November 15th, 2005

Remembering Karbala & Ode To Malik

These are two of my poems of an Islamic nature.

Some remember the Alamo.
I remember Karbala.
Rest in peace, ye seventy-two
Followers of Allah.
In the land of Abraham
On that hot Iraqi day
After Husayn's comrades
Spent one last night to pray.
Grandson of a Prophet,
But that mattered not.
Husayn was a good man
He reluctantly fought.
The generals had slaughtered
Almost every last soldier.
They were ruthless and bloody;
The heat just made them colder.
He tried to ask for peace,
But Yazid's men wanted none.
Imam Husayn asked for water,
For his six month old son.
They gave him no water.
But an arrow instead.
Through Husayn's arm,
Into his little boy's head.
Still Husayn wanted peace.
He warned those cruel men.
But they shot him and shot him,
And shot him again.
Poor Husayn, full of arrows,
Bent down to pray, just once more.
The men cut off his head to deliver
To the cruel Khaliph's door.
Sunni and Shi'ite,
Muslim and Infidel.
Please mourn with me now,
For the tragedy that befell.
Now cut your skin!
Bleed tears for Husayn!
May our adrenaline pump,
Let us taste of his pain!

February 21, 1965 is the day that history records
That Malcolm X had died.
But X did not die that day of course,
From that fact you can not hide!

X was already solved by
The connection, al-Jabr,
The mujahid of righteousness
already won the war.

The man who gave that speech that day,
was not called Malcolm X,
Behold El-Hajj Malik El-Shabazz,
the man whom time forgets.

X was solved through knowledge,
Malik knew of his tribe.
He had outgrown that X in Mecca,
When God had seen the time was ripe.