- in the name of Allah -


why are some summer evenings more memorable than others, seeming at moments a time we treasure in history even though one among them was just a trifle's victory. goals and ambitions, sterns of ships bogged down in revision, life's outlying outlines appear to be the fine print that needs a second hand to make it legible to the oft-invisibilified, illiterately unsuspecting man. back to the point of initial, what was it about that chance encounter that kept a beaming face and quirky smile etched in stone-age memories whilst the rest of life is subject to yet another factory recall. paths once deemed convergent only diverged to a point thought definitively defined, leave it to fate and destiny to erase my paper-mache designs from expected and utopian to bewildered endlessly recurring cycles of justice repaid for what was given in kind. i miss the bliss of innocence, how mere ideas could sustain me through times of ridiculous ocurrences. still so, i've boiled it down to doing good to family, keeping alive those threads so tenuously taken for granted in any life thought independently lead. soon though, Allah-willing i have yet other bonds of faith and friendship scattered that need resuscitation, making the social social once again and harmony of co-existence another key intermittently accepted for all the many laughs and cries. i know that i need, what exactly remains a bit fuzzy, but what wonders even your card-board cutout could do to a garden teeming with potential, needing but the last few drops of meaning that this life cannot strip away, the last few drops of completion that reach inside souls to silence demons and awaken faith in the shade of reason.


- in the name of Allah -

stay awake or go to sleep, either way the boogeyman slowly closer creeps. fears and fancies cant stay buried under rugs any longer so they run amok in the world i call home but feel is a prison where company only means being alone. people shake their heads and stamp their feet, amazed that one such as me should prod along in the subterranean living barely as if life was an aquarium for someone else to live out their lives. being sick has me on ropes, coughing and wheezing, an ancient bloke in the final moments wondering when the curtains close and the stage act is at last over. i reach around curves and bends, seeking a means or an end, purpose or truth, something to live by in a world reduced by the capitalist to a scramble for money, but lost in the mad rush is the thought of happiness in the rough of predetermined diamond mines. my quarry can't keep me away from that envyless existence, to chase the haggard with a mop and keep the cafe clean for more important visitors. people i long for are rarely the people i'm able to see, its all confounded to dust whence it came in an era bygone so simply. compartmentalize, trivialize, shrivel, hold strings for, watch them dance till they fall over dead not with a snivel or smile, frown or smear, but tears of sadness lost in the midst of the audience's applause, another invisible man remains tautly invisible to placate and amuse the logistically constant herder who appears all but immovable. need to catch some sleep before it catches me, a short death opening wide its arms in the dead of night, an embrace of warmthful illusion, beckoning to mindlessness, impervious to care but penetrable by reason, it withers slowly as the season is winter and the cold white consumes the lost, who bickered whilst retreating.


- in the name of Allah -

the past few weeks have been fairly telling, as I learn just who are those I thought I once knew so easily pigeonholed and ready to order, now a suv overturned on a overcrowded highway. life is a journey and our only choice is to take or face death. there is no in between when it comes to living. as a bartender on tv said: "i see two kinds of people in life: the living and the dying".

no railroads or trolleys, the world runs on drunken donuts of sugared out coffee. the modern era is proclaimed a new age, a place of better chances and opportunities, but look past the borders and u see quite a few refugees flocking and stammering, in half-stupidity thinking the place they long for is better than the one they come from. its the bliss of ignorance that attracted and attracts all those immigrants, they dont know much of custom but as their identity slips away it all becomes just another necessary continuum of life. my own struggles and by-lines dont find front page in the public's eye but its just a microcosm of how life has become so unpredictable, imagine the day when the titans beat the colts on a field goal to win at home. side tracks are plenty and finding focus rare, a gem in the clouds of mysterious fate swirling about in wait to give us the recompense for deeds we thought once long dead. i marvel at the notions some once had, being called, formerly, a holy man, a pillar of belief, of how these things crumble as ideas in one fell heap. who would i be from a past like that, falling in the world of the fallen where all you see are begging hands pounding on air-tight bank vaults. having or not, one or the other, a state of status quo unimaginably prevalent though ambivalence is present as peaceful prosperity sets precedents of utopian ideas being possibly evident. now where was the direction with which i point these words, that lost me a mile ago down the road of revelation, stopped by a herd of grazing sheep, the simplicity of calm never ceases to bring amazement...