Super provoking BUT

My writing is for the world to read what I think
You are so great, man, woman, child, boy, and girl
You are so great, but when they don’t see you
They tell others, how could a child, boy or girl
Understand the high level of poetry or prose
Whatever you want to call what it is
But poetry, poetry, poetry, he is deaf and mute
But somebody shocks when he can speak
The Deaf can speak, oh come on, why the
The Deaf? Why can’t you say, Deaf person or Deaf man
Not the Deaf, oh well, I am not an object, but well
Oh wow, the Hearing can sign, wow, you can sign
Excuse me, the words are provoking, I know
Like a cheeky brat who got lots of words out of his mouth
But the truth that provokes oneself out of themselves
Why do you think I fight? Is the provoking seek to fight?
Or is it seek to march with the post, “Understand the provoke”?
He asks too many questions about what does he want,
Can you ask one of the books who asked too many questions?

©️ Ismael Mansoor

What ye in thine way

If a name Feel tells you to think
Get up, out of your thoughts!
Thee need sweets to light up
Or thou think if I am awesome,
Then act like one that you should
Provoke, I know how it feels
When someone is provoking themselves
To seek out their own nest
Rubbish is shown, everyone opens their eyes
Also, their noses are wide-opening
Then someone points, race!
A word that has more than one meaning
Are dangerous thoughts
Oh thee tell me if all people can understand you
Like give me food, or I will food you, or let’s eat our food
And like, I mean something, but someone else thinks I’m means
What ye in thine way if I ask what is it for you?
Someone would say, riddle, riddle, riddle!

©️ Ismael Mansoor

You cannot be biased on your own for the world

God wants you to love me,
But somebody asks, which God?
Your God or mine?
And other might say, the gods
Oh yes, the gods with small capitals,
But if the answer is no, the Gods with big capitals,
Does it mean, We want you to love me,
Or the Holy Ones want you to understand me,
But the old-time where people would say blasphemy
The blasphemy used to get involved a lot,
But not today, or so I thought, why? Too many religions
In the world so what I want to say
That I believe in our Holy Creator, the God who is ours
But not your God or mine or his or her or their but ours
Well, if you want the world to be peaceful,
You cannot be biased on your own for the world.

©️ Ismael Mansoor

Belief is Unstoppable

SHEEP. Wolf and Lion, you cannot stop me.
WOLF. I can help you – we need you, my friend.
LION. I can lead you since I am like a king.
SHEEP. I need nothing! I don’t need you two!
I fight for Sheep- not — not for Wolf nor Lion!
I don’t eat meat but grass! You like my meats!
What are they doing? What you two doing?
And if I fail – Shepherd will protect me –
Believe he fights for the Lord his God.
WOLF. I like what you have done with your place.
LION. It ends tonight – I know I will rule,
That is why the knowledge in me is king.
SHEEP. Lion, I can remind you once more time,
That I am the one that will stop your reign

©️ Ismael Mansoor

Confront the bitter to get out of the poetry

My mind swims into the pool of poetry,
But the rippling prose thanks to every drop from the above.
I thank You, said I to Him, in the pool of poetry,
I honour You with my thoughts, even if I disappoint myself,
Like I was depressed, low feelings, and probably a hypocrite.
Why do I think I was hypocritical? I told you that I love animals,
But I eat some of them, hm, and I told you that I love peace,
But I have anger, hm, and I told you that I love our Holy One,
But I have sinned before Him, so how many times I told you that I love,
Well, my thoughts, the Miracle, the Miracle, that’s chanting,
Like when the ripple drops a drop, the pool of poetry wave, to the endless of the edge.

©️ Ismael Mansoor

Am I talking to myself?

The imagination’s words flow,
What does your heart say?

Searcher:  What did my heart say to me?

Searcher is digging inside him, and his soul whispers to him,
Searcher, the Miracle Creator is with you.

Searcher:  Did I imagine? Or was it real?

Searcher is digging inside him, he looks everywhere, and he finds nothing is suspicious.

Searcher:  Surely, I have heard something inside me has whispered to me.

Searcher’s soul is whispering, 
The Miracle Creator.

Searcher:  I heard thrice!

Again Searcher is digging inside him, and he tries to find where the whisper comes from.

Searcher’s soul: Searcher, the Miracle Creator is here.

Searcher: Am I talking to myself? Or someone tries to talk to me.

All is silent for a little while.

Searcher: Am I talking to myself?

Searcher goes through his sacred work, and he tries to figure all through it.

Searcher’s soul: He is the Miracle Creator, our Holy One.

Searcher: I am in my head, so what have I been up to with my imagination?

Searcher’s soul: Our Holy Creator is everywhere! He is everywhere!

Searcher is uncertain with the whisper that voice inside him,

Searcher: Am I still imaging? Fantasy?

Searcher’s soul: Miracle!

Searcher: My thoughts whisper, He is the Pure!

The imagination’s words flow,
What does your heart say?

Searcher’s thoughts: Miracle?

Searcher’s soul: Only we know.

©️ Ismael Mansoor

Different function in the body

I give you a slice of bread, said my head,
And my tummy said I eat the bread.
My heart said me give you faith,
But my soul said I wait for you.
What you waited for? said my path.
Now you see, who are you? Which one is thou?
Thee tell the body, which one,
You or soul or heart or mind or all at once?
Which one art thou? Which one?
Thee find it so hard to answer, which one or all at once
Now I feel my body, wondering what’s going on inside me?
Like how they live and function for me
Wait, wait, what are we doing to the Earth?
The wonder makes me dig so deep, well, what I can do.

©️ Ismael Mansoor

A stream of too much words

My mind was like a stream of distortion,
Distraction, too many words, traffic.
He knows, but methinks, He knew.
It is Him that He is our Holy Creator,
But I don’t mean Him as a male, He is not a man nor a woman,
But a word He who needs no one but Himself.
They said a mother gives life to the front of our eyes,
But a father alone cannot give, so the mother must get involved,
So the mother of our mothers are the essence for life,
But He who needs no one, it is Him, the First,
And it will be Him, the Last, not you nor me.
Now you see why I say He, for a man alone, cannot produce life,
Without their woman, you see that I think too far,
Like the stream of distortion, distraction, too many words, traffic!
I think not low of women, but I think highly of them because they are givers,
So we men must treat them equal that like they would treat us equal, always been
From the old-time to now that women have been treating men as men want,
But my mind went too far, so I am a just person who talks out of the words.

©️ Ismael Mansoor


The imagination planes on the view,
Bee is in it, and Windy looks at him,
She said I carry your wings whatever you need,
Because my spirit is always with you.

The imagination planes on the world,
Bee flies all around it, and Windy quickly grabs him,
She said, forgive me that I blow you,
So hard that drains your wings’ energy.
Bee smiles, and he fuzzies, with honey,
He said to her, I can turn the world into a garden,
Don’t you think so? Let my joy and share.
All is well, the imagination cherishes.

©️ Ismael Mansoor