My Reasons.
My reasons for creating this website aren't for business reasons, even though I'm selling my books here. The money I earn isn't expected to be good, for not many people like reading the truth, and if there are profits, they'll be used to help the Palestinians in Gaza. My books aren't violent but express and depict violence towards us as Muslims. We aren't thrilled to be on earth; none of us is, but the minor things may make us smile if we truly believe and are good the way our prophet Muhammad has guided us to be.. Allah created us and having a soul gives me the happiness of life knowing that I have a chance to exist on earth and live again after death. I strive to be a great person and by Allah’s infinite wisdom that I may enter paradise, smiling. For many Muslims, it's always the thoughtful things that count. The devil is desperate to ruin and turn us away from Allah and the revelations sent to our greatest prophet, Muhammad (pbuh). He made his promise to take all the Muslims to hell with him. His sole purpose is to turn us away from Allah and drag us to hell on the last day. The darkest clouds hold the most rain. There’s always a release after enduring much pain. We may seem to be violent to most non-Muslims, but this is just the conditioning you've been fed without even knowing that the media has been perfecting it on you. TV and the internet have secretive subliminal directives that get you to react even though you never comprehended you felt this. They tell you something; later, when a war or other political thing happens, you do whatever they desire.
With the COVID-19 hoax and the global lockdowns feeding people fear while experimenting on us with the vaccines (I took a few
vaccines, and the side effects were nasty), I decided to write. It was my way of managing the feelings of being trapped with nothing
practical to do. I began writing poetry about Islam, and a dormant pain emerged: the plight of the Palestinians. There was a time
when I constantly prayed while learning about Islam and was in a constant state of learning and purity. With my madness, I thought I
had lost it all, but it eventually returned, and so did the trauma. My story is in my words of pain and hope. There was a long time after
my mental collapse when days would hazily go by with little reason to live and even less purpose. I survived it, and I've come out far
more substantial and resilient than I once was.
Why?
All your actions
Start with an intention,
Like when you look at your complexion,
In a twisted reflection,
Self-affection,
Do you feel narcissism?
Or do you want to be a better person?
Is your appearance a reason why you get affection?
Supposition.
It's like a decision, upside down, or an incision.
It could leave your future bright or full of affliction.
Sometimes, they use an intricate magician.
That makes your life a devilish complication.
Cursing you with evil precision.
Satan's rasping desperation.
Your heart is left empty, like an incarceration.
Whatever you say or do is in deletion,
But invention!
Repletion.
So, there's little completion.
It's always hard to talk when no one listens,
No communication.
(From my first book, Bridge of Wings, Vol. 1)
The bully.
When I was young, I was bullied quite severely. I've never talked about it, but it could have been better or worse. This kid who got expelled from a separate school was allowed to learn in mine. The boy was trouble, and I knew it. Because I was quiet, the other kids thought I was weird. Friends could have helped, but those were not really friends as they chose the side with more kids than helping me out due to a sad form of peer pressure, where reasons get clouded no matter how wrong. Traitors, and they never truly got a single word out of me. Even though it was a tough final year at primary, I was pretty happy to be at school, away from the screaming and shouting at home. So, I said something to this bully. I wasn't expecting it, but he tripped me and sat on top of me, punching my head into the ground. I took it as much as I Could, but I cried. I got my revenge eventually. My so-called friends just stood and watched. A few weeks after being told what to do and fearing walking home from school, the Pakistani lad said something vile and racist. Me and my friends jumped those racist Pakistanis, and it felt good as we emerged victorious. As the boy was limping off, I punched him very hard on the back of his head. He got unconscious. A few years later, he died due to a brain tumour. Was it my fault? I don't know. I've partially lived with this guilt, even if that fight had nothing to do with it. It could have, though. Maybe it was Allah's way of punishing him. They almost expelled me this time, but writing about why I did what I did kept me safe from being thrown out of school. I tried not to get into fights after that. I found nothing poetic about school and left secular studies to study Islam after secondary school. I decided to learn martial arts for self-defence as bullies liked singling me out due to my speechlessness. I chose Jeet Kune Do (JKD). I had a few fights at secondary school, and All the caucasian and black kids classed me as the bully this time. They were all terrified of me; the girls saw the weakness in me, though, and sometimes did lewd things. I once put this one guy to sleep for picking on the Muslim sisters of my school.
“Doors
Open
and
So
Clear”
is
my
fifth
Book
and
a
lot
of
work
was
put
into
creating
it.
I
hope
to
create
awareness
and
by
the
will
of
Allah,
it’ll
help
and
guide
both
Muslims
and
non-Muslims.
It
will
evoke
an
empathy
for
the
Palestinians
in
you,
for
the
pity
your
leaders
lack
due
to
their
experience
with
death,
who
think
they
can
control
you,
a
people
that
doesnt
really
know
death
and
destruction
that
they
clearly
do,
but
you
don’t
see
it
on
the
media,
you
don’t
see
the
truth
anywhere.
With
the
horrifying
Genocide
currently
being
commited
against
the
palestinians,
a
share
of
the
profits
will
go
to
the
People
who’ve
been
suffering
an
endless
war
designed
with
Apartheid
in
Gaza,
Palestine.
As
a
self-published
author,
this
is
my
sixth
book,
Abundant
Dark
Rainclouds
.
It's
a
compelling
work
of
both
poetry
and
prose,
Islamically
and
tragically
oriented.
I
started
writing
odd
poems
about
Islam
and
posting
them
on
X
(Twitter)
and
Instagram
during
the
2020
COVID-19
global
lockdown.
Due
to
already
suffering
from
PTSD,
I
suffered
from
traumatic
feelings
and
memories
manifesting
massively
in
my
everyday
life.
Feeling
like
I'd
die
or
see
my
loved
ones
die,
I
started
writing
and
gardening
to
occupy
myself.
With
the
Palestinian
anguish,
I
found
an
extension
and
a
connection
with
their
pain.
My
poetry
isn't
extreme,
but
sometimes
the
Images
and
literal
imagery
may
seem
so.
It's
all
normal
to
me,
as
the
Gaza
genocide
has
broken
a
part
of
me,
leaving
me
almost
soulless.
If
it
hurts,
then be stronger!
My Reasons.
My reasons for creating this website aren't for business reasons, even though I'm selling my books here. The money I earn isn't expected to be good, for not many people like reading the truth, and if there are profits, they'll be used to help the Palestinians in Gaza. My books aren't violent but express and depict violence towards us as Muslims. We aren't thrilled to be on earth; none of us is, but the minor things may make us smile if we truly believe and are good the way our prophet Muhammad has guided us to be.. Allah created us and having a soul gives me the happiness of life knowing that I have a chance to exist on earth and live again after death. I strive to be a great person and by Allah’s infinite wisdom that I may enter paradise, smiling. For many Muslims, it's always the thoughtful things that count. The devil is desperate to ruin and turn us away from Allah and the revelations sent to our greatest prophet, Muhammad (pbuh). He made his promise to take all the Muslims to hell with him. His sole purpose is to turn us away from Allah and drag us to hell on the last day. The darkest clouds hold the most rain. There’s always a release after enduring much pain. We may seem to be violent to most non-Muslims, but this is just the conditioning you've been fed without even knowing that the media has been perfecting it on you. TV and the internet have secretive subliminal directives that get you to react even though you never comprehended you felt this. They tell you something; later, when a war or other political thing happens, you do whatever they desire.
The bully.
When I was young, I was bullied quite severely. I've never talked about it, but it could have been better or worse. This kid who got expelled from a separate school was allowed to learn in mine. The boy was trouble, and I knew it. Because I was quiet, the other kids thought I was weird. Friends could have helped, but those were not really friends as they chose the side with more kids than helping me out due to a sad form of peer pressure, where reasons get clouded no matter how wrong. Traitors, and they never truly got a single word out of me. Even though it was a tough final year at primary, I was pretty happy to be at school, away from the screaming and shouting at home. So, I said something to this bully. I wasn't expecting it, but he tripped me and sat on top of me, punching my head into the ground. I took it as much as I Could, but I cried. I got my revenge eventually. My so-called friends just stood and watched. A few weeks after being told what to do and fearing walking home from school, the Pakistani lad said something vile and racist. Me and my friends jumped those racist Pakistanis, and it felt good as we emerged victorious. As the boy was limping off, I punched him very hard on the back of his head. He got unconscious. A few years later, he died due to a brain tumour. Was it my fault? I don't know. I've partially lived with this guilt, even if that fight had nothing to do with it. It could have, though. Maybe it was Allah's way of punishing him. They almost expelled me this time, but writing about why I did what I did kept me safe from being thrown out of school. I tried not to get into fights after that. I found nothing poetic about school and left secular studies to study Islam after secondary school. I decided to learn martial arts for self-defence as bullies liked singling me out due to my speechlessness. I chose Jeet Kune Do (JKD). I had a few fights at secondary school, and All the caucasian and black kids classed me as the bully this time. They were all terrified of me; the girls saw the weakness in me, though, and sometimes did lewd things. I once put this one guy to sleep for picking on the Muslim sisters of my school.
With
the
COVID-19
hoax
and
the
global
lockdowns
feeding
people
fear
while
experimenting
on
us
with
the
vaccines
(I
took
a
few
vaccines,
and
the
side
effects
were
nasty),
I
decided
to
write.
It
was
my
way
of
managing
the
feelings
of
being
trapped
with
nothing
practical
to
do.
I
began
writing
poetry
about
Islam,
and
a
dormant
pain
emerged:
the
plight
of
the
Palestinians.
There
was
a
time
when
I
constantly
prayed
while
learning
about
Islam
and
was
in
a
constant
state
of
learning
and
purity.
With
my
madness,
I
thought
I
had
lost
it
all,
but
it
eventually
returned,
and
so
did
the
trauma.
My
story
is
in
my
words
of
pain
and
hope.
There
was
a
long
time
after
my
mental
collapse
when
days
would
hazily
go
by
with
little
reason
to
live
and
even
less
purpose.
I
survived
it,
and
I've
come
out
far
more
substantial and resilient than I once was.
