Repay Revenge

I read over the phonetics of Al Kawthur, mindlessly drawing circles connected by lines on the paper.

The point was to tell Allah, my thoughts as I read slowly overe each line. A report, what happened, what the shishka man, that's 8 years of saying, crying, reaching. I read the first line, and said:

It's me.

This is him.

The third line, I stared at the lines and circles. I rolled up every single, word or action he had made, into the ayah.

I see this is silly to you. Or, what a shiska man is.

Or why I tell you.

Or why in this third ever post, he got killed,

Black magic against Black.

I heard he would get Hell.

A vendetta that seems to you;

Heathen? perhaps?

A longtime of War. A never-ending battle. And Unwanted...

I believed what I heard over the Surah.

I wiggled my ears, and listened to where-ever the shiska man could be. I heard a scream, and saw a man fall to his knees.

I believed, that. But I repeated again and again what had happened to Heaven.

And women cried, and I screamed, and I leapt, and I knifed, and I ran, and I stopped.

And the Fear was:

That every death is soul, most men lie, he twists into your mind, dirt and hisses. his dead-soul cackles, he gets freedom when they're worse, he has killed freedom. He laughs at Haloes, with spits and curses. He blues a witch, but burns her pretty hair, twists in fell, and claps back to me, when he is at the most of his hate. He wears the dirt. He bleeds fairer. He licks ugly. Tastes Satan. He burns happy. He drives...he spat. He cursed. He blacks your wife like he is special. He winks, he fights her. He gets through to her in her mind, and he makes her weep. She prays for help. I curse. I curse Heaven, and I'm mindless, I'm blanker, I'm no lover. I'm weaker. There is no protect her.

I burn red through skin and veins and blood. I don't pity.

I learn the worse.

I go to sleep.

I never pity.

I lack Love, and weep.

I can see now.

Never, never, never. She is weeping to Allah.

I am force hatred.

Her soul is weeping. I burn knife. I burn like dagger. I fight...

I call and call and fight and fight.

And I want no more of him. I want him to flame, and vanish.

"I will Kill."

"I have Never Love."

I blame force men and holy men.

I fight like I am Damnation.

I carry the curse.

I don't kiss.
It lives it lives.

I get superstitious. Place that there, or here, and he will appear.
I never care.

---

Forgotten.

begin!

Rats. Emelbertian Peoples.

Henna.

Hemp.

Tea...

Disconnection.

Planet Emeray. A new world to discover. 35 planets with Life. Planet Jesus and Shas, (Hell) and Emelbert explained here:


A sin King. Desperation. Shook his head. place two hands upon his head. "Help!!!!!!!!" Sin colours, sin purple, sin green, sin red.

Death...

Asked Jesus the King for Help.

You were Dead!

put my face to His.

a man in black beard, ME!! a transformation in my self, black beard, black hair, thick black beard, fore-head placed against his. . "

"My King!!!!!!!!! You are Sin!!!!!!!!! Listen to me, Help me!!"

"Jesus in Sin!!"
:
"Twoooooo Kings!!"


"How could I fly thee!!? I neeeeeeeed thee!!!!!!!!! I am lighter than thee!"" Free me!!!!!!!!!!"

I kept my hands round his face, I saw sin colour...

The last.

The End of Life.

"Answer me!! Speak to me!!! Save me!!! A Holy Light!!????"
---

"Why!!??? Why!!!??? Why are you the death???"

Silence:

A blue crown, and a sin purple and a sin green and sin red, flitting through his eyes.

Silence= My last chance.

"Unbelievable, you look like a lie..."

Silence:

"Why dont you speak??? What is this??? What is this???"


I flew away.


It was medication time. I felt weak. I had ten minutes to rest. I was going home.


Dad was driving the car swift, I screamed when he hit the speed...I felt sick, sick hot, a death sick...I sat in the back, because  i felt too weak to sit beside him.


In ten minutes of driving, I started to die. I couldn't get comfortable. I was heating up, feeling sick weak...


I squirmed in my seat, screaming. I cried out. I shifted my weight, I shuffled, I opened the window slightly, the radio playing loud, bad songs, love songs, bad soul songs...

"Yes! I usually want the radio, but the radio is driving me insane!!"


the breeze swept me, to another type of death, it was biting at me,  I shut the window, I took off my shoes, I was dying.


Stop the car! I screamed quietly, we were heading for the motorway...


I grabbed the seat and shook it, I moved side to side, moaning, the car was a heated cage, all metal, no help, no salvation, just endless metal machines, burning me down, endless roads, grey metal, concrete, fight and squirm against the cage enemy, the killer machine, the loss of control, no flying, burning, hot sickness, for the mental part of the self, heating up the body, no comfort, no comfort, no rest, endless hours of cages, the worse sickness, no respite, no where to stop, black outside:


"DAD !! Dad!! Daadddddd!!!" I was shaking the head of the seat in front, swaying from side to side...screaming:


I didn't have a chance.


"Don't tell him to stop the car....stop the car! stop the car! take me to the hospital!! Take me to the hospital!! It's dark outside and there's no where to stop the car!!! The motorway!! The motorway and I will die!! We're reaching it!! We're reaching the death!!""


"I feel really sick....No, no, no..."



"Daddddddddddddd. Turn the heating down...." SCREAMING SCREAMING!!


HELP ME HELP me. Pray for me!!!!!!


I was shaking and too hot....I  couldn't lie down, I wiggled into the side of the seat and put up my feet, a few minutes of rest...Hot, hot, hot;


Something holding onto to me, killing me..."DAD!! Please turn off the heat...Pray!! You heathen!! The I'll be able to rest!!!"

He turned the radio off. Another few seconds of respite...I stared, "He didn't turn off the heat...the radio!! the radio!! The f***ing radio was the dead!!! Thanks then, mate!"


"The heating the heating..."


I cried out to a woman, that flies around safely. and sings...: I heard myself, I sounded retarded in my mind:


"Pray for me."


Nonsense words. I sounded like a young boy in death, like a mallet to the brain, a total loss, of speech...She started crying...


"Hahhahha, dad?? hahaha, How long have we got ?"


"Dad. Pray....pray....pray...." I can't cope, I'm dying in the heat...


"15 minutes..."


A little respite, I stare at the radio screen, wondering why, there is a radio, why he turned it off, why I feel like I'm inside a cage full of heat, and misery, and insane tears, why my soul been punched into a complete loss of normal speech, and agony....


And squirming lessened, as I stared, at the blurry lights,because see-ing was hurting me also, all the cars in front blurring, and a passed: "A McDonald's in Satan, I will die, I will die, ", and a black death, and the hate of lice, and the burnt wheels, and the  kuck, kuck, blurry dove, felp me, fight, he fight me, pray quick, all a plight, tooo many roads, too much car. A heated cage, metal, punches, black label, death in the night, a fire hot, a blurred light, a screaming car, a fight, fight, gog, blurry, blurry...hot, hot, sick, sick, fight out of  a cage.


Stop the Car!!!!!!!!!!


I fought out the fifteen minutes in silence.


We parked swift, Dad must have prayed, I threw the trainers at the door, walked upstairs, a ladder stuck in the cell, and no duvets or pillows on the bed, grabbed something to rest on. Loud Grime Music, and rowdy boys downstairs,


and how I recovered, gave me a song...

Church

I had to talk to God immediately and I had to find a secure, and, good place to listen.

I had to get out of the house. I went to the kids church with the Baptist.

Grandad is nearly close to going,...

I sat on the beanbag, some guy sat beside the Baptist. He looked:

Well...evil...

I stared into his eyes.

We sat over the projector and I looked at him again.

"He is dying from hearing Hell, and I just called him a lying creep..."

I looked at his eyes. A flash of dirty yellow swam across...

"Right, he is possessed by a demon..." I looked into his eyes, he blinked, and they turned dark blue. He lifted his eyebrows, and gave a small smile;

"Demon, Be Gone!"

---

They said Grandad was the King of Lower England, this is from a blood-line of the Great King Alfred, who ruled half of England, from I think the south-west Wessex, up to the northern counties.

Grandad sat on his armchair a foot from the television, and I brought him everyone, I put a blue and gold, silky paper crown on his head, I had read in the paper jewish boys wear these, they are crowned when they reach the age of 5. #

So, 95, and crowned...

---

It was like a party, I sat by the projector, struggling to hear them talk all around him, but you can feel things, I felt them throw me a crown, as I sat on a chair staring at a pink light on the floor. I stood up.

"Okay, you've just given me the crown of England, I don't want it..."

"You, know I want it...but I don't want it..."

I struggled through the crowd of chairs, and tripped on a man's foot.

I went outside, I read a Hello, poster:

"Kushti Divvus!!"

This means Hallo, in Romany. Cushty used to be a slang word when I was a kid. It meant wonderful.

--- I smoked outside three times. It was raining dark and cold---

Back to trying to hear God. I lay back onto the beanbag, and tried to reach, then I heard:

"Forsooth, We have Love, 'Lars' has been a white Devil, and she was dying in Sins..."

"Why are you writing a book about me!!"

--- I sighed, and laughed and kicked. I stopped listening. A white chandelier appeared over my head...I sat down by the projector to tell the Baptist the truth. He was writing a question down for the guest speaker. I spoke, I was grumpy and full of hate: He said:

"Right, people have been possessed by demons....what are we going to do?"

Then I screamed, I danced by the guest speaker dressed in man's Islamic dress, and shrieked, and danced and threw my arms.

"Greta, I'm shrieking like a hitler, what if i'm a hitler? what did i say?"

I had just screamed through the arabic empire, that we had no Hope and God would have us damned.

The kids appeared: "The men have been destroying graves." Syrian news.

 A kid said: "They are trying to kill babies with green poison." An advert of a kids bottle full of nicotine water...I read them adverts. His girlfriend said:

"They tell them what is bad..."

These kids are from another world called the Past. They are Arabs.

Another kid said:

"These chicks are better than the Nuns..." All the teenage girls in the church.

I am feeling weak, and upset.

Ahmannah is absolute Lord.

My teacher appears. She is trying to convert my sister to Islam. We both say; "No."

I feel an absolute black. I'm supposed to be the Mother of this child, it's all wonderful, but something i forget has made me black.

All begun in November.


-- Of course we fought again, but the worst thing is, it's not even a fight, it's like: OOOhhh cuddle me. I the babysitter from hell.

Miserable. Then in the garden in hte rain, I try again:

Lars Shalom (she uses this name) will Slay Hell.

Well, I sit down by this keyboard, and I'm tired of slaying Hell. I give up.

Where do I start with that, when everyone says, NO. I'm not about to lift of sword and chop its head...again!

You believe that??

I sent a version of me, a tiny version that could fly around Baphomet, and YES, it does have those goats horns and dripping blood, I looked at it...It went after some creep and I killed it.

I lifted a sword and chopped down its head.

I'm boring, and sick and tired.

Ahmannah is supposed to be my son Muhammed, the name he was given by someone, some light...some Djinn woman,

He sint supposed to exist but I try to find what he sees adn what he talks about and how he listens to me.

Perhaps that's the greatest Black Magic, ever. So White.

Lets see how the Time Travel and the 31 Doors are possible. Later;

Dads

"Spit!"

"Vhat is soul? Vhat is soul?"


"uck! They can speak! Theyve mittled my power like No. "

"Splosh!" He points, and bows at the end, points and exclaims: "Splosh!"

"What the dog, does that mean?"

"Why do you give that girl mean? I MEAN!!!!!!!! A Gay Muslim!!?"

"And now the Father Abdullah!!"

"This is gain."

"Feel the painting, pore salt, crush, suckkkkkkkk the bobbles of paint, and splash, shit on it..."

"Crul, crul, and crul again...thick paint is exact, pallet knives are wastage, SICK, splashy splashy...lots of layers..."

"Abdul----lah! "

"Praise be. Ab- Be, Dul- Love- Ah-Him....Muhammed- We- Praise Him."

What is a paint?

Shamsi, is clicking a black hand, and peering round the corner of a canvas, desperate to look away, says;

"beep, beep, errrrrr, erk, erk, erk...."

Just tugging at a night-time picture...Love is too grateful, cut out light. Half-darkness. Give, them away.

It wasn't going the way I wanted.

-- Not this, not family, not Love.

Attempted.

Not even this post.

Why has Shamsi just appeared? Why has you gossip?

So he weed in the corner then. He was supposed to be un peu de Frank/z Auerbach, i don't like him either...

But I love this Russian-Jewish painter..., he was supposed to be completing prose, and we got this:

oui.

"Soleil Arise! So, we have a film tonight..."


He pats cases of ice-cream, sings that he can move them through the cafe, can count the money together with dad, he wants to do soemthing like this when he grows up. Be a merchant, a shop-owner...

I do arrive with Love.

"Oh!!! No, I havent done the homework..."

We've outed, for an eternal happiness, we are enlightened, so we are!!? We dont care for you, we just know. We dont care, let it all flow. You dont know.

Someone offered that Jews, were Post-Human, I was thinking of post-modernism...

We were adopted by an asian doctor and his asian wife, Lars shalom, visited at teh weekend, he kept his giant Koran fresh and clean for the read, and added to a cardbox of presents...Encourage the children.

SLAM!
 went the door.

Mum would be delerious.

Everything would be Happiness.

I begged.

I murdered Allah.

I went for a lonely afternoon, and looked for teh cinema, I was going alone to see the oscar winner.

A crusty. Crusty ploddign through a gleaming white building. Through expensive resturants, £65 chapmagne bottles.

She looked miserable again, leaning on her arms with two girls in red at a table outside a resturant, looking darker, bitter and upset dark eyes. Frowning, bored.

I hurried my step, kept going, I had an hour until the film, I stood at teh popcorn counter going through Al- Falaq, some silly girls in hijabs in fornt, started up a prayer with me. I said:

"NO! I just learn to recite..."

I got through two more on the sofa. In phonetics.

It was weak I wasn't real, she wasnt there...

"A-audu billah..."

"No, no, no, I'm okay..."

I bit at her knees while she prayed.

I didn't defy. I went down to a simple Hell.

"Au-audu billah..."

"Don't worry, don't worry!!"

"Au-audu billah..."

"okay then, I'm okay, I'm okay...."

---

"A-audu..."

"Is that you? Thank God, you're here. A-udu billah himana shaytani ragheem"

---

"I think Dad is happy, Ahmannah is a good boy..."

---

"You need to hear you need to hear..."

"What date is it? What date is it?"

Ahmannah is a miracle...Dad doesn't tell me what she thinks??

I want you brittle.

"---

"I am cool. Mummy and Dad, are high. You welcome Him. ...

The dark eyes look soooooooooo angry!!

I can't solve a single puzzle!!!

Tajweed and the Best Day

I sang Tarteel. Soft and slowly...

I was fresh and new. We took turns in class reading Surahs, in the summer I had begun by doing a  small course in arabic language, learning how to write the letters, pronounce etc.

I got wonder-star.

Polly the musician listened in:

"You are singing in the Key of A!!!!!!!!!!!!

Lars Shalom!!!!!!!! You can SINGGGGGGGGGG!"

I could hit a C.

Mum cried when she thought we were last.

Pj Harvey- Good Fortune

Give up what you love. Falling away from Green.

Soul Colours: search through....

How Can We?

hello!
I am Israel.

There was a boycott day, boycott Israel and wear Kuffiya, I have a pink Kuffiya, and a semi-expensive black and white one, with nice patterns not just the squares...

But I'm a Muslim.

I don't want to wear hijab.

I have four Korans.

Mostly untouched.

I have a large one in perfect condition, with commentary on each ayah, plus English. One pound in a charity shop. I have one my dad sent for, cheap one, hardback green, and peeling gold letters, it's difficult to see the letters.

I have a dyslexic Arabic.

I have one entirely in Arabic, with a zip-up that someone gave, and I lost her.

I got a tiny square, with colour code for tajweed, I read it inside a cafe full of builders in fluorescent yellow jackets.

I've done this for a year...

I converted in 17th December, I repelled all the hugs from the girls.

"I'm lazy."

"I'm depressed."

I can spend an hour over a difficult tajweed explanation book, and it's a bit difficult to keep my memory. I don't know why.

I gone through Baa. in a good ten pound dictionary. I know:

Ba'a r-rajulu

What an evil man!!

I think I am Ba'a...

A little melancholy, worried...

Bu'sa??

Something else entirely.

I'm lazy.

"I'm terrified!"

I have to be clean, clean, but I'm rolling in smelly blankets, forgetting my teeth.

"I've gone Insane!"

I've forgotten all but one Surat, and I have a Maghrib date next week.

Before, I wasn't bothered, if I didn't even say:

A'u-du billah himana Shaytani ragheem.

Then it sparked and appeared...

Then I menstruated.

Then I sat here in the garden, in sunshine, smoking, and thought:

"I'll be a Hafez in no time..."

Books are scary in this house, I looked round the garden, into the back door, slithered in and made, coffee....

"I'm dreaming, I  have all this Hope..."

"It's this house, there's no room for the spirit..."

Admittedly, I'm embarrassingly distressed, about going into my former "CELL" and picking through the little pocket-cube Quran...

So I painted and painted, to cleanse...

I like buses for Koran, I sit with a paper covered in phonetic Arabic, and roll the surahs round and round until I get to my destination.

"I'm not stupid, I'm lazy..."

The teacher nearly gave up, but we have a date.

"I am going to stun her like Glory. I won't wait to be asked..."

I have too many things to LOVE, instead of being bored.

"I think I need a cup of tea."

Envy

Saltwater room-Owl City

killing her for a dog.

Quran: Min Sharri Hasadeen Idha Hasaaad....

The Envious of the Envied. The Envier of the Envious, The Envious of the Envier.

That One! The Last One! It meant something more!!


Zephyrus-Bloc Party


I like a Happy.


The Envied:


Kings are Spiritual Fires...Hate. Envy is Hate. The Hater was meant to be Wiser...



There was so much in that Verse. I looked at a little bit of Arabic, and shaped it around my thoughts, nothing wrong with that, give me two years and I could become another A.Yusuf...Another way of Interperation. I'm stuck on just five small chapters.


I have a Shams-i...I need to find A Rumi.


The 'Enived' had so much.


BANG! BANG!!


All the Envious...


All the Fights.


They fight, fight fight...


Sleeping in silence is best. She wails...



I must fight. I am envy. They all fight. 

Big White World-Marilyn Manson


The Envied rolls, he rolls spearing walls, laughing, they scream....he laughs, they scream...He blackens, they function against black, like green for the red...he shoots, dagger, dagger...rolls round laughing....they scream, like spit...he rolls laughing...they redden, further knives through walls...they scream.


He wants them to die, because they want him dead.


That's the reason.


They want him to die, because he wants dead.


He hates them, they are stupid.


They spit on the walls.


He doesn't lend daggers.


Unless they pick them up when he throws.


He hates!! And spits and spits!!!


They are all stupid!!! Not like Insane!! ??


They sick. They are stupid. They hate everyone.


He spits!!


They burst through walls, with powers of hate.


All the daggers have been thrown.


They are losing, and that makes him laugh. He hates laughing, he hates to even know of them.


They are stupid. He is envious of fools. His envy is fire like Love. It's been lost.


More walls and walls.


"I hate you!"