Natural Mystic

There’s a natural mystic blowing through the air. Bob Marley

There’s a natural mystic glow in the unseen

And to feel it quaff the goblet of tawheed

You can feel it in Malcolm

In his mesmerising smile

In the trials that he suffered

In his righteousness and style

I don’t tell no lie

There’s a natural mystic deep reality

And to taste it, love the Only Deity

Feel the warmth of Ali’s fire

Grasp the rain of his words

In the ring, the unsurpassable

In the hearts, he turns alive

I don’t tell no lie

There’s a natural mystic shimmering finesse

If you purge the self, you’ll feel its dear caress

Like the gracious Mother Khadijah

The pearl of New York

In the beauty of her service

In the deepness of her eyes

Can’t keep them down

There’s natural mystic, blowing through the air

Notes:

Personalities referred to in the poem:

Malcolm X

Muhammad Ali

Mother Khadijah

Bob Marley

May Allah illuminate their secrets and teach us beneficial lessons through their lives, ameen

I found out about Mother Khadijah from the link below:https://sapelosquare.com/…/profile-mother-khadijah-faisal/

A Tribute To Rabi Al Awwal: The Story of the Trench

With a strike on the rock!

And the lights appeared!

And a smite on the block!

There’s no grief or fear!

In the fifth of the year

Deep in the Shawwal

Stirring hearts dug a trench

By the great Dhubab

Enemies far and near

Were conspiring high

To destroy the new faith

To observe it die

Outnumbered, facing death

Odds did not look good

But the hope did not die

And the Prophet stood

With a strike on the rock!

And the lights appeared!

And a smite on the block!

There’s no grief or fear!

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Joe And His Technicoloured Servers

Dear Father,

I don’t have much time, my sentencing is in a few days, so I will cut to the chase. I am sorry for not speaking to you or Benjamin throughout all of this. I have sent him a separate note… But now that I’ve had some time to think, I want to tell you about recent events from my point of view; from the way I have experienced things; in contrast to the secondary tales from social media (like The Net- I have much to say about them later).

As you know, your son, my older brother, has been spreading the news that I was attacked by a wolf and that I may never return. The wolf of insanity. He has told you all that he tried to help me, but I was dragged away by this fiend.

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Rihla 1997 and 1998: Paradigm Shifts in Nottingham and Fez

For me, a first year BA English Literature student at Kingston University in London, enclosed by quintessential Western atheism and hedonism; Bollywood bonanzas; Salafi, Sufi and Hizbut Tahrir skirmishes; Qadianis; Kozovo ‘Jihadis’; and Pakistani parental, tribal expectations; the prospect of the Rihla was rather intriguing and daunting.

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WHAT IS ON THE MENU FOR SAHOOR?

WHAT IS ON THE MENU FOR SAHOOR?

Fried eggs sizzling, paratha from tandoor?

Buttered paratha in the shape of the full moon?

Paratha filled with succulent Aloo?

Now that would be so absolutely cool!

In Ramadan I just appreciate the food!

WHAT IS ON THE MENU FOR IFTAAR?

Biryani made with chicken and piyaar?

Mango milkshake, my wife is such a star!

Homemade samosa and pakora!

So spicy they would tantalise a Gora!

In Ramadan the food is best by far!

WHAT WILL BE MY WORSHIP FOR TARAWEE?

Speeding through rakats in such a hurry?

Coz I’m feeling bloated from the curry?

Head and heart pulsating in a flurry?

I need to sleep, Allah, I am so sorry!

In Ramadan, take your time, no need to worry!

WHAT WILL THEY GAIN TONIGHT?” The angels surveyed.

“Nice suhoor? So, they feel strong at day?”

“Light Iftar, so they feel light to pray?”

“Recite Quran, to clear the disarray?”

“Staying up to perform Qiyam Al Layl?”

“In Ramadan, the nafs can fade away…”

“There’s no fear or grief from these pure days…” 

Locked Down

One night as I sat

Shackled up by Facebook

The jitters from the Twitter

Filled my body and my face shook

The trap of the Whatsapp

Enwrapped my intentions

But a voice from beyond

Just arrested my attention

Sallahu ala Muhammad! Sallahu alayhi was sallam!

Locked down to the ground

Of the multiplicity

My heart was aground

A beleaguered city

Spellbound in the haze

Of my lusts’ euphoria

But the voice cleared away

The phantasmagoria

Sallahu ala Muhammad! Sallahu alayhi was sallam!

I arose with a heave

Enclosed by acedia

My head leaking facts

From the Wikipedia

My eyes bleeding tracks

From the social media

But the voice kindled me

I rejoiced with a fever

Sallahu ala Muhammad! Sallau alayhi wa sallam!

I strained to my door

To the ways of the speaker

My phone tingling

Making me feel weaker

My soul signalling

To awake like a seeker

The voice echoing

And the light shone brighter

Sallahu ala Muhammad! Sallahu alayhi wa sallam!

I followed the voice

In my mind’s metropolis

Approached by these hawkers

And hucksters and sophists

They plied me with gadgets

And pure luxuria

But the voice stirred me

Like the Queens of Nubia

Sallahu ala Muhammad! Sallahu alayhi was sallam!

Then beyond the display

Of my urban madness

A pistachio tree

I encountered with gladness

The limbs shivering

With the breezes of Oneness

The leaves whispering

Shimmering with abundance

Sallahu ala Muhammad! Sallahu Alayhi Wa Sallam!

The roots of the tree

Spoke to me in a dialect

The fruits of the tree

Was a map to redirect

“To find the essence

When you’re feeling remoteness

Recite this sentence

Tune in to the gnosis.”

Sallahu ala Muhammad! Sallahu Alayhi Was Sallam!