Broken Beautiful People

Everyday feels like a different introduction,
As if my doctor prescribes different medication everyday,
Understand from my point you are just another hallucination,

Tomorrow might be,
Hi, my name is Khalid, can we be friends,
While yesterday could have been,
Hi, my name is Khalid, please leave me alone,

Don’t blame yourself, most of the time I blame myself,
I’ve been told broken people are beautiful,
Yet, I don’t believe this statement,

Future days might be,
Hi, my name is Khalid, instead of telling you the truth,
I will lie and pretend everything is alright,
Past days might have been,
Hi, my name is Khalid, today I refuse to leave my room,
I do not want any visitors nor do I want to visit others,

Slowly though, similar to a snail’s pace,
I am starting to understand what it means,
For somebody to say ‘broken people are beautiful people’,

Instead of Starbucks and Hollywood gossip,
Conversations with me lead us down spiral dirt paths,
Analyzing Ginsburg, performing Kerouac,
Abortion, Coke, and Nancy Reagan will be discussed,

Whether we are dreaming or driving impaired,
At least we will have found a comfortable bed to rest on,
It could be ours or the Sahara,
Maybe a Cuban beach under our picnic blanket,

Who knows? Who cares?
All that matters is that we are not hallucinating,
Merely happy, in accordance with, our right hand,
Touching one another after asking for permission,

Black, Queer, and Fat & Israeli, Palestinian, and Ignorant

Three adjectives typed by White Supremacists and House Slaves,
Fat black queers must not exist,
Momma prays for you to find a good woman who knows how to cook,
Momma prefers a thick ghetto girl from the hood,
Whose won twerk contests from Atlanta to L.A,
Over finding out her black son is gay,

Each of them have two hands, two feet, two ears, two eyes, and one heart,
Standing on opposite sides of an imaginary line,
One wears a yamaka, kisses a wall, and speaks Yiddish,
One wears a hijab, kisses a stone, and speaks Arabic,
Imagine the level of deception it took to cause,
Rockets and bullets to murder children on Sundays,

In Your Arms

I have come to realize, the safest place in the world,
Where I feel invincible, like Superman,
A place where no one can hurt me,
Is when I am in your arms,

Don’t take offense, when I don’t return a warm embrace,
I have never been protected from high winds and cold fronts,
So just the fact someone has accepted me as I am,
Seems like a fairy-tale, an unrealistic expectation,

Wish To Be A Lover, Not A Fighter

I’m tired of all the violence, all I wanna’ be is a lover,
All my life I have been fighting, never believed in finding comfort,
But this time I found myself cutting, sitting alone in front of [a] gravestone,
Found peace in the silence, after you left me sitting in my own violence,
Believed there was no point in trying, been quiet for far too long,

I was in need of a miracle, found myself searching for a savior,
Didn’t want to be a burden, so I silenced my tongue and lied about [my] struggle,
Read in holy books to ask for a favor, while my arms bleed would be hypocritical,
My mind never accepts silence, so much noise and I hate it,
If I could be a lover, I would lower my fists in a heartbeat,

If speaking honestly, I am afraid of crying, don’t want to become like [my] father,
Apologize after causing bruises, repeat offender lying daily,
Would rather create paper planes and fly them alongside [my] Co-Pilot,
Sketch love into the sky while [the] clouds in the sky praise our names,
Wish to become a lover and for God to stop the violence so that I can cry,

Cloud 9ine

Have you counted the number of times,
Your fingers made love 2 Piano keys,
Under reflective moonlight,

Asked to share a glass of love with Eric Clapton,
While reminiscing alongside Hemingway for hours,
Reminded of wisdom from Jean-Michel Basquait,

Our bodies paint canvases without brushes,
Our Intellect spelled Complexity,
Upon Sands of Insanity,

Bring forth simplistic clues,
As history preys upon seamstresses,
We prepare a toast sitting upon Olympus,

#MeToo (When A Muslim Somali ‘Brother’ Raped Me In The Mosque Parking Lot)

It has been roughly 6+ months since I was sexually assaulted. Too be honest, I don’t know if I ever will heal from it. In the beginning, I tried to trick myself into believing the perpetrator was a stranger. I tried everything from telling myself over and over that the individual who assaulted me was Christian, was White, and/or just a visitor sleeping over at a friend’s house. All of these statements are lies. Instead, I have decided to come clean and tell those who care to listen exactly what happened and how it has impacted me and my connection with not only St. Cloud Muslims but my religion.

The individual who raped me was not a stranger nor was he White. My rapist was [a] Muslim who I had come into contact with before. I never talked to him in the past. I had seem him while eating and shopping at Mogadishu and 33rd Street Mall. The individual who raped me was African, more specifically Somali. Whether this person lives in St. Cloud or was just visiting from Minneapolis I have no idea. What follows is graphic so if you want to skip this paragraph do so. I had parked behind the White mosque which is located adjacent to the St. Cloud State University campus. It was roughly 11am. The parking lot was full; after I took the last spot which was located in the very back of the lot.

As I was getting my backpack out of the hatchback trunk a Somali ‘brother’ walked behind me. He shoved me with extreme force. My body tightened. My biological father sexually assaulted me between the ages of 5-9. This Muslim ‘brother’ pulled down my pants and penetrated me. Extreme pain came over my body. After several minutes I became lifeless. A lot of people will reply ‘well you are a man. You are strong and big in stature. You should have fought back. You didn’t so that means you enjoyed it’. This isn’t how rape works. The reason why I didn’t make noise was because my mind tried its best to protect me. By not yelling or fighting back which could have made things worse (or cause the rapist to become more violent); the rape lasted a shorter amount of time than compared to if I tried to fight back. That doesn’t mean I enjoyed it or liked it. It was the worse, most traumatic experience I have ever gone through.

This incident was not caught on camera due to the fact the mosque parking lot doesn’t have cameras. Even though the rape happened in broad daylight, no one was around. My car was parked all the way in the back of the lot. For a long time, I tried to lie and give Islam and other Muslims the benefit of the doubt. After I was sexually assaulted the part of me which was religious withdraw from the world. 6+ months after being sexually assaulted I am caught between two positions; a hatred towards other Muslim men and a hatred of myself. I don’t blame Islam, rather I love my religion but those who practice it I have become disconnected with. Even though I pray 5 times a day or at least make up the prayers I missed; my passion regarding memorizing Qur’an and using prayer beads has disappeared. Whenever I walk past any mosque, park in the parking lot of which this sexual assault occurred, or come into contact with Somali men, I feel in danger. I suffer the same torment as I did while the ‘Muslim’ brother penetrated me.

It could be years until I come even close to accepting or forgiving the person who did this to me. It could be years until I find my way back to being a practicing Muslim. In no way do I have any inclination of leaving Islam. Rather, I intend to stay with my religion but practice it in secret while alone. One issue that I have currently is a lack of support from those around me. I love my wife but she doesn’t understand, comprehend, or believe that sexually assault is serious. I suffer from PTSD and Chronic Depression. If I walk too close to an entrance of a Mosque, I become tense and anxious. My heart feels like it is going to explode. I am afraid the same Somali man will walk out of the entrance and see me.

This is my story of #MeToo. I am a Muslim man who was sexually assaulted by another Muslim man. Rape does not just happen to women. Both men and women have gone through this struggle and will continue to face it together.

How To Fall In Love With Your Soul-Mate

Step 1: Enter Details
Step 2: Click Login
Step 3: Open Chat
Step 4: Flirt
Step 5: Fall In Love
Step 6: Will you Marry Me?
Step 7: Wait for Answer
Step 8: Fly Half Way Across the World,
Step 9: Meet My Soul Mate
Step 10: Close Facebook

In theory, we chatted for 3 months,
But in reality, we married after our first date,
Flew half way across the world,
Just to marry my soulmate,
How did I know she was the one?
After a couple days of creeping,
Critiquing her Facebook profile,
Found a picture of her eating Pizza,
Her adorable no make-up applied face,
Eating my favorite food with a fork,
Knew she was the one so I bought a plane ticket,

Believe or not,
Our wedding day went like this,
We were picked up by her mother,
Dropped off at her uncles,
I was interviewed by her family,
While she prepared tea in the kitchen,
When did you become Muslim?
Are u Shia?
Who were the four Caliphs?
Why do you wanna’ marry Lili?
Are you ready for marriage?
What do you do for a living?

After I received approval,
Lili was ushered into a room full of women,
Her uncle walked alongside me to the mosque,
Afterwords he escorted me to his home,
I remember turning on the TV,
Eating food that was sitting out without permission,
Putting me feet up on his sofa as if I owned the place,
Lili’s uncle Om Pit asked,
Why is he acting this way?
Are all Americans like this?
She replied, ‘don’t be mad.
He is American. It was how he was raised.’

Her uncle prepared a feast,
We both were escorted to the Mosque,
Sat in a circle while the Imam read from the Qur’an,
Asked me If I wanted to marry Lili,
I replied ‘Yes’,
Her uncle agreed,
Gave me his blessing,
Signed a contract which included a 500 dollar [Dowry},
Sitting in the middle of a group of women,
My wife in an all white dress,
Same as her picture without a cubic centimeter of powder,
We were escorted to her uncle’s home once again,
Every King and Queen through-out history,
Wouldn’t have come close to the banquet Om Pit orchestrated,
Enough food to feed all of North Korea,

Our first night together,
Both of us were nervous,
[A] virgin and a stubborn American,
Not sure who was to make the first move,
Or how loud we could be due to the fact,
At the time we were living in a Muslim majority country,
What would happen if the neighbors heard us,
My thoughts were racing,
Asking myself is she is a freak, or conservative,
Would it matter?

The next morning we were exhausted,
Didn’t matter the time,
We were trying to create a baby,
As soon as we said ‘I do’,
In the living room, bedroom, and kitchen,
It was in Indonesia while sweating 24/7,
Realized why I love her,
Why she was my soulmate,
Both of us were and still are bat-shit-crazy,
And if anybody should fall in love and marry,
Well, it should be 2 bat-shit-crazy people,

How to fall in love with your Soul-Mate,

Step 1: Enter Details
Step 2: Click Login
Step 3: Open Chat
Step 4: Flirt
Step 5: Fall In Love
Step 6: Will you Marry Me?
Step 7: Wait for Answer
Step 8: Fly Half Way Across the World,
Step 9: Meet My Soul Mate
Step 10: Close Facebook