Jesus, peace be upon him,
And Mary, the cloistress
the spirit of Truth
and the Mother of gnosis,
Glad tiding to those
Who remember these two
And Muhammad and Moses
Abraham and Jonah
Daylight for the hopeless
Peace be upon them
By the number of roses!
And the generous host
And magnanimous hostess
Say a warm, special prayer
For the weak and the homeless
The wandering Gazan
Who roams with the formless
In the West Bank and Gaza
Balm for our neuroses
Amen
Dear Muslims, compliments if you’ve succeeded
In exorcising demons on your thrones
Glad tidings and best wishes to your country
May your people flourish and your rivers flow
But remember when it’s your turn to accede
Another demon whispers and can grow
You know the fallen ways of this flawed world
From blameless babies, tyrants can unfurl
May you be those who rule with truth and love
So, you can feel the blessings from above
May you be those protected from all sides
From demons external, and ones inside
Ameen
The dunya spoke to me once in a dream:
“If you choose me, I’ll make your life serene
The benefits I’ll bring you won’t believe!
Don’t listen to those others who deceive!
I’ll end the wars and make your troubles go
Borders will be safe; money will flow,
I promise you more money in your pockets
The chance to build a world without the rockets
All I need is that you play your part
And choose me in the ballot of your heart.”
And so I crossed the dunya on the slip
Four years elapsed, things did not change one bit
And then the dunya called me once again
Dressed up in gold and handing me a pen
“If you choose me, you won’t regret this night
I will be better than before, all right!?”
The salesmen of the dunya come and go
Buy from them sceptically, heed not the show…
The King, Al Wahid, peerless and profound
Whose wisdom works silently and aloud
He sent two dervishes upon a mission
A testing quest, an unalterable imposition
“My close and near bondsmen, my dervishes!
You witness My presence and services
But now I’m sending you upon the earth
Where you will rise and flourish from a birth
And there you have a special job to do
To tend to my wild garden through and through
The patio is your responsibility
Each side for each of you, clear it of weeds
Those weeds grow through the cracks relentlessly
They find a way and grow back endlessly
Their names are creeping thistle ma’siah
Another one’s called hub ad dunya
Here is a gardening tool to pull them out
It’s called at tawba, working strong and stout
The clearer and flawless the paths you make
I will be there to visit for your sake!”
So off they went the dervishes abroad
Far, down to earth as stated by their Lord
The first dervish he struggled to control
The weeds, he pulled them out, as he’d been told
The other one, he found a clever trick
Told to him by a snake, whispering and thick
“Use this bold spray, it’s called riya so fine,
It will destroy the weeds and look sublime
Not only your dear King but all around
Will love to see your patio and grounds!”
And so it came to pass, the patios
The first dervish, he struggled and was slow
His patio looked incomplete, unkempt
Some weeds pulled out, some sticking out and bent
The other’s patio, so clear and fine
Shining from riya spray it looked divine
But on the day the King came for a visit
The second dervish, ailing was his spirit!
Because the King his patio He spurned
And to the dirty patio He turned
“O why, dear king, my patio forsake
Which is so free of weeds for Your Pure Sake?!”
The King He viewed the dervish with a look
The riya spray shivered and the ground it shook…
“I spend My time on this poor patio
Because with at tawba it shines and glows
This one he struggles, but he keeps pulling
The weeds grow back but he does not give in
They keep returning, tearful is his heart,
I love the fact that he does not depart!
But you just do it all for pride and show
So take heed from your brother, then you will know!
Don’t be hoodwinked, the weeds are of the earth
And you have not been sent there just for mirth
Keep dealing with those weeds that grow within
You need Me close; alone you cannot win…”
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 readingLayla graced our town with a procession
And every heart desired to see her face
So, I adorned myself with the finest outfit
Perfumed my beard with rose, the purest white
My voice, I practised eloquent encomia
My eyes, I checked my gazes on the screen
And then approaching calmly her palanquin
I called out to her longingly on a whim
Suddenly, the curtains drew aside
And there sat veiled the irresistible bride
She said: “Dear sir, what’s all this fakery?
That’s layered on your pretty words for me?
This hall of mirrors, these pixels in your heart
Cast them aside, stop gawking at the parts
Lessen the talk talk, tighten your broad band
Transcend the tick tock, do you understand?
Obsess not on the why, the fie, what’s apt
Instead arouse your heart, empty your lap
When your subconscious’s silent and serene
Then I will be ready to be your queen…”
MAWLID MUBARAK!
Don’t be afraid, dear England,
For Muslims are not your fell foes
Allah reminds us we’re travellers
The news in our hearts, Allah knows
Don’t be afraid, dear England,
Us Muslims, we don’t want your land
The east and the west are from Allah
All nations are built upon sand
Don’t be alarmed, dear Britons,
Us Muslims can never replace you,
We’re sons and daughters of Adam
So prejudice shouldn’t abase you
But do be aware, our dear English,
That we say that God is just One
Muhammad is His final prophet
We all will be judged near the sun
But even if you don’t believe us
God is your judge, not our selves
You are then free to develop,
To wonder, imagine, and delve
There is no compulsion in believing
We all will return to the One
So we try to follow our Prophets
Before all this life is undone
Dear English and all you dear Gaelics,
Feel free to imagine your selves
But know that while our way is different
We pray for you heaven, not hell
So don’t be afraid of us Muslims
Even the extremists and quacks
But don’t be so fixed on your nations,
One day God will take it all back ….
(A response to the riots of August, 2024)
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
Welcome to the Hospital for Souls!
Our treatments aren’t for parts but for the whole
We specialize in conditions worse than cancer
Like envy, haughtiness, ego and rancour
We don’t dispense tablets that you ingest
Instead our medicines- your lusts divest
The efficacy of all that we prescribe
Is up to your hardwork and fate Divine
Our doctors are the hidden and the seen
Our medicines from Al Quran Al Hakeem
Our treatment plans derived from Al Madinah
We treat all-comers, even deluded dreamers
But here’s the strangest thing about this place
Some of our patients have a healthy face
They walk around with strength and energy
They suffer not from gout or lethargy
But deep within they’re swayed by devil words
That whisper and press them to love this world
So if you need the treatment much like me
Our hospital is found in the Divine Sea
And peace and blessings on the true physician
The master of well-being, and intuition!
Inspired by the work of Sufi Tariqahs and Islamic spirituality
Once there was a king from old Ibifa
Who heard about the treasures of Abu Hanifah
This king exclaimed, “I’ve heard the raving story!
Of treasures that will fill my land with glories
And now I know what this imam was hiding
I’ll take an army to where he was residing!”
The king marched with his band to Baghdad’s sanctum
Engulfing it like whales to floating plankton
And then the king addressed the Imam’s tomb
With expectation of the coming boon!
“O dweller of Baghdad Abu Hanifah!
Who holds the treasures of all pleasure seekers
You once said if the kings knew of your heaven
They’d march to you with swords of shining sevens!
So now I’ve called your bluff, give me the goods!
Or I’ll annihilate your neighbourhood!”
Suddenly a voice rose from the grave
“Dear king to come to me you’re really brave
I’ll save the courtesy and politics
And share with you the secrets of my fiqh!!!”
The king and army felt a subtle wave
Which cured them of the worldly things they craved
They dropped their swords and wandered Baghdad’s streets
Chanting with tears of joy down by their feet!
“We’re rich from this deep fiqh! We’re really rich!!!
We’re rich from this deep fiqh! We’re really rich!!!”
Imam Abu Hanifa once said, “If the kings knew the pleasure we are in, they would send their armies with swords to take it away from us.”