Heart Controller

If you believe your ancestors came from a zoo, Then let it be as mine were formed by a Creator, And, yet, you ‘love’ to listen to others’ troubles, Care for them, identify factors and ‘cure’ them, Funny how you would not make ‘awkward’ noises– And, yet, your pitiful neurons failed to realise That their basic function in creating connections Between he and it needs a start and an end, But, you see, they do not know nor do you, For that fact, you have failed to appreciate The basic purpose of life and gained a degree In “human medical zoology” if that makes sense. Now, you know there is a reason for emotions, Depression does not occur out-of-the-blue, Rather, non-biological, i.e. behavioural factors Come into play in the lives of poor individuals, At the same time, this means nothing if your Ancestors came from a zoo where inferior skills Are used to teach rather than a humane talk, A conversation that involves reasons and proof, A conversation...

Crimson impressionism’s markings, Darting into the array’s top corners, Mixed with constant smears of fire, Sun blazing, out of anger, unto Earth. Down below is a sea of green land, Cries of Justice mixed with flowers, Velvet presented assessing emotions, Delightfulness and everlasting struggle. Silence in the middle: storm is near, Far into the land shine blue-gray spots, Announcing armed gladiators’ arrival, It is a life’s journey... unnoticed art. Sunday, 25 th of March 2012

Finally, I have understood my own soul and mind, I appreciate these vague trivial past experiences, Acknowledging the existence of these reactions, At last, something to grasp hold of and to heal. Self-diagnosis is often wrong but here is the thing: Depression at times and manic episodes at others, I feel not doing anything and yet I am the president, I enjoy doing everything but never a completed task. Though, I am normal from a normal within a normal, And yet, labelled as ‘mentally ill’ I might or never be, And to you, my reader, this is but a fascinating story, Of one’s self reporting about how to rule the world. Thursday, 22 nd of March 2012

Dry, chilly wind, cold, shivering, walking, On a hill, panting, tired, carrying loads, Target: another hill, far but not terribly, Migrating, like birds, seasonal, it is snowing. Like nomads, Bedouins, but not a desert. On a field, snow-covered grass, no oases, A rabbit follows, sometimes two, I walk, Now uphill, more tiresome, more pauses. Fingers numb, pain as sharp as needles, I am this Life’s patient, no complaints, Patience, no cure, I have faith, a Muslim, An Arab, carrying my name, voice, and mind. Friday, 9 th of March 2012