When he lifted his hand to my heart
He was so odious to me
When he lifted his hand from my heart
Continue readingWhen he lifted his hand to my heart
He was so odious to me
When he lifted his hand from my heart
Continue reading
One night I found my soul dead on the floor
Stabbed to death it rocked me to my core
And so immediately I led the case
To find if the killer had left a trace
I called our CID and Forensics
Who searched for prints and fibres for our pick
My CID checked hours of CCTV
Unlocked the mobile phones for clues and leads
But as we checked and searched for answers deeper
This mystery endured I felt a fever
Until we feared and floundered in flat circles
Our minds felt sick, our veins were going purple
Until one night as I slept in my bed
This case had burned my body churned my head
I found a door open with a subtle light
And drops of blood leading before my sight
I followed them then found a wretched dagger
Its familiarity it made me stagger
And then I found my nafs hidden in shadow
Upon its head an imp with eyes like arrows
The killer, to my unrelenting dread
Was not another one, but in me instead
And tears were shed of longing and remorse
The imp it fled and tawba took its course
My nafs was led away by CID
Constables instilling Divine Decree
And now I felt something just so relieving
I heard a heartbeat now; my soul was breathing
Notes:
CID- UK police detectives
Nafs- inner psyche/ego
Image: from True Detective: Season 1
A murid called his sage with yearning eyes
“Show me the secrets of your enterprise…”
“Okay,” the sage replied, “let it be told
With this spade that I give you dig a hole
And dig until you find the quenching water
Then drown in it your vices and their daughters
When you are pure and washed, prepare your eyes
For the boundless secrets of our enterprise.”
The shaykh led the murid to a special pit
And showed the spade and how to dig with it
“Keep digging for the water, don’t give up
Don’t let the fiends of doubt your hopes disrupt!”
And so the seeker dug on through the day
And through the night without any dismay
But as the days went on although he cried
No water came although he tried and tried
The shaykh appeared again, “Keep digging my dear friend
The deeper that you dig, the deeper your great end!”
And on the final day murid was really straining
The shaykh arrived to beautify this training
“Have you discovered water yet my son?
Have you tasted the water of the One?”
The murid cried with anguish, “my dear Shaykh!
I’ve dug without success my heart it really aches!”
And then the Shaykh so soft were his deep eyes
Some wondrous tears appeared light and divine
Each tear fell in the hole with the murid
In just a glance it filled up to his knees
And then below the earth gave way and bled
Fresh water merged with tears the sage had shed
The murid dived and bathed in flowing water
The secrets of the way in his soul’s quarters
And now a hole murid had strained to dig
Was like a lake refreshing, clear and big!
The murid returned to shore with his sage smiling
“My son you’ve found something so enterprising
But if you dug deeper for Allah’s sake
You would have found His ocean, not just a lake!”
For Shaykh Nuh Ha Mim Keller, may Allah bless him
Once there was a bold mureed of sorts
Who went and took his sufi shaykh to court!
He stood before the judge with indignation
The shaykh stood in the docks with resignation
“So what’s your case?” began the magistrate
As jury, public, media stood in wait:
“Dear judge,” began the bold mureed of sorts
“By this man I was guided, helped and taught
But now I’ve realised, he is of no use!
As he has subjected me to spiritual abuse!”
“Describe in detail your experience,”
The judge advised with this august appearance:
“Well,” said the mureed, “Let me start with this
He made me give my own ego the miss!
He forced me to reduce my reputation
By begging in the streets with humiliation
Then he said that I would be inspired
If I gave up my ego’s deep desires.”
The mureed wept, tears streaming down his face
He looked up to the judge: “Sorry your grace.”
“So what was the result?” enquired the judge
“Well here’s the crux of my permitted grudge
This sufi shaykh committed heresy
By making me forego my agency
He forced me to ingest unearthly wine
Which he said had appeared from the divine
And then I lost all concept of my self
All I could see was light and heavenly wealth
I was imprisoned in the malakut
Where angels served my needs all to my suit
But here’s the worst reality you see
All I could see was Him; nowhere was me!”
The mureed opened his indignant eyes
And stared around the court in great surprise
For judge and jury looking rather guilty
Now stood before the shaykh swearing their fealty!
The judge said: “dear mureed, you got us thinking
I think we’ll have what you have just been drinking!”
2022
Pir Sikandar was a Gaddi Nasheen
Who had more properties than Her Majesty the Queen
Every Friday in his local mosque
He gathered copious funds like a hungry fox
Rupees from poor and rich whatever the vibe
And to his TV channel, all, they must subscribe
And if any of his followers decried
“The curse of God on misers!” He would cry.
His house was more a palace than khanqah
For driving, he would cruise around in sports cars
While most of his mureeds got by in rickshaws
And most lived in crowded flats and on one floor
But amongst all these, there was a wild malang
With the honey bees of Love, he had been stung
This roaming dervish, he was called Mobeen
His face looked rough- his heart was most serene
He loved some stories, but one he thought was good
Was about the Merry men and Robin Hood!
One night to God, he cried and he implored:
“I will perform one thing that Thou deplores
I’ll steal the funds hidden in Sikandar’s stores
And rob the rich to benefit the poor!”
So, in the night, whilst Sikandar was asleep
Mobeen he lurked outside with just a creep
He slipped into the tomb of Sikandar’s Dada
And there he spoke with ecstasy to the spirit of this Baba
From there he took some treasures and some light
And distributed it throughout the night
Sikandar’s followers awoke feeling so rich
With hidden Oneness lights, no more they itched
Then on that Friday, when Sikandar came to rule
Despite his retinue, he looked a total fool
Because to his infuriating surprise
No one had turned up to pray in the lines
“Where are my followers? Where are they indeed?”
He stormed at his most gullible mureed
So, then they searched and drove along the roads
To each and every disciple’s abode
And everywhere they went they couldn’t fathom
That each mureed they met was now bedazzled
With priceless, wealthy lights around their head
And public crowds following in their stead
The last they met was none other than Mobeen
Who wore the jewels of love brighter than the Queen:
Sikandar cried: “Mobeen for goodness sake!
I thought I was supposed to be the shaykh!
And now all those who once would follow me
Each one has turned into a boundless sea!”
Mobeen said: “O dear pir I must confess
I robbed the lights hidden within your chest
That you have locked away in your darbar
And now your way of life from this is far
Like Robin Hood I stole from one who’s rich
With ancestors who gave their nafs the ditch
I shared their lights with those who are deserving
As you have ignored things that need preserving.”
Pir Sikandar, wealthy Gaddi Nasheen
Proclaimed in shame: “O God, what have I been!”
And there and then he chose he would repent
And gave away his riches then off he went
Roaming the roads like one who’s on a search
Because his love for God has gone berserk
He left Mobeen to take his rightful place
As the sincere pir; as the real shaykh
And that’s the story of old Mobeen Hood
And Pir Sikandar who changed all for the good!
Notes:
Gaddi Nasheen- inheritor/son of previous Pir or Shaykh (spiritual leader/holy man) and assumes his position in the community
Mureed- followers of spiritual leader
Malang- deranged, spiritual aspirant with strange powers
Baba- old shaykh, pir / old man
Dada- grandfather from father’s side
Darbar- grave of spiritual leader/holy person
2022
Rukana, the rock, was a wrestling king
Who would make Macgregor look a flimsy thing,
He was famed in the valley and across the land
One day, on the passes of Mecca, he met
The Rasul Allah, the renowned Prophet
And Muhammad said: “O Rukana, why?
My prophethood you deny?”
Continue readingRukana, the rock, was a wrestling king
Who would make Macgregor look a flimsy thing,
He was famed in the valley and across the land
One day, on the passes of Mecca, he met
The Rasul Allah, the renowned Prophet
And Muhammad said: “O Rukana, why?
My prophethood you deny?”
Continue reading
Hamra the Jinn, the scourge of men and women in the night!
If you have been an evil one, she has you in her sights!
She wears a chador darker than a plummeting black hole
Her eyes are redder than the churning rocks and burning coals
Her fangs are sharper than the canine teeth within a wolf
Her nails are firmer than the claws of Grendel from Beowulf
Her face more mesmerising than the princesses of old
Her voice can pacify the weak, and terrify the trolls
She haunts the night, and sniffs the air for all the evil ones
The dealers and the pimps and all the violent, lazy bums
The nasty hags; the cold, conniving, calculating queens
The older ones who trap the young in incidents obscene
Hamra the Jinn; she always wins, no one can shirk her chase
The darkest soul cannot conceive she’s there before his face
From Kanadhar, to Zanzibar, to Cairo and Tehran
From London, Paris, Marrakesh, to Dakar and Amman
She rides the winds; she skims the seas; she roams the spinning earth
She lurks in all the corners where she finds the people worst
One day she lit upon a human trafficker from Prague
Who liked to beat the women he had hidden in his yard;
The cries of these afflicted souls echoed in Hamra’s ears
They drew her, like a tiger drawn by scent of grazing deer
She watched as this monstrosity tormented these women
And then she wrapped him in her chador for his ugly sins
She drained him drier than the hay that feeds the hungry horse
When Hamra had finished with him, he was a walking corpse
Another job, she heard the sobs from flats in Tel Aviv
A woman liked to burn her son to put herself at ease
And one night, after deceiving police, with gloating pride,
She went to bed, and turned to see Hamra was by her side
The eyes blood red filled her with dread; the woman lost her nerve
Confessing all her nastiness; a sentence she would serve
Another time an operator of the killer drones
Was sniggering because his bombs had wiped out mountain homes
And when he strolled the streets alone, deep in the folding night
He came upon her hungry eyes which pierced him with a fright
No sleep would cast upon his eyes except he saw her face
Digging into his inner core; his life had lost its taste
Hamra the jinn, she always wins, no one can shirk her chase
But when she sees a kind person, she gives a warm embrace
The wife-beaters, the child-beaters, now inwardly implore
For mercy from the sight of Hamra slipping through their doors
So, here’s a warning for us all, when we’re about to rage
On individuals weaker, or are vulnerable in age
Remember that the cries for help will summon Hamra’s eyes
To you she may remain unseen, although materialised
She’ll work on you; she’ll shadow you; she’ll make your living hell
So, think about this carefully and those with whom you dwell…
Hamra the Jinn, the scourge of men and women in the night!
If you have been an evil one, she has you in her sights!
Hayy! Hayy! The Marifah!
When the lights they reveal what you really are
Hayy! Hayy! The Marifah!
When the secrets are near but you’re searching far
Hayy! Hayy! The Marifah!
His Eternal Marifah!
.
Jon was a don and a superstar
Who was rich and revered and so popular,
But the worldly success it had left the scars
From the chars of the Mardi gras
.
So, he sought for a cure in the lands afar
For the emptiness from the caviar
But he ended up in a boulevard
On the coasts of Zanzibar
.
Serving on a stall, in the street bazaar
Stood a dervish youth from the isle Pemba
Jon was drawn to him with his heart’s radar
And he told him of his scars:
.
“I need some reprieve for my ailing heart
It is subsiding like a collapsar
All my luxuries they are avatars
Save me from my deep gula!”
.
The dervish arose like a rising shah
With a gleam in his mien like a shining star
And he spoke with a voice like a rare nectar
With his eyes, piercing pulsars:
.
“The cravings of life are an abattoir
Which slaughter the souls in a pink boudoir!
Only One can repair, with His Marifah!
Closer than your jugular!
.
“Hayy! Hayy! The Marifah!
When you bow to the One, it will soothe your scars
Hayy! Hayy! The Marifah!
When you’re close to the One who knows who you are
Hayy! Hayy! The Marifah!
His Eternal Marifah!”
.
“Hayy! Hayy! The Marifah!
When the lights they reveal what you really are
Hayy! Hayy! The Marifah!
When the secrets are near but you’re searching far
Hayy! Hayy! The Marifah!
His Eternal Marifah!”
Notes:
Hayy! Hayy!- Arabic- alive- a reference to the divine name: Al Hayy- The Living One- some recite the name to draw closer to Allah Most High
Marifah- Arabic- knowledge (of God- mystical closeness to the Divine Reality)
Gula- Latin- gluttony, greed- one of the seven deadly sins
Javed was a dire Islamist
John lurked in M15
Javed sought to infiltrate
John haunted the Muslim sides
.
Javed went unto the pubs
Smoking pot and girls
But he stirred an evil plot
To shock the infidel world
Continue readingMaula Khan Maula Khan
No one can eat like me!
I come from the lands of Azkaban
I eat roast for my tea!
Maula Khan Maula Khan!
No one can eat like me
I eat like a king
So, I can sing
No one can eat like me!
Continue reading