There is burden on my creativity

Cos I think i'm too good not to blow up with it.

There is burden on my creativity

Trying to balance the pride not to overshadow the joy.

There is burden on my creativity

Cos I've made folks believe this is the way.

There is burden on my creativity

Sigh! I can't fight writer's block yet.

There is burden on my creativity

I've made some sacrifices and I'm set on going all out.

There is burden on my creativity

I think I need to start blazing trails.

There is burden on my creativity

Dad must reap his fruits of labour.

There is burden on my creativity

I can't get out and start searching for jobs, not with this talent.

There is burden on my creativity

It needs to touch people souls.

There is burden on my creativity

I want peeps to get wowed.

There is burden on my creativity

I must be able to do it a bit more easy.

There is burden on my creativity

How can I amass wealth?

My **** and kids must not sweat.

Dar Al-Hekma University hosted its second fashion show on Sunday that featured the work of its second batch of fashion design undergraduates.

The event, titled “Luminosity” was held under the auspices of Princess Reem **** Muhammad Al-Faisal. President of the university Dr. Suhair Hassan Al-Qurashi said: “Providing such events to our students before graduation exposes them to industry leaders of their prospective industries and gives them a head start in their careers.

“Dar Al-Hekma University’s students stand out because of the combination of their high caliber and the opportunities the university provides for them.”

Along with industry leaders, families of participating students attended. The event started with an opening speech by the department chair for the fashion design program Dina Kattan, who then introduced the sophomore and junior students’ work.

Afterward, models wearing three-piece collection garments designed by senior students scheduled to graduate this year took the stage and were graded by four judges.

Kattan said: “I am so proud of the work my students presented today; they worked really hard and they deserve a big hand. “Everyone was impressed with the level of creativity and attention to detail they demonstrated.”

The judges were Batool Jamjoom, businesswoman in the fashion industry and manager and owner of Jamjoom Fashion House; Amra Alabdalilsharif, director of the innovation and visual merchandising department at Rubaiyyat; Dalal Al-Hasan, a fashion designer; and Aram Kabbani, Dar Al-Hekma alumna and fashion stylist.

The grades students received during the fashion show will form part of their final grade. One of the students whose designs were featured at the show, Zahar Algain, said her collection was inspired by Mexican artist Frida Kahlo.

“Studying fashion has altered my perspective. I view fashion, in the same way that I view life; it’s a matter of balance and proportions.

“My interest in avant-garde fashion has led me to believe in using creativity to solve difficult situations. Algain’s collection was meant to blur the line between art and fashion.

“It is inspired by Frida Kahlo but with a fictional twist. “The story behind my collection is a daydream, a magical love story, an artwork; it is splattered with Frida’s colorful soul and spirit.”

Following this women only event, Dar Al-Hekma is organizing a one-day fashion design exhibition on Tuesday, which is open to all. The event starts from 7 p.m.Read more here:www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-adelaide | www.marieaustralia.com/long-formal-dresses

Mashrou’ Leila will lead the revolution
Songs made in my country never fought the system
They never expressed what the youth wanted
or how they really felt about themselves
But their songs make us dream to the Marrikh
They give us a connection to reality in Fasateen
They expressed what the society of spectacle is in only 3 minutes
We could think about our ex in Ala babu
We are able to remember our country in Lel watan
How we always live in a state of exile in **** El-Khandaq
Manipulations In a daily life in Taxi
Grief and tough love in Abdo
Evolution and infinite surrenders in Wa Nueid
The barriers of language and sexuality in Kalaam
The devastating stages of a separation in Bahr
The closeness of strangers in Habibi
They are The Doors of our generation
They made crowds go crazy just like The Rolling Stones
But at the same time they were pure and melancholic just like Jeff Buckley
Thank you for keeping us alive in dark days and heavy nights
Your music will always give us new and unfamiliar feelings

You ignite the papaya scent
of Zanzibar romances
spiced woods behind ears
seducing the body's non-senses
like kisses enticed from hints
formed in a humid land
kneading your cat pad toes
into my kicked off sandals

soft sinking
warm as sand spreading
on golden embers
smoking like a slow glowing dhow
sailing wine tumblers
spilling Matemwe beach rays
of crystal rain in sunshine
tinkling against my skin
like the random meditation
in wind chimes

tuned by the slight twitch
of Mnemba Atoll frangipani
to unwind my fire
into an isle of leaves
singing sunny
somewhere mysterious
through winding alleyways
we kissed on shady curves
sprung open
on to Stone Town seas

your weather
beaten hair
waving in Forodhani Gardens
showered into labyrinthine storms
travelled blue-black horizons
infused with times
of thunder roaming
lost in alluring plans
mindful I look back to check
your coral stone directions

we swept into an unclipped tent
of Salamah **** Saïd's
eating hot shwarma
like I was the Sultan and you princess
your attractions slipping a cargo off
of precious unguent wet essentials
drying to flow a silken scarf
around Darajani Market thrills

floating in a dark continent
on each kiss to my needy neck
leaning in the white wake
of Zani-bar dreams
which seek
to push the boat out
on your shoulder
once you're moored
on to my arms

longing for you
swaying now
under sweating hot
Gizenga road palms

A beastly wind with savage heat
Blew from the north with dust,
The brazen sun relentlessly
Baked skin as red as rust.
To scan the near horizon
Is to ***** the eyes to squint
And a man would **** his brother
For a cold beer from a ****.

There’s orders for the gunners
To load cannon with coarse shot,
To prime them with dry powder
And ram them all till hot.
To keep the eyes upon the hills
And be ready for the call,
Because the savages are massing
And our backs are to the wall.

Release the carrier pigeon, boy,
To recall the horse hussars
Because before this day is done
Our blood may run in jars
For the drums of war are beating
And they’re sweeping from the hills
And God help the luckless fusilier
Who dallies with his skills.

In waves, the savages do run
And roar their chant of war,
Beat their spears upon hide shield
And roll their eyes and more...
A wall of pure malevolence
Descends upon us large
And we gird ourselves for battle
And the bugle screams the charge.

Black naked men pour from the earth
In hoards of shrieking mad
With rolling eyes and streaming hair
And rancid breath, so bad.
Roaring shot and cannon volley
Cut a swathe through flesh,
Spear and shrapnel fly opposed
And axe and bayonet mesh.

Swearing men are head to head
Blood and guts do flow,
The agony and roaring triumph
As blades trade blow for blow.
Good and bad are dying now
Their bodies fall like rain,
Young cry for their mothers
While the older scream in pain.

Blood is running in the sand,
Twitching bodies lie,
The jagged sound of battle dims
As vultures fill the sky.
There’s silence with the setting sun
As  horse hussar arrives
Too late, by far, to save the boys
Who lay in clouds of flies.


Marshalg
@The Bach
Mangere Bridge
18 January 2011

these days i fill my lungs with smoke
to insulate my brain
and consider the londoners
who i haven't seen in far too long.
michael with his spitting essex accent
and juliet who michael says 'sounz welfee'
telling me to put a kettle on and then
complaining when
i leave the tea bag in the mug.
"i like it strong to the last drop" i insist
and they call me a 'daft ****'
and michael says that if all yanks made tea
like i do
then it's no wonder we were willing
to throw it in the harbor.
we all take our tea in different shades.
and they can tell just glancing at the cup
that i've over-poured the milk.
they seem to always consider hue
those londoners
who know their nuances.
                                               afterall
they were raised beneath shades of grey.

perhaps i see more delicately,
too.

And Reynard said
why is that ****
always looking out
for you
lunch breaks?

we were going out
after lunch
in the school

the sun was out
the field packed
with kids
mostly in groups
girls sitting
on the grass

boys playing
a ball game
or tag games
one or two
chatting up
the older girls

I guess
she likes me
I said

I'm off
to kick ball
you coming?
he said

no I’ll see
what she wants
and meet after
I said

Yiska was
by the fence
arms folded
staring at me

thought you
weren't coming
she said
been waiting ages

had lunch
and got talking
with my friend
I said

she raised her brows
what's he like?
she asked
nodding towards
Reynard's
departing back

he's ok
he's funny
I said

we walked up
the field
looks moody
she said

who?

him

no he's ok

she yakked
about her mother
and her mother's
bad moods
and how she'd
rowed with her
before school

what about?
I asked

don't ask

I already have

she sighed
usual stuff
my untidy room
my having
my record player
too loud
playing Elvis
instead of her
classical stuff

we reached
the far end
of the field
and looked back
towards school

I dreamed of you
last night
I said

did you?

no
you wouldn't
let me

she giggled
no really?

I nodded

what did we do?
did we kiss
and such?

no not
over much

(I hadn't dreamed
of her at all
I dreamed
of Hayley Mills
and some
desert island
and fish cooking
over an open fire)

what then?
she said

I woke up
and you
had gone

she frowned
and took my hand
and walked back
towards school

her warm hand
in mine
her pulse
tickling me
as we walked

and then
she spoilt it all
and talked.

Yochana
waits for me
to get off
the school bus

she stands there
in her school
uniform
black straight hair
thin features

missed me then?
I ask her
getting out
of the bus

not really
she answers
her thin hands
are clutching
each other

can we talk?
she asks me

sure we can

so we walk
towards school
kids passing
beside us

what is it?
I ask her

Angela
my best friend
at the school
says not to
talk with you
but I must
I can't sleep
otherwise

we pause by
the school gates

what is it?
I ask her
noticing
just how thin
her frame is
her features

you kissed me
why did you?

why did I?
I wonder
watching her
on her cheek
it had been
just like that

felt like it
I answer

is that all?
nothing more?
she asks me

I like you
I tell her
think of you
all the time

so you say
she utters
shouldn't kiss
just like that

hurry up
get in school
a prefect
near the gate
says to us

what's the rush?
I ask him

just get in
he utters

we go in
the school grounds

don't kiss me
any more

she mutters
and goes off

I watch her
her thin hips
do not sway

she looks back
towards me

I blow her
a palm kiss

she grabs it
and puts it
to her breast
then walks on
out of sight

Reynard R
my best friend
comes over

who's the ****?
he asks me

just a girl

aren't they all?

some are more

girl's a girl
bit of skirt

then he talks
of football
and would I
be in goal
at lunchtime
on the field

I guess so
I reply

but it's her
Yochana
I think of
and the kiss
on her cheek
at the start
of the week.

****, Shaheedah, Fatimá so true,  
Three bright stars in skies so blue.  
With love so pure, with hearts so kind,  
A treasure rare, so hard to find.

****, my joy, a gentle grace,  
Her warmth brings light to every place.  
With every smile, my soul takes flight,  
Her love, my ever-glowing light.

Shaheedah strong, with wisdom deep,  
A love so fierce, a bond to keep.  
Her words like gold, her spirit high,  
A force that lifts me to the sky.  

Fatimá dear, with beauty bright,  
Her kindness shines, a glowing light.  
In every step, in every way,  
She fills my world with brighter days.

Three in one, my heart holds tight,  
Her love, my dawn, my guiding light.  
Through time, through trials, through every tide,  
With ****, Shaheedah, Fatimá by my side.

Who's the ****?
Reynard asks
as Yiska
walks away
her bottom
cool swaying
her grey skirt

a girl friend
I tell him

another one?

who's counting?

what's she like?

innocent
as flowers
(she wasn't
but said so
to no one)

time wasters
Reynard says
watching her
join her friends
on the grass
of the field
by the school

I watch her
different
year younger
than I was

football then?
he asks me
turning round
while there's time?

I smell her
still near me
OK then
I reply
walking on
to the game
just started

blow a kiss
back to her
she catches
with both hands
to her heart

here Benny
someone calls
throws a ball
I take part.

Now here's a ****** story.
I'll tell it if I must.
About an effing ******
A **** with a cheesy crust
Some people have got nice wives
in their eyes a glint
But my old mans misses
Is just an awful ****

My old man's a ******.
He wanks in his ******* hat.
He's got **** stained trousers.
Cos he cant get no ******* ****.

He plays with his banana
While wearing high healed boots
He tried to pull up his small ****
So he yanked it by the roots

Some girls flash their **** at Christmas
Which makes the ****** cough
And when he tries to pick them up
They tell him to *******.
Now one father he got angry.
For squeezing the girls buts
Don't ever dare come back round here
And kicked my old man in the nuts.

Oh, my old man's a ******
He tosses on the mat
He doesn't wear no trousers
When he's trying to **** the cat

my old man's a wrinkly codger.
He's just to ******* old.
Mum wore him out in their younger days
Now he's toothless and he's bald.
Now she's just a fat cow way past her ******* prime.
That's why my old man has ended up wanking all the time.

Oh, my old man's a ***** ******
He groped our friend next door
He pulled down her knickers
Even though she's 84'

Now one day when he saw her
He kissed her by the bin
He hadn't got all that far when she kicked him in the shin.
When her husband came home he shouted "What's your ******* game"
My old man just grabbed his **** and told him " I'll treat you just the same"

Oh, my old man's a gay ****
He touched our neighbours ****
He peeled away his *******
And gave it a good lick

He ****** on our neighbours **** one day it felt so ****** good.
His misses sat there watching But I knew she ******* would
Just from out of nowhere she said " Don't you make him ***"
My old man said "why not" she said "I want to watch you **** my husband's ***"

Oh, my old man's had *******
He ****** the guy next door
His wife was there watching
While he ****** him on the floor

So Next time you see my old man
Looking all pale and spent
Don't you get to close to him
Because he is old and definitely bent