Monday, December 26, 2016

The Heart's Poetry: The Essence of Music



The Essence of Music

Music, how it speaks



From the soul it rings clear, soothing the mind, touching the heart, with ever so tender sweet vibrations



Fingers, strumming, give new substance to the air

Climactic notes tease open ears and inject hot currents beneath the skin



Insistent rhythms pulsing fast, pound in time with boiling blood



Emotions welling to the surface burst the shell of apathy

Hurricanes of instinctual motion resurrect the carcass of vitality



Music, how it screams



Awakening the primordial desire to be, to feel, to live



Music, how it flows



Like liqueur down the gullet; a potent herald of ecstasy

© 2009-2012 Raheema Muhammad


Tuesday, December 20, 2016

The Heart's Poetry: Moving On



Moving On

Somewhere between dreams and reality, I lost sight of you

And then I forgot all about us, and everything that used to matter



I cannot pinpoint the exact moment it happened, but one second, I was full of you, and the next, I was empty



Somehow, taking that first step away felt wrong; and it was a wonder I didn’t regress

But instead, I moved forward, little by little each day, and discovered the true beauty of selfishness



I hadn’t realized how heavy you were until I let go



Now I look back and can only feel the wind; pushing me farther, further on, past the crevice where you fell away



To somewhere beyond those dreams and reality


© 2009-2012 Raheema Muhammad

Tuesday, December 13, 2016

The Heart's Poetry: The Horror of Waking



The Horror of Waking

I recall being poised above the clouds, weightless beneath an ocean of stars, stretched atop sedimentary sunlight



Time had been frozen in a single, perfect moment

Balanced precariously between apathy and bliss

It was the suspension of life; the attainment of tranquility



Suddenly…oh so suddenly, there was a slam; and all at once, time began to move

No…not simply move…run

And then came gravity, accompanied by a twist, which sent me spiraling violently into a gaping, black chasm



Far…far…NEAR BELOW!!



The pain of severance…it burned



I opened my eyes and observed a new reality

There were voices…so many voices now

Screaming, crying, screeching—



Why…?

“You’re awake!” say they

“Oh…” I whisper



I’m awake, they say

Oh…I weep
© 2009-2012 Raheema Muhammad

Monday, December 5, 2016

The Heart's Poetry: Tragic Vanity



Tragic Vanity

Play for me sweet, give me a song; give me a reason to breathe

Touch up my flaws, wipe them away; conceal me with delicate dreams

Am I now perfect, precious and clean, enough to give passion away?

Am I now wanted, am I now saved, from being discarded today?



Perhaps for a moment, perhaps for a night; perhaps fore the sun sets below

Perhaps I’ll be welcome behind the door

Perhaps for a little bit more



Careful my dear…they whisper, they sneer; you’ll ruin your face for the eyes

And then in a flash, tears will flood away, the paint of your lovely disguise



Treacherous thing, although he may sing, his words hold the echo of lies

Your reasons are rubbish, your breath will grow stale, and choked will you be when lust dies



Then I suppose, what simply is left, is for me to keep up the ruse

I’ll have it engraved, carved into my skin, a glamour which none can refuse



Play for me soft, now capture my smile; by-pass the scars of my pain



Perfection…it hurts; yet now I’ve attained

This beauty no other can claim
© 2009-2012 Raheema Muhammad