Grey's Book Club

By DIONNE SEARCEY SEPT. 22, 2016 Continue reading the main story Share This Page Photo

Children’s Headphones May Carry Risk of Hearing Loss By CATHERINE SAINT LOUIS   DEC. 6, 2016 SHARE Credit Keith Negley 

It rises from the east and sets in the west it shadows the earth when its gone it brightens the horizon when it comes it kisses the earth good morning it bids a fine goodnight

LIFE We all want to be unique so, we end up loving the abnormal things we find love in insanity and tranquility in disgrace - we call it being brave We roam the streets forcefully loving what we hate then we don't remember the difference but we still want to be different from many other mistakes - we call it choices

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Darkening Our Minds: The Problem of Pornography among Christians Article ID: JAF1273 | By: Joe Dallas This article first appeared in Christian Research Journal , volume 27, number 03 (2004). For further information or to subscribe to the Christian Research Journal go to: http://www.equip.org/christian-research-journal/

By Cesare Pavese Translated by Geoffrey Brock     Rain will fall again on your smooth pavement, a light rain like a breath or a step. The breeze and the dawn will flourish again when you return, as if beneath your step. Between flowers and sills the cats will know. There will be other days, there will be other voices. You will smile alone. The cats will know. You will hear words old and spent and useless like costumes left over from yesterday’s parties. You too will make gestures. You’ll answer with words— face of springtime, you too will make gestures. The cats will know, face of springtime; and the light rain and the hyacinth dawn that wrench the heart of him who ...

I was listening to a book on tape while driving and when the author said, “Those days I delighted in everything,” I pulled over and found a pencil and a parking ticket stub because surely there was a passage of life where I thought “These days I delight in everything,” right there in the present, because they almost all feel like that now, memory having markered only the outline while evaporating the inner anxieties of earlier times. Did I not disparage my body for years on end, for instance, although, in contrast that younger one now strikes me as near-Olympian? And the crushing preoccupations of that same younger self might seem magically diluted, as though a dictator in hindsight, had only been an overboard character —  but not so. Where went the fear, dense as the sudden dark in the woods, of being alone, or the bruise of 3:30 pm in a silent apartment, when the disenfranchised live only with the sunlight through the blinds, just pr...

Swim o sinner! Your sins make you stink. Swim in the sea of hunger as it pangs, It sprinkle away your odor. Swim o sinner! Your sins make you heavy. Swim in the sea of difficulty as it roars it eases your burden. Swim o sinner! Your sins make you ugly. Swim In the sea of sickness as it hot, It squeezes out your excess. Swim o sinner! Your sins' making your kafir. Swim in the sea of repentance, If you do, your Lord forgives you. Swim o sinner! Dying a sinner is dangerous. Swim now in either or all of the four to avoid swimming in Jahannam. ©Aswagaawy 04/2016 Ayeyemi Taofeek Aswagaawy is an essayist and poet, published on many literary publications including Peregrine Reads and PIN Quarterly journal. He won the 2013 Equity Prize of Advocacy, LASULAWS Best Writer Award 2016 and other coveted prizes.

This day takes me back the memory lane; The nostalgia of Prophet Ibrahim in pain. The days that barrenness was his lapel, And his prayers all tend to be dark spells. I remember the day his wish was granted, But then after, such wish back He wanted. I see the tears in his heart and silent tears that bemoaned his mind and his deep fears. In the end, his eyes and heart dart into dance, As the God replaced his son with a ram. This historic event birthed the festive of today, This historical event is a lecture for us today. I remember also the pain of Prophet Muhammad, On such festive day, God took his own lad. What a tragedy that greeted his morning, Instead of feasting the Holy man was mourning. It was his grief that birthed the nine tekbeer, It was his agony that birthed the seventh tekbeer. It was his sorrow that beckoned Suratul Kawthar. It was his perseverance that gave him the Kawthar.* This day came with stains rammed in pain, But in the end, for us, it...

By Tarfia Faizullah   I saw then the white-eyed man leaning in to see if I was ready yet to go where he has been waiting to take me. I saw then the gnawing sounds my faith has been making and I saw too that the shape it sings in is the color of cast-iron mountains I drove so long to find I forgot I had

jaleeb.com And the chill swept up my spine again And I wonder what its name is and the rhythm up my spine is retained throwing me into this bothersome quiz Its rhythm is bold more than a million years old its wind is wet, sometimes dry on the threshold it leaves a man falling to his knees beneath blankets, shaking to its freeze Stronger men bow to its wrath unlike fire, it solidifies your heart its blue love like a loving breath of God I have seen its madness, this feeling know no flaws

God is generous. We have life, yet the screeching noise of sorrow still erupts the canals of our ears and drive us to the brink of insanity, driving us deeper into the wilderness. Then we look at ourselves and ask ‘where did it all go wrong?’ I have lived long enough to know my right from wrong and I can tell right now, that where I come from, there is something wrong and it has eaten deep into the bones of our future. Our children. Where I come from, the pedestrians don’t smile anymore, the houses have higher fences and electric gates, buildings are taller, rich are richer and poor are poorer. And life goes on. Our future is bright but our present is dark that we don’t even see that brightness anymore. Children are lost. Their subconscious minds do nothing but wallow the deep gorge of our hate, deceit and violence. I see people cheating their own, I see people scared to look back, people scared to look forward. I see a city of gold now covered in slime, I see...