I cannot give up the tradition of writing about my MIST experience. Although I'm no longer a competitor, things were just as interesting as part of the organization team. Things were crazy, emotions and stress were high... but still everyone was chill and I loved it. Alhumdulillah. The only thing lacking was the anticipation I would feel as MIST lurked near.
I did some judging, speaking, and a lot of other stuffage. But roamed around clueless at times. Trying to look important. Haha.
Alot of effort and work goes into such a huge project and within moments it's over. I was thinking about it and I was like... we live from age 0 to 80 or whatever age thinking oh wow I've got a long life ahead of me, but really the birthdays flash by back to back and from 13 you go to 20. It's only a moment, but we work so diligently for years, but it's ONLY a moment because when it all comes down to our evaluation it will only seem to be a moment. But the questioning will be like an eternity. It'll drag on and on and on. I kept thinking... why am I here? Is it to benefit anyone? To benefit my self? Or just to be there and help for no reason at all.
I really think at events like these not only are emotions and stress high, but also one's own spiritual conciousness awakens. One of the most dangerous things one does to their soul is get involved in projects to benefit others/community. It's so dangerous because it usually entails months or years of work and ALOT of work... and all of it can boil down to nothing... meaning no good comes from it when it really counts because intentions aren't sound and renewed constantly.
Then during the awards ceremony while Native Deen was performing... each drum beat reverberated within me. I guess it's cuz of the sound settings but the reverberation was INTENSE! And like I could feel each beat. I was like subhanAllah... it almost felt like the beat of my heart was reverberating throughout my body. And so I started thinking about a poem I could write because it REALLY inspired me so perhaps something to come soon...possibily.
Met tons of great people. Volunteers rock. I seriously realized how much work they do. It's insane. masha'Allah
May Allah (swt) purify our intentions and accept the efforts of all those who helped prior to the event and the day of and guide their hearts to the light of Imaan and taqwa. Aameen.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Ghalti
Na kuch ghalat humna kiya
bas saath nahi diya
ab tanha hai ya dil raat bhar
ya qalam hai mera yaar, yahi mera pehchaan
jo ya dil na keh paayaa
kehdiya mera yaar
Gunnah kay roshni se hum jaagh rahay thay
Naik ki pehchaan hum se nahi hoi
Bas andhara chah gaya aur neend aa gayee
Ab bhi hum kehtay hai, na kuch ghalat humna kiya
bas saath nahi diya
Ab ghaliyoon ko chahn rahay hai
Koi tho hummain pehchanay ga
Har dosray shaks se hum sawaal kartay hai
"Saab zara batao hum hai kon?"
Sharaabi ki tarha hum ghumson rehtay hai
Bas chalrahay hai issi taraf, kanhin aas paas
Likhtay rehtay hai ek ghazal sunlaytay hai kissi shaer ki tamanna ko
Dil ki baat hai hummari nafs ki baat
Sunnlo hummari demagh ki baaton ko
Ghaltiyon se ya zindaghi chalti hai
Saat deinay se khud sahaara milta hai
Imaan kay saath se dunya ko paasaktay ho
Maghar dunya ko paakar ahsa saathi nahi milayga
Samhjo, Socho
Likhtay rehtay hai hum ahsayhi sunlaytay hai hum aysayhi
Jeetay hai hum waisayhi
bas saath nahi diya
ab tanha hai ya dil raat bhar
ya qalam hai mera yaar, yahi mera pehchaan
jo ya dil na keh paayaa
kehdiya mera yaar
Gunnah kay roshni se hum jaagh rahay thay
Naik ki pehchaan hum se nahi hoi
Bas andhara chah gaya aur neend aa gayee
Ab bhi hum kehtay hai, na kuch ghalat humna kiya
bas saath nahi diya
Ab ghaliyoon ko chahn rahay hai
Koi tho hummain pehchanay ga
Har dosray shaks se hum sawaal kartay hai
"Saab zara batao hum hai kon?"
Sharaabi ki tarha hum ghumson rehtay hai
Bas chalrahay hai issi taraf, kanhin aas paas
Likhtay rehtay hai ek ghazal sunlaytay hai kissi shaer ki tamanna ko
Dil ki baat hai hummari nafs ki baat
Sunnlo hummari demagh ki baaton ko
Ghaltiyon se ya zindaghi chalti hai
Saat deinay se khud sahaara milta hai
Imaan kay saath se dunya ko paasaktay ho
Maghar dunya ko paakar ahsa saathi nahi milayga
Samhjo, Socho
Likhtay rehtay hai hum ahsayhi sunlaytay hai hum aysayhi
Jeetay hai hum waisayhi
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Ice Breaker
March 19th, 2009 @ MSA Event
- Only sister (gah)
- nervous
- wrote poem night before 11pm cuz older poem was unappealing
- went second
- I think I did well, or so i was told alhumdulillah
"The Time Has Come"
It was a weird dilemma, I went from a no to a yes through observation of what my MSA really was. From weirded out I became intrigued and interested. Alhumdulillah.
- I had said yes to recording but felt uneasy and subhanAllah something happened and nothing got recorded alhumdulillah
- nice intimate event, funny and good performances and MC masha'Allah
- Intention - tipsy.
- I need to become paper-less.
Allah (swt) continuously showers blessings upon us yet we fail to recognize them. subhanAllah.
- Only sister (gah)
- nervous
- wrote poem night before 11pm cuz older poem was unappealing
- went second
- I think I did well, or so i was told alhumdulillah
"The Time Has Come"
It was a weird dilemma, I went from a no to a yes through observation of what my MSA really was. From weirded out I became intrigued and interested. Alhumdulillah.
- I had said yes to recording but felt uneasy and subhanAllah something happened and nothing got recorded alhumdulillah
- nice intimate event, funny and good performances and MC masha'Allah
- Intention - tipsy.
- I need to become paper-less.
Allah (swt) continuously showers blessings upon us yet we fail to recognize them. subhanAllah.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
The Time Has Come
It's time to free the spine and wrinkle the sheets that have grown old in it's leather cover
To let the ink fade and wash away
It's time to forget the existence of insanity and live with the mental capacity that exists
Because it doesn't take generations, but seconds for the standards of humanity to decline
I've been a teacher, worked with and taught another generation
My first day, just the concept of me sitting there not too long ago was hard to balance
Because what I remember understanding, they could not
You see, the ability of the brain is mutating into malfunction
Hyperventilation of intellect and common sense will lead to a mass grave of ink and pen
With a tomb stone reading, from the cradle to the grave... but only short lived
And so I think of the eulogy an ounce of intellect may write
And so I write
where are the words today
What is the path they tread
Syllables that deem something
words that mean something
poets & scholars who had cling and a sting
and a name to pull the rest within
not just a path of words
that sound good together
but mean nothing apart
Just slang and bitter words
No wisdom against the swords
Not a beat to fill the veins
That pump the essence into the core of the heart
It just stains and stains and stains the heart black
"Yo if you ain't from my hood, you aint gonna know jack"
Racism & prejudice emitting from these verses
The hate, the anger racing from the eyes to the brain to the heart
becoming the people
No words can do justice to the pen that wrote my destiny upon the command of My Lord
No words can do justice to ink that captured my thoughts and relieved my emotional flood
No harm may come near the books of fate, the knowledge of the heart and the wisdom of the mind
No injustice may lurk the sound souls that roam with hope of a noble ending
The Qalam wrote
The Prophet spoke
Iqra. Iqra. Iqra.
But we fall deep, deep into our own destruction and torment.
We drool over the sweet sound of the latest groove
Our sight freezes in the eyes of the devil, with pleasure
Our brain fries, intellect dies and
Admist our state we remain stranded
We beg for help, but we buried the help with our hands... the pen and the ink
It's time to free the spine and wrinkle the sheets that have grown old in it's leather cover
To let the ink fade and wash away
It's time to forget the existence of insanity and live with the mental capacity that exists
Because it doesn't take generations, but seconds for the standards of humanity to decline
To teach kids that all is fair in love and war
And in war it's always fair to drop a ton of bombs on children their own age
Because love obviously means deception and betrayal and fornication and has no real value or responsibility
It takes seconds, moments... to destroy minds
To let the ink fade and wash away
It's time to forget the existence of insanity and live with the mental capacity that exists
Because it doesn't take generations, but seconds for the standards of humanity to decline
I've been a teacher, worked with and taught another generation
My first day, just the concept of me sitting there not too long ago was hard to balance
Because what I remember understanding, they could not
You see, the ability of the brain is mutating into malfunction
Hyperventilation of intellect and common sense will lead to a mass grave of ink and pen
With a tomb stone reading, from the cradle to the grave... but only short lived
And so I think of the eulogy an ounce of intellect may write
And so I write
where are the words today
What is the path they tread
Syllables that deem something
words that mean something
poets & scholars who had cling and a sting
and a name to pull the rest within
not just a path of words
that sound good together
but mean nothing apart
Just slang and bitter words
No wisdom against the swords
Not a beat to fill the veins
That pump the essence into the core of the heart
It just stains and stains and stains the heart black
"Yo if you ain't from my hood, you aint gonna know jack"
Racism & prejudice emitting from these verses
The hate, the anger racing from the eyes to the brain to the heart
becoming the people
No words can do justice to the pen that wrote my destiny upon the command of My Lord
No words can do justice to ink that captured my thoughts and relieved my emotional flood
No harm may come near the books of fate, the knowledge of the heart and the wisdom of the mind
No injustice may lurk the sound souls that roam with hope of a noble ending
The Qalam wrote
The Prophet spoke
Iqra. Iqra. Iqra.
But we fall deep, deep into our own destruction and torment.
We drool over the sweet sound of the latest groove
Our sight freezes in the eyes of the devil, with pleasure
Our brain fries, intellect dies and
Admist our state we remain stranded
We beg for help, but we buried the help with our hands... the pen and the ink
It's time to free the spine and wrinkle the sheets that have grown old in it's leather cover
To let the ink fade and wash away
It's time to forget the existence of insanity and live with the mental capacity that exists
Because it doesn't take generations, but seconds for the standards of humanity to decline
To teach kids that all is fair in love and war
And in war it's always fair to drop a ton of bombs on children their own age
Because love obviously means deception and betrayal and fornication and has no real value or responsibility
It takes seconds, moments... to destroy minds
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