February 12, 2015

Post thumbnail

Match.com owns several dating sites, including the popular Tinder, and makes close to a billion dollars… in one business quarter.
Millions use Match.com (and the company’s child companies) to find the love of their lives.
`I’m here to officially announce that there’s a new, unofficial dating site to find the love of your life: KIK.
I found my new best-friend by posting a selfie one lonely night, in the cold months of January-February, and ever since then I’ve had someone to love (thank you, Justin Bieber, for your inspiration).
Upon telling people that I have a girlfriend that lives more towards the east coast than the central U.S., people always want to repeat the obvious: Online relationships don’t work; they would be correct: they don’t. However, there’s one fatal flaw that everyone misses.
We are not in an online relationship. We never have been.
We live, day by day, in each other’s lives. We likely talk more than couples who are never apart from each other.
We don’t know the definition of ‘hurt,’ and therefore it doesn’t define us. We’re not in pain from the distance, because we think it makes us strong.
In Febuarary, it will be our twelfth month, and this will only make our rebellion against the failure of “online relationships” stronger .
To accomplish such a feat of time, we’ve set up rules (she needs to be reminded of them the most). Consider the following promises to her, and to each other.

Rule 1: Never, ever, under any circumstances, say “nevermind” (or any flavor of it); if you do, the receiving person can only think the worst.
Rule 2: I am going to call you exactly what you are to me, nothing more or less.
Rule 3: I am going to call you beautiful (see rule two).
Rule 4: I will always do what you ask me to with minimal questioning; I expect the same as well.
Rule 5: Let me ask whatever I want, because you can always say no.
Rule 6: You must have listened to John Legand’s “All of me,” thinking of it through my voice.
Rule 7: On the day where you don’t believe in us, should that day come, you will tell me because it is my right to know.
Rule 8: I will try not to be jealous. I understand that this is our relationship, and the people around us are not threats but just people. You have chosen me, and based on rule seven, I trust you.
Rule 9: Never, ever, try to cut me off and say we won’t work. I honestly believe I care for her more than any other guy would.

The dark side of Valentine’s Day is just how many people think they’re in love but are really abused… There are millions who don’t know how to tell their “significant other” how they really feel. Maybe they never would have got into the mess in the first place if they knew that there was an infinite pool of people who will care about you more than someone would when they actually have you in their arms.
I was lucky to find one of those girls. I have the honor of telling her everything will be all right in the situations she’s in, just because she lives where she does. I have promised her everything I can give her, and I’ve earned her trust.
This Valentines day, can you say the same about your sweetheart?
My girl might be on the other side of the country, but I’d rather be madly in love with her than lie to a girl who’s in my arms just to make sure she never hates me.

Post thumbnail

Detective Deadlock – Chapter 1: Detected Deadlock

The rain pounded at the window of the police department office building.  Such weather was so common in Province 78, it had earned its name as ‘Cohld City’ and kept up the reputation.  A reputation of crimes on a scale of dozens a day, even for a sanctuary of the apocalypse.  The city was made out of a surrounding circle of towering concrete walls that kept out the even greater horrors of the outside world.  The officers of the CCPD did not concern themselves with what happened outside of the walls of the city, some refuse to do so out of principle; some refused out of fear.  In the walls were multiple forms of corruption and chaos, but each of them were monitored and controlled by the specialist squad of the CCPD called Deadlock.  Named after their lead detective, they strive to keep Cohld City peaceful and without anarchy.  Each of them specialized in their own rank.

There came a time when one officer had fallen.  To the lead detective, Detective Deadlock, that meant a new rookie was bound to show up.  Since it was only a matter of time before they arrived, Deadlock waited in his office patiently, spinning around in a leather swivel chair, phased out and looked toward the ceiling.

The door to his office creaked open.  “You know, for a brilliant detective such as yourself, you sure tend to daydream way too much,” Officer Winston commented.

“What do you want now, Tommy?” Detective Deadlock spoke.

“The new rookie.  Name’s Officer Charles, Annika Charles.  Since you’re our lead detective here, I suggest you train her for field work, got it?”

“Why can’t you train her?  I’m busy with other stuff.  Having a rookie is like walking a blind dog,” Deadlock remarked.

“Chief specifically picked you out, and come on, show some gratitude or something and stop being such a Smart Alec.  I’m going to send her in in a few minutes…” Officer Winston closed the door behind him.

Detective Deadlock let out a long sigh. “Rookies…then again, some people have to start somewhere.  I just hope the academy taught her something good.  Ugh.”

A slight beeping noise came from his desk.  The intercom from the COM-link station.

Deadlock pressed down on the answer key, “What is it now, Krishna?”

“Pursuit at Twelfth Street.  Possible gang member,” a man’s voice responded through the intercom.

“I thought that was Yuriko’s department?  Why are you calling me?” Deadlock asked.

“Gang member has ‘supernatural’ abilities.  Don’t really know.  Cut me some slack man and get down there.”

“Tommy just told me there’s a rookie coming in, what do I do about her?”

“I’ll tell her to wait for you, just go.  Yuriko’s department is having trouble subduing this guy.”

“Freaking Yuriko…I’m on my way…” he said as he put on a dark brown fedora.


The sound of police sirens echoed off into the distance of the province.  The sound of clawing of bricks and windows came closer, bringing in several more police vehicles with their sirens on.  Long nails reached through the cracks of the bricks and launched itself forward.  A mutated man clawed his way along the walls of the building just barely avoiding the bullets of incoming police officers.

“How fast is this guy?” an officer exclaimed as he tried shooting at a maniacal man climbing along the walls of the block.

Another officer focused on driving and avoided colliding with pedestrians and other vehicles.

“He’s running out of block!  He’ll hit the main wall soon!” the driver shouted.

As the driver predicted, the man came to an immediate stop as soon as he saw the towering concrete wall that surrounded Cohld City.  He growled at the sight and turned toward the officers that pursued him.  Half a dozen CCPD officers had loaded guns aimed directly at the man.

The man was hunched down with his hands nearly touching the floor.  His face was mutated, covered in gorges and cuts.  His forehead was full of enormous bumps and his back covered in disorderly spiky hair.

“Put your hands in the air!” one of the officers ordered.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” the man’s tongue slivered from his mouth.

“If you do not comply we will shoot!” another officer exclaimed.

Instead, the man ran forward and lunged at two of the officers.  He grabbed their dark blue uniforms and pushed them to the floor, snarling and growling at them.  The other officers began opening fire.  One of the bullets hit some of the oversized acne on his forehead.  It exploded into an enormous amount of puss and yellow liquid.  The man let out a screech and jumped at the other officers.  He grabbed one of their faces and repeatedly bashed it against the police car.

The other three officers kept firing and unloaded several dozen bullets into the mutant.  He was unaffected by the weaponry and instead leaped toward the other officers and punched each of their faces.  The mutant grabbed one of the officers by his uniform’s collar and snarled at his face.

Suddenly, the mutated hand of the man exploded into bone and flesh.  The officer he was holding fell to the floor as the mutant grasped his hand in extreme pain.  Another bump on his head exploded, spewing puss all over the officer and police vehicles.

The officer looked around and spotted Detective Deadlock reloading his signature magnum handgun.  Deadlock had arrived in his own personal vehicle with a temporary siren on the roof.  His car was based on an ancient model from long ago.  Its matte black paint job shined in the rain and made it almost invisible at night.

“Detective?” the officer asked quietly.

“Yuriko sent you guys after this thing?  Such a waste of officers,” Deadlock said as he holstered his handgun.

“We were suppose to handle it.  Who sent you?” the officer inquired.

“Don’t let the suspect die, unless you want the explanation of how the hell he ended up like that to remain a mystery.  Cuff him and head back.  I’m going back to my office…” Detective Deadlock said as he yawned with a bored expression.

“What about the injured?  We can’t leave them here!”

“I called an ambulance already.  Arrest the man, officer.  Before he gets up again…”

Detective Deadlock drove away, leaving the dumbfounded officer to force the mutated man into the back of the police cruiser.

The detective made a quick stop at a local fast food place.  He ordered a small burger and left straight away.  The way Detective Deadlock thought was nothing shy of unorthodox.  It took him nearly half a decade to achieve such a calm and relaxed attitude to the point where even reporting back right away was too much effort according to him.  He never denied enjoying his job and spending time with his coworkers, but at the same time reflected a behavior opposite to it.

He bit into the burger before unlocking his car.  Something caught his attention past all the rain drops.  A voice.  He heard a subtle voice in the background of the pounding rain.  Figuring his department could rely on him coming back in one piece, he went off to investigate the voice.

Finishing up his burger, he came closer and closer to the distinct voice.  It became clear it was a woman’s, none that he recognized on the radio.  Only more reason to keep him intrigued.

He approached the central park of the city.  Following the pathway toward the center fountain, he spotted a woman singing to the rainy sky.  She stood on the rim of the fountain staring up the cloudy night.  Her attire was that of dark blue jeans and a red checker shirt.  She held both of her hands together against her chest, singing a tune that not even Deadlock heard before.  Her hair was braided up and toppled over in the form of some sort of mohawk with the darkest of color.

“Um, excuse me, miss?” Deadlock spoke up, his calm attitude slowly fading away, “Is it alright for me to ask what you’re doing out here singing in the rain?”

The woman ignored him and kept singing toward the stars.  Her voice slightly lightening up then simmering down to a quiet whistle, repeating the tune over and over.

Detective Deadlock saw no harm in this woman singing, seeing that there weren’t any local residents complaining at all and nothing was really being disrupted.  He sat on the rim of the fountain and dug into the fast food bag in search of any remaining fries.  A boom of thunder shook the entire park.  After it settled, the woman had stopped singing.  Deadlock heard footsteps, rushing ones from all entrances of the park.  He ducked down next to the fountain while still eating his fries.

Multiple suited men carrying heavy assault rifles and machine guns surrounded the woman.  They wore black suits with bright red ties and dark leather gloves.

“Missy!  This is your last warning!  Surrender all of your syndicate and we might spare your life!” one of the men shouted.

Instead, the woman raised her hand toward the man and lifted up just her middle finger at him.  Grunting at her, the man lifted his hand up and waved it down, signaling all the men around him to disable their guns’ safeties.

“These guys are serious?” Deadlock pulled out his holstered magnum.

The woman hopped down and headed around the fountain.  Detective Deadlock spotted her pulling a large wooden box.  She pried it open with her bare hands and revealed an enormous chain gun.  The detective’s eyes grew wide as he saw her lunge the weapon out and rev up each of its six barrels.

Post thumbnail

“Project Lead the Way” is a 4 year program that pushes incoming freshmen to commit to the future and make innovative decisions and encourages students to advance in technology and free-thinking. About 75% of all projects are cooperative, and the majority is computer based leaving the design challenges to be 3 dimensional (such as working on a fling machine where students are given random materials such as a deflated balloon, rubber bands, paper, and a straw so as to fling an object the furthest when an arm is let go).
Stand-by computers allow students to render out and cerate 3D designs on projects like CAD and CAM. There is a 3-week safety course that focuses on technology and how to teach them problem-solving skills.

This program takes their design with tool paths in Mastercam and to machine the part on a router and mill. Students have created door lock knobs, gearshift knobs, and racing petals with the machines provided. The finished products from the students often look professional and give a “fresh off the shelf” feeling such as one student who made a 34” long-board that was shaped and accented to look like a fish skeleton. Such projects have been designed in AutoCAD and brought into Mastercam where it can be looked at with combined 2D and 3D operations.

The first year of the program for freshmen is “Introduction to Engineering” where they are introduced to what engineering is and what fields are available in careers. It also is a way for them to learn the basic math, physics, and chemistry of manufacturing as well as instant design challenges coupled with research and principles of engineering.

The sophomores of the program get to enroll in a program called the “Principles of Engineering” in where they learn more about physically building contraptions for a purpose (ex. Marble solder, stoplights and trigger). This class will also teach them an introduction to robotics and electronics.

Juniors get to enroll into “Computer Integrated Manufacturing” where they take their newfound skills and learn how to design and manufacture products using CNC, Lathes, Routers, and 3D printers as well as Laser Engravers.

The seniors then get to enter “Engineering Design and Development.” The senior project given is of a real-world problem to solve and create a working physical model of the product that is then judged by a panel of engineers from an industry.

Already over 200 patents have come from the “Project Lead the Way” program.

Next year, corona High will be among several schools in CA to receive an i3 (Investing in Innovation Fund) grant to provide more companies and machinery needed to create an expanded engineering program. Students in the class(es) can explore a career in manufacturing quickly even in Norco Community College. On that note, Mr. Lee’s Design Manufacturing Technology Course can give up to 3 college credits.

Post thumbnail

In Southern California,
The weather can always be classified under one of two categories:
Hot,
And not as hot.
And yet, there’s this girl,
Who always wears long sleeves.

Whether it be a sweater, jacket, or hoodie,
She always wears long sleeves.

She wears these sleeves so that no one can see
What’s hidden underneath.
Because, y’see, some teens may decorate their bodies
With piercings or tattoos
Or even Sharpie drawings.
But this girl instead decorates hers with scars of her own design,
Scars, which she had tried to hide/

She says she did it because of the pressures from society
And because of her depression.
And I understand, I really do
But cutting is no solution.
We all stumble and struggle, no one’s excluded.
But it should never have to go that far,
Her beauty should be free of scars.

She and I both dealt with our problems in the same way:
We took to writing,
But we used different tools.

Instead of a paper, she used her bare flesh,
Instead of a pen, she used a blade.
Instead of ink, she used her blood, which would run all over her page.

Each cut was a poem, a story, a tale of woe.
Each slash was an attack at the world.

As she wrote
She would say, under breath: “This is for you.”
As the blade would violate her skin and penetrate her flesh
She’d say: “This is for you.”
As the blade would draw out her blood,
And as that blood would flood onto her page,
She’d say: “This is for you.”
And as she withdrew her blade,
And prepared it for a new poem,
She’d whisper, with tears in her eyes, “This is for you.”

And after she finished writing,
She’d pull down her sleeves
And hope no one would see
Past her disguise
And discover the sadness hidden in her eyes
But her facade was flawed,
And we all saw what was underneath her sleeves.
But only after it had gone on for so long.

Everything is clear in hindsight,
We had seen the signs
But never connected the dots.
We could have been able to stop this
Before it had ever begun.

But the damage has been done,
The blades had won.

But the fears and pressures of society
Won’t affect her any longer,
Because I know that she is stronger
Than any cut of blade.
And I just want to say to her:

“You should stop thinking of others:
“Fuck what society expects,
“Fuck people’s respect,
“Fuck all those mean little kiddies who think they know shit.
“Their opinions don’t define you,
“And if in some way they do,
“Then you’re not being true to yourself.
“Don’t use their criticisms
“As standards for how you should be living/
“You need not continue to live this lie,
“Once you realize how many people you have behind you,
“All the people who love you,
“Who care about you,
“Who miss you,
“Who cry for you,
“Who fight for you,
“Who would die for you.
“And believe me, they will die for you.
“When you’re back’s against the wall,
“When you’re about to fall,
“We will be there for you.
“To shield you.
“To catch you,
“To bring you on your feet,
“And walk hand in hand with you.
“And we won’t hesitate.
“We will break your constraints
“Without batting an eye.
“We will lay down on the ground and die
“Without any doubt.”

“Don’t underestimate our love.
“We will do anything that will help you rise above
“This.”

“So again,
“Don’t believe your false friends.
“Don’t let their devilish whispers
“Drown out the thunder of our cries.
“Because even if you hurt us,
“Even if our vision is blurred by our tears
“And our steps are faltered by our broken hearts,
“We will scream for you.
“We will scream until we thaw the ice
“That has frozen your heart.
“We will scream for you
“To stop the hurt,
“To put down the pills,
“To set aside the drink,
“To step away from the blade,
“And to roll up your sleeves.
“Because we know you.
“I know you.”

“And this,
“This person you believe yourself to be,
“Isn’t you,
“I know you,
“I’ve seen you.”

“I’ve seen you
“When you’re happy,
“When you’re angry,
“When you’re hopeless.
“I’ve seen you,
“When you smile,
“When you laugh,
“When you cry.
“I’ve seen you when you’ve felt alone.
“Yes,
“I was there.
“And I always will be.
“And if you don’t believe that,
“Believe this:”

“I did this for you.
“This care,
“This emotion,
“This writing,
This LOVE,”
“…”

“This is for you.”

You cradled death
In your arms
Where there should have been life

You heard silence
In the room
Where there should have been cries.

You saw stillness
In the body
Where there should have been kicking.

You tasted fear
In your mouth
Where there should have been giggling.

You smelled pity
In the hearts
Where there should have been joy.

Yes, you cradled death
In your arms
And you yourself are but a boy.

I wonder of the purpose
Of all your hurt and pain
I can’t imagine how your loss
Could be outweighed by a gain.

They say that only men of great
Get tested to their core
The more respect He has for you
The more He’ll make you sore.

But words of rank are not enough
When I look you in the eye
When all I want for you, dear brother,
Is to hear your baby’s cry

I can’t change the moment
When death was born that awful day
But if I can change myself
I know I can bring a better day

A day when good and life will shine
And all things will be better
And in your arms
You will cradle life

And her life will shine forever

Vent to me
Vent to you

I’m not feeling well
You don’t feel like yourself

I’ll tell you what bothers me
You tell me what’s crushing you

Our problems are different
Sometimes llittle

I’m here for you whenever
You’re there at times

What ails me you ask
What’s destroying you I ask

We keep our heads above the water
Holding each other above surface

If we let go
Sorrow

But we refuse
To do that

letting go brings suffering
Along with blame

We got each other
Speak to me

Shed a tear on my sleeve
A tear drops on your skin

You don’t get rid of it
You let it roll

We calm down
We keep going

I got you fully
You got me partially

I drown

You shouldn’t have worn that dress.

It’s 1 a.m. and I am driving home
Anticipating the warm hug of my welcoming bed
And I am tired but I drive safe
With the focus of a young waitress holding a tray of hot coffee.

You shouldn’t have drunk so much.

I am at a dead stop when I am rear-ended
By a drunk driver going too fast
In a residential neighborhood.

You shouldn’t have danced so close with him.

In an instant everything is spinning, tumbling, skidding
I am drowning in an ocean of crushed metal
Unable to find the surface.

You shouldn’t have flirted with him.

I cry out in pain
But not even the pavement can hear the hurt
That has tightened my chest.

You shouldn’t have let him take you home.

I am so small.
I am so small.
That not even God can find me here.

The stars have stopped shining,
The Birds have stopped singing
And I have found myself alone
With the indescribable pain
Of having something taken from me
While the driver who hit me goes home to a warm bed
Only to pray on bent, swollen knees the next morning
Promising God he will never drink again.

You shouldn’t have kissed him.

The paramedics pry me from my crumbled, wheezing car,
But they cannot pry me from the empty hole
That opens up in my lungs when they tell me my legs can’t be saved
And I will not run,
I will not jump,
I will not dance
And one day I will adapt to the missing parts of me
And I will be okay.

But I will never be the same.

Nobody victimized the drunk driver who took something from me
That will never grow back.

Nobody told me I deserved it,
Nobody told me it was my fault,
And Nobody told me I was asking for it.

I use to write whenever I had to and it was mostly for school
Because I use to think that writing wasn’t cool,
But now I write
I write because I have much more complicated thoughts
I want to remember and keep track of
And I write because I am lost
I don’t know who I am and I’m trying to find myself

I spent six weeks of my life getting people decaf coffee, giving them spoons and cleaning tables
While I worked up in the Bay Area
During the summer
Meanwhile some people were screaming at Coachella
And more people got killed in Israel, Palestine, and Nigeria
Russia took absolute control of Crimea
Yet we all smile and look the other way
Because it’s just easier to pretend everything is okay
But problems don’t just fix themselves
And I’m lost I don’t know who I am

I understand how I’m Jaime my parents gave that name
And the way look wasn’t in my control either
But the way I write and the way I think is
And I think
That people are more than a race, than a green card, than a birth certificate
We are all spirits trapped inside a body trying to find a purpose

So we ask questions to make sense of our existence
To figure out why we are all here
The same way a small child sits upon a park bench looks up and wonders
Why is the sky blue?
I’m here asking
Who are you?
I’m talking about more than your name
More than the place you were born
A lot more than all the things you have been through
I’m talking about the things you would die for
And the things that are simply not worth it

I want to know who I am since I’m seventeen
And I have to make these choices for myself
But I don’t know what I want
And it’s hard picking on thing
I want to do what’s best for me
But I’m scared I’ll make a stupid choice in my teens
And regret it when I’m thirty-three
At times I want to be a poet and others a marine
But neither one seems to be for me
All I know is that I want to make a difference in this world
I want to look in to people’s eyes and see hope
I want to hug someone and feel love

Because we are all leaves from the same tree
We are all burning at our hearts with sins, smiling with grief and dancing with regret
The smoker during the revolution in Egypt
The single mom in Vietnam
The 10th grade English school teacher who lives alone
The 18 year old girl who hated her parents and struggling to keep up on her own
The older brother with low self-esteem but has to act strong
We are all soldiers fighting the same war

I hope one day my poems will be worth something
Then maybe one day I’ll be worth something
I could just simply not care about what happens,
But I do
And I think that life is the way it is because we have let it turn out this way
And we are on a path where progress is a myth and happiness is just a word

But I’m just a seventeen year old boy who is lost

Who’s right to judge?
No one, I tell you;
Trust me, ’cause I’ve been judged my whole life!

I’m the youngest in the family.
And I was pretty innocent and naive back then,
Not to mention stupid
After a long day from Kindergarten one day, I step into my room that I shared with my siblings,
And my sister goes, “Hafsah, did you know Ammi and Abba are married?”
I go, “What the hey? EW!”
Ever since that day, both my siblings and my parents still JUDGE me! that I’m even a naive child today

Who’s right to judge?
No one, I tell you;
‘Cause I’ve been judged my whole life, and I know it!

Those uncles and aunty jis, I tell you
The ones that come to every formal party they know without invitation;
The ones that immediately tell their young critters to rub their backs once they enter;
The ones that go, “‘Slalikum, ‘Slalikum”
Even though they mispronounce that word, either way, Assalamu Alaikum means “Peace be upon you”
Even if it’s a greeting, I don’t think they mean it
Because as soon as they look at my sister and I,
We immediately want to turn back
Not because they’re hideous; no!
‘Cause by their faces, we could tell they already don’t like us
It’s as if by one glance, they start thinking these thoughts:
“That ridiculous half smile those two gave me; shame, shame
And vhy they turn avay like that? They should come and join the party and not go back to their rooms
And how dare they not vear formal clothing? This be junk yard or party?
And no jevelry? No makeup? How they having Zehra’s bootiful smile and Mashood’s talented socialness?
They’re JUDGING us
‘Nough said

Who’s right to judge?
No one, I tell you
‘Cause I’ve been judged my whole life, and I know it!

Up to this point on, you’re probably thinking:
“Psh! Dis chick ain’t no serious at all, git outta here – !
No, but I am!
People assume that because I’m dark skinned –
Which I’m not, I just have tans on my face and hands –
And the fact that I live in Corona, I am Mexican
I go up to them and stare,
As if to say, “Do these look the eyes of a Mexican to you?”
And to people who know I’m Indian think I’m American Indian –
Nuh pal!
Just Indian, as in from the country India
And when they realize this, they check my forehead for a bindi
Oh. My. Gosh.
To you juiceless gumballs,:
Being from India does not make one a Hindu!
If anyone ever comes up to me and assumes my ethnicity or religion ever again, Ima tell ’em:
“You’re JUDGIN me bruh!”

Who’s right to judge?
No one, I tell you;
‘Cause I’ve been judged my whole life, and I know it!

These. Types. Of people.
I see ’em almost all the time!
It’s like my hijab has sparkling eyelashes and bomb fashion sense,
Just attracting people down at school, the stores, the bus –
Shoot! I be walkin’ home from school,
And this ridiculous sycophant batting her long lashes, ‘cross the road,
Just yellin’, “He-e-e-y! Check me out, will you?”
And everyone in that area stare
No, not at me,
But at dis ting right here
Like, could you not look at “me”?
It’s as if you’re saying:
“Ah, a terrorist”
Why?
Because people fear the unknown,
And the unknown is my religion, Islam
Have some common sense!
You see a Muslim girl in front of you who’s gonna turn 15 on March,
And you’re a grown adult, yet you act like you’re my age, maybe younger,
And the least you can do is ask me!
Ask me about anything!
What are Hijabis? What is Eid? Why do Muslims pray 5 times a day? What does the Qur’an tell Muslims to do?
All that I can answer!
If you would just give me the chance to,
Before you call me a lowlife terrorist!
And if you call me a harsh name like that ever again,
Don’t be in the dark shadows whispering it your friends
Be on the spotlight! in front of my face!
‘Cause I’m not scared of anyone!
And I’m not a crybaby like I was back then,
Who cried to her mother every time she got insulted
And I have no regrets! to call you a coward!
If you think of me a 14 year old girl ready to bomb California!
And to people who really think the words “Allahu Akbar” means to damn others – Astaghfirallah!
And to those who fake their deaths and say the words with no meaning at all!
I’ll smile at that,
To think you actually consider it a joke
It’s not! it is stupidity!
But then again, I restrain myself;
‘Cause neither am I to judge them.
Even though they JUDGE me.
Ain’t nobody got time for judgin’ dem

So who’s right to judge?
No one, but Allah
We humans cannot underestimate each other;
We cannot act all haughty and superior over others
Because my dear brothers and sisters.
We’re all in the same earth,
And should be treated equally for as long as we live!
So who’s right to judge?
No one, but Allah
Because Allahu Akbar
Allah is One

The day you died there wasn’t a cloud in the sky
The day you died it rained
I could feel it on my face
I swear it wasn’t me
It couldn’t be
Although I loved you so
Dear grandma
It hurts to say
The day you died nothing changed
Not a bird switched course
Not a leaf out of place
Dear grandma I want you to know.
The day you died we wept
For we knew before it was that it had
In our hearts we knew
In our minds it lied
To ourselves we couldn’t help but lie
To try and survive
A lift without you halfheartedly
I can’t help but deny I’ve been fixed
Its clockwork denial I still hear your voice
I still feel your love
I still see the tears you would shed as I’d grow up and leave home
Even then I was never alone
Your thoughts in mine
I want you to know
The day you died
I wept and since then I’ve forgotten how to stop