Sagacious words

Poetry is a deal of joy and pain and wonder, with a dash of the dictionary. ~ Khalil Gibran

Wednesday, 11 December 2013


As dreams get choked by the clasp of realities,
The mundane chains and fragile struggles,
Balance out stories where people live in fantasies,
Motivated by many a pattern of beaten troubles
The goals become real and the work easier,
As day by day and through never ending defeats,
The contradictions of reality become clear.


Wednesday, 27 November 2013

The Leaf

Once in school, in an art class,
The teacher told us to collect a leaf and then lay it into a tray of paint.
We were then told to pick it up and put it
Paint-side down, onto a plain piece of paper.
The leaf was imprinted onto the paper and the teacher asked,
If we noticed all the little lines that looked
Almost like human blood vessels?
Even though the leaf was dead, it was not dry.
You could not crush it in the palm of your hand
And turn it into ground dust.
That day, I was taught a great lesson.
Even leaves which seem to be dead-
As they are not attached to any plant that sustains them,
Are not actually dead until you can turn them into dust.
It occurred to the child-me then,
That maybe the same is true for humans.
Maybe you can be 'alive'
Even if you're supposed to be 'dead.'


Thursday, 14 November 2013


I'm so afraid
I've lost my way
I can't believe that you've gone away.
I can't find your face-
There is no trace
Of your light.
I said goodbye
But I can't believe
That you would really leave.
It hurts so much-
The pain deafens me-
I can't stand this hurt
The loss of you is unbearable.
These days are so hard,
I sat and watched you disappear,
Night and day I wondered-
How would it be if you went away?
I'm so so afraid
I can't seem to find my way,
I know there is a chance-
To make a difference
But I have to get it out,
This fire that burns

So painfully within,
I must release it-
To start to live again.
Automatically I move
Trying not to jolt the rhythm,
Everything is normal-
Everything is the same
But I'm hurting so much inside,
I just can't take this pain,
I guess now too clearly I know,
My life has forever changed.


(Written in 1995)

Friday, 11 October 2013

Prayers and Presence

They say, that gratitude is a prayer. 
I've seen so many religious people
Not ever, pray
Without 'conditions.'
I don't have an issue with my
brothers and sisters in humanity
who have no desire for a personal 'god.'

Even as family members of the same nuclear family,
We still all have to walk our own paths. 
And those who are religious 
and really should know better than most,
Should know, that we all reach our own crossroads, in our own time.
It's not about belonging in the same club-
It's about being an unearthed presence.

- J.Bibi

Tuesday, 8 October 2013

Today the oldest you've ever been
And the youngest you'll ever be again.
Today, the rain beats down on your head
And the sun shines on your face
In a way that might not happen, ever again.
Today the mess of the world grows,
As powerfully as the hope in your heart-
Let today be a long moment to reflect appreciation,
Let today be a short journey to grateful consciousness,
Let today be a patience in the face of fickle mortality.

Friday, 4 October 2013

Time Will Tell

Holding on to the reigns of a force called time,
Holding on to a small hope that things will change-
That the flowers down-trodden will continue to grow-
That the laughter will stay for longer than just a day;
All are small ways and struggles to keep eternity at bay.

All the lies used to spin the webs that trap the unsuspecting-
So that the powerful can continue to feast with blind impunity,
Are signs of a universal heartless greed and terrible insecurity
And so to harness the mind and control all in the skies and on earth,
Is the way time will tell the tale; of how the wars of men were won...


Wednesday, 14 August 2013


The intricacies of life confound
And confuse in equal measure,
The most straightforward of all
Are the most blessed, yet
In times of reflection and in turmoil-
The mind expands and bends.


Friday, 12 July 2013


The covers of time on live beings are seamless,
For the lines of chalked vision present no defects,
From the shimmering of all shown light, regardless
Of the depths within which arise all known effects,
We must stand still and observe the silent derision
And watch supersonic beings who help us to delve
into the minuscule dimensions of keyhole visions.
As power is reduced to every superficial fantasy,
Few dust off the cobwebs that routines of division
Help duly weave for all obedience and conformity.
As the necessity of balance and continuity flows-
Yet such is the transparency of the life we know;
That the eyes are bound by the heart in every way
And every truth is known through subliminal play.


Tuesday, 25 June 2013

Earth Waters

Ever onwards move the relentless waters of life,
Not stopping for rocks or logs through surges of strife.
As always and with ease, agitating precious beliefs
And sometimes churning out gnawing griefs,
These ripples and patterns of fluid rhythm,
Silently help to create huge bubbles in time.
But just as easily can form every oasis of calm
As within the frenzied whirlpools of pain and harm-
Do our powerful Earth waters constantly flow.
In currents of strength, are quenched the needs and hurts,
Of people from vast mountains, forests, plains and deserts;
Of all our humanity buried and borne on a trembling thirst
The fluidity of our nature makes us malleable forms,
Powerful enough to create and resist all kinds of storms.

- J.Bibi 

Monday, 24 June 2013


The realities of the life fight,
Highlight specifically the nature of time-
The lack of focus sometimes makes it all blurry,
The deceptive ticks of the clock melt into years-
As everyday life rejects and rejuvenates fickle ideals-
Through the sheer horror of pain
And the struggles of the spirit,
Small signs of redemption does the path give,
As the cold heart is constantly warmed,
By the sun blazing defiance of anger.


Thursday, 13 June 2013

Soft Breeze

Soft breeze is gentle;
The earth cradles the spirit-
And heart is soothed.

- J.Bibi

Thursday, 6 June 2013


Never deny in cowardice the unsated stomach of a starved beast-
The poise of rage determines the pace of all poetic and pious rapture-

Grow music by the sadness of the deranged and the silence of the tame,
The intricacies of time do allow sometimes, for the worship of shallow play,

As greed gives to fear and lets it bow down to the insecurities of the soul
And begins the harshest of a winter's lifelong famine from which the feral feed-

Grieve it, through ruthless and indiscriminate tragedies- as a visceral preparation
For a mind altering, personality changing, character defining, pattern of infinity.


Monday, 3 June 2013


To stand and argue for a cause-
Which ignores half of the picture,
To be barely able to contain malice-
This is the exposure of an arrogant disdain,
And it neutralises every argument.
There is a difference between anger and conceit-
The latter is an inherent contempt.
It is possible to be angry without being repugnant,
It is not possible to be repugnant without hatred.
And hatred is a disease which suffocates the world.


Sunday, 2 June 2013

Seeing Eternity

A dot in the matrix of existence,
That which is invisible to the eye-
Yet is rendered visible to the mind.
The eyes deceive but the heart knows,
That in a Millennia the forces grow,
As the power lines of eternity are seen
But never within an unseeing world dream.


Wednesday, 24 April 2013


Understand the curious and searching mind;
Faith, despite propaganda and blackmail is fine-
Freedom of the soul bestows a light which is kind-
With blessings of heart internal power is defined,
Throughout the eternal testimony of a savage time,
The mighty sing deceptions which the weak undermine-
Yet the superhuman, still inevitably continue to shine
As the broken who arise in alignment with the divine;
Humanity has it's highs and lows of glorious prime,
Though deep resilience do the defiant always find,
Singing songs of irreverence, perceived as a crime-
From standing tall the sweeping away of grime,
Prohibiting all threatening elements to closer climb,
Quests of human infallibility create mindsets sublime.


Gentle Heart

When the the stars twinkle from behind the clouds
And the weak moonlight dares to venture out-
A peace emerges from the earth's gentle heart,
It is of such places that opinion barely knows;
That darkness offers a warmth and a kindness.
As on paths unseen, often one step after the next,
The dark leads the way to an encased brightness,
The one that the soul always remembers the clearest.


Wednesday, 10 April 2013

Weave of Eternity

The Pharaohs' thought themselves gods;
Not only able to beat but to control the odds,
Despite the belief of immortality they're all dead now
In the end, you do always reap what you sow
Whether high or low status in life, we still all die-

We all cry and try to live more than for a blink of an eye-
In desperation and with aspiration in the great weave of eternity,
The fear of death should be viewed with pragmatism-
To be less fearful of existence should be the path of all,
Whether motivated by the inspiration of a creator, 
Or the urgency of time as the natural dictator,
Power to the essence of every human being-
And an acceptance of the validation for all living things-
With celebrations for all that such appreciation can bring.


Saturday, 30 March 2013

Eternity and Existence

The sages through the ages said, what will be, will be.
 For when life in the moment of a speck, is heavenly
That, is the ethereal moving within the human entity.
And when life is bad, time breaks down into eternity,
In slow motion through the layers, are our souls flying.
The fight and flight of our convictions ease and erase,
All the surreal moments of ugliness and pity in names.
And contrast with momentous bursts of absolute clarity,
The tempered surges of powerful intermittent insecurity,
The sages of the ages said, from fire is born capacity,
Only ascension into space, helps visionaries give birth-
For only the fuel of earthly fires does make realities raw-
As everything changes, within, around and above the earth,
A relentless evidence which leaves most of humankind in awe.



Bleeding inside, bleeding out,
As the crescendo of screams- continues to spurt,
Into the cacophonies of a tidal wave-
The numb denials give way,
To the rawness of reality
And yet the dream lives on, born
From all of yesterday's tragedies,
With alarming frequency
The chaos and pain, that has been,
Is forgotten or twisted, into something,
New and unrecognisable.
So the blood-letting under the sky continues,
With ignorant and blinkered cycles,
Of blood-lust and power-lust,
Moving on ever forward, along the same path;
Is there a utopia we are building with our blood
Or is there a dystopia we are constructing with our greed?
From time immemorial, humanity has been on a quest.


Thursday, 28 March 2013


The old tales and myths of retribution give testimony,
To the end ways of absolute and utter confusion-
Mirages of fear and hope merge into fateful collisions
And become dangerous dreams that inspire simple decisions-
Follow the brave mind and never let the heart falter-
Quiet the pride and meet destiny with the embrace of honour.


Sunday, 24 March 2013

Brutal Ingenuity

Demons and angels fight in degrees,
Over the destiny of the diseased,
The helpless hunters of misfortune,
Engage in conflicts of fateful distortion.
The mourning of losses incur,
In the sweetest victories from death-
Fuel for fires which does not deter-
Hatred and a shameless killing stealth.
These tokens of living for the defeated
Dead, In plays of carnage easily created-
Carving out a moral phase of superiority,
To enable brutal ingenuity;
Forceful assertions of truths,
Taken from the depth of painful wounds,
The games of the living against the ways,
Of the dead and dying on foolish days.


Saturday, 23 March 2013

The Shades of a Day- a short story

As the mourners left, Basheera became aware of the sound of crying.  She looked around at the other members of her family, there was no one else left except the three of them.  Her husband and sister stood silently by her side, lost deep in thought.  She felt a bit confused, where was the sound coming from?  As they all stood behind the little wall that looked into the graveyard, she heard it again.  It sounded like a cat, or a young child crying.  She looked at the shrinking figure of her niece's back, as hand in hand she walked away with her father, Basheera's brother Benaris.  Basheera called out to him, 'Is Shahin okay?'

He turned and nodded as he shouted back, 'Yes, she is.  She's fine.'  He paused and then just before he turned away, he shouted, 'We'll see you back at home in a bit? Make sure you leave on time, or you'll get stuck in the city centre.  Make sure you take the Old-heath route.'

Basheera nodded and was calmed by the face of her niece as she too looked back towards her.  She seemed quiet but didn't look to be crying or overly upset.  Then she turned her face away and both father and daughter walked to their car.  Basheera turned to look back at the grave again.  It was a sad occasion but it felt peaceful.  Though they were upset that their beloved aunt would never again be present at their family gatherings, her death was actually a relief.  It had been a bitter experience to watch her wilt before their very eyes- suddenly her thoughts were interrupted, there it was again, that sound.

She turned to look at her husband and sister who stood alongside her,

'Did you hear that?' She asked them both, feeling irritated, she felt she was imaging it but they both stared back at her and nodded.

'I thought it was Shahin...'  she started and let the words hang, as the sound was heard again.

'I just heard it now,'  replied her sister Laila, 'it sounds like an injured animal or something, maybe it's a cat?'

'Yes, it probably is,' her husband said in a quiet voice, 'Come on, we'd better get going, we don't want to get stuck in traffic, they'll all be waiting for us at the house.'

'No, let's just see what it is first Raheem,' she said as she started to walk around the graveyard, towards a group of trees behind it.  'Maybe we could help it? I hate the idea of walking away from an injured animal.'

'You're just wasting time Basheera, even if it is hurt, what can we do about it?  There will be people waiting for us to return...'  His voice trailed off and he didn't finish the sentence but he didn't walk away either.

Basheera felt a stab of pain, as she started walking towards the trees, scanning the ground as she did so.  His aunt had been the closest thing that he'd ever had to a mother.  She felt that familiar pang as her own pain resurfaced.  Eighteen years of marriage and endless bouts of expensive treatments and still no child to show for it.  It felt like her heart was being eaten by little maggots from within because she knew that being an only child, he had been desperate to start a family, right from the beginning of their marriage.  She felt like such a flawed and useless woman.  Though it had felt like she'd been slicing her own heart up, she had encouraged him to get remarried.  It was allowed.  She didn't want to share him with anyone but she couldn't live with the idea that her inadequacy was stopping him from having the one thing that he'd always wanted, a family of his own.

'He's right Sheera- come on, you're just wasting time- they'll all be waiting!' Laila said, not bothering to conceal the irritation in her voice.  This was just typical, she could just never understand why it was so hard for Sheera to turn away from a needy situation.  Other people would run a mile but Sheera was such a sucker, she could never say no, or walk away.  No wonder her husband was potty about her.  Though they'd had their share of heartache, Laila often wondered if Shira knew just how lucky she was to have a man like that.  She wished her husband was like.  She often thought that it was perhaps because Raheem didn't have any family of his own that he was so good to Sheera and all her relatives.

Basheera was lost in her own thoughts as she made he way to the clump of trees.  She had made her mind up.  Even though he had resisted it so much, she was adamant, today she was going to go back to the house and insist that he find someone else to marry.  If need be, she would help him to find the new co-wife.  She had made up her mind about it but that didn't stop her from wanting to go and hide somewhere and cry for a long time.  As she moved towards the back of one of the trees, she suddenly jumped back, startled at the sight of a stray dog eating something from the ground.  Her husband and sister had both been watching her and started to walk towards her,

'What is it?' Raheem asked her.

'Nothing, it's just a dog, it was eating something from the ground, I didn't expect to see it.'  She answered him.

'What kind of dog is it?' Asked Laila.

'I don't know, a big skinny dog but it's run off now.'  Replied Basheera.

'Okay, lets go then, that's all it probably was then.'  Her sister said, as she began to walk away, 'Come on, let's go, they'll be loads of people waiting for us!'

'Yes, come on.'  Said Raheem quietly, as he turned to walk away too.

'No, let me just see what it was eating,' Basheera said, 'then I'll come.'

They both stopped and watched he walk out of sight behind the tree.

She thought she saw movement on the ground, there was rubbish mixed in between the dead leaves and the mud.  An old crisp packet, a plastic bag and tawdry coloured packaging.  She used her foot to move the debris away.

Suddenly, she screamed and fell to ground, sobbing, 'Oh my God! Oh dear God!'

Raheem and Laila both dashed frantically the few yards towards her and skidded to a halt behind her. she was crouching on the ground and trying to lift something, as they both peered over her head to get a better look, she said, 'Oh dear God! It's a baby!  A baby!  The dog was eating it's hand!'

Incredulous and shocked, they stood and watched in horror as she picked up the child.  They watched in silence but then Laila started to sob and then Raheem too, as they saw her lift a naked, bruised and barely breathing baby.  It was hard to tell if he was a few hours, or a few days old.  His skin was peeling and his body bruised and grey.  His hand was bleeding and the skin shredded and pulped, from where the dog had been eating him, he half opened his big eyes.

'Quickly!  Quickly!  We must get him to a hospital!' Her husband shouted, 'Ya Allah!  What kind of people can do this?!'  His voice broke with anguish.  So many years, they had cried just to be able to hold a child like this and yet someone had thrown this brand new life away as if it was garbage.

Dazed and sobbing, Basheera held the child to her chest, she could hear his rasping breath and as she held him close, she once again heard the whimpering cry she had heard before.  She felt herself overwhelmed in a way that she had never experienced before.  She could not think straight but she knew that she never let go of this child.


Sunday, 17 March 2013


A sound, a smell and strong words or pictures,
Of moving visions and forgotten but lived in scriptures-
Moods that the trigger pulls back from peacefulness,
Into the awful place of crazed but utter helplessness,
To come to a hurting heart and from a broken mind;
The ever moving persistence of the nature of time,
Brings back to the here and now, to forever grow,
A calm which only an old spirit can ever truly know.



I have seen the dark,
I have seen the light,
I have love,
I have fight,
Yes I'm alive!

And let the Universe,
Rejoice with me.


Tuesday, 12 March 2013


To be told
That dust is a small dirt
To be told
That a slight is a mere hurt
The consequences
Of the minute-
belie the reality
Of universal truths.
To destroy the essence
Of infinity,
Is the careless premise
Of idiocy.
Betrayal takes no time-
Assaults emit
moments gargantuan
of painful echoes
That spin
Through eternity
To test forever
The survivor's security.


Monday, 11 March 2013


I don't like you.
But I wish you well,
I wish you ease-
I wish you joy
And I wish you peace.
Your problem, if you don't understand
Words which come from my heart
Displaying a different kind of worldly essence-
Which, from your 'normal' does part.
Something- that you may well never understand,
As it is confusion you draw from my very presence.


Saturday, 9 March 2013


The violent, hot air that is the damaged man- a father,
Supersedes the quiet dignity of that upon which he does stand-
Yet time always reveals the truth- nothing but the whole truth:

The real power of the entire world lies,
In the patient love of the woman that cries-

The tears of pain and frustration, are signs of dedication-
An understanding of the Universe and of all human civilisation;

People hide the realities of existence in games of subjugation.


Tuesday, 5 March 2013


Through the mountains of danger-
Boils insidious, scathing, hot anger,
The feet stumble onwards, blistered
And the hands toil forwards, scalded,
The ever growing fires which so afflict
And leave within every soul a conflict-
Must be ever resisted as a holy struggle,
Despite the rage and pain of dis-ease,
Even when the fierce blaze of trouble-
Scorches everything with eloquent ease.


Saturday, 2 March 2013

A Fake Death

It's hard, to stand upright,
When the thorn in your side-
Stabs and stings all the time,
It's hard not to look back in anger-
When the past won't die
And leave you alone.
It's hard to look forward,
With all the obstructions
Covering your path.
In time, the pain becomes numb
And normal is a fake death;
Living but not quite,
The juxtapositions of a hard life.



If the real world was a different place,
Then the walls of indifference would be out of place.

This weakness that flows through all of the universe,
Makes for the balance and creation of the universe.

Though the unseen scars are evidence of the struggles of a life,
The puzzles and pathways of power, obscure the realities of life.

In eternal hope we trust and hold onto, with the might of all our fears,
The future is bright, as the trust in truth helps us to overcome our fears.



Friday, 1 March 2013

Iridescent Truth

The truth; always enigmatic,
Forever elusive and iridescent,
Is revealed, sooner or later-
Whether the shades of time
Pro-actively bury it, or not.

Under every rejuvenating sunrise
And every determined sunset-
The days show, regardless of place
And in irrelevance of time and way;
The honest nature of every living entity.


Wednesday, 27 February 2013


The walls of community that hold and crucify-
The structures of family that protect and suffocate;
These are the recurrent dilemmas of the ages,
Which work when inspired by the words of Sages,

All moments of clarity lose the tinge of freshness,
When hollow victories bring inevitable exposure;
As grown men play dangerous games for power,
And bring apocalyptic times forever closer.

All the aberrations of the cruel and the greedy,
Soon become ugly manifestations of horrid fantasy
And in every society treat the old with dignified care
And towards the young bestow a just and loving flair,
These moments will stealthily become the days of old,
Before we know it, we all too will be forever out cold.


Tuesday, 26 February 2013

Weakness Feeds

Jump into it, the raging fire-
The flames and the burning;
Only a natural,
Phenomenon of action.

These diseased faith takers-
Are all insulted death fakers.

Chaos brings them out,
The blood sucking vermin;
Always weakness,
Feeds off of weakness.

Stand up with love against the storm,
And through it you shall be reborn.



Threaten the bloom with aggression of disease,
The fragile stalk, the tender petal
Hardened by the winds of unease,
The weeds have their own metal-
Pulverising the scent of hopeful flowers,
The down trodden, created by harsh powers.


Monday, 25 February 2013


Only the tranquil moment tasted, can last forever,
From the violence and furore of the super-clever
True joy is to be found in the heart of all places,
A decision and a promise despite the ugly traces-
Challenge and heal the inhumane and the illogical,
Create transitions of the mundane to the magical;
The serenade of my heart, in the middle of a scream,
Is always the calm borne in my life, from my dreams.


Blind spots

Glare sideways and all around
Then look without the heat of pain,
Cauterise the view-
And let the bleeding paint a picture.

The nearly blind call it all a phantom,
That needs to be ignored.
They the most clueless,
Of all the people-
Are victims of deformed sight
And a vision diseased.


Monday, 18 February 2013

The Imagination

In it's highest form, flattery
Is of the compassionate kind-
It is a type of truth that shows,
With subtle ease and appreciation,
Inside translucent flowers of wisdom.
Those that can be found growing within
The alert and aware, pulsating mind.
It is the most dynamic form of lucid
Perfection to find, in the stars, in the land,
It is the imagination of humankind.


Wednesday, 13 February 2013

Learning Hope

Throwing a rope of hope to another,
When you most yourself, need a saviour
Is the way to actually become stronger,
Helping others, does help the helper
To become a hero from a virtual leper.
Action builds defiance against despair,
In the vortex of pain and debilitating anger
Only compassion helps you to grow stronger
The resistance against numbness flounders,
But what doesn't kill you can help you conquer-
For it is love that makes you survivor and saviour.

- J. Bibi

Wednesday, 6 February 2013

Head Banging

Every single day, break your head
Against the rock solid obstacles in your way,
The beat of repetition dents the concrete
And yet again and again the path must be carved
Through sheer force and will power,
Obstacles damage the course of the run
The progress made, belies the work yet to be done.
Intrinsic rhythms that empower and fuel
The complicated melodies that sometimes confuse
But the noise compels the reaction-
The movement of a spiritual interaction.
Getting down to the undertaking,
Of undoing the headlocks of suffering,
To deliver the transcendence of understanding.


Demonic Idols

If to decide, that the 'I am', is a viable entity,
Does that automatically render it a liability?
The workings of the soul and it's inherent power-
Against the materialistic domination of every hour,
The shape of the cause, fuelled by the fires of pain-
Not to take away from the peace but alas, no gain
Is there to be found without the breaking of cycles,
Personified and perpetuated by the will of demonic idols.


Saturday, 2 February 2013

Meandering Through

You lied, you lied, you lied;
All the foundations built on deception.
All the boasted achievements hollow of integrity
This, the night of the broken hour
When comes the dawn and the blinded fall
Always the same patterns of behaviour
In small ways, always the same-
Meandering through the nothingness of fog
The meanings of greatness always lost.


Friday, 1 February 2013

Façade and fragility

What are the differences known,
Of the night and all it holds unknown-
As it exists in the minds of the delirious?
The wounds of the subconscious,
Bleed into the conscious mind,
Every once in a while the regression of time
And the first from last interruptions-
Can't fully stop the neurosis,
Or the increase of knee-jerk reactions,
The moments- the years of internalised afflictions,
Between courage and shame,
Become the constant signs of idle pain,
The weakest of knocks, break something
Due to the frightful effects of fragility,
Which lie beneath the façade of everything.


Energies of Indignation

Mourning the loss of all the lives unlived
The colossus of all that there is to forgive,
Meanings of nothing, to the blind and arrogant
The weakness perceived, propelling beyond guilt.
Perverted are the rules of truth and honour-
The mass hysteria of dignity against rebellion;
Seethe, seethe and learn to no longer grieve.
Feeding off, of the energies of indignation,
Growing wings to bring about a resolution.
Through redemption and a shameless self-love,
Piece by piece, the wounded heart sewn together-
From the livid marks, collected as seared burns,
Lacerated into scars onto the floor of the soul
Broken and discarded, like debris to be cleaned.


Friday, 25 January 2013

A Toast to the Tears

Of knowing the difference
between light and shade-
The beginnings of endings
that move closer to the grave.
Fighting the unleashed demons
until the very last breath-
The struggle of discordant voices
and colours vying for good health;

These are the conversations played
into horrors mutated and muted-
And the brainwashing of innocents
is then thoroughly completed.
The ways of the wanderer
are always corrupt and deviant-
And the search for inner peace
leads often to worldly bereavement.

A toast to the tears of validation
under the glare of deep disapproval-
The soul works for mass adulation
fighting through for constant approval.
Smouldering below the aspirations
of all highly strung superiors-
The world has constantly denied
what lies beneath all our exteriors.


Wednesday, 23 January 2013


The screams echo only in the light,
In the darkness they just become a wall of noise.

The softness of the familiar, grates
Against the cutting blades broken into rough shards.

The strange voices are loud.
The moments reflect crescendos-
And silence in perfect harmony.
Gently the monsters speak,
In tones that are too harsh
To let the trickery go unnoticed.

That was their plan but it was just a formality.
Really they don't care at all, it just doesn't matter.
Everything might have mattered, before-
It was all said and done but it never really would.

The shaking images, sounds and echoes of emotion,
The never-ending play of pain,
All comes to a sudden halt.
That's it, the nightmare is over for another day.
The horrible dream which makes absolutely no sense.
Who- Why are they doing this? What do they want?!

The morning as stark as ever.
Bright and eerily simple.
Just the way it was supposed to be
But would never be again.



The energy that does not destroy
But inspires creative patterns,
From the deepest of ethereal depths-
Of everything beautiful and brilliant-
Criticise but always leave the potential.

The newest of beginnings and the
Start of the end, of heart-seed killings,
The highest form of existence and living,
Believing in the power of rhythm;
It is indeed, hypnotic and transcendent.

The awareness of patterns everywhere;
That spirituality which guides the anchor,
The need to fight that suffocating mire-
Of feeding fledgling hopes and starving
Those everyday, parasitic insecurities.


Monday, 14 January 2013

Deceptive Imagery

The writing is on the wall and yet the words mean nothing at all,
Through it all the crazy, strange and deceptively delirious soothe
Away, the fears of a kindness that is a curious fate,
Surreal are the moments full with isolation and indoctrination-
And which always seem to leave inner peace denied.
Compulsions of idle prostration obstruct the views of clarity,
Intoxicated by deceptive imagery we struggle through the days,
Searching always for better ways to achieve our innate humanity.


Saturday, 12 January 2013

Stealing from the senses

The insights of healing are never-ending stories,
For the seeming closure of every wound,
Exposes the beginnings of many others.
And in time the stars are seen to shine brightly,
As the moon glows an eerie light stronger,
But layers and layers of disturbing realities,
Just continually grow one into another.
The fiercest of outraged energies create,
Grievances, that slowly propel peace closer,
For experience can teach skills of understanding,
Yet at the cost of stealing daily from the senses.
Of trust and the distortions of every fickle truth,
Moral grounds that shift and pathways of cold reason,
Lead to silently still spaces of subversive light, where
The powers of vision are moulded into a  surreal gift.


Thursday, 10 January 2013

The Invincible Nature of a Non-entity

What numbing madness and what utter sadness?
The moments of pain and gladness-
To belong nowhere and everywhere,
In a vain search to belong somewhere,
To be a nothing and a something-
To forgive all and everything,
In the mess of the misery that is humanity.
A struggle to cling onto the very notion of sanity-
Hold on, hold on, you will cry, before it gets better-
The wounds of the heartsoul only heal to become stronger.
With evidence from the past as a measure of security
A gauge of the invincible nature of a non-entity-
To be alive in the middle of storms of easy destruction,
Is an eternal path towards mental and spiritual instruction.
The human entity is a mere mass of blood and gore
Easily ripped apart on the outside yet alive forever more.


Tuesday, 8 January 2013

Ninety-nine moments of lies

Sometimes, I feel the fury coursing through the veins like a torrent of acid,
The victims of power games crushed beneath the ego of so-called superiors,
Liars and cheats, the hypocrites of double standards and contradictions:

Play the games of deceit and betrayal;
Lay the cards of dishonesty on the table
Every dog has it's day and everything is changeable-

The heart hides the universe in it's depths
Ninety-nine moments of lies and one moment of truth
Is all it takes.


Monday, 7 January 2013

A Pathway of Presence

The crossed wires,
Create sparks-
This is the beginning,
Of all worldly creation.

Bloodied hands
And gentle fingers,
Are the worst of all
Known, best intentions.

To master the art,
Of healing reflection
And within introspection,
Is a pathway of presence.

Within this torn
Heart, of every storm
Is made the journey,
of manifest realisation.



Someone who lives,
with deliberate,
Double standards;
Is a struggling person-
Within whose heart,
A maggot called fear lives
And defecates regularly
On the grace of their soul,
The moving nature
Of the human entity, innate
Ensures the opportunity
For a self-diagnosed cure.

- J.Bibi