Saturday 19th March 2011

Pretzels look like twisted hearts covered in sweet sticky syrup. Sometimes bitter when covered in salt, sometimes sweet when covered in sugar, dark and sweet when covered in chocolate but twisted nonetheless.

I’ve never been a fan of pretzels, nor twisted hearts, because I’ve only ever tasted the ones covered in salt, I’ve never had the pleasure of indulging in a sweet pretzel.

You do get used to the taste of the salted and dried pretzels but you get to a point where you stop eating. You forget about the pretzel, what it tastes like, the scent, the texture, every single part of the pretzel becomes non existent in your taste memory, you only remember holding it in your hand and seeing it covered in those mahoosive rocks of salt, which require you to drink a gallon of water after each packet to rehydrate because every single pretzel in the packet is covered in gigantic rocks of salt.

Would you prefer another packet of Pretzels, one which hasn’t been open to invasion by the atmosphere, a closed tightly sealed packet, or a different flavour perhaps…

What happens when you’re in the midst of a sweetened pretzel?

Will you test the pretzel flavour placing it on the tip of your tongue, or shove the whole pretzel into your mouth and wait for the surprise?
Will you gamble all you fear on buying that lottery ticket for the chance of having a winning ticket?

How can you differentiate a twisted bitter heart from a pretzel when there’s no comparison, didn’t you say that you forgot what a pretzel looked, tasted, felt and smelt like, surely you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference?

How on earth could you compare a pretzel to a heart, how do you even remember the word pretzel and not have any idea of its associated images?

There are so many inconsistencies in your statements.

Story of my life…

Pretzels – twisted and bittersweet: broken, repaired, recovering, shattered, tarnished, mending, healing, sweet, warm, cold, lustful, loving, nurturing, bright, heavy, light, sour, misused, heartless

Friday 25th March 2011

The sun still shines after the darkest night, even after the darkest of grey clouds obstructs its view, its there in the midst of a storm shining bright, illuminating the path of life.

The sun still shines in the clear blue sky, on the brightest of days, when my mood is contrary to the weather, the sun shines brightly whilst I remain inside.

I don’t want to smile, I want to lay here in this duvet, wrapped in my own melancholy for a while.

I don’t want to climb out of my duvet, to glance out of the window to see the sights, I wish it was night time, I can’t seem to hide from the light.

Away from the sun I prefer to hide, today I feel like I’m hollow inside.

The sky outside of my window is bright, I feel like a stranger to the light, so I squint my eyes.

I can’t stop it from happening, revelations are bright, time to get out of this duvet and open my eyes to the light.

The sun still shines.

Sometimes we hold the power in our hands but we’re afraid to use it. Imagine that you have a set of superpowers but you’re scared to use it because with great power comes even greater responsibility.

Use the force to inspire change in the hearts and minds of others. Use your skills to carve a clear route through the impermeable present to a bright future.

Sitting beneath that dark cloud from to day has got you trapped within a set of self inflicted woes. Transform your mindset from victim to victor.

As you stand on that cliff edge with nothing but an abyss of possibility ahead of you and an orchard of woes behind you, what will you do?

There’s no parachute, rescue helicopter or absail, allow your wits to become your wings and fly.

3,2,1 jump…

Sunday 16th January 2023, 10:47am

Bismillah
What I say when I start my ayah
Showing praise to my creator
I’m grateful, words inspire
All praise is due to Allah
I show gratitude in my ayah
I don’t ask Allah is provider
Protector, teacher and guider
Bismillah ar-raheim ar-Rahman

Islam reflects what’s in nature
Which helps me understand creator
All praise is due to Allah
Bismillah ar-raheim ar-Rahman
The way I open my ayah
I’m grateful for my creator
Seek guidance in holy Quran
It flows so I fill up my cup.

Shortlands to Victoria station (Friday 1st March 2024, 11:12)

At the intersection of want and need
My career feels like stand still,
A process testing my patience and will
No matter how fast I run
I’m standing still…
Career on treadmill.

Interval sprints, start and stopping
Accelerating and slowing
Hanging on to what feels like an empty promise
I made to myself
I’ve just been grafting catching Ls
Setbacks and Lessons
As time goes by and I lose track of myself
I feel like I’ve failed.

Yo fam, What’s good, what’s popping?
When’s the new ting dropping?
I don’t when cah I ain’t been creating
Recording or writing
I’ve been swept away tryna get promoted
Inspiration ain’t been arriving…
As regular as I’ve wanted
Can’t say I ain’t had time,
I just ain’t been focused on creating.
I ain’t been disciplined
I haven’t been intentional with what I’ve done
Too much experimental creating whilst streaming
I went offline to align my feelings
Now I’m on this train
Journaling what’s in my brain
In the aftermath of feeling like
I’ve wasted a thousand days

(Amazing how much life can change in a year)

Monday 17th October 2022, 13:41

Life revolves around cycles.

Nature is one big cycle and being part of it, it would be unnatural to assume I am above the divine process of life’s cycle.

Just as water evaporates, condensates and precipitates, so do we go through a cycle.

Does it depend on what or who you are that determines the type of cycle, it’s length and scale of intensity but I suspect that it’s relative to the part you play in the production of nature itself.

I know this seems abstract but looking out onto the life outside of my own, especially as the autumn leaves begin to start their descent to the soil.

I can’t help but to reflect and appreciate the cycles we go through. It makes me appreciate every little moment because each stage, each season, serves a divine purpose.

The leaves that descend from the branches to the soil get a chance to provide sustenance to it. The same nutrients feed the roots of the tree and make it stronger in time for it to go full cycle and blossom on the branches once again.

Embrace your cycle.

For me I guess I go through cycles of creative outlets. Sometimes it’s the beats, sometimes it’s the words on the beats, sometimes it’s the self reflective podcasts and then I go back to the source which is the poetry.

That’s my cycle at the moment.

I feel this need to write as we approach the season of hibernation. Reflect on the seasons previous, scribe the notebook poetry to my journal app and then get that into a manuscript and possibly record. That’s what it’s about that’s my autumn to winter motive. Compile and schedule so I got a drop per month, keep me on my toes.

Tuesday 29th September 2020, 03:10

I keep throwing up prayers like QB’s on a 4th down

Hoping god delivers the ball to the wide receiver

Who is in the place where I envision me.

I’m going to the end zone.

I’ve tried to run the ball

Strategically advancing

Yard by yard

Patiently moving the sticks

As the play clock runs out

I calling audibles on it.

End zone.

I can see it in my sights

Adapt on the move

Switch it up

I’m going to the end zone.

Two down, 8 more to go

4th down and out of range

I’m going to the end zone.

Ima launch this prayer in the sky

God please deliver this to me across the line

I’m going to the end zone

Enough’s enough

I switched on late into the game

To win this game you can’t be afraid

I’m going to the end zone

I won’t question whether you hear my prayers

I aim in the direction where your laws will carry it there

I’m going to the end zone.

4th quarter, 4th down, 4points down

40yds inside of my halfway line

I’m going to the end zone.

Friday 6th December 2024, 1207

The best way to achieve anything and avoid suffering from burnout is to concentrate on doing a little bit often rather than try and scale the whole task in one go.

Many times through life I’ve crammed for tests or in the case of my dissertation left it until the very last minute to start.

I misinterpreted my procrastination as ‘thriving under pressure’ or laziness but most often the rush of anxiety it gives you ultimately robs you of the sense of achievement after you’ve accomplished something.

The above is a result of a lack of fundamental prep and planning. I can attest to that, I lived that first hand.

My failure to think and operate with any form of long term planning and goal setting had me scarce in a survivalist mindset.

I was robbing myself of the joys that came with my accomplishments, I was simply relieved I made it over the obstacles.

Now imagine if I had plotted and schemed to scale these mountains, how better prepared I could’ve been. I would’ve excelled and exceeded my potential tenfold.

I’m not saying I haven’t had long term think or vision or even dreams, I just didn’t connect all my attributes strategically to excel.

I love where my journey is now and sitting on this train, enroute to work, I’ve finally made the connection.

It took me years to get here and now I’ve arrived at this epiphany I feel like it can only get better from here.

Self awareness and reflection, the gift that keeps giving.

October 20 2010, 7:09 AM

Here’s a preview of a project I’m working on called The Island. 

It’s an ode which is:

A lyric poem in the form of an address to a particular subject, often elevated in style or manner and written in varied or irregular meter.

Oxford Dictionary of English

I’m really trying to push boundaries in regards to my writing style. I believe that there’s so much more to the use of language over music than just ‘spitting’ sixteen ‘bars’. I set out to paint very descriptive pictures and bring back a form of personal indulgement not seen in popular music since the times of old.

Why should I confine myself to a box like the others, why can’t I become an alternative multifaceted popstar respected for my craft rather than all the smoke and mirrors that surround it?

This is art, this is pure emotion and literary prowess. This is me challenging myself as well as sharpening my skills, whilst bringing back the ways of old in the process.

This is me taking advantage of all the tools at my disposal to convey my art in every impossible dimension, so the audience feel all perspectives in order to stimulate their senses.

Imagine if William Shakespeare lived in the 21st century, what would he do?

Peace and Love

Khalid Omari

A few nights ago I got round to recording an underrated and significant piece of poetry I wrote in 2017 after a random encounter one Wednesday morning. It would be years until I understood the phenomena or even revisited the piece to structure or make sense of it. The app I wrote it on doesn’t’t provide an audit trail annoyingly so I couldn’t see when I started to make the edits. As you’ll come to learn about me depending on how long you’ve been following what I’ve been doing is that I love an audit trail because time and date carries as much significance as the pice itself. It’s how I reflect back and know exactly how and what I was feeling at a specific date and time.

I recorded the poetry into Logic Pro X to no backing track at all and managed to narrate it from my external monitor which display it much bigger, thankfully, than the days of old when I used to do it from my actual MacBook. The great thing about nowadays is that I can split the screen between LPX and Pages to really record and narrate at one time.

At the moment of posting I haven’t taken any photos of my live stream setup but over a course of time I’ll keep you updated with how it unfolds. The way my desk is organised it definitely does make it easier however I feel like the arrival of MacOS Monterrey will likely make it easier to control the stream as for something like OBS can be pushed to my iPad Air but then again why don’t I just use Sidecar?

Maybe I need to test it out from a response perspective to be able to check comments and viewers whilst streaming. Also I can’t benefit from MacOS updates straight away as I’ve got to wait until the manufacturers of my equipment release firmware updates that are compatible first and even then I’ve still got to be wary. This was the case after upgrading to Big Sur. My MacBook Pro still crashes randomly when loading particular Maschine files which is sometimes a major nightmare when trying to work. What you will found in this stream is that it kinda happens with LPX when loading up You Remind Me file as the Splendid riddim is access via the Akai MPC Live 2 being in controller mode with the file stored on its SSD drive that I recently installed.

I know some of the above may sound like gobberdy goop to the unfamiliar eye but its all relative to the process hence why its been documented in blog form. Anyway… without further adieu here’s You Remind Me from a collection of pieces entitled Internal Affairs that may feature on Rhythm & Prose: 1012BC. The video of the stream is also available to watch below too via the embed.

Stay up to date with future broadcasts by following me on Twitch and YouTube.

25th March 2017, 1015

You remind me of someone I once knew.

I think it’s the way your sunglasses are resting at top of your head as if they are some kind of tiara or hair band, holding your long dark hair with blond streaks running through it from covering your deep brown eyes that tell an eternity of stories.

You speak with the same linguistic flow and cadence as the person I once knew, poetic and soothing as the sound of the majestic Iguazú falls.

You remind me of her.

Similar genetic and cultural DNA, chilled and laid back sensibility, an air of having no care in the world, an island retreat and paradise.

Unlike Odysseus’ saga on Ogygia with the nymph Calypso, our stillness in time was but a moment. A grain of sand that seemed to take forever to fall through the portal from the top of the hourglass to the pile of grains at the bottom.

You remind me of someone who I dedicated verse after verse to.

Manuscripts manifested from a collection of thoughts.

Up late at night riding spiralling free writing trains of thought in a feeble attempt to descramble my brain. I ride this bus in the hope that writing it all down allows me to remove the remnants of you.

You remind me of the love I once chased as if I were the soda trying to mix with a concentrated and refined taste that burns the heart seconds after the initial sip had passed through my lips, meandering through the grooves of my tongue, flowing down the dark unchartered throatal abyss to leave a bitter taste in my mouth if left for too long between sips.

Madting.