You are my idol
You is it, who manages to make me smile
When I am down in the dumps
You are an amazing poetess
Imagine, could your writing ****
Then die, the oppressors shall
One of the fiercest voices against injustice
Always, are you ready to make sacrifices
For the benefit of humanity
And the transformation of our extremely regressive society!

You are my idol
Always, do you manage to cast a spell
Through your mind-shattering poems
As well as edge-of-the-seat novels
An enchantment that is almost impossible to lift
Really, are you a gift
To the literary world
So much do I love, the way you play with words!!

You are my idol
Never, are you idle
Buzzing with ideas all the time
Truly, is your mind sublime
You are the light to my darkness
The fire to my icy coldness
The humour to my seriousness
The subtlety to my directness
The list is endless!!

You are my idol
I like you more than I hate Israel
You mean as much to me
As independence means to the Palestinians
It was such an honour to see you perform
Last December, at G5A Warehouse
In front of a full house
That I felt I was in a dream
It was indeed a surreal feeling
May you keep performing and inspiring
May all your dreams come true
And may Jesus bless you!!

the concept of art
is a mere combination
of common logic
and compelling academic
yet when it comes
to an abstract composition
it all falls down
to pure academic

but it does not mean
that a work’s meaning
becomes diluted with
academic discourse
but it does mean
that its meaning
is measured by
someone who sees
the moment of clarity
at the right distance
at its sufficient mindset

Giving joy, getting joy, never coy,
Often pretty, always called a toy,
She sells all that there is to deploy.

And there is she who is demure;
A teacher whose job is secure.
Some say that all teachers are pure.

And there is he who is a professor;
He is his father’s successor;
Just like his father’s predecessor.

The first one we call a *****;
She prostitutes her body more and more;
But the other ones we adore.

The professor prostitutes his knowledge.
He also sells his precious time.
And the teacher too makes the same pledge;
Especially while she is in her prime.

We all ******* something every day;
Yet only the first one’s a *******; yay!

I like to think I'm bright sometimes,
mindlessly warbling my words.
Dropping subtle reference to
the allegory of the cave,
the 101 of a white guy.

I have a confession to make.
I'm a liar, a ****** fool.
There is nothing academic
in my bones, just spit and hot air.
Perhaps once these words had meaning,
but for now it's merely static.

The ignorant always smile, not in bliss, but in narrow self-righteousness. Geniuses are kind within bubbles that float to the tops of white towers. The societal mid-range of people, the ones who know just enough to be afraid, these people carry the greatest burdens.

I miss:
Daytime drinking and
Lazy mornings and
Student loans and
Living with friends and
Lecture theatres and
Essay deadlines and
Empty weekends and
Fancy dress and
Coffee on campus and
Weeknight clubbing and
Petty arguments and
Academic writing and
Walking into town and
****** TV and
A queue for the shower and
Un-ironed clothes and
Library fines and
Simpler times.