Haiti relief benefit concert!

Bismillah...

A very talented singer-songwriter, Foyo Jama, is holding a Haiti relief benefit concert (sponsored by AFRSA and BASE) this thusday, January 28th from 8:00-9:30pm in the Student Life Centre (SLC) multipurpose room at the University of Waterloo in hopes of raising awareness and to fundraise for the wide-spread Haiti relief effort after the devestating January 12th 2010 earthquake that shook the haitian nation. I will be performing my poetry at this event God willing. The pieces I will be performing are "Poetry and Promise" (which you can find in the archives of this blog) and "Tears of ink". This is not a ticketed event but donations will be accepted. Please come out and support this cause as well as your local (for those of you in the KW area) artists!

Peace & Love

Auditory Visuals

Oh but if we were so wise to…
Open up our eyes to…
Other than what our eyes knew
It might surprise you
The moments that work to define you
As you mine through…
Trying to find truth
It is just as much ahead as it is behind you
It is just as silent as a mime’s muse
But you must still listen with your eye’s view
To teach them what they know not
What you thought was unfertile knowledge
…until your mind grew
It is as easy as blinking to clear your vision
Sounds dance before your witness
Conga line straight into your soul
Carrying a message of the cure for blindness
Straight into you soul
Breathe this way to see this way
This respiration is pivotal
Marking a constellation of contemplation
I see stars in my visuals
It’s criminal to deprive my soul of this starry night
I hear it loud and bright
The sounds of light
It makes beautiful music in my heart’s symphony
This piece (peace) is called epiphany.

The Source of Freedom

Bismillah

realizing freedom ...
I subscribed to the task knowing little of its challenge
its reality flourecent...beaming from cupped hands
making promises and pleas for better days

I knew little of its commitments
Until I relapsed

Scratches on my palms that I once would stare at for hours
seem like less than the life lines they are
because I intrepret them as mere wrinkles when I relapse

yet I can see the plusating truth in the centre
As I place it on my heart to try and syncronize the beat
before realizing that they are of the same source.

The spectacles

States...changes in emotion and form that I revisit
Where I state my mission sent by ambition
The gardens through which minds have driven
but withered are the roses that I envisioned
When I rose from my slumber to see that I's (eyes) imprisioned
My eye can't witness so I'm blinking through an idle prism
Where the light shone too bright,
disperesed through my transistions
Positions shifting upon the chess game that I've conditioned
While Im trying to make sense of it all...the flight and the fall.
Landing is possible...
everything is just as lost as it is logical when you overthink the obsticles
Walls are felt, not seen.
If senses make sense, then I hear concrete and smell the sky
clouds tell condense stories, then cry
dancing in air...suspended like dreams
in a realm out of reach...
This my mind can teach
My heart can unlearn
This pen is my chisle...
I will carve poetry into your walls until they collapse
This pen is my needle...
I will pump poetry into my heart until it understands.

REinvention

A lack of sweat, blood, tears, and submission led to the demise of my day
We can do better: I market this to my soul.
beyond us is forever, behind us is lost opportunity to work on getting there
How do I find eternity in good spirits?
How can I feel it when blankets surround me?
Covers of illusion, a colorful intrusion
takes me from depth of thought to amusment
profundity slipping between time and space to land into an abyss
I count the divine conversations I've missed
memory is jaded,
all I remember is there is something I am forgetting
all I forget is the only thing important to remember
There is not enough here to build an empire
Theres a need for expansion
I want a skyscraping development so my mind can kiss skies and imagine
So the heart can be greater than what it fathoms
until feeling sweat, blood, tears and submission become its standards

Feilds of Concrete

Passion
Revolves around my heart with no direction
Sometimes a wandering recollection
Sometimes a dream I’ve dreamt in
Love
Finds homes within my ribcage,
I pray it finds passion
I fear I’ve forgotten it long enough to cry now
Fear
That I am not what I expected
That there is not enough of me
That I am stuck on me
That this poem is only about me
Sincerity
Is what I question everyday
To the human limitation…
There are no fields of concrete.

Making Connections

Compassion is a peculiar teacher
Its lessons disguised in failure and trying
Yet advocating triumph
We see ourselves in the best possible light
Until our power cuts out
When we are powerless is when we learn to fight for others
If we decide to heed the message of struggle
It is to be above your own soul by silencing its desires
And only tending to its needs
Enabling it to see through its egocentric nature and find the core
The tears of humanity can fill oceans in their abundance
Where some drown and others sail, all once gazing upon an eternal horizon
We can start a revolution or better the one that has already begun
Everything is revolving just like everything is one
Circular and spherical is our life force
As we breathe corruption into it
As we inhale so-called progress, we exhale our own demise
I am sick of this phantom respiration
When will we show our form?
Compassion...
I had to dance with my ego to cripple it.

Her own brand of Freedom

Ink was pierced into her as she tattooed poetry on her veins
They told stories of blood loss
Mind envied heart for its freedom
As the intellect could never grow past reason

They told her her reasons were below theirs
And so she spilt ink of the floor and walked barefoot on it
So they could see the footsteps of her thinking
From mind to body the ink spilt
And all watched on as passion painted the floor a red liquid

Mind envied heart for its freedom
As the intellect could never grow past reason
Foot envied tongue for its speaking
And tongue envied eyes for its seeing

She being young could always tell
That cynicism was more a crutch than an excuse
Beauty came and went like change
Growing deeper and leaving evidence of life
Like wrinkles in space and time
But thoughts resisted aging to the body’s rhythm
They follow either mind or heart