99

Covered in blood

The greatest sinner cries

“Whom should I call upon..”

“Where shall I turn..”

Filled with regrets of the past

The sinner’s journey began

Don’t need the minarets,

The exquisite stained glasses

The grand piano

Or a sufi’s shrine

For this meeting of the souls

An Alley would suffice

No bowls of zamzam water

Or the serving of bread and wine

It brings more joy

to the heavens

to save a sinner that repenteth

than a ninety nine righteous (Luke 15:7)

inspired by hadith from Sahih Bukhari Volume 4, Book 56, Number 676.

Walking among the angels

A novice traveler begins his journey

looking for a legend

He carries with him, his hopes and dreams

and a bag full of memories

The dreams keep him awake

and the memories keep him alive

So he moves towards the mountain

where his personal legend awaits

He hums a song as he walks

and his steps follow the beats

The song that only he knows

The lyrics that reflect his soul

Music comes from the wind

and the birds join in

Trees and peaks couldn't resist

and they begin their dance

Silly traveler continues to walk

missing all the signs

He’s blind to the miracles

and the beauty that surrounds him

Passing all the fellow souls

and the angels that make way for him

Reaching for an unknown

on a search that may never end

Swimming

I am swimming in the alphabets...
dodging all the fishing nets... ships and freaks and crazy jets... carrying thousand giga pets... line them up and play some sets... pump it up as loud as trumpets... piano, drums and clarinets... don’t stop till the sea-horse rests...
I am still swimming in the alphabets.

Painting SEARCH by Rodger Roundy

One More Hit

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Hit me one more time my friend ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ help me take the edge off ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~help me escape this brightness ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ these rays of light~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ are inciting me~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ they're inviting me ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

~ ~ ~ ~ ~~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ like the parasite~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ they're surrounding me~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

~ ~ ~ ~ ~~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Fool was I to fight the sun? ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ not a sufi, yet I spun ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ but I failed to escape ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ my own reflection ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

~ ~ ~ ~the ugly mirror ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ stared right at me ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~laughed at me ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

~ ~ ~ I tried to run ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ but it followed me~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ So my tired soul let it prevail ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~tied the boat that couldn't sail ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ like a wounded soldier ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ I lied there still ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ It took no time to conquer me ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ violating every thing ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~that mattered to me ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ in a million pieces ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ it shattered me ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ I need you now like never before ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ don't you hear me knocking your door ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~ ~ ~

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ today is the day I failed my creed ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ one more hit is all I need ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Close your eyes

Beauty isn't what you have seen,
O' Silly traveler, where have you been?
Heart is where the love resides,

Close your eyes and look within.

.

.

.

Original drawning by Om with black & white charcoal. Image is digitally edited in Picassa.

Wedding Day

For my dearest friends Sameer and Rosie

Put on the Kajal with a hint of gray
Paint my hands with Mehandi today
Bindya, Chooriyan and Saari to wear
I want to look my best today

I waited for this moment night and day
My wait will finally be over today
Cliffs will bow and birds will pray
A new chapter of love will begin today

A summer breeze will gently spray
Marking the arrival of my beloved today
Barriers will drop and joys will make way
I will be one with my love today

Stars and moon have a reason to stay
All the enchanting bodies are invited today
Roses and lilies in your finest array
Come dance with me on my wedding day

R.E.C

REC Commercial - written by TriCities REC 11th grade students

Please click her for the Video
PASSWORD: REC

Ever been asked
Why you believe, what you believe?
If your society has grown from its past?
What you do on Saturday mornings?

Look Beyond
Look Within

We are
Ismailis
Day by Day
Week by Week
We have evolved
We have learned
We have benefited

For three hours
Every week
We're here
Building our success
Person by person
One
by
One

You wonder
What good is this for us?
Come find out

R
E
C

Tainted

I will let you have
the part of me
the part that isn't
any good to me

I will let you keep
the memories
hoping it will
set me free

The picture of us
for you I painted
doesn't reflect my heart
the heart that is tainted

Merry you may call it
but it would be a lie
the artist may contain
but the canvas will cry

Clog Blog

I tried tonight... but couldn't write. It's not the pen... think it's the brain. Lacking the sensation... an inspiration. I need a notion... or may be a potion. Looking around... but nothing could be found. Thoughts are shut... stuck in a rut. Desperate attempts to rhyme... which should be a crime. It sounds tame... and mostly lame. So its time to clog.. this utterly mindless blog.

First night of June

We begin to recite a poem
on the first night of June
The sky filled with stars
but no sign of moon

The heart begins to throb
and pulse becomes fierce
We speak the words with passion
We speak the words with tears

Tears find an eternal refuge
and the pulse quickly fails
She hits the notes of desire
my voice becomes too frail

Her words, metaphor of beauty
my words, nothing but hollow
then her lips start to sing
and mine fail to follow

Your Hands

Your hands tell the tale of
the meeting of two pure hearts,
they know of the nights spent
under the moonlit stars,
wavering and weeping, softly
they whisper into my ears.
Your hands tell the tale
of the spring and the fall,
the seasons of love and lost
they witnessed them all.
Your hands open the gates
that were never shut,
they reached into my heart
and began to strike the strings,
playing the notes of thunder
tenderly at first, rising slowly
it spoke of the raindrops
that witnessed our love
pouring on your skin
cleansing itself.
Your hands spark the fire
intensifying my rage
like the angels ballerina
the flames began to dance
flowing with the sound of thunder
burning my soul…

Your hands, sweet hands,
they tell a tale...

4 am...

Eyes are dazed and head is turning... body is shut but the heart is running... the clock keeps ticking ... tick tock tick tock... why is it so loud? I wish it would stop... I am feeling thirsty and my mouth is dry... it'd be easy if I could only cry... drank some water and tried to pray... forgive me God, if I went astray... spare my soul and end this war... why won't slumber knock my door?

Absent Ornament

Is it ok to ignore
the mistakes you say I made
Is it ok to care
for the dreams we shared

You ask me why I try to win
you ask me why I dare
If you care to look for an answer
You'll find it in the way you stare

Your silence gives it away
and your tears make it clear
warning of the moment to come
it's the moment that I fear

and so I sit here
thinking....

is it ok to care
for the one who was never there?

Om is listening to Belle and Sebastian

Shhh..

Eyes, wide shut
last call from tavern, missed
but the wine drips

Come, she says.

Glasses, misty
rain sneaks in, heavy
vigil jitters

Breathe, she says.

Muted, beautiful,
naive chalice, shattered
desired but unwelcome

Drink, she says.

Aroma, faint
indistinct moan, deceitful
begins to utter

Shhhh, She says.

Merry Prisoner

Whispers... fidgety... sweating bullets
sluggish... dazed... more whispers
Tears... dejection... blues
and then... a smile!

Is it something I said?
Or something I held back?
Is there a sign you seek?
or is there something I lack?

Must I weep to make you believe?
or should i break to make you conceive?

The roaring sea around me,
Is it not of tears?
These gloomy dark clouds that you see,
Are they not my fears?

In this circus of emotions,
I am a slave to my handicap.
Imprissoned in the cage of desire,
struggling to reach your hand,
But you're blinded by the marquee,
and I am too weak to be unchained.

L.B.D

Silence of the night
creeping inside of me
why does everything seem still
why doesn't anyone speak

Why all these people
yet it seems hollow
I can see the gushy lips
but can't seem to follow

Oh what a shouting beauty
and everything else appears placid

Oh what a stinging sensation
and the rest feels numb

Oh what a staunch desire
against the torpid ego

Is it the moon
Or that little black dress.

So she says...

Poor soul I see,
searching for something.

"What is it that I am searching for?",
she asks.

She asks her pals,
who say it all with their eyes.

So she turns to the mirror,
that glances back at her with confusion.

So she turns to me,
I lack the answer.

So she turns to her soul,
that direct her to God.

So she asks her God,
and then only she finds...

"The perfection?",
"The truth?",
"The satisfaction",
I ask.

"The search",
She says.

Om highly recommends Conference of the Birds