But if we hide ourselves away, afraid to grow and learn, we might wake up in the flames of the ignorance that burns and we’ll never be much more than only casualties of war in a struggle we can’t win if we have no faith to begin. We’ve got to tip the lid and let some sunlight in.
The world is not a box, there’s no lid, no doors, no cardboard flaps or locks, and everything in nature from the clouds to the rocks is a piece of the puzzle of the purpose of mankind, it's a piece of the peace that we’ll find.
I sent an email to my loved one, just the other day, it’s sad communication has evolved this way. We use so many words but have so little to relay, as angels scribble down every letter that we say. All the viral attachments sent and passionate insults we vent, it’s easy to be arrogant behind user passwords we invent. But on the day the scrolls are laid, with every word and deed displayed, when we read our accounts, I know, for one, I’ll be afraid.
Watch the grown ups all twirling with the clock throughout the day. Watch them spinning through the hours while the time hands tick away. They talk and grip the world, as they would catch a falling knife. Reality deceives them ’neath amusing games of life.
Can you hear the rhythm of all/Allah's creation? The rhythm of the clapping of the thunder and the rain? Can you see the rhythm of all creation? The lightning and the leaves and the seasons as they change?
I was never so much "interested in Islam", so much as I was interested in trying to find out about God; I wanted to discover my purpose in life and a way to better the world I share with others.
What I read in the Qur’an, and what I learned from the words of Muhammad, Jesus and others really struck a chord with me, so I chose to implement the wisdom I found. I don’t feel as though I "changed" to any new "religion", rather, I just grew as an individual: I matured spiritually. … I believe the proverbial "search" doesn’t end until we die.
It was my agenda — value our faith, value our opportunity to grow and better ourselves as believers and citizens of the world. Singing to and for myself and Muslims, I can be more explicate in my lyrics, drawing directly from Islamic sources. Some of my music is naturally a little bit more sensitive to the opinions and feelings of a broader audience — still Islamic in its essence, but more "holistic" and "organic" than dogmatic.
We all want to fit into a culture, a community; we want to find a home, security, freedom of faith and lifestyle but these days all those things are threatened. We don’t know whether the "freedom" in our western democracies means "free of domination" or "free to dominate". Muslim youth are confused and searching for answers. Some are looking towards rigid traditionalism, others to more secular approaches. Many of us are left wondering what is right and what is wrong.
My intention is to use music as a tool for social change. It is always a prayer of mine that the work I produce will help, in some small way, to better the world or provide others with hope in themselves or trust in The Creator’s mercy to us all.
Inspiration comes from many places — experiences, places, people, books, and the work of other artists. As a writer, it is important to keep one’s senses open to the world around and then trying to capture those impressions to a page. Writing is sort of a game or puzzle to me — playing with words and concepts to present something new to listeners.
All the girls and boys seen preening through school halls, fighting to fit in, games they just can’t win, higher education dumbing down a nation, around the square unsure of where we fit in.
It has nothing to do with age, it's not our languages, religion, gender, coulour of our skin; It’s a soul within a well, that echoes deep beneath the ego’s shell. True life can’t ever start, until we offer up our heart.
Pictures of politicians preen across our TV screens, pretensions plaques and posters fill our minds and magazines. Promises a burning match, igniting dreams of straw…
Teachers and pop icons, empty drums beat loudest noise. We swap their quotes and CDs like children trading toys. Follow along, bite the barbed hook deep in our jaw...
I glance reflections of my face everyplace I go, in my mirror and in shop windows, like the lead in my own show. Do I dare look closely? See each wrinkle, scar and flaw?
Only when I smell the earth upon my face, will I ever be free, to fly from this place.
I only feel close to you when I‘m under open sky, I only feel guided when I’m free to question why.
The past we’ve got we must forget. Future hasn’t happened yet. Carry this moment in a song. Insha Allah, it won’t be long.
Time seems cold, each day we grey away. Believe the lines that we’ve been told, 'Lose our way lose yesterday’, they say, but who are they? Who are they anyway? They didn’t hear us play at eight years old.
Every picture you give me I save, and every colour you use is so true to you. Every minute we spend I engrave, and every memory rethought is so new. There is trust that we must recognize. There is so much that we must learn to see and be, if we could only open our minds. Just grow with God and please be patient with me, and I will give you my life.
We all want a simple song. We all want to get along. We all want to just belong. We all want to know right from wrong. We all want to love and be loved strong.
Words can never really help you say, what you want them to anyway. And words can never really help you see, what you really want to be.
Truth has been confused. Simplicity refused.
If he could read a line, just understand one sign. Close his mouth and hear the peace of hope and fear, if he could read a line. If he could keep in time.
What of this God whom we command, to bless our coloured flag and land, so busy drawing lines in sand that we don’t think and understand.
What of wars we have survived, genocides and hollow costs/holocausts? Have our hopes for humankind like scriptures and mass graves been lost?
If a fist can hold a sword, and a fist can clench a pen, but the points of both are missed, by dull, tarnished pride of men. We must open up our hands, raise our palms up high to see, the mazes of our unique selves, end with similarity.
Your bombs and pens like swords, held high, up to my throat. You have made the cost of blood, as cheap as ink and all I think.
If we only knew, the sacred value, And if the might of our pen, is stronger than the swords of men, let us unsheathe our minds, write with our hearts again.
We’ve got to take a chance, fly by the seat of our proverbial pants. There’s so much we can do, out in this world, me and you. There’s so much we can improve, if you dig my drift, if you catch my groove.
There are a lot of grown ups who, should be sent up to their rooms, and told they must stay there, until they learn they can play fair.
The Light, The Thunder, The Dunes of Sand, The Sun, The Moon, Man and the land. If we work a little, we might see, if we think and reflect on each rock and tree, there’s no measure to all it’s worth — sustainable earth.
‘Where’s the next show?’, ‘Why don’t you make a Video?’, ‘Put on these beads and clothes and The Bling, Bling!’ Well, if that’s all it’s about than I think that I want out, of a career that won’t just let me sing. ...‘cause music, faith and knowledge should be free.
All of us, ride on the same bus, shop at the same malls and stores. All of us, debate and discuss, decide and divide what is mine and what’s yours.
You and I, wonder at the sky, call God a different name. As we try, learn and long to fly — you and I are so differently the same.
But when it rains, it rains on all our houses, we all get cold when it snows. When a storm rolls in, huddled up against our windows, we all feel the fear when a strong wind blows, While on this earth, we’re all of equal worth.
Dear God I've heard your name from teachers, family and friends, you made the universe and so will live on when it ends. Everyone I know admits they’ve never seen your face, they’re not sure where you live and have no map to the place.
There’s always work that must be done...Life’s so simple when we simply work to make it fun.
We love to live a simple life...we simply love the life we live though some would say its hard.
Fences and forts with walls and flags, caw caw — they’re so funny.
The foolish big boys who fight with their toys are so sadly silly.
Someday we’ll realize, perhaps much to our surprise, the keys to free a smile have been with us all the while: look for good, and spread that good around.
There was a house made out of sticks, there was a city, made out of bricks, I was amazed at what I saw, all I could say was Subhanallah!
I saw a dream, Earth safe and green. No hunger no war, water so clean. I’ll work for the world that I saw, set my mind and say insha Allah.
A busy buzzing bee is a lot like me, it works and it lives in community.
Allah gave the Qur’an to a very special man, who passed it on to us, for the rest of all our days.
My programme, The Art of Creative Expression, empowers young people with tools to express themselves. We teach photography, art and drama, but it's not just the medium that's important, it's about what you are trying to say.
Build me a tomb for when I die, build it 50,000 feet into the sky... Build me a boat I want to discover America, build me a boat to take me to the edge of the seven seas, build me a boat and you can sail along with me, we’ll spread our money, power, religion and disease. ...Who are they to say that we own nothing and our lives have gone astray?
You’ve built me a cabin but I want more, and more and more, now build me an office tower with an automatic door. Build me a fence that I can wrap around my state. If anyone tries to break through, I pity his fate.
We have dealt with all these idealists in the past, I’m sure we’ll find a way to deal with them today... Rid our world of all these fanatics one by one, won’t let not prophet lover ruin my fun. We’ll string ‘em up and shoot ‘em down.
No more starry eyes from behind these dusty spectacles. I’ll wipe them and follow my own shadow for a change.
You could call me antisocial, I’ve called myself that sometimes too, but I just prefer to be alone, and that’s nothing against you.
Truth is buried, deep inside of men, sweep away each day.
Hope as rich and green as the trees of an oasis.
Truth as clear and blue as the sky we walk under. Love as bright and loud as the lightning and thunder. Peace as pure and white as the moon, so full of wonder. So many different colours of Islam!
Allah made us all a different shade and colour. Nations and tribes recognize one another! ’Cause every single person is your sister and brother.
Put all our pride away, always find a gentle word to say, you know we shouldn’t be full of ourselves when we should be full of humility.
We’ve digitized the revelations — does our rehearsed recitation go any deeper than our throats? Our calls to prayer they seem to rise up to the skies, conferences and lectures, seminars for you and I. The words that blow away with the nasheed that make us cry, yet why are the drums so silent?
If we can just be brave enough to be each others mirror, we may finally recognize the face of conscious that we fear.
If we can take the time to mute the noise we’ve build around ourselves the rhythm of the heartbeats and the purpose may be clear.
Standing in the market square, so alive but void of life, We work and we sweat and we struggle through each day. As our efforts scar our hands, this world stains us with demands. It’s hard to see life’s humour in the business games we play. As we gnaw our nails with stress, our fists and hearts pound so carelessly. With every effort forward, how much more can we digress?