House of God
"Your light is in sin. Create a House of Love in sin. Become Allah Light...You are Love!"
I ran to the computer to write these words and then ran upstairs, I didn't know how to reply, sorta mumble and sniff, and nod my head;
Then I heard;
"You have made Me a Mosque...Light the World!"
moan and grumble;
talking to God is problematic, I called the Voice in the garden, you have to concentrate away from talk and focus, something in me doesn't want to know, I was still being spoken to, but refused a thing...I've spent each day since Saturday Afternoon, weeping, and screaming. I'm supposed to sing and thank...I'm wired...I know I have heard God, not anyone else, not a woman, not a man.
Wanting, not quite arguing. Amazed.
Sunday Afternoon, watching a French (language) Film, called The Army of Crime, about a resistance against Nazi's (which I thought was made-up fiction, until the end of the film, and I thought oh? what did they hear? I said the poems were sickly sweet, how could a man be so mistakenly sweet? oh no, his wife heard that...) I wanted to the whole film to continue on one story, what happens when Raymans family are taken away? I wanted to see that over and over, if i told you, well, that would keep me entertained, over and over, I'd do that too...at the end, I thought, oh; woof, I told Allah, I'm dead, pathetic))...I keep flipping, that I should have said more, that I should have listened, The Voice, tells me again...
I don't have to worry her when I am in Fair (But how long will I be in Fair?) I don't bother Her, She isn't Angry. I don't quote her correctly, this makes me stumble, vocally, I have to tell my little sister, or my friends.
I'm applying for Tajweed. She says I'm in. I'm screaminggggggggggg about Tajwid.
I forget the going to Jews, and going to Islam.
She will create me Higher Love.
I was invited to the Pub, Saturday Night, I was still Calling. She says she was going to put me in Higher Love, I was freaked in my friends car, I was going to meet new people. Someone calls me 'Lover'. .. a woman calls me Lover, I think This is Allah, she knows I'm screaming in the car, If this is Andy ' he's a nerd, and I don't think you are good to marry me to a nerd, if this is Amidalah, or another woman from Heaven, I don't want, I can't believe I hang on to Allah so much, I can't be Lover...thank you so much, I thought I would be dead again....She wants me to relax...Wow, Wail, Wow, Wail, Wail...I'm weeping in front of people in the pub, I keep staring at my friend's boyfriend, constant silent staring...thinking you are her husband, you look cool, with the blue jacket and white tie, and thin legs in tight jeans, and he kisses her sweet, (I stared at him, because my sister said he was a Rat...I thought, you have a clean white face...I don't often wash my face, Mother, should I keep washing my face? He was nice...not gorgeous, just a new boyfriend who would be the one...then he made a I'm gay, joke..."Why do they say she married me?" "I can't believe they like to sing, why is she sitting here while he sings, shouldnt she stand there and clap?") she had a slightly new look too, pink make-up, a little dress with a black 'military' jacket over, I looked in the mirror, and thought frump! "I thought I was a Mod...paint-stained jeans, a grey ted-baker shirt (from a Charity Shop) a grey hat with a brim, very short hair...I am frump, I looks shit...")"
I tell God this too, I tell her I'm on the toilet, that everyone with me is good-looking, are they good men? or dirt? I'm so lucky, they just have jobs in supermarkets and their my age, I have a lot, I'm a student, it's not good, it should be good...One Coca-Cola, I begin to relax, my eyes flip, I lean towards my girl-'friend, and push my eyebrow up and poke out my eye, moving it left to right...later she thanks me, through the mike on the Karaoke machine, or through magic...I relax a little,
"I didn't say thank you? I said don't care! What should I say???!!"
I'm beginning to treat God, like a question and answer service...
I need to smoke three times in 2 hours, I go outside alone, and stand on the ramp between the tables, and stare at the moon and at the girls, there's a couple of "Romans" behind me facing off, they've blocked the door, "This is American- thought- Homosexuals...if I try to get past them I'm dead, because I look boy...they are staring in each others face, they have skin-heads, and they have their arms up holding their pints...it goes on for some time, they are still there on my last cigarette...I have to be careful of how I get through the crowd...
I get answers Sunday morning, I begin to think this one talking is just a girl, God is too Wise.
Today; "Help Me! You're Cool!"
"Your Friend says Love! She knows you are whole, she kisses, she loves your soul."
"You are going to roar, and it's clearer than at 21, You roar 'Ibrahim! He is see-ing heights!
This paradise will begin at 29! My roaring Lion! Makes me a Height and Dies!"
"It is Twenty-Nine!!"
Oh know, reader; I think you're Hell.
Jo Daemen cover designs
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