Poem: The Only Real Life

The only real life is the soul life
say what you will

The only real world is the next world
we’ll soon know

The bicycles of the sky disperse into
cloudy drifts

their spokes farther and farther apart

The famous hills and dales of
the earth fall and rise rise and


throwing up snowmen and fire demons
in their congenial upheavals

Once one footing’s established
the rug is pulled the bridge

cranked to the side into shadow

The only true sun is not this sun
blazing contentedly though it

warm vegetation to feed and clothe us
season after season

Past the blues and greens
other blues and greens more

vividly ablaze await us

And the cool drink that allays our
thirst complete and is passed around

God’s pin drops to earth through the sky
and lands point first

exactly where we are
moving or still

and the pinprick and the ache
are His glory in its purest form


4/22/08 (from The Fire Eater’s Lunchbreak)

About danielabdalhayymoore

Poet, artist, collagist, publisher, hoping to save a little bit of the world through ecstatic utterance... ordered in balanced lines and unpremeditated images...
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5 Responses to Poem: The Only Real Life

  1. Pingback: Links For Friday (A wee bit early) « Aaminah Hernández

  2. Jawid says:

    Salam Abdal-Hayy,

    Thanks for your e-mail message. My e-mails to you keep bouncing — is there a problem with that address? Anyway, I am glad to find this alternative way to reach you!


  3. Dear Jawid: Salaama

    I’m a bit stunned you can’t email me… I’ll email your address with mine to see if it gets through… I pray you and your wife are well… and you’re well into new volumes of Masnawi! Your reading of the selection is really wonderful…



  4. darvish says:

    Truth and beauty in every line 🙂 Inshallah, that true sun will shine for us all in the end of this and the beginning of that.

    Ya Haqq!


  5. Baraka Blue says:

    Asalam alaikum and thank you for your words. Continue to inspire and be inspired. Our poetic legacy is a great door through which the West can enter into the abode of Islam. Keep it alive and well. and they will keep knocking.

    I offer a poem in graditude

    Liquid Collage…

    An ear to the street another to the tracks-
    I could hear the train comin’ now theres no turning back. Laying flat.
    rope tied tightly
    the tide has risen slightly
    past my shoulders-
    simply to spite me.
    Despite me and my situation
    the stars have given a standing ovation to the moon, Nightly.
    i could hear their vibration.
    Each in or exhalation could be my last-
    each breath is a 40 day fast-
    this is meditation.
    Embracing NOW- I have no choice but patience.
    The sand I’m sinking into.
    it drinks me to its belly
    I tempt to quench its thirst
    the hunger stings like jelly fish tentacles.
    Barnacles grip my toes tips.
    like Barnabas gospel they don’t even know i exist.
    I insist on living my last in bliss
    and since
    I have no choice-
    I choose this.
    I drift as the anchor hits
    the rock bottom
    the rock tied to my ankle falls like autumn
    cement socks is soggy
    eels shock my body
    after we rock the party its the ho-tel -lobby.
    Corks pop.
    The stork drops me .
    I stop. My ears ringing
    I hear sobbing.
    I’m here bobbing for apples a mirror dodging the tackles reflecting or flashing
    catching a fish eye till He hooked with a passion

    these bubbles are laughing.
    Either at me or with me or at me.
    Who created who?
    we both evaporate through invisible skin of the universe to the clouds.
    we tell ’em our saddest stories until they just burst out loud.

    Perched on an untouched tree,
    that grew from un-stepped sand,
    in an unknown land floating on an uncharted sea.
    Inside an hour glass drawn on papyrus reeds
    shoved into a bottle corked with ivory.

    We’ll all be speechless soon how bout an eye for an E.
    This irony
    inside of a man who works with his hands
    and falls to his knees
    The big bang was a thing that was sneezed
    from the largest to the smallest
    all spinning in perfect harmony
    This army moves as one body when the Sargent breathes. Inhales and he parts the sea.
    Exhales and we’re marchin free.
    This Counterinsurgency that surges in me churns the sea of my soul till it turns water to boil and burns in me.

    This soil is exceedingly fertile.
    Between The Nile and Euphrates.
    Unseen hands rock this cradle
    the babies
    the snake
    its rattle
    the tail
    the cattle
    the saddle
    the sand of the camel
    the sea of ship as it sails.
    The slip of the tongue,
    the clip of the nails.
    The questions on the lip of the frail
    as he slipped and he fell.
    The tip of the iceberg .
    The sip of the ale.
    The grip of the hell fire worldly desire
    sell souls sireing seeds of Zaaqqumm trees that seem to reach higher and higher and strangle the suns rays and yield fruits inspired by rotten deeds pays interest to the few
    waterfront view of the sickness
    Oh the Fitnas!

    I bear witness.
    To the distance of man from his purpose-
    yes this hurt is self inflicted.
    No one is unaffected.
    predicted electing the quickening of suffering-
    dollar bills one eyed-
    never been how your God is depicted.
    In this we trust.
    We feign existence
    like a weather vain pointing to the pain in the distance. Every fawn is born in the Fitrah.
    A field full of citrus.
    Ripe- ready to peel and delicious.
    sitting in lotus position
    reading the book of assistance.
    on a flower
    that bloomed out of the ruins of the tower of babel. whether you shoveling gravel on a path that is narrow
    or acting a pharoah in Moses’s robes and apparel.
    if the oceans were barrels of ink
    and the trees in the forest were pens–
    never would the speech of our Lord ever end.
    until we blend like a collage with Allahs Will
    Isra and Mirage to the stars we ascend.


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