Friday, April 12, 2013

You were beautiful

You were beautiful once, before we met, and I showed you all of the ugly things

Hidden behind the camouflage screens, cutting you off from a cancerous world


I brought the infection to your door; I injected the truth into your ears

I opened your eyes with a poisonous kiss; I stripped you of innocence and drenched you with guilt


You were beautiful once, before we met, and I showed you all of my ravaged heart

Cursed by revenge long overdue, entombed and suppressed by molten regrets


I playacted your savior, though you were my salvation

You guarded my faith, though you were my hope


I arrested your dreams, but you were my prison

I freed you from them and bound you to me


You were beautiful once, before we met, and I kept from the world how exquisite you were


You were beautiful once, before we met, and still, even now, I’m unworthy of you
© 2009-2012 Raheema Muhammad

Wednesday, April 10, 2013

I will, I would for you

I will look for you, if you tell me that’s where you’ll be

I will wait for you, if you tell me that’s where you’ll come


I will run for you, if you meet me half of the way

I will jump for you, if down below you swear to stay


I will break for you, if you want a piece of me to keep

I will cry for you, if better then you say you’ll sleep


I will hate for you, to assuage your jealous heart

I will hurt for you, and tear the cage you’re in apart


I would live for you, if you could not on your own

I would build for you, the warmest place to call a home


I would fight for you, never let you be alone

I would fly for you, if but you promised to hold on


I would write for you, the sweetest words in all the land

I would dream for you, and place my future in your hand


I would lie for you, none of your secrets would I tell

I would fall for you, and kiss the ground to which I fell
© 2009-2012 Raheema Muhammad

Tuesday, April 9, 2013

Trapped in Remembrance

You’re unreal, and I am deluded; but yet and still you are mine

And that is all which matters, in this world, at this time


I can scent the sweetness of you exuding from your every pore, and I daren’t breathe any deeper, for fear I may asphyxiate


Such a lovely dream is this; I hope to prolong my waking hour a millennium


For reality has become a mere transitory sham I must tolerate as a prerequisite to you


How often you chastise me for my partiality, and constantly rebuke my stagnancy


But I can hardly apologize, as I live only here, in your eyes


So fair a penance I pay for these moments and the further molestation of your memory


I never want that cold thing called sensibility to again take hold of me


I would much rather remain in atrophy with you chained next to me


So just keep me company as I persist in misery
© 2009-2012 Raheema Muhammad

Monday, April 8, 2013

Patchwork Prince

Build him up however you like, idealize his manufactured parts

Throw in every aspect your mind can think to desire, and wrap him in a cloak of dreams


Make him the epitome of all your longing and love him exclusively

As all others continue to fall short of expectation


Only he can be trusted to hold your faith and never betray

Only he can rescue you from any trap the world may spring

And only he can keep you from falling down, over and over again


However far you travel, he will stay by your side

However loud you cry, in him you can confide


However bright you shine, he will keep you burning near

However soft you speak, he will always, always hear


Endeavor to break him down, for he will never crumble


Give to him your heart, and know he will not fumble


Polish his mounds of pieces, and make his edges smooth

Assemble a handsome face with a smile one can’t refuse


Characterize him noble, resplendent and refined


Unveil the patchwork prince, perfection you’ve designed
© 2009-2012 Raheema Muhammad

Friday, April 5, 2013

All for the Smile

The silence is a killer, when you’re used to hearing the riot of a heart tearing to pieces


The warmth is a plague, dulling your senses sharpened by the abrasive chill of agony


The weight is a hand, tethering you to a dream in danger of being swallowed by reality


The tears are a fountain, springing from the furthest depths of a well ran dry


The truth is a knife, slicing through reasons still holding you back from fate’s open arms


The moment is a breeze, left after a storm has run out of rage and embraced the sun

The smile is a gift, unwrapped by a kiss


The product of one sad heart’s simple wish
© 2009-2012 Raheema Muhammad

Thursday, April 4, 2013


Be silent as the breath passed between my lips; be subtle as the rhythm rolling off my hips


Be cautious as the snake wrapping up his prey; be darker than a shadow hiding from the day


Be gentle as the moon leaking on the floor; be swifter than the wind traveling evermore


Be solid as a rock, undaunted, virile, firm

Be passioned as the flame, and unafraid to burn


Be greedy, mad, perverse; be selfish, quench your thirst


Be all you are for me; I’ll take you at your worst
© 2009-2012 Raheema Muhammad

Wednesday, April 3, 2013

Futile Devotion

So long I’ve been here, waiting at your shoulder

Supporting the weight of your miseries, preventing your collapse

My legs have grown stiff from inaction; my heart has been choked by your hands


What is the reason you hold so tight, that thorny rose which bleeds you dry?


I cannot fathom your fondness for, this evil thing which makes you cry


Are you a lover of despair, addicted to her frozen lips?

Can nothing make you feel alive, if not the torment of her kiss?


Your corpse is breathing in my arms; your blood no doubt runs cold

Within your veins, beneath your skin, around a heart of gold


Faithfully, I’ve been the shadow, matching all your anxious steps

Patiently, I’ve been the wind, lifting you above the fall

But still, somehow, it’s not enough, to be here standing firm

If all I am, a silent rock, for which you’ll never yearn
© 2009-2012 Raheema Muhammad

Tuesday, April 2, 2013

The Hunt

There is a beast shrouded beneath flesh and bone

Day and night it hungers; it longs to devour


You with your innocent, blissful naiveté… are incentive enough to drive a man mad


There is a monster craving yourself, biding his time, counting your steps; the shadows are eating away at the light

He’s making his moves, so patient, so slight


You never do notice the thickening heat; you never do hear the fall of his feet

Silently stalking, frozen, still watching

Guarding his prey as you slip off to sleep


There is a savage breathing you in; a venomous tongue, coating your skin

You wake in a sweat to moon shining clear, and can’t tell the reason you tremble, you fear


There is a darkness attached to your back; a something much colder, deeper than black


You shrug off the chills, and close both your eyes

You hope all the whisperings of warnings are lies

There is a beast, tearing through flesh

There is a monster, breaking through bone


You with your careless, foolish naiveté…were incentive enough to capture the mad
© 2009-2012 Raheema Muhammad

Monday, April 1, 2013

Remember What Is

What is history? It is ours

We’ve lived it, we’ve made it, we’ve surpassed it

What is memory? It is time

Time lost, time fought, time spent; constantly trying to live

What is the reason? What is the pain?

All has become obsolete in a future founded on strife

Ancestors…would scream; Martyrs…would cry

Theirs were the chains bound in misery, preserved by lies

What is faith? A thing born of fear

Once was it held precious, above all, near and dear

What is history? It is forgotten

What is now? A time to remember


What is the truth? Our roots were severed

What is the fallacy? We had a choice

What is our shame? We lost our standing

What is our pride? We’re taking it back


The history of us is a dark sea, filled by blood and savagery; it washes upon a shore strewn with bones, of fallen kings and desperate slaves


Ours is a destiny written long before, the covers were named and bound


The history recalled now has been tamed, by measures sparsely played, by lazy hands, un-calloused, clean; dismissive in their ways


What is this? A wake up call, for sleeping infantiles

What are you? The product of, the scourge of history’s bowels


Remember now the time we’ve lost, the time we’ve fought and spent

Remember all the memories past, and how your history went

© 2009-2012 Raheema Muhammad