Poetic Fatwā

Fatwā – poet of obligation.

Fatwā – poet permissible to verses.

Fatwā – poet of life.

Fatwā – poet of commendable ink.


Fatwā poet of obligation.

Poet of declarations of judgment, and learned interpretations.

Of a jungle in the consummation of the universe.

Like life, flaming trees and dying roots.


Fatwā poet of oceanic magnificence,

Poet of ale creaking from waterfalls,

Poet of fatawā, plains of tattered solitude,

Of deepening melancholic repose.


Fatwā poet permissible to verses,

Rhythmical floating pages.

Fatwā – God!

Poetry of awakening,

Pronounced and be it forms.

Voidless pit, darkness and a hovering spirit.

The solitude of God was eccentric,

A nymphet symphony to turn stones into moles.

Verses of authority and wine rulers.

FATWĀ – poet of life.

It began with immortal reign of man, upon Eden,

When nakedness enchanted you.

Nakedness of glory.

It was written in the livened tablets of Musa,

Stroke from the molars of Sinai,

A mouth whet with purification and war

It is said, you became the sheath upon God’s sword,

The Mufti on red pepper prayer annoyance.

The balance of God’s chaotic mind.

The provision for dialogue.

It formed itself as Usul-al-fiqh and Heinsberg preached,

Deciphering the tenets of uncertainty.

You were seen from courtyard recitations, from mythological compositions

You who issued decrees that man could fight God,

Twisted behind Hellenistic, Elizabethan, Mystic and Islamic literature.

You witnessed the crusaders faith supremacy,

The sunnahs calibrated on spears and swords.

You forgot the basis of mutual existence,

And worded quills to acquire blood as ink.

In the halls of Siddhartha, man found himself,

Established logic as a potent manifestation of living.

Hedonism liberated musical seduction,

And banana leaves wept at the anarchy of inspiration.


When God became calm and watched,

You responded with banging his head with jurisprudence,

Issued by diyanets and councils of pious men,

Textbook polymaths, bishops and ulamas.

And when God died,

You responded with inflated science,

And pen berated in the fountain of empiricism and data.

FATWĀ – poet of hadiths,

From Roman textual sensuality,

The Greek mythos and affixed colors,

From Yoruba spectacles that scanned platitude.

To conviction of shades of honey in different forests,

To Dante’s hell, venomous and spiteful.


The principles of violin whispers:

To Islam

You are the analogy of learnt legal opinions,

And sulfurous to those who attempt to talk against the faith,

You are the ruling.

To Christianity

You are the potent evil bent on spreading rivalry faith.

A devised system for obliteration.

A pseudo-scholarly perfectionism.

To Logic

You are wasted effort, picked from dying baobabs in the Arabian Desert,

Hurt from obstacles of achieving control.

A tool for Stone Age.

To Poetry

You are the ruminant stomach of force,

A despondent mediocrity to malignancy of poetic license.

A shadow in the oceanic tides, unpopular and whimsical.

To Allah. God.

You are a form of universal sadness,

Bent injurer, the opener of wounds healed by prayer.

Which when God answers, becomes a subject of irrationality.




A -Poet of life.

Construed to perfectionist strands of living,

A hypothesis of negative I.Q,

Perchance of sublimity.

A frog’s dance on a floating reed in a muddy swamp.

You are fatwa the decree of life.

The symbol of evolution’s Failure or Success?

Fatwa? Contemporary Madrasah tutors?

Who begets Who?


Fatwa: The providence for insult, the slain droplets of the lamb.

Fatwa: The alphabets of life, the breath of bread.

FA: The cloak of the lamb turned a soldier,

Slain hides from Iblis gourd of blended skins.

TWA: The bullet of hospitable truths, the light consonant,

Of dark vowels metamorphosed on blunt spatial spikes.

The speeding Dracula and continental romping collisions.

The wheeling strangulation of races, virgin stars earmarked by suicidal rapists,

Abetted from a mythical rose.


Exhibition of why man created God in his own thinking.

The chants of Kaaba, the dark reside,

Tempering stones into hailstorms to fight Iblis.

The remarks of Vatican, the circling confusion,

Saints and golden vessels, invocation and praises.


C: The Conjunction of beliefs and murders jugular on poetry.

H: The lithe Hermit cave of God.

Hidden from the shame of escapism,

Calculating the mathematical economics of procreation.

A: Appeasement.

O: The Ordinance of God.

Unpredictable premises as to what followed what,

Science confounded in the realization of God’s bustling mitochondria.

The canvas, paper-fetching disturbance,

To Write God.

S: Silence.

The metaphor of ages.


The shapeless filaments of hope.

Forestall, and then highlight the individual’s peace.


Rhyme: Folded letters.

Rhyme: Scouted. Forced. Brutal. Fuck.

Rhyme spelt in the cold whispers of the winds, muffled. Fuck.


Who computed misrepresentations of faith?

Who made God ere crumble in primeval black-holes?

Fatwa – poet of commendable ink, does God enjoy multiplicity?

Could it be that His hiatus is a reflection?

Or that the deafening human shrills are just tiresome.

What about the seventy two virgins crafted for thirst,

Is it the forbidden fruit that was shaped between Eve’ thighs,

The juicy forte; the sliding cave for man’s slithering penis,

Or a blessing?

An urn for satisfied desires?

Is it the art-luster of a woman’s nudity?

Or an epistemology of Aristotle tactical thinking?

From whence then, do mathematical encryptions blaze towards?

Is it a repository realm of God’s potency?


Does God move at the sight of death?

Is it an art beyond your poetic pregnancy?


Has genes expertise modeled brains to work in varying sequence,

Fluidity of mechanical polarity,

Chemical, biological and geographical connotations?

Did God accommodate all these in the universe?

And sent forth humans to discover depths,

Albeit from thought splitting hues?


How does God reason, is his mind a mine and sea.

A purposefully evidenced cutting of the cursed apple,

Or a proclamation defense in the heralder’s religion?


Does God compose poems, or has he turned into a philosopher?

Is he young or old and what goes on in his mind?

Is he tickled by amorous humans fucking with strangers?

To appease body statistics?

To preach liberation?

In humanity’s lust, does he draw us nude?

In our naturalistic coming and aborting,

Does he grumble on the aridity of human conscience?

F    A    T   W   A

To faithful travelers of the cosmos and meek at heart. Pray for them.

To spiteful creatures, farting in God’s nose, the rugged libertines.

To atheists, empiricism and proof haunted miners of logic.

To crisis, the militancy of faith and logic.

To humanists, you hold the decree for humanity.

The sound of Nature or God You create a balance


How do you define God, is God the gravitational pull,

Does he center the earth?

Is God the ink that pours from your pen, is God the menace of Satan?

How did his creation acquire such power in his watch?

Is God Ma’at, can he equate Kemeticism, did he approve the book of the dead?

What about African fables?

Is He the invisible force of Masonic literature?

Fatwa is God the poet of life?

The combiner of unfounded tempest.

Does God endorse poetry?

© Eddy Ongili 2014

All Rights Reserved

Inspired by Umar Abubakar Sidi’s ‘Testaments of Sand’


2 thoughts on “Poetic Fatwā

  1. Quite long but I must admit it seems well thought out. However, its stale news that God, the one I am coming to believe, is the one I am teaching myself about.


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