, as I presume many of you will agree, to listen to those who truly have our best interests at heart. But what happens when what they're telling us contradicts what we believe in? I’m in a dilemma, should I listen to what everyone around me seems to be seeing, but I somehow have been blinded towards, or do I continue, where do I draw the line? I don’t want to be kicking myself in X months or years down the line, knowing I made all the wrong choices, but then again I don’t want to look back and think but what if I had done things differently?

I think the best thing to do is to live life one day at a time, after all what’s meant to happen will happen. I go to bed every night and pray for those I love then when it comes to me, I leave my fate in the hands of God. I mean it from the deepest pinnacle of my heart when I ask God to help me lead my life in a way that he alone see’s fit. I avoid asking for things or for the lack thereof in fear of their consequences because I know in God alone I can trust.

Sitting squashed at one end of the sofa in an awkwardly comfortable position, in my favourite Winne the Pooh pyjamas and warm socks holding a glass of cool apple juice and staring at my uncompleted assignment at 1.30am in the morning, I doubt I could feel more content. I don’t think I care as much anymore, and in doing so, I’m ready to face tomorrow.

2008-12-14T14:39:00.006Z

The Night Musician

Broken strings, broken wings, broken everything.

As I fix my gaze up to the sky,
The sound of silence fills my ears,
And the darkness that surrounds me says

It speaks of your unspoken words.

I cannot play on broken strings,
Neither puppets’ dance, nor my heart in endless melody engage.
As the musician enters into his trance,
Conjuring up the night song, as enchanting as the raw rose, it stings.

I cannot play on broken strings,
Angels don’t fly on broken wings,
But the whisper of the night, it sings

An everlasting chant of ecstasy.

You will bring,
Then come, and share,
And fix my broken everything.

2008-10-05T17:20:00.004+01:00

Just for fun..

This poem is for all those people who have made me feel ARGH! at one point in our friendship or another. Usually its those closest to me...no exceptions...you know who you are! ;) and sometimes it's just random people we have to face during the course of the day. Having said that I know I probably make you feel ARGH! sometimes too :)

ARGH!

You make me want to pull my hair,
Grit my teeth and punch the air,
Laugh out loud with utter rage,
Rip up my books page by page,
Give up on all humanity,
Pray for early mortality,
Throw away my phone, a mile,
Keep the therapist on speed dial,
Slam shut the laptop everyday,
You make me speechless...what can I say?

You make me want to overdose!
You make me want to break the law!
You make me want to count to ten!
You make me want to call the Doc!
You make me want to pull out my teeth!
You make me want to over-eat!
You make me want to break the harmony..
That makes up our society!

I sometimes hate who I am, when I'm with you,
After all that you have put me through,
Im not entierly surprised,
Infact, I cant believe that I survived!

(Okay...okay it is abit over lol...You know I love you all really!! Dont deny you were thinking of at least one person while reading?!)

2008-10-01T00:19:00.003+01:00

(Thanks to M, for the introduction, and "tweaking" of the poem)

The sands of time trickle through my fingers despite my most arduous efforts and ambitious attempts at slowing them down and remaining in a state of stillness. By the time you finish reading this sentence, you have forever lost a few seconds of your time - they are never to be lived again.

I cannot but feel a little miserable about this and, I am sure, many out there share my slightly over-romantic sentiments.

Helpless, I continue to live with the knowledge that I am no longer who I was a moment ago. I will always be somewhere different to where I was before I blinked. Nevertheless, I take solace in the vast, unadulterated universe that I can travel to anytime I like by simply delving deep into my own thoughts. There, I find a depressing amount of unsigned letters, unfinished poems and ultimately an incomplete life. But who is to say I want to finish it? If I had the power, I would erase a line or two in hope of re-living a scene in the life that is unquestionably mine!

Unfortunately, a hefty weight labelled 'physics and biology' brings me crashing down to earth. It is then that I decide to succumb to the biggest universal truth, and keep afloat amidst the torrent of life.

A monologue of memories.

I wish i was seventeen again,
Oh how I wish i was seventeen.
The days seemed much brighter then,
And the grass was forever green.

I wish i could return again,
To the days the world was mine.
Fearless, I would stroll through rain,
Joy through my spirit would shine.

I wish you would take me back,
To when I walked with a certain air.
Uncertainty my heart did lack,
From this torture it was bare.

So tell me now, what has become,
Of the girl I used to be?
I want her to come back again,
To live inside of me.

I know the years, they have been few,
But when I reminisce,
One hundred years, they have been due,
Waiting for love’s true kiss.

I wish i was seventeen again,
O how I wish I was seventeen.

2008-07-10T00:06:00.000+01:00

“Write about fading memories.. and our tireless efforts to preserve them...”

Tomorrow’s Memory

When I was asked to write about fading memories, the first idea to emerge into my thoughts was to write about all the wonderful things I could remember experiencing as a child. It was only later I discovered that this wasn’t something I could write about at all.

The human memory fascinates me. Countless psychologists dedicate time and study to this mind-boggling fact that is the memory, and the ability to remember. However I’m much more interested in the will we possess to recollect. What controls our capability to form a memory at one occasion and remise at another.

I truly believe there is a reason for this, just as there is a reason for everything on this earth and beyond. If our minds retained the possibility of storing every piece of information we encounter throughout our lifetime, to an extent that we could recall every trace of our existence in this life, could you imagine what life would be like? The world would come to an absolute halt. Forgetting is a good thing, much better than remembrance.

Although I don’t particularly favour to associate myself with what has become, I can’t help but find myself in the vast fields that is my past. Scouring through the archives in search for answers, for lessons, or sometimes just to find a smile and that loss of a single heart beat as my eyes fix on a gaze and my mind exerts on an expedition to once upon a time. I then find that I can in fact strongly relate to the title of this piece on another level altogether.

I am only human. And therefore am the owner of a discrete diary or memoir rather, into which only the most special memories are kept, locked away deep into the unknown of my heart. Good times, happy, sad and miserable times, times we laughed and times we cried with all that we have inside us.

Sometimes we cling onto our memories as a child would cling onto their mother, memories of loved ones who have passed on, events, occasions, people and places. Whatever the reason we sometimes cling on so hard, as if this were to change time. Or sometimes we use it as a tool to shape our future, the effects of which could equally be advantageous as they could be disastrous.

I’m not sure about those reading this now but generally I have found that we tend to make memories of those times of either utter euphoria or times of utter despair. Everything else seems to be a blur in between. And yet we do not tire, but instead invest in even more dedication to preserve what seems to be another life. Without which an immense sense of insecurity seems to creep up from behind and threaten all that we hold dear.

Memories are immensely personal, something nobody can take away from us, an escape in times of need. Its Gods gift, nature’s equivalent to the high tech mobiles, cameras and memory sticks of today. I’m truly grateful for all the wonderful times, even the saddest of times too. They have made me who I am today, unique, and unlike anyone else in this world. I’m blessed with beautiful memories and the reason is because I’m blessed with beautiful friends and family who make my reality. At the tender age of 19, I’m apprehensive of what is to become and tremendously attached to the memories I have chosen to preserve. However for the time being, I’m going to dedicate all that I have in making some magnificent memories for the future.

2007-04-29T15:56:00.000+01:00

“Damsel in distress”

To you,

Catch me before I fall,
Before the autumn leaves touch the floor,
Save me before I drift,
Before the crashing waves bury the shore.

Exhausted I wait for my hero,
Be my saviour, my salvation,
Knowing with time you will come,
I wither, I fade in anticipation.

My faith that you’ll return deteriorates,
I stand on the edge of hope alone,
Prove wrong the weakness in me,
And lean your merciless heart of stone.

Wake up and breathe, inhale the sunshine,
Will you hear my fading plea?
I never wanted to walk away,
Don’t leave me an empty entity.

I dream, as time runs through my hands
I dream, then dreams turn into fire,
And as the flames in me intoxicate,
The shadow of smoke shapes my desire.

The girl looking back in my reflection,
Has lost all her sense of direction,
It’s getting harder and harder with each day,
What will be the use, if I slip away?
Open your eyes, can’t you see?
I’m asking you please, to catch me.

To catch me before I fall,
Before the autumn leaves touch the floor,
Save me before I drift,
Before the crashing waves bury the shore.

Sincerely, Sincerity

2007-04-23T22:13:00.000+01:00

Baba

Such a beautiful word, but I wont lie, I only discovered its true value once mine was taken away. I had taken such advantage.

Lately I’ve felt like I’ve been riding on a continual none ending emotional rollercoaster, this sensation residing in me on a daily bases. At first my initial thought was… daily routine is “killing me softly” I need a holiday! Then I came to realise I didn’t need the Bahamas, I needed my Baba!

Its funny how when someone you love or hold dearly is with you, providing that warmth that guiding hand, that loving whisper in every breath of life, you tend to take it all for granted. Its funny how only once they’re gone, does it become difficult to look at the bigger picture and instead it’s the small things that make us weep, and keep us up in the middle of the night. The little things, the things it’s easier for us to come to expect are those which make a bigger impact in our daily lives, and are those which we miss the most when are taken away.

I miss waking up in the morning and finding Baba had already been up since dawn, eaten his breakfast and started the day. I always used to try and wake up before him just one day was all I wanted, but sleep always prevailed!
I miss Baba’s breakfast duties, the way he used to wait for us to wake up then ask what we wanted for breakfast, which was quite meaningless to be honest because all he knew how to make was egg, and no matter what we asked for… we got egg anyway.
I miss Baba’s random practical jokes, every member of the family has suffered one way or another with these ... I shall say no more.
I miss the way he used to misplace things, like the time after washing his hands he put the bar of soap in his pocket then spent an hour looking for it.
I miss Baba’s continual lectures at me and my siblings, being a professor he bought his profession into the house, and so we were lectured. Literally.
I miss arguing with Baba about collecting me from my friends’ houses. That man loved public transport and would rather I lived on a bus than him having to get into the car. lol, but he always did come, even though that meant becoming an additional member at J’s household, apparently hers is the closest to our house.
I miss my chemistry tutorial sessions with Baba, he was the best teacher, he never would get angry if I didn’t understand anything, (something I cannot exercise with my siblings) and I think he holds the record for the most outrageous number of times he has explained the concept of “moles” to me.
I miss Baba’s bedtime stories, (yes I am aware of my age) but when we were younger he used to make up the most ridicules bedtime tales, of which ba6a Safeway (The Safeway duck) and her many shopping trips to, yes you guessed it, “Safeway”, the giraffe and the bicycle, (this concept amused us for a very long period of time), and finally the girl named Farra (mouse) whose name got her into trouble with the local cats, were of our favourites stories. We used to laugh so much that we couldn’t sleep afterwards and stay up most of the night laughing into our pillows.

The list is endless I could go on forever, I really could. Just sitting here brainstorming stories of Baba with my sister has bought back so many laughs.

There’s emptiness in my heart which Baba’s laughter used to fill,
There’s sadness in my smile which his words used to revive,
But there’s hollowness in my soul and sorrow in my step,
For a bigger purpose there’s fear in my eyes,
Each tear will tell you a story of a land, of a people forgotten,
For them all,
I feel the greater pain.

These feelings I cannot control, but what I can do is pray for the safety of every Baba and Mama, sister and brother, aunt, uncle and child in Iraq, God is my witness I never forget them in my prayers, I believe its our duty, the least we can do.

2007-04-04T01:18:00.001+01:00

Budding love

I writ your name on every flower, on every leaf of every tree,
With hope that one day as they blossomed
Your love would do the same for me,

So while I waited, frustrated remembered I a crucial fact,
Tends to take her time does mother nature
But my tender heart patience lacked,

So pleaded I for days and days, until the days turned into weeks,
Don’t torture me on the hands of time
Plant seeds of love in who my heart seeks,

And true it was, finally as any wish come true can be,
Our love did sprout and with us grew
But yet so fast I did not see,

With my spell cast, our good times past summer spring and autumn too,
And withered we like the fruits of June
In winter’s presence, you were not due.

Beautiful is everything that comes in its time,
As is a word ending a sentence carrying a rhyme,
Matters of the heart, you should not haste,
Or else life’s rich sweetness, bitter will taste.

2006-12-30T21:21:00.000Z

A few words,

Hanged. Using the same rope he used to fulfill his darkest desires, acts of evil he falsely caramelized with the sweetness of justice. The butcher of Baghdad finally seen taste the agony, the slow fearful walk up to the gallows, feel the rope brush past his face before holding a merciless grip on his fate, just as he held a merciless grip on a people, a people shaken by 35 years of dictatorship, endure a feeling of humiliation he fed to the oppressed, many before him. And once gone, leaving behind the sweet smell of true justice to fill the streets of Iraq.

I thought this day only existed in my dreams, a dream I share with far too many. But how many people can actually say, their dreams have come true? A day awaited by sincere Iraqis for too long a time, came. Came today bringing along with it a wave of pure delight and bitter filled revenge.

Many people say this will only encourage the "Sunni supporters", supporters of his previous regime, to retaliate with brutal force, causing further division and devastation in Iraq, and others say this act will finally return the silent nights to Baghdad. As for me, I'm just glad his corps is left to rot in the trashcan of history, that can only be a good thing for the future of Iraq.

I am not ignorant of the circumstances of these actions, nor do i wallow in the shortsightedness of most. I just choose to enjoy the moment...while it lasts.

2006-12-04T16:45:00.000Z

Like a Star

Just like a star,
You fly across my sky,
So near but far,
I can’t even say goodbye.

The beat-less song of the night
Resembles that of my heart,
Stay awake and stay loving,
Knowing I’m falling apart.

I see a shine in the heavens
Sparkle between the tears in my eyes,
To make a wish, make a dream
Before the light of the night dies.

Keeping you alive in my fairytale
Wishing your safe return,
Until that time, this tale
Will inside me forever burn.

So look down to the earth
Whisper in a silent voice,
As you pass me by,
I know you’ve no choice.

Destinies wish, is our way
I’ll be forever under the stars,
And in the night’s breeze we’ll sway,
Until our way, is destinies wish.

Just like a star,
You fly across my sky,
So near but far,
I can’t even say goodbye.

2006-10-02T17:04:00.000+01:00

Inspired by Z ;)

Lost in the city

Where to go,
When there’s no where to hide?
Every crack in this city,
Has a secret inside.

Streets roaming with rats,
At the newcomer they stare,
It’s a dog eat dog world,
‘coz life is unfair.

Raw darkness, bitter cold,
Struggling through rain,
But when it all comes down,
There’s no gain without pain.

You got to make you own way,
Carve your own name,
At the end of the day,
It’s how you play your own game.

Don’t let them put you down,
Fight till the end,
It’s just the beginning,
Get through the first bend.

Feeling small in the city,
It’s all in the mind,
Soon enough you’ll be king,
Just got to know what to find.

Your path has always been set,
You weren’t born in a maze,
But don’t change to adapt,
Just adapt to this phase.

2006-09-13T01:46:00.000+01:00

Living in Memory

I bumped into a friend from primary school today. Its funny how time flies, (not necessarily when you’re enjoying yourself), but just how time flies.

She had changed, and so had I, but our memories where the same, back to a time when we were so young. A place, a frozen picture, dead, as time had trampled over its smooth strokes, and vibrant colours, trailing a dark ink behind. Smudging the sharply defined edges of the school yard, with its jagged claws. And yet the frame stands in place, strong and sturdy, as my memory does, for it knows what once lay beneath, a beautiful piece now hidden in dust, smudged and stained. Because beautiful things don’t have to be preserved or carved in stone to live forever, they don’t need to be proved to the senses to exist, they exist and live beneath our souls, surviving off a heart beat, living in every breath we take. We just need to make sure our heart beats, and breathes; you never know ... something beautiful could be living off them.

I want to be happy,
Care free and innocent,
How I long to return a child again,
To leave my future behind,
To a time where nothing matters,
And all that happens, exists not in memory

I want to be happy,
How do I find this utter bliss?
A new face? Or to face the truth?
I long to rid of this dark cloud,
Floating over my head,
To live this nightmare no more.

I want to be happy,
Take me back.
Or cry with me.

2006-09-05T00:34:00.000+01:00

Moving on,

How does one know when or how to do so?
What is truly buried beneath these words?
The ability to forget? Or to be forgotten?
Letting go, leaving behind what was once so loved?
No, that doesn’t feel, nor sound right,
True and sincere acceptance of fate and approval of it?
Having to accept is never free willed, but inevitably forced.

Thinking I once held the sweetest cup of life between my hands,
How can drinking it now, taste so bitter?
The pain begins with the burn on my lips,
As I feel its poison enrich my veins.

Is it wrong to hold on? To wish, to dream?
Tell me if I should embrace hope, as if it were to change time?
There’s a fine line between wanting, longing and pure blindness
Loosing the will to see beyond, to live beyond the trees of darkness,
Which once were planted deep within, only now show their evil,
How can one think? When all it seems I can do is feel?
Feel the pain of a burning candle, and the life of a new born tear.

Moving on is not a phase nor a time, it’s a journey,
Of remembrance, reflection and realisation of reality,
Life moves on, and it hits as hard as a wall of bricks,
When you become the subject, that all move on from.

2006-08-18T22:52:00.000+01:00

Finally, Its all over.. (and i dont just mean the war)

I know I haven’t written any entries in some time, but with almost a quarter of a million students in this country for the last couple of days, I was in anticipation of the unveiling of my fate, eagerly awaiting my A-level results on the 17th of august. I know that was just yesterday, but I needed this whole week to calm down and to prepare myself for all possible outcomes. I don’t understand the necessity of all that mental stress?? The night of the 16th I think was probably the worst night of my life. I couldn’t sleep, eat, drink, think nor even breathe properly. I don’t think I even need to inform you of my journey to college to collect my results, my mind took me places It’s never been before. Okay, I’ll bare you all the gruesome details, I got in to do the degree I wanted but not at my first choice university, but my insurance. Thankfully I have come to accept this, and all I can do now I guess, is look forward to my first year at university.

Reading the papers these past two days, I read many articles about the idea of introducing a new “A*” grade into the A-level system. One was an article in the independent titled “Results add to pressure for reform of A-levels”. Apparently, this move is necessary due to the large numbers of students achieving three straight A passes. Now universities want this new scheme introduced so that they can pick out the truly “talented” students. I found myself completely against this move, not only will it diminish and value of achieving A and B grades, but will place added pressure onto students to achieve the A* grade. Sometimes I just feel like, how much do they want to stretch our brains? Is it fair? Is it fair on students who work exceedingly hard to achieve B and A grades that are not necessarily easy to obtain, only to have their grades unrecognised and to be beaten to places at universities, by students gaining even higher unnecessary grades?? I mean, what will the new grade boundaries between an A and an A* be?? A difference of 5 marks??? It doesn’t make sense, no matter how you look at it, its unnecessary pressure, and unfair, as if A-levels and the whole shift to university wasn’t stressful, complicated and competitive enough.

Anyway, with this id like to say a huge “congratulations” to all my friends, and anyone reading this who got their results yesterday, be it AS or A-level, even if they have achieved the grades they wanted, exceeded them, or missed them. Its not the end of the world every problem has a solution, life does not necessarily revolve around education, there are bigger issues and opportunities in this vast world. Life itself is a huge university where one can exceed in any subject and be successful in their future. At the end of the day, we dont know what fate has waiting for us. Just getting through those two stressful, exhausting, nerve destroying years at college deserves the biggest applause. So Well done to everyone, and with that i wish all the best of luck for the future :)

2006-08-11T15:46:00.000+01:00

Galloway on Lebanon..

This is truly a must see clip, its almost funny to see a british MP speak so passionately :D enjoy!

ps. Just wanted to say thanks to Mohammed hadi for showing it to me :) i got it from him .. his blog is also a must read i advise all to check it out :

http://mhailan.blogspot.com/

i would put it as a link, but as you can probably tell, i dont know how...ive tried, but it just never seems to work?!

2006-08-07T23:13:00.000+01:00

Todays World

(I writ this piece yesterday but unfortunately I didn’t have the time to post it, so please excuse the “time” phrases.)

I was planning to publish a post yesterday about my day, but I came home too exhausted to even switch on the computer, and with my last ounce of energy I just managed to get myself changed and off to sleep. Awake from 9 that day I left the house at 10 in order to attend the march against the war on Lebanon and the inhumane acts of injustice committed on the Lebanese people, which was taking place in central London. To be completely honest I had no idea this was taking place, but my friends organised the day so that we could go together, and I’m glad we did. However due to unforeseen circumstances !!! We arrived at the march at 1.30 even though they were due to start at 12, but we saw that they had just set off. There were thousands of people taking part; banners and flags of white, red and green were held with pride as far as the eye could see. Looking around me I saw people off different races, nationalities and religion united for the sake of one cause, it was a shame thought to know that the reason behind this unity was truly one of shame, but I was reassured by the fact that acts of evil are understood universally. My presence there felt like a tear in the sea, and with that I still felt that my presence made a difference and I was proud of everyone who had made the effort to attend, and wrote their name in history to condemn. (With this I'd like to give a HUGE shout out to my friends who are going to change the world: A*-Z-J-H-I-J J).

I know what I say next may be seen as an act of selfishness, it may rip away from me all the sensations I felt that day, and that warm feeling I gained by taking part, but I would be lying to myself if I tried to convince myself otherwise. Throughout the march I could not forget, not for one second the fact that I was an Iraqi the fact that my country was also being ripped apart by a stronger force and that now years have passed and people are beginning to practise their silence. What’s happening in Lebanon pierces my heart from the very bottom, but I’m scared that this shall be “today’s news” and tomorrow it shall be like Palestine and Iraq before it, and then a day will come when the Arab world will say “ukiltu yowm ukil al thawr al abyath”. I never thought the day would come when, car bombs killing innocent lives in Baghdad are seen as everyday normalities, because this has become the case. I feel peoples warm moist emotions have dried up in order to keep up with the harsh, heartless, ways of this time. At that moment I hated the world I lived in, and the reality, which forced me to accept the current state in the Middle East.

As we continued, passing the American embassy (which received harsh words from the crowds) we reached the final destination of what was a successful protest, the houses of parliament. Many guest speakers, peace activists and MP’s spoke to the people, repeating words we have heard so many times before, “Cease fire now”, “shame on Tony Blair”, “End the war”. Walking back we bumped into a journalist who was watching the events and seemed keen to interrogate us as a group of Muslim girls. After engaging in conversation, I noticed he stared long and hard at a friend of mine who had a sticker of Sayed Hassan NasrAllah on her, he questioned; Do you believe everything this man, who you have placed to close to you heart, says? Without hesitation we replied, yes. This seemed to worry him. He continued, so you agree with what he has said, and support it? Again we agreed. He then began expressing his main concerns and the reason to why he had initially stopped us. However he first explained that we was deeply delved in the concerns of the Middle East, in all its colours, and had spent most of his life “discovering it” he explained he even had a half brother who was Iranian. His main issue though was the fear growing inside him of the message being given out to Muslim youth. He seemed to condemn Hizballah, and their message of fighting. Why? He questioned, do Muslims place this great importance on death, and dying for Allah, this great urge you have to die as martyrs? If this is because of love for Allah, whey don’t we see this love you have for your God while you are alive, where is it, he asked? I am Jewish he revealed. We don’t feed this message of hate and jihad to our children. He seemed to be working towards peace; he wanted to see love between the enemies of time. Yet the only way he saw that this would be achieved is if we stop the barbarism, the ignorance, and the blind following behind those they see as terrorists. His words ran circles inside my head. After all this, he wanted to see Hizballah cease-fire?? What planet did this guy live on? I know there are those whom its in their best interest that the world be blind, but I did not know they were succeeding. He then asked if we watched “Al-Manar” news, relying yes, he ceased this opportunity to attack the Arab media, and condemn them for sending out messages of jihad to the youth. Wanting to get as far away from this conversation as possible I eventually succeeded, but he still made sure his message was clear to us; don’t support the movement in Lebanon, because apparently we have done so without thought, but instead we must question their motives and principles. I left the journalist behind, and instead picked up hatred and anger towards the Arab world that have allowed us to be the “chewing gum” (as they say) of the west, in the mouths of those who are somebody’s and even those who are nobodies.

Isn’t it funny though that the chewing gum seems to be the Shia? In Iraq we are silenced, and in Lebanon targeted? The reasons for this I believe have nothing to do with politics but instead are what we have inherited from history. Ever since the creation of the Shia, after the death of Imam Ali (a.s) his followers have been suppressed, oppressed, hidden and fought against. We seem to have inherited this “second seat” Ideology, and now in the case of Iraq when we are finally given the voice, this is new to us; therefore look at the consequence. So is it really a surprise that we are still targeted? Not really when you study the times of the Imam’s. Today was the birth date of Imam Ali (a.s), watching the celebrations on Iraqi TV, live from Najaf, Iraq; I don’t think I’ve ever cried so much in my life, for so many reasons.

Final thought:

My neighbour’s cat died yesterday. Aged 18. I discovered his sad parting from this world as I strolled in the garden and found him lifeless, motionless on the neighbour’s lawn. As our neighbours came home from a day out, I told them the news from across the fence. The mother and daughter ran towards the cat, picking it up and stroking his fur as tears rolled down their checks. After some time as the skies got dark, I went outside in the garden to find that they had built the cat a shrine like feature?? The cat was placed inside a cardboard box with candles and flowers around. The young daughter informed me that they had done their prayers for the cat and were saying their final goodbyes before it was buried. The mother, sitting beside it with her glass of wine sat sobbing like a small child. After a while she called for me from across the fence. She wanted me to know that she knew it was silly for her to be crying over a cat when there were babies dying in Lebanon. She felt like she had to justify her tears to me by explaining she had bought the cat as a kitten even before the birth of her children. Yet she still thought her tears and hurt offended me because there were people dying everyday in Iraq and Lebanon a point she stressed over and over again. I found myself pitying her, and in the name of neighbourly love I found myself comforting her with the words, “the soul is precious no matter whom it belongs to” (at the time I meant the cat). …Now I find myself revising this statement. She carried on expressing her hate for Blair, Bush and the non-existent state of Israel, her confusion to why countries are unable to live in harmony despite differences in faith and opinion just as we Christians and Muslims were able to live wall to wall. As I walked away I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, laugh at death, laugh at the world, or cry for the cat.

2006-08-02T00:00:00.000+01:00

The living dead

Existence is such a strange, incomprehensible thing,
Happy it can be, yet sorrow it may also bring,
Some watch it pass by, and others may strive,
But I still don’t understand the meaning of life.

Don’t get me wrong, careful, don’t jump to the end,
I don’t question God, or why on this earth us he did send,
I question man’s potential, his potential to be great,
And why we surrender so early, our lives to fate.

A human being has the will to be, to do, to see,
We breathe, the first step to begin to believe,
And if you believe, in you, in me, then you can achieve,
Be aware don’t betray your gift of life, waste it not.

2006-07-30T13:39:00.000+01:00

Childhood

Last night once again I found myself rummaging through the attic trying to find something I had lost maybe a century ago? Filled with blind hope that indeed I would regain it, as I swam through heaps of junk from the past and piles and piles of papers. Until I reached the point at which the reason to why I had initially gone up there was completely forgotten, and this new adventure of discovery was much more interesting. Amongst the clutter I found a row of neatly positioned A4 folders, which my father had carefully placed in alphabetical order. Memories came flooding back as I came across report cards and certificates from my primary school. In the midst of these, I found an old poem I had written at a young age, one I still remember writing, and thought I had lost forever. At the time I entitled the poem “poem 4” only because it was the fourth ever poem I had ever written. The memories attached to this poem remind me of “happy days” or should that be “happier days”? I’m not quiet sure, anyway, so I thought I would leave it unchanged and share it, as it is.

Poem 4

Long ago one dreadful night,
My eyes caught hold of what a site,
I was walking through the streets alone,
And a lot of courage I had shown.

Rain was falling gently not making a sound,
Yet I could not feel it, as it touched the ground,
And as I walk more, my footsteps you hear,
Only mine, no one else’s, are you feeling my fear?

It was late at night so dark and cold,
I should have stayed in as I was told,
The streets were empty I saw not a breath,
The weather was cold and as bitter as death.

My pace became faster as I walked more and more,
It was like walking in circles, I’ve been here before?
I was in trouble now, so I began to run,
Until I was blinded with light like the sun.

Oceans of feelings were set out free,
As I couldn’t believe what I did see,
I didn’t know whether to smile or scream,
It all happened so fast, was I in a dream?

A gift so pure so full of love,
A present from God sent from high above,
I stood there speechless not saying a word,
Yet all my emotions and feelings were heard.

His light filled me with warmth and pleasure,
His presence to me was like immeasurable treasure,
And as he turned and walked away,
I prayed my angel would return some day.

This poem made me take a step back and realise how quickly we grow? How quickly one is made to take responsibility for their life and actions? It made me think of childhood, with its innocence and how it flies by without giving a warning. I also thought how funny it was that most people would associate inexperience, gullibility, simplicity, truth, purity, virtue and basically pure magic with the word childhood? I realised how unfair it was that some children around the world are stripped of theirs with such force that it leaves them naked of their freedom as a child to face the harsh world as it is, but what hurt more was that its allowed to continue as if the problem would disappear if we all turned our backs. So I searched the following statistics:

Of Americas 5 fastest growing health concerns (including depression, diabetes, impotence and age related problems) obesity is ranked number one with 61%. Sometimes it is diet choices that are the problem. Too often, fast food or frozen meals substitute for a quality meal. Not only fast food, but sugary treats are nowadays way too common. What used to be a rare treat has now become a daily if not hourly intake. However I acknowledge that Diet is not the only culprit, Lack of exercise, is another cause of child obesity. Video games have replaced much physical activity that is needed to burn off excess calories children consume. It was hard for me to believe that studies show, increased risk of heart disease, high blood pressure, diabetes, breathing problems and trouble sleeping are all related to obesity in young children!

Then my mind bought me back here to the UK, to when Jamie Oliver sparked off his “feed me better” campaign, with the delightful television programme, I’m sure most of us watched…he took his campaign further when He launched a petition with the aim of getting 10,000 signatures to improve the standard of school dinners in the UK. Four days after the final episode aired, in March 2005, he delivered it to Downing Street. It held 271,677 signatures. Tony Blair promised to take action and, within weeks, the new education secretary, Ruth Kelly, announced that an extra £235m would be invested in improving meals over the next three years.

Fifteen million pounds of that money went on setting up the School Food Trust which, announced a new set of regulatory standards which come into force in September: an end to processed items, crisps, fizzy drinks and confectionery; a minimum of two portions of fruit and vegetables with every meal; no more than two fried items a week. They also said that schools would have to meet even more stringent nutritional standards by 2008.

Maybe it’s just me, but I find it so hard to accept that one of the highest concerns on America’s agenda is to stop children eating so much of what it is so readily available, whereas else where in the world children are dying due to the lack of it. To encourage exercise because too much time is spent in front of the TV or playing Playstation while other children are the sole providers for what’s left of their families after their parents are killed due to war, disease or famine. It irritates me how Jamie Oliver goes through all that trouble to include lobsters and hand picks green apples imported from Portugal to Sainsbury’s, in children’s school meals so they can have it laid out on a silver plate, something the government is all too ready to aid, while other children, maybe on the other side of the same earth sleep hungry. Or if it ever comes across his mind that some children in south Africa have to wake up from dawn to do their chores so that they can travel yes travel to school which is located on the other side of their village, because it’s the only one, does anyone worry about their school meals?

Some children are forced to grow up and face responsibility before their time, are made to deal with war, deaths in family, and destruction without even knowing the reason why? But I guess life is unfair and that isn’t about to change. I know that these aren’t the only problems children all over the world face everyday (including Europe and America) and I probably couldn’t even begin to imagine, actually I’m probably the last person who can begin to talk as I’ve lived most of my life in the comfort of the UK. I just believe that children have the right to live equally because they’re so venerable, pure and innocent, they shouldn’t have to pay the price of their fathers. I know that I’m not going to change the world but I could at least talk about it.

2006-07-29T11:14:00.000+01:00

Where is home?

Alive with no shadow, I feel so lost,
The penalty of our fathers, us will cost,
Where do I belong? What can I call home?
With emptiness inside, alone this earth I roam.

What do I fall back on, what’s my iron wall?
Crumbling and disaster as Baghdad did fall,
Hit after hit we fell, till now we are unable to stand,
And what we hear at night, are cries of a broken land,

Bodies of the innocent line the street,
And even the living wither in anger and heat,
As the sun rises it casts a black shadow below,
Killing the fruits of tomorrow, and their chance to grow.

Our rights were crimpled when we were promised democracy,
Yet only the dark, black hooded riper is set free,
Is this my origin, is this what I call home?
The land I spent all my life away from?

I know at the moment all is bad, it seems,
The future is far, but I have many dreams,
I have faith Baghdad will stand again on its feet,
And neighbours will return to live street by street,

You are my home; here I live as a stranger,
Although I’ve been welcomed, I’m seen as a danger,
For now, know in my heart you will remain,
Until one day to you I will return again.

2006-07-29T01:03:00.000+01:00

What is poetry?

The oxford dictionary states that poetry is "Art or work of a poet; elevated expression of elevated thought or feeling in metrical or rhythmical form."

But what must also not be forgotten, it the techniques used in creating poems, poetry is language working at its most suggestive and allusive, in that it uses mainly the non-literal qualities of language; the quality and feel of different types of diction, sound, rythm, and the images and connotations that cluster around words. Above all it combines them in such a way as to bring out all those qualities at thier most intense.

Below i have included some of my favourite definitions of "poetry" found in literature:

"Poetry is the spontaneous overflow of powerful feelings, it takes its origin from emotion recollected in tranquility" William Wordsworth
"Poetry is the sound of human speech in those times when it comes closest to the speech of angels and the speach of animals" John Wain
"Poetry: the best words in the best order" Samuel Taylor Coleridge
"Poetry strips the veil of familiarity from the world, and lays bare the naked and sleeping beauty, which is the spirit of its forms"

I dont know who the above quote is from, but they must have felt very passionatly about poetry and its effects!

2006-07-28T11:58:00.000+01:00

Merciless

Fresh blood, new existence is made by the hour,
A new being, potential to be, but without power,
Venerable, weak, not knowing what’s begun,
But it’s too late from now the hands of time will run.

What were precious moments of those early days?
Are now memories of what’s past, a phase,
Then suddenly you may loose control,
A closed eye is all you need, a sudden fall.

You’ll find yourself ahead of what seemed forever,
A place you thought you would reach, never,
Into life’s harsh grasp you will enter,
In a black whole you’ll find yourself, at the centre
Time will clinch on your flesh so tender,
Your body into its claws you must surrender.

Until one day all will stop, all will end,
Congratulations you’ve gone past the bend,
But now worse than this nightmare you must await,
In the oneness of the grave, the unveiling of your fate.

2006-07-28T01:08:00.000+01:00

Beginnings

Initially I had intended to browse around blog by blog, to maybe find something of interest or something I could relate to, to fill in my spare time as they say. But the more I would read the more I realised that there was a stronger message in between words and sentences, the need to express thoughts, beliefs and opinions, I was truly inspired and decided to do the same, but my way.

"Writing a poem is discovering"
Robert frost

I feel the best way i can express myself is through poems, maybe its because i can hide behind the words and meaning, a poem is not always what it seems and it can be seen differently through different eyes. What i love are poems that are not direct, but require an effort to discover their true internal meaning. Not only is a poem discovering, its a journey of discovery, a path that is truly universal and that teaches you things along the way.

"Poetry is about the grief, politics is about the grievance "
Robert Frost

I don’t intend to include any politics though, theres enough in this world already. However, my roots lie firmly in the soils of Iraq, a heritage that is important to me, but why discuss politics when you can express it? You will see i include some opinions about iraq and its current situation in some of my poems because again i feel this is who i am, im not apart of it, iraq is a part of me.

Painting is poetry that is seen rather than felt, and poetry is painting that is felt rather than seen”
Leonardo da Vinci

I believe poetry is a means of communication without confrontation; you can sway it in any way you like and achieve different meanings. Some of the world’s most profound thoughts, feelings and emotions can be captured and expressed in poetry, so that when you come to read it, the sensation is one of experience and not of comprehension.

“Poetry is the journal of a sea animal living on land, wanting to fly in the air”
Carl Sandburg

Finally I wanted to include the above quote by the American poet Carl Sandburg in this short introduction, only because it really made me laugh! He goes beyond describing poetry as a transcendent feeling, and gives it a form that is wild and determined a sort of “the skies the limit” feeling you get when writing poetry. If you write poetry then you will probably understand what I mean, the feeling when you have so many emotions or thoughts you want to express, it just charges you up and it becomes more difficult to get it all down. I don’t know, but that’s what I got from it…still funny though.