Sometimes as I walk the Toronto Streets
I like to Reflect
slowly try to dissect
all that’s going on around me
I can help but notice the abundance that surrounds me
nice buildings, huge towers
people who look like they’re in positions of power
and so many others with cool gadgets
seems the path has been set
for them to be ties to our identities
so you’re either on Team Mac or Team PC
Team Iphone of team Blackberry
and oh yea, Team Andriod
sometimes I feel i need a Polaroid
cuz i can’t seem to go far
with seeing a wonderfully amazing looking …....car
or sometimes i have to stop and oh Shoot!!!!
That is such.....a well tailored suit
feeling as if i should follow suit
and by one of own
as i’m thinking, i feel i need to step out this zone
seems somethings is missing from my vision
and as I adjust the optical prism
i see for those living in abundance
there are millions more living on ridiculously less
while some get to dress to impress
the many in situations of distress
i see in Toronto, “A city of so called progress”
many neighbourhoods here a still a mess
evidence that challenges just exist globally
they also exist locally
as I look within me,
I see sympathy
but also a bend to apathy
cuz there’s just so many problems in world
as i think, i struck my a few of Jesus’ words
two realisations come to mind
two that are very intertwined
Jesus words was to love God with every part of me
and love others to huge degree
that I love myself
the phrase in my mind is known as the greatest commandment
i’m starting think about it a little bit different
realising that loving others
means more than loving my friends and family
or those living in close proximity
it means loving the world
For God so love the world
that he gave his only Son
So if i claim to be one
who says he follows the Son
then i was must love the world too
and realisation number 2
was that Christ best demonstrated his love
not with words
rather practically
taking on the penalty
that was meant for you and me
on that old rugged Cross
demonstrating love by paying the high cost
The majesty of his love motivates me
to not just sit in comfort and enjoying distractions
it motivates me to take action
cuz as Dr. Martin Luther-king showed, it’s fact
the world can change when people of faith act
So I challenge you
even if you have a different worldview
to do same
get in game
stop sitting on the sidelines
cuz our world is not fine
your action can be giving money or time
it can be a poem or a song
a little actions can go a long way
So the questions I have for you today
is what are you going to do
to serve those in pain and sorrow?
what are going to do make sure there is better tomorrow?
Out of all the news stories, they never mention these
So I find myself asking you for your attention please
You attention, please
We live in a world full of regression and hypocrisy
We live in a world where suppresions called democracy
We try for progression but get lessons on debauchery
We need to stand and fight and be strong like the boxers be
So in this social struggle, I guess we're Mayweather
Can't knock on our hustle but we need to play better
Politicking for control, yo when on the same bender
Old rich white power, but we're the main contender
A world where we ignore the suffering and poor
We leave their souls soar out in a cold war
I wish this talk was nothing more than some folklore
When men call their women…
Sorry, not THEIR women
When men call women bitches and whores
But what they really got a problem with is themselves at their cores
Out of all the news stories, they never mention these
So I find myself asking you for your attention, please
Your attention, please
Where we supported a leader who promised hope and change
But he turned out to be another soul deranged
More of the same
The dude can't even win a poker game
Makes you think if he did it for the votes or fame
Boats and planes saying his name across the side
Familiar tactics with no need to apologize
Political powers only seek to ostricize
Divide us as a people and ideologize our minds
So they can find and falsify
Any bad press so they can hide and diguise
And all of these citizens will bind over lies
They want our own mind to be blinds over eyes
Out of all the news stories, they never mention these
So I find myself asking you for your attention please
Your attention, please
Where an "Islamic" army kills as many people as they can before Ramadan
So that they can worship in "peace" and seek mercy for their wrongs
This isn't just Syria, its an Islamic World phenomenon
Its just so wrong, where has all of our IMAN gone?
Hypocrisy's the enemy, we need to fight like we're one
We need to fight like we've won, we need to fight with our tongues
We need to refrain from being quiet as nuns
The Muslim voice should not be the shiest of tongues
When I say fight, I don't mean violence and guns
Cuz as soon as we resort to that, the bias becomes
That the Muslim people contain the slyest of shuns
I want to be in Allah's shade during the brightest of suns
So raise the brightest of sons and the sweetest of daughters
Be the knowledgeable mothers and the keenest of fathers
Treat ignorance from within as an enemy
And treat the ignorance from outside with serenity
We can't fight for whats right, by pulling out a knife
We need to be obscene but also be polite
We need to learn to speak, we need to learn to write
Getting out our dreams and shining our own light
We need to see this as an oversized crime
We need to get down on our overtime grind
They be drunk off power, they live sober life times
I'm just waiting for the day when the voters might shine
I know these are just words from a young student
But recognize in time these eyes become prudent
We all lie sometimes, but for them it comes fluent
Its our future, we need to be the ones choosin
Make yourself aware of just who you are,
Be knowledgeable of the things that tear us apart
Link arm in arm, mind with mind
Cuz InshaAllah in time, this faith and it's people will shine
Usman Shabbar, also known as HighLight, is a Toronto-based poet and rapper. He is a second year student at York University and draws on the student lifestyle and issues important to students as his main influence, and thus the name of his forthcoming mixtape, "Stresses of a Student." To check out his material, search for "HighLight Music" on Facebook.
_ Can you imagine a world where violence was never the answer,
where the streets were clean of drugs, thugs and gangbangers,
can you imagine a world,
where aggression was solved by the suppression of anger
never resulting to the point of being hand cuffed and thrown in the hanger,
can you imagine a world,
where bystanders wouldn’t just stand there and watch while innocent people were getting shot,
Can you imagine mayhem being struck in a country that cant afford clean water,
can you imagine losing a son or daughter, mother or father because someone carelessly pulled the trigger,
can you imagine the tears of a Palestinian kid having to watch his parents die,
in the midst of bullets falling from the sky,
but a kid like that never cries instead he bleeds from his eyes,
with pain permanently engraved in his pupils, his brain, shell shocked, hes an orphan,
a rebel carrying a pouch full of pebbles,
promising to himself that if he sees another tank he’s gonna stone it to the ground,
he lives in a place where its never safe and never sound,
he never sleeps, terrified that the gunshots in his nightmares might pierce through his skull,
so he prays during days that are dull,
wishes that his dirt filled skies become blue,
can you imagine what would happen if his wishes came true,
if peace substituted for war and war no longer existed,
if the system wasn’t twisted and you wouldn’t get convicted for speaking the truth,
where we didn’t need to hide from our own shadows,
congregating in dark corners where the sun wouldn’t spot us,
see that’s how afraid we’ve become,
convinced that we’re the ones disturbing the peace,
they tell us, they tell us they want world peace,
but what they really mean is that they want the world in pieces,
segregated as the death rate increases,
stacking lies on top of lies, until their towers kiss the skies these cowards in disguise hide behind unfulfilled promises,
promising a better future trying to manipulate our consciences,
chaining down our brains making us their psychological hostages,
you see they control what we think, make us forget about these kids,
like this Palestinian kid whos afraid hes gonna die,
in the midst of bullets falling from the sky,
so he shuts his eyes, covers his ears and pretends hes invisible,
wrapped up in a blanket that he hopes is invincible,
little does he know that bullets can penetrate through cloth, skin and bones,
but don’t worry,
because it can never pierce a heart made of gold,
a soul as pure as the driven snow
See I always thought I was a wise man
better than
the average man
Until that day
It was a beautiful summer day
I had no idea what was coming my way
I was walking down the street
moving to my own beat
Then I saw her
She was a Goddess
She was the perfect girl
with a body that was out of this world
Sitting in the park
I swear as she sat there
It was almost a perfect picture
Her outfit showing she had excellent style
On her face this heart stirring smile
The cool breeze blowing her hair
I just had to stare
She saw me and gave me an inquisitive look
I was kinda shook
So I set a smile her way
She sent a smile my way
and with out delay
I started walking in her direction
hoping that I could win over this image of perfection
To me it seemed like our fates were intertwined
As if the stars were all aligned
Not a chance meeting but something of God's design
Sara Butt is a fourth year student at UofT who formerly wrote for KIH. Her poetic ability is limited to imitation and an otherwise deep admiration for anyone who can do special things with words.
This poem was inspired by William Blake's "The Tyger"
The wind is soft and smooth this night
The moon shines white and pure
Your eyes set my night sky alight
With illustrious allure
Contained within that precious face
I hold so dear to heart
I ponder deep into the day
Upon such perfect art
What shine! What shape! What steady glance!
What set sincerity!
There in those beams I long to dance,
There I find serenity
The moon and wind still pure and soft,
I wonder now with ease,
Could any but He Who shaped the moon,
Create such eyes as these?
The wind is soft and smooth this night
The moon shines white and pure
Your eyes set my night sky alight
With illustrious allure
This is a short poem with personal symbolic meanings. It is can be interpreted as the reader pleases.
About the Author: Rameez is senior at UofT St. George. He knows very little of poetry.
In agony I look
The mission I took
At a time I know not
I wonder how it is to be brought
Sun, on the zenith book
Nay, it on the horizon shook
The shadow now it allot
Toes seeing the apex trot
On a pile of vivacious enigmas stood
Preoccupations that murmured brood
Return to the mount I ought
Life at the pinnacle be sought.
Read the book before you burn it
Don’t disrespect my direction of worship
And people need to realize what we’ve done to deserve it
Understand the book before the paper is forced to forfeit
We are conserve-its arguing with conservatives
Before you act out, please learn what it is
The book of direction, knowledge, and peace
Is now burning on the ground of the New York City streets
It is an answer key to the most complex ponders that your mind can fathom
A message more powerful than the explosion of a split atom
It is an antique revelation that will never go out of date
It will guide you to the most luxurious and worry-free of fates
It is a path for the seeking to walk along
And now you have made it a path for the blind to dance upon
I speak to my own people now as we are not perfect either
Let us look upon the face of silent ignorance and not mistreat her
Let us look upon her face and try to talk like sensible human beings
Having conversations with her instead of handing her beatings
Let us remember that peace is what we all desire
And that fighting flames with flames only causes more fire
By the way, there are only two ways of putting out a fire:
With water, and when there is nothing left to burn
We may call our situation dyer
But let them finishing talking before we take our turn
We live in a great place where religious freedom is practiced
Let us follow our own paths, and let us be calm and not drastic
If you read the Quran you might be surprised
You might find similarities you never would have thought were comprised
If you read the Quran, you might still disagree with its teachings
About how we pray, go for hajj, and fast before feasting
If you read the Quran, you might think to dispend it
But my fellow Muslimeen, who better than Allah (SWT) to defend it?
Before you burn it, please let me tell you
You are burning a book which considers the Torah and the Bible holy books too
The tempo of the beating sun numbed coherent thinking.
My thoughts gasped for a moment’s breeze.
The soles of my feet cried out for a breather.
A rest it called, a moment’s rest it pleaded.
I consoled the pangs of pain ringing in my limbs, "patience is a virtue".
In the thick of day, in the soulless dusk, I trekked.
A voice pierced out, fragmenting the silence of the arid surroundings.
The milky deep tone saturated my crusty pores.
It soothed my passionately inflamed skin.
Moistened the shields of my iris
I clamoured to the call, “Who is there?”
It ignored my pleas for confrontation.
Disappearing into the abyss, I was left solitude once again.
My knees crumbled to the earth, no vigour left to dictate orders
Eyelids were sealing, arms were draping. A few seconds wait, and permanently comatose.
Few seconds passed, my heart in arrest, and the beatific call was heard once more,
“Allahu Akbar, Allahu Akbar, La ilaaha illa-Lah”
Fatima N. is a fourth year student at the University of Toronto studying criminology and political science.
Zainab Furqan is a second-year Arts and Science student at McMaster University. She loves to take pictures, bake elaborate structures, and string words together. She started performing spoken word at high school, as part of a social justice group called “Spread the Word” and draws inspiration from the Qur’an, the strength of people in the face of injustice, everyday beauty, and her family and friends. Through poetry, she hopes to spread the word far enough to change the world. A little bit.
Red.
When we hear footsteps approaching,
we hide; under stairwells and cellars,
in our hearts, we hide our only possessions.
They are coming.
It’s a wonder that we can hear footsteps at all.
We have heard the earth scream in agony,
we have heard her cry.
and we’ve heard her broken call
Our eardrums shattered by her pain
as bombs fall,
as bombs keep on falling
instead of rain
I hear, in your world,
the blame is being passed around,
like money, the currency of corruption
I hear, in your world,
the blame is being passed around,
reasons are being found,
justification, comfort, soul-food
while we wait here, for another body to be found.
As bombs fall,
As bombs keep on falling,
on our ground.
What kind of convoluted security
demands a population to be enclosed,
to be disposed
of, so easily?
for soldiers to kill so freely?
What kind of security?
What kind of justice
demands a population to be starved
for children to pay the price
of insanity’s vice,
pay the price in years of innocence,
months of hunger,
watching trucks drive by,
loaded with sustenance,
stop at checkpoints,
refused entry,
for their own “safety”?
What kind of justice?
Have you found reasons for this?
I hear, in your world,
you’ve lost count of our numbers
lost the count in a mess of poisonous words
spewed out by an opaque media,
your minds stabbed by headlines,
your hearts cold, watching from the sidelines
fearing the confines,
of an upright conscience
I hear, in your world,
our stories are told,
of beautiful mothers, raped brutally
in front of the virgin eyes of their three-year olds,
two- year olds,
mothers searching for an ounce of retribution,
but the puppets of greed
will never grow flesh
the wounds of the standing
will always be fresh
Understand that our blood
is not the blood you see on
fifty inch screens.
It is as red, as real,
as the grass outside your homes is green.
The author is a second year undergraduate student at a Canadian University. Nana Zakeeyah is her pen name.
She is known to fly no flags.
Being a wandering refugee since weeks from her birth,
she has always walked lonely paths,
so she is unknown--
a strangeness that makes her reviled
by most until she befriends them.
Though she has learned that belonging
may be as transient as those who offer it.
But they offer it.
She searches among them for her heart's companions
and finds only its acquaintances;
tender acceptance meaning a life on the periphery,
a constricting welcome
making her wonder if she would rather be the boundless seeker
not confined to the multi-colour of nation states but
free under the noble black of the best of this Nation.
But under the black, they've raised flags
that she wanders to and from
lured by the rhetoric of belonging,
repulsed by theoretical solidarity--
the hegemony of majorities within
a minority.
Wandering.wondering
maybe a final hijra.
maybe conformity.
maybe a long walk through the lonely dunya
made lonelier by indifference.
Always she hopes to return to her father's origin,
to be pardoned and accepted
into a Garden whose expanse is the heavens and the earth.
Because though she is born a wanderer sometimes her feet become weary.
often her feet become weary.
always her feet are weary.
and she just wants to go
home.
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