You can never raise yourself much

You can never raise yourself much, by comparing yourself with others, today you are trying to outdo someone, tomorrow you will be bothered, by the achievements of some other.
You will be happy and bloat with joy, on the day when you beat the people, about whom you have started to bother, but then you will feel sad and doomed, when you will be outdone by the others.
just sit and think for a moment, would the world have seen great works, of Einstein, newton and wright brothers, had they spent all their time thinking, how many fish today caught their neighbor.
from where Picasso, Vinci would have produced, such beautiful and great works of art,
had their mothers and fathers always, kicked their butt and pushed them, to follow and to be like someone other.
Great scriptures and great men always say, true success always comes to those, who follow their heart with faith and courage, work with patience, passion and diligence, while treating and helping everybody as brother.
And moreover at the end of the day, will you still count that as success?
though living in a grand mansion, but inside of you still burning with the fire of animosity, hatred and anger.

Can you listen with your eyes?

I can hear crying all over the earth tonight,
sad children in the windows of their eyes longing for things
they dream of growing up to make come true,
fireflies in wishing wells the shadows drink from
on the moon where the spirit's lost and found dwells
like a small glove shed like a skin of moonlight years ago
as we grew out of ourselves like shells of the dawn in the morning,
waiting for some flesh and blood human hand
to loop back like a habitable planet in its second innocence
and come and claim us like life on Mars again.
The return journey of the morning glory to unmapped islands
we set out to explore, each to our own star,
like the lifeboats of newly-hatched turtles running
from the cosmic eggshells of our abdicated crowns of creation,
toward the abysmal shore of our oceanic aspirations,
each of us enduring the transformative initiations
of our shape shifting hearts on the thresholds
of the endless event horizons of the black holes and rainbows
that beguiled us with their joy and despair deeper
into the mirage of the music believing in this desert of stars
even here we could hear the mermaids singing,
and pluck pearls of enlightenment from the third eyes
of oysters open on the beach. Or the mouths of books
that had lost their place in the universe, left open
gaping in the sand at the incontrovertible signposts of the stars.
So many echoes from home you can't help but lose track
of your soul sometimes along the way trying like the rain
to better the world like a green tree ring pinging
the heart wood of a petrified forest like a tuning fork
or a witching wand that might break into blossom yet
if only we don't give up like grails and constellations
looking for the watersheds of the shining whether
they're dragons that swallow the moon to bring the rain
or the bell weathers of irreversible delusions
that fill the abyss with the elixirs and love potions
of our intoxicating affair with our own laughter and tears.

Over the course of the intervening light years
the lost flight feathers of many strange skies
under our wings, lonely prayers in the moonlit tents of the doves
growing like morning glory all over the childhoods
we abandoned like buckets beside the wells we fell into
like hourglasses of quicksand leaking out of ourselves,
like stars from the perfect bodies of contiguous time and space.

We're exalted in the midst of our humiliations. We're humbled
by the excess of our celebrations. We ghost dance against
the gathering thunderclouds of preeminent war
like a guild of sacred clowns and shepherd moons
on tour in protest against the bulwarks of gravitas
enslaving third world planets, and for a time, our hearts
feel like angry strawberries glowing in the starfields
as if Aldebaran had just blue-shifted toward the spiritual life
of the Pleiades, and were young again, the red flame
of the poppy in its blood that dreams of sustaining
and renewing life, even if it be just the tender green placard
of a leaf unfolding in the ashes of our urns, one
shy tendril of morning glory seeking the light
in the terrible stillness of an implacable abyss,
we are made young again, clear again, by the gusts
of a moody, blue muse of emotional hydrogen
flaring up in us like the inspiration for goblets and fountains
of cool white flowers hanging our bells and trumpets
like music growing all over the cedar hedges in the early morning.
Can you listen with your eyes? Can you see with your ears
how the ghosts of the stars walk the earth at night
in the flesh of flowers blooming like chicory along the roadside
in the blue irises of the eyes of September, or in gardens on the moon
left untended by the gentle rains of our imaginations
for more childhoods than there are watermarks in the heartwood
of the tears it took to get here like rootless trees
spreading across the earth like an unplanned pilgrimage
of exiled immigrants returning to the ancestral shrines
of their prophetic skulls burning like prodigal stars
in the spacious windows of our visionary homes?

Realizing at last, if nothing else from our insights into life,
the star-maps of the fireflies at the headwaters of our source
aren't bounded by the hearthstones of our wandering hearts
where the vagrants lay their heads down at last
on the hard pillows of the moon rocks they brought back with them
to dream of breathing new life into the lost atmospheres
of their childhoods returning like the lyrics of the night birds
to a wheeling mobile hanging like a windfall of planets
and dancing apples from the rafters and boughs of the ceilings
that couldn't keep the lid on the toy boxes of their bedrooms
or the hoods on the marvellous third eyes of the falcons
perched on the tree limbs of their telescopes in the corner
trying to see into the dark as far as the wingspan of their light will let them.

What a lifeless life.

In this life everything has changed, 
Life itself is lifeless.......
Communications are wireless, 
Transmissions are codeless, 
What a modern life.
Nights are dreamless, 
Hopes have become hopeless, 
And love has become loveless, 
What an endless life.
movements are aimless, 
And desires are useless, 
Oh what a life
Care is careless
Days are countless.
And forever is endless, 
Oh life what a lifeless life. 

Crushed dreams

Sorrow, regret, misjudgement, betrayal, 
Are just few parts of this hell called life, 
Life is just an empty shell, waiting to be filled, 
With sorrowful emotions, to torture us, 
Life use to be sanctuary, once upon a time, 
Filled with joy, peace, harmony and enlightenment, 
But greed, war, politics, pollution and power, 
The modern creations, have made life pointless.
So this torture called life remains to this day, 
Crushing the dreams, of many a soul, 
I wish for all life, to be in harmony, 
But by life, as usual, my dreams were crushed. 

A true life lesson

Nothing worth having comes easy
The process is slow
From deep down below
It patiently grows
Till a tiny bit shows
The only thing constant is change
It always occurring
Can be unnerving
Sometimes disturbing
Life keeps you learning
Mean what you say and say what you mean
Words are the bond
Tells where we're from
The things we have done
And what can become
True love isn't perfect
You'll only regret it
Unless you accept it
Always respect it
That's how you protect it
Treat others as you want to be treated
I firmly believe
The love we achieve
Come from good deeds
What you give, you recieve

Middle age problems

I am too old to learn new tricks, yet too young to forget the old tricks
I am too old to care much about anything, yet i am too young to stop caring entirely
I am too old to become reckless,
Too young to play it safe
Too old to be afraid of the future,
Too young not to be scared by today
Too old to play ball,
Too young to be out of the game
I am an awkward age

When you don’t learn it yourself

Life teaches harsh lessons
When you don’t learn it yourself
It puts forth many chances
Which you ignore and not care! 
When you take for granted
That the person you love will always be there
But when you are surrounded by hurt and are wounded
You lie alone in despair! 
Your heart goes numb
The tear dries in your eye
You don’t hurt anymore
As you wait for the part of you to die
You feel that you are loved and cared for
You feel that you belong
But time has its way to teach
And turns everything upside down
Somewhere somehow I still hurt
Though the feeling doesn’t surface
As I come to terms with reality
My dreams and fantasies leave as if it were just a phase! 

الايجابية لاتعني عدم الحزن

الايجابية لاتعني عدم الحزن ولكن تعني فن التعامل مع الاحزان
كيف تتعامل مع الاحداث آلحزينة ؟
عش لحظاتھا .. ابكِ.. صلِ.. استغفر .. استرخي ..استحم بماء دافئ ..اقرا كتاب اللہ .. احتضن من تحب. دع عاطفتك ترتاح وتفرغ كل شحنات الحزن .. بعدھا ثم .. ابدأ لحظة جديده.السعاده رحله وليست هدفا

وتذكرِ دائما هذه آلحكمة الجميلة :
" ان من يتقن فن االعيش مع نفسه لن يعرف البؤس ابداً " 

تفاائل واحسن الظن بخالقك ( هناك ستجد أن للحياه معنى اجمل )

ولا بأس ان ٺبكي .. وٺبحث عن : زاويہ لا يراك فيها اَحد ...
ٺبكي ۈ ٺخرج مَا بداخلك بشرط ان ٺمسح دمعتك ۈ ٺبتسم لنفسك أولاً ' ثم للاخرين !
عش يومك
لا تتوضأ لأنك ستصلي ، بل توضأ لتؤجر ثم صلي لتؤجر ثانية !
لا تردد الاذان بكلل بل تغنّى به ، واطرب الأكوان بصوتك
استمتع بكل خطوة تدق بها الأرض ، بكل شهقة تُدخل فيها الاكسجين !
انظر إلى اللوحات الرخيصة بأثمن النظرات ، بادلها الثناء وارفع من شأنها !
افهم كل ما يُتأتيء به قلبك ،
ترجم كل طلاسم عقلك ، 

كن مجنوناً مع نفسك وعاقلاً مع الغير

I believe

I believe in mysteries that live
on their own fire  the seeds and branches
of twilight, the blood alert within the mysteries
opening drenched layers of woman's skin.
Mysteries of the drunken face, 
of the green olive darkening, 
and the heaviness of the embarking leaf, 
the horn of wheat, and the warm loaf, 
the dripping plum, the child fallen asleep
in the sling of corduroy close to your breasts― 
twins of silk and heat. My mysteries, 
like those the small 
sea birds sing of  the ones
content to eat from the debris along the shore, oh .. I believe

.. Listen
Violin

Living in the loneliness of ourselves

We live in the loneliness of ourselves
We try to read the world as our own.
But most deeply we know
Time passes
Lifetimes of meaning accumulate
But still on our own
Turning the pages
The book we have written 
In our reading
Is inexplicable and unknown, even to ourselves.

End of the road

We have come to the end of the road 
There is no new road before us
We fear being lost forever 
Courage is a new direction
It is going where we have not gone before 
With no guarantee that we will get anywhere at all
We grow old
Our friends grow old
Aches and pains
And powers lost
Going down
All going down
Suddenly or more slowly
A world 
A generation
gone
Soon none of us will be here,
We have come to the end of the road
And the world will go on without us

I can still remember

I can still remember my words, 
Life is not always fair.
I can still remember that I thought it was absurd.
I didn't want to believe those words existed in this air.
But now I know it is verity, 
I am here without you.
It all seems like an act of barbarity, 
And I still cannot believe it is true.
All these miles that separates us, 
Are nothing compared to how close my hearts keeps you.
But there is something you can probably guess, 
Sometimes I feel like number two.
But I know the same blue sky is looking down, 
On both you and me.
Even if we don’t live in the same town, 
And we are separated by the sea.
You are still with me in my dreams, 
The world can’t live without your love.
And sometimes my crying goes to extremes, 
But it all stops when you are the one I think of.
It is really good to hear your voice saying my name, 
It makes my whole heart fly.
And it feels like I am surrounded by flames, 
And I know you are a perfect woman.
I used to wonder what it meant to be loved and wanted, 
But that all changed on the first day of May.
That is when I could feel your love be flaunted, 
And I can still feel it every single day.

Your own company

As the alarm rings, a new day begins
Welcome to the same boring routine.
You spin around like a wooden top
Being turned around by one and all
There's hardly a relief and no way out
Until your body and mind shuts off
And only alternative is to stop. 
One in a while when the buzz is dead
And you sit idle for a change, 
There's a blank expanse in your head
And the feeling is rather strange; 
For free time is a rare commodity, 
You have only yourself to keep you busy.
And yet, you find joy in nothing, 
Perhaps you've forgotten to enjoy your own company

Eternity love

They will ask me and I will reply I am in love, I am in love with eternity 
And when they ask me what is my last wish? I will tell them my only wish is to fall in your arms
I want to fly to the skies, 
I want to float into the Milky Way as I search for your hands reaching out for me.
I beg of you please say you will be there? 
Please say you will be waiting for me? 
Oh how much I want to ride, ride to stars and come alive like the sun
I don't need the love of woman, I don't need no riches, I don't need no beauty
If timing is a limit then give me even a second, just one second to fall in your arms 
To feel your embrace is more treasured in my heart than heaven
To feel your forgiveness is more wonderful to my soul than food to my body
To feel your love is to me more worthwhile than eternity in heaven
When the sun shines through the darkness
The trumpet of heavens will shake the world
And the tears of the world will sink the desert
I will hear the children laughter echoing among the golden fields
I will run and I will follow
In the line we will sing the song of peace as we walk the valley of soul
The gate will shimmer with love as it opens us to a world of no fear, no pain, no vanity, no hunger, and no war. 
And I will run in the heavens, run through every fields of the heaven to fall, fall in your arms.
And when they ask me what is my last wish? I will tell them my only wish is to fall in your arms
And I will search my lord even for an eternity in heaven just to fall in your arms and I shall fear no more.

I am not a poet

I am not a poet or a writer
I don't have the grammar and sometimes the spelling
But I have slogans that can burst your flames
Make you so angry and make you untamed
Make you so happy, and shed a tear
I am not a writer but I love words
Every experience becomes a diary
Every taught or idea becomes explained
Each words has it meaning, and each brings emotions
Words has rhythms, and some just rhymes
There is no directions to where it is leading
What is a poet if he didn't use his heart?

Fade away

Life seems to fade away…
Drifting farther and farther like a sway
That’s all I have to say…. 
Meet you in the next play! ! ! ! 
Once you were all mine
All the stars had a bright shine
But that day you broke away
Life seems to fade away.
I’m sorry that I hurt you, its something I must live with everyday, 
And all the pain I put you through, wish that I could take it all away.
But you took it like a play, 
Life seems to fade away….
I hadn’t expected you to behave this way
I served you like a dish in a tray, 
Life seems to fade away…..
Now, its time to pay, 
Do not wish for me or pray, 

Arabian dreams, killed with no sound

Melting yellow sun 
pale surviving camels 
no where or way to run 
deserts full of symbols and temples 
you look at me although its forbidden 
you know the risk is high 
you realize your committing a sin 
yet you beg me to meet you or claim to die 
I don’t mind, knowing the consequence 
eyes lay upon us and watch so accurately 
we speak by eye contact we leave no evidence 
everything seems to work out correctly 
Then we no longer manage to hide 
we realize anything is easier then separation 
we are hurting and burning inside 
we suffer gradually of desperation 
we appear together for the first time 
some look at us with envy and jealousy 
some despise us and count it a crime 
Then send us to his majesty 
we try to explain we shout we cry 
with no justification he simply rejects 
we beg we bend on our knees we try 
with his cold words he loadly objects 
he threatens our lives as we leave forever
puddles of blood fill up the empty smooth ground 
if we cant live together then we shall die together 
that’s the last they said before killed with no sound

The same mutual wish

With the full moon high in the sky; 
Pictures of memories run through my mind.
Pain, Hurt, Love and Hate; 
All The same shame.
The Pain will remain, 
The Hurt forevermore, 
The Love to think nothing of, 
And the Hate I will adore.
I dread these things forevermore
yes there are three of us, that makes a company
that day when it is about to rain, but doesn't
we are three ..
wearing white and i am the bad one wishing death
for the other one that we do not like to be with us
but will always be a part of us despite our deep dislike, it is the truth
that death-wish that is there but we do not like to admit it is there
speaking, singing, teasing, taunting
and no matter how we silence it with our handkerchief
they all speak
louder
singer wildly
teasing
badly
yes we are watching the burial of a death that comes true we are silent
do we have the same mutual wish for each other..? 
i am sure... i do not wish to be the bad one forever.

Darkness of the night

Even sunshine may fade
as time does progress
falling victim to the ever straining
product of stress
Hearts may faint
dreams will give out
Trouble stirs
in the question of doubt
Eyes may turn
in a fear of the dark
cringing out memories
of the initial spark
The spark that had
begun this impassioned flame
fueled by the heart
but beautified by the dame
Oh to only hit a note
that will forever sound
catching a rhythmic pattern
that has yet to be found
For the song in the making
has begun its aching
in a sense that untold feelings
are now awaking
Dread may have the upper hand
as the cards are played
but little does the dealer know
that the victims are not afraid
No, they take the stance
continuing the advance
in a search for
the art of true romance
For the day has just begun
on the journey ahead
step by step
by their hearts they are lead
For sunshine may not always appear
to be the source of light
but relies on the moon's memories
in the darkness of the night

Soon you’ll be mine

Along the street, A beggar pleads, For else than air, To ward off, 
The misfortunes, Of hunger clinging, 
In his body, Like beasts, Stalking a prey, Fighting, 
Against one another, Killing the weak, Exhausting the victor, Leaving the prey, 
Unharmed and safe, And the beast says, 
“Time will come, 
Soon you’ll be mine.”
Now the beggar, Writhing in pain, 
From the pangs of hunger, Still pleading, 
Says to himself, 
“Soon I’ll have some.”
A day of wandering, Of fruitless voyage, The beggar retires, Hapless in a corner, 
Of the lost street, Musing, His mouth watering, 
Dreams of dishes, Like a gourmet, In a banquet, 
Satisfied, relieved, All forgotten, 
Hunger loses the game, 
And the beggar, Droops to sleep, 
Death says, 
“Time will come, Soon you’ll be mine.”