Kitchens

The war, in my view, was supposed to be black and white, I fight two disgusting monsters, pray for perhaps the whole of this fair country, because it had invaded town...
We pray for black and white...

Heaven is beautiful, Hell is horrible.



But, J.R.R Tolkien, wrote that Mordor (Hell)...will seethe through, into our minds, create arguments, mad wishes, bad mistakes...(Children of Hurin)...holiest peoples were destroyed, from the inside...


It had to be black and white enough to let me go...

It's there...
it's always been muddy...

What could I overthrow?

I kept clean, there were momnets, when the voices and the haters, could get htrough to me...I was resting in bed, weeping on sofas, anythign It could catch me with, scenes on televisions, people passing me in the streets...I never used to look up, I watch the pavements as I walked, they were see-ing through my eyes...this went on for probably, two years...I went through getting a diploma, in a fight against Satan...

I had to play ping-pong, at a gallery show, when the Arab girl that bought my painting...(painted on wood in 30 minutes, yellow back ground, Hand painted orange swirls, spray painted bits of red, a black image of a man with a moustache and a twirly beard, blowing smoke made from my hand swirls...I wanted 45 for it and told her, I was happy, I wasn't thinking, she ended paying me 20 pounds etc. because I couldn't think about being good enough to give her my first price...then I saw it behind her, shook my head, my mouth falling open....the thing was trying to get to her bottom...)

even when I got to Tajweed and fell in Love with that, it could get me, on a train, it could bring such a darkness inside a crowd of people boarding a train...So, I went a little wrong, a little sinful, I wanted to dream about sex in class, ...then I cried each time, in front of the Hafez, I failed the exams twice, I couldn't even read, in the exam, 0 % Tajwid, A half-mark 50 % for theory....


I knew it was men, in magic... I knew the men's names...


I couldn't talk to my kids in Heaven, because I wasn't well...I tried to call people to pray, and then I got into fights with the people to pray....each and every evening on the train I would talk and joke and cruel...also on free days, at the house...slamming doors, walking round and round the garden...


Then, it seemed to me, like all my worry had suddenly disappeared. I can't remember what it was...it wasn't the green stuff, we thought about, and talked about...

I know (and even now, I nearly forgot) I converted in December, I didn't want to convert in front of a strange, pale, red haired Shaykh, I wanted to convert in class....

So, she did Du'a...I vaguely guessed she did...it was around a month and a half ago, I got back...and it wasn't because of a kiss...or because of anything...I just stopped being paranoid, that if my family in Heaven, Nan and the kids came to talk, that they wouldn't hear foul men, and they wouldn't fall, into being sucked into Hell by Satan. And it wasn't men that gave me help...we just didn't know about Satan.



I wasn't going to poke a cigarette into Father's eyes, I was going to convert terrorists, to destroy the real evil, that hides...and then, I had saved them all, by letting them free, in a real War.

And then they would change their minds, and stop, War.


I need that grandmother back: (my other nanny right now is sitting in front of TV, I've spent every Sunday, on this damned computer...and they're watching ****)


One of my grand-mothers came down to talk to me, I wrote down what she said here;...

Around the Heathen Year 1264, my Arabic Nanny (Anish) ran away, from the family...(I like to think, Anish is like my mum, always ready to fight against things, though she's never left town, and whats she fights isn't too righteous, just that same type of will-power inside....) Somewhere in Moorish Spain, she met a Hebrew boy, so then, he ran away...and they had children...

Somehow they got through Europe, and we get to the latest, my Nanny is in Cork, Southern Ireland...18--


So, my old Nanny, won't come back to tell me more...And I need Nan.

My fat Nanny is front of TV, she has black hair...and a wide nose, that ends in a diamond-hook, to me, this proves things, mixed blood...obsessively, must, have ,special, blood.


The eyes, the eyes, The Eyes have it!!! (Shakespeare?)

AN accent: worried, look, tearful voice coming from the front room, ghost nan: 

"You are not stupid, okay?"

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And!

End!