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ha mim

Bite Your Tongue

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...what the hell?

you call yourselves shia

but I just witnessed

your second saqifa

who are you??

all this time I never knew

undercurrents of intrigue & conspiracy

backbiting & hypocrisy

tangled plots to defame & deny the best

& ONLY choice to lead

to seize power for yourselves, unfit yet knowingly

let me ask you

dont you think Abu Bakr also thought he could do a "good job"?

you best open your eyes

push past to put yourselves forward

you pose & posture in the spotlight, all smiles

behind your back shaking your fist in threat

crushing blossoms beneath your heels for their perfume

do you understand the depths of what u do?

how could you think you act religiously

when the battle lines are drawn in the sand & you choose your stance

i have to ask the only question left





* [tr: whose shia are you?]


I wrote this as all my poems are, as a reflection of truth, as a page out of a diary. It used to be that I could often switch like this; see the world in black and white, as friend and foe with none inbetween; but this time, in putting it to words I realised this depth of resentment is no longer in me. Factually speaking, I must say this is still an accurate reflection of recent political events round these parts. Yet somewhere along the line I changed, how I can see others changed, even if they act despicably. This may well be the last time I can genuinely express such a hard-edged feeling, to slap someone down and expose those who more than earnt it with their actions; its good but also a little nostalgic, its somewhat the end of an era. Could it be I'm finally growing up? hah.

at any rate, this is farewell

to the old


Edited by ha mim

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Reflection of your thoughts not a reflection of truth. Rhymes and rhythm are not the stand of truth or facts only, it's a stand for dellusion and attacks.

No fight back brother as this what weaken us. No more songs and no more tongues as only hearts know it all.


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Can I dedicate this to myself as well, and hopefully bid farewell to it (the old self)?

I love it, and absolutely love the arabic ending. We all ought to ask ourselves this question.

Brilliant piece, as always ha min. I'm a big fan.


You are a dear sister, and a lovely person. The only merit you see in this piece is through the beauty of the lens of your intellect. It is a privilege and a pleasure to have such an audience.

might I request you grace us with a few more of your own wonderful pieces too? : )

with salam.

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"through the beauty of the lens of your intellect"

i love this string of words :)

comment on your poem:

nice one, reminding us to identify ourselves.. is it really we are true shia? oh, may Allah include us among the true followers of ahlulbayt who remain steadfast and firm defending the truth...and may He help us to replace the darkness of hypocrisy that we have with the light of sincerity ...

thanks for sharing, friend :)

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Spriglief, wow... I honestly don't know what to say to such excessive praise, other than that it's too much! my only attempts were to capture the power of the emotions which I felt. I'm grateful I appear to have managed it. As for the circumstances, yes. it was an ordeal, yet it was not I at the centre of it. Perhaps the reason I could let go of these emotions is that very distance; observing the events from the sidelines, while my dear friends re-enacted the roles of the Ahlul Bayt (as) in those difficult days. I thank Allah for granting them this closeness to such great personalities, and giving us the appreciation of the true pain and injustice of past events in living and watching their repetition.

the previous work looked towards the aggressors. In the following, the subject is the victim; the hero.

I felt I should share, for completeness, for you

my friends.

(& thank you all for your previous comments.)

* * *

With more dignity than I have ever seen...

With more dignity than I have ever seen

he walked into the vipers nest

who once were his brothers,

his head held high

and smiled,

and shook the same hands

which stabbed him, not long hence


he was our choice, and

on this day,

the whole world saw why

Judas unashamedly announces, "and now, our "dear brother""

"To read the final salutations to the Imams"

our dear brother

softly took the mic,

and in slow, melodious tones began to recite

with more dignity

than I have EVER seen

embodying those immortal lines

"O Allah!

It is You in Whom I trust

amid all grief.

You are my hope

amid all violence.

You are my refuge

and provision

in everything that happens to me.

How many grievances that weaken the heart,

leaving me with no means to handle them,

during which

friend deserts me,

and the enemy rejoices in it?

I lay it before you

and complain of it to You,

because of my desire in You.

You alone.

You relieve me of it

and remove it from me.

You are the Master of all grace,

the Possessor of all goodness,


the Ultimate Resort

of all desire."


* Prayer of Imam Hussein (as), on the day of Ashura.


Edited by ha mim

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