Wednesday, 19 June 2019

sw13 timelines

hard rain
back again
at the wetlands
but this time with the elders
this time with a sense of self
this time, i felt
like a different person
this time, the lagoons had shrunk 
everything was smaller
black swan 
         was gone
I grew a few inches taller
gosh, life 
it's such a strange thing
such a strange and fragmented thing
i can't tell you 

Monday, 27 May 2019

Almost Blue

composed a eulogy in my head
        you're still alive, not yet dead
the words almost read

almost blue

 thinking of you
thinking of you

almost knew

it would end
always spend
too much time

starving, a bit sad
the last ten days
are here, i almost had
an inclination

almost blue
thinking of you

still wanting

it to be true

forever lasts a day

a single memory in a haze
growing thicker

and thicker

& thicker 

Friday, 17 May 2019

Here be everything- epilogue

a hundred hues
of gold and grey
a hundred reasons
to stay away
only one - to seek a new way
-to live
oh to live
to live to live to live
Ya Allah,
the holy month
is passing by ever so fast, 
this fleeting peace 
 never seems to last
unless you cultivate it
Ya Allah
in between fasting
and praying and yearning
and saying
things to You
in between working and wandering
reflecting and pondering
in between visits
to your house
on the edge of regents park
the elders are calling me
the sirens are wailing
the outlaws are scaling
in between
love and hate
the never-ending wait
and a fate-
willfully abandoned
In between it all

umbra sumus 

Saturday, 27 April 2019

stray-nge happ-nings

strange happenings
call point checks
running for miles
twilight reveries
until stillness descends
and reaches
until it's hard to breathe
strange happenings
silence in the shrine room
words by a canal 
the storm is raging in hackbridge
the dogs are barking in unison
a doll speaks
the money doesn't add up
strange happenings
not inside the internet
she said i would learn
strange happenings
outside a steam room
shrouded in white light
an elderly arab woman
 kisses my cheek
she says congratulations
i tell her she has mistaken me
for someone else
some one else. 
as she leaves she says
 she hopes 
it will come true
for you....

spirit guide?
 cosmic guru?

strange happenings

nothing ever happens

to exist in a black hole
to be swallowed up by the sun
to be blown away in hackbridge

gosh, that'd be fun >_<

Friday, 19 April 2019

jummah at sulimaniye

friday prayers
at suleymaniye masjid 
                                   wedged between 
a turkish giant
and a west african queen
nails done, scarlet
 gold rings adorning fingers
a fine and glamorous abaya 
perfect made up face

noor spreads

the khutbah is in turkish

lost in translation

i try to translate 
deeply caring
beautiful uzbek mother 
sign to her
young boy

jummah at suleymaniye
the men gather outside
wearing thawbs and smiles
kids squat on stairs by the tents
eating fresh kebabs and chicken
cooked by elders on the streets  
smoke spreads
kanafe and cake, 
families rejoice 
friends relate 

jummah at sulimaniye

haggerston lyf

Thursday, 18 April 2019

fulham micro climate

a cup of tea
the courage to be disliked
meiko kaji
blinding light
it refracts off the walls 
of the secret garden
the orchard 
its piercing beams 
 burn through the eyes
of caterpillars 
the legs of the ants 
collapse under its weight 
the bodies are blown away
the queen is nowhere to be found
i close my book
and lie back on the grass
the earth is quivering, inconsolable      
its still turning, 
bruised, broken, defiled 
earth is still yearning, 
for respite. 
the wretched are suffering, ever still
the walruses fall to their death
the sea lion's child is taken

the glaciers are melting
pink floyd is lamenting

-hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way-

Tuesday, 16 April 2019

- shad o's

umbra sumus
but our shadows are giants
but our shadows are friends
sometimes they guide us
sometimes they follow us
sometimes they shrink
sometimes I think 
umbra sumus

 the lights will soon go out
what are you waiting for


Monday, 15 April 2019

elderly hearts


learning from the elders
the art of gratitude
of servitude, of living
of life, and a joy 
that runs deep
deeper that deep
 amazing graze
mac n cheese
the  kind hearted chef cooked up
to please.
us all, she gives some to the delivery boy
and human kindness is overwhelming
and when the years turn into decades
and almost a century has passed
and you're old
and fragile and ever so slow 
and visitors are few and far between
then you will know
what it means to be human
she said one day you'll be old
but in here / we take care of each other
we take care of each other
and the generation is passing over
that golden generation
you know the kind
the ones
god, my heart it feels so full
when I'm with the elders
real people living real lives
with names like Pyliss and Mabel and Winston and Remi
names like June, Marina and Grace
the colours of the rainbow
they only fade,
in the minds eye of some, 
in a world of pomp and fakery
I ask of you,
teach me everything you know
teach how to grow
in wisdom, as well as age
teach me what really matters
while i still have
the illusion of time
tell me- does love really define 
everything u are


Friday, 29 March 2019


took to the sea 
after a wandering tour
took to the wetlands
when the small hand hit 4
or was it 5 or was it six
watched the sunset
jotted down lists
new beginnings
merge into 
old endings
shapeshift into hellos
at a new table now
with old ladies and old fellows
singing songs of devotion
shit, life 
it's forever in motion
and it's beautiful
and fragmented
and lonesome 
i'm relearning the art
of solitude
rediscovering truth
through servitude
and sure, things happen
sure - things change 
that's okay

-you're exactly where you're supposed to be- 

Sunday, 24 March 2019

Granter of Wishes

went to the mosque
to spend time alone
with You Oh Allah, 
the most Kind, 
I seek it, kindness
oh Allah,  
I wandered through the rose garden
over the years, my heart has hardened
but when I pray
and to You, when I say
the things I most need to say, 
I feel it soften 
oh Allah 
dunya is hollow 
surface to the core
oh Allah, 
please, may You kindly restore
me to the state I was in
I saw things in truth
when I lived it
I'd like so much 
to live it again

Friday, 22 March 2019

vertigo/ dayz

days go by
thick and fast
through the haze
country miles
through the haze
dunya defiles
through the haze
the fish tank
green algae
a daze
the elders are playing dominoes
and drinking ginger beer
the churail is screaming
blood is spilling everywhere
it spreads in black lake
by the mountains
searing pain takes
days go by 
thick and fast 
so do the nights
breaking an old mans heart
through damning words not mine
his valve is already floppy
they say don't be soppy
it's just life
its not good enough
i didn't do enough
water checks
fire safety
full moon
running on empty 
till lungs are on fire
till heart pumps louder
to the sound of hearts club classics
gym lyf, friday night, eastenders in subs
 purple mirror
a reflection, not mine
to re-define
what it means to be a
the common
forever alone
forever common
sipping green tea 
with a couple of strangers 
a welcome break, from tv dinners
and deafening silence 
broken up by a cacophony of meows
from an internal violence
that shows no signs of desisting 
and shit, giving up 
never felt so liberating


so this is
what that's like
bob marley's
waiting in vain
so this is 
what that's like
camden nights
tooting lights
brixton heights
dalston lies
hackney fries
chickedy chicken
embankment dies
drury lane
theatrical pain
grimaldo gots slain
but not in the bodily sense
miles upon miles 
so this is what its like

Monday, 25 February 2019

dreamers strange cont.

by the time we arrived, the coach had just departed
put down the pen, before the story had even started
and the sun set over the fields, and winding rivers I once traced
like the back of my hand, 
burnt out, erased
dispersed like grains of sand, 
in the wind and it submerged 
the sun, under the downs
under the downs
to wander, 
through all these towns
dreamers strange
brighton rock
dreamers strange
that winters eve
dreamers strange 
that stolen ring.
i told her to give it back 
a shell in waves 
swathes of runners
dreamers strange
the old church, the smell of incense
dreamers strange
to be / perpetually
LoSt in TrAnsLatioN
'lsfn;aoesihgf\qec qw]metuno iwrcfh ns;odfjkx

dreamers strange
dreamers strange
dreamers strange

streets are there

& dreams
strange dreams
dreamers strange 
camden sunset 
squatting by the canal side
reliving youth, them lost days
so many souls, 
in the end, we always part ways
 there with georgian kindreds
 i remember 
there in the tropics
i remember
there in the midst of our conversation
about the valleys of Northern Pakistan
i remember
the gullys  
i remember
the beggars, the elders, the saints 
the writings on the wall, now so faint
i remember
the pain, the loss, the regret, the elation
the frustration
the laughter the tears
the tears, the tears,
the years, the years the years
eastern sunsets, western sunrises
the smog, the minarets, the mountains
i remember i remember i remember
new beginnings and tragic endings 
i fucking remember
and each memory hurts
and so I try to forget
stay occupied
to not let
myself settle in them. 
i learn to give hours freely, 
to elongate 
tour guide life
to witter away time 
to go the long way around 
to give hours freely 
to avoid being alone
with these memories
that hurt. 
and another 
and another 
aimless wander
under the sun
under the moon

kings, temple, brixton 
where i end, i find another 
two's company, 
a canteen friend
she came by the secret garden
with her friend, an irish man 
we went by the hamsters grave
we went by her flat, 
searched maps and traced crystals
traded stories, briefly
i forget

everything is changing again
and I had a dream
after a long time
I had a dream 
and when I later went for a swim
my dream resurfaced
and i remembered
everything again. 
the zoo. the chiraya ghar. eight years.  
and my heart hurts so much sometimes
when I think about things
when I think about the past, and souls 
once close to mine
to leave and to be left behind
and sure life is so beautiful
so beautiful 
incomprehensibly beautiful
fucked up
beautiful (light comes out of darkness, it emanates from it)

what else is there to do
but to keep moving 

everything is changing again
i wish i could tell you about it 
god, how i wish i could tell you about it

the sea is beckoning once more

Monday, 18 February 2019

georgian mountains

mountain dwellers of georgia
in possession of 
unassuming luminosity
cloaked in hoods, 
in possession of 
an opaque curiosity 
to brew tea
to herd sheep
to weave baskets
and to arrive in this city
that makes you question
everything you are
and everything you believe
this city leaves you wanting
it leaves you wanting
just a little while longer
until you understand
and then you're part of it
the way you are the mountains of georgia
you're part of its story, the glory 
the grandeur 
the grit, the manure 
fewer prophets
have emerged from this land

Wednesday, 13 February 2019

living london, a decade on, still living

i almost forgot
what it felt like
to be free and connected 
to see beauty manifest
i neglected
that part of me 
traded in wonderment 
in search of riches
a stability that
took a while to
took a while to wander 
to wonder, to wander
flash of lighting, roar of thunder
it took a while 
I almost forgot
what it was like
to write to live to be 
         from a certain branded
it took a while
days that felt like lifetimes
it was the right time
to return to 
the cemetery
 to Apollo
the cold night bus
joyous sorrow
east street 
recalling memories
of the glory days
with comrades of old
its all coming back to me
these days
back to being 
a wandering bum
flitting in and out
of social gatherings
yet to succumb
to earthly weariness
brixton to kings cross
the art of the doss
how to be lost
(the found kind)
i almost forgot
what it felt like

Tuesday, 12 February 2019

befriended by the blind

met a couple on the bus
the 131 bus to kingston
they were both blind
the woman sat next to me,
the man said he would prefer to stand
he said he liked to stand on buses
she started talking to me
the woman with black glasses and a white cane
good humoured and kind
she told me her name
what was it?
she said she got into a ski accident
she smashed her head
she said at least she was doing something she enjoyed
at least she had led
a good life, and it continues
not a trace of bitterness
she said it could have been worse
 she’s come a long way
she’s going to the gym
she has him, 
she has a partner
he had brain cancer as a child
and he went blind
but he's a pro at karate and all sorts
so spirited and happy
subjectively, she said life is what you make it
she has 2 boys
she told me about her old job
I didn't understand it 
she told me her name
I can’t remember what it was
Jacinda or something
she asked me a lot of questions
and then it was my turn to speak
tongue tied, I half stammered
not knowing where to look
from where he was standing
he leaned over to the direction of my voice
and listened to my replies
from where she was sitting
everything I said sounded flat and empty
(bland and repetitive, to my ears alone perhaps)
I said I’m taking the Japanese students bowling
I said I’m some kind of guide, 
but not like she was
and soon our conversation dies
and its ashes hang in the air
blessed to have encountered them
two strangers, who found love in each other
two blind strangers
who make the best
of everything they have
(she said it could have been worse)
not a trace of bitterness, it could have been worse
and my heart burst.
it burst

(I beg of the earth, to swallow me whole
unworthy of this precious and beautiful life 
unworthy of being befriended by the blind)

I remember then. WE ARE BLIND.

nero man

a man in cafe nero
unearthly and wild
yet meek and mild 
perhaps lonesome 

what was his name again.

he said hello when i passed him
i said hello back and smiled
he said you have a beautiful smile
I took a seat and after a while
he presented me with a poem
a poem for the smiling woman
I took it and said thank you
and he proceeded to pour 
out the contents
of his head
he's led 
a rich life
learning though learning is difficult 
because he has learning difficulties
a rich life, 
learning to building the self 
through never ending strife
/this being human/
the way we arrive 
in the places we arrive

my phone rang and I told him I had to answer it
I wished I never answered it
and instead kept listening to him
that man meek and mild 
outspoken, almost riled 
perhaps, so lonesome

nero man 
what was his name 

how strange, 
this one precious life
may we learn to give our time
to the ones that are in need of it
may we learn 

to give for nothing.
and love in the same way. 

Sunday, 3 February 2019

means no worries

whats good 
wandering in mayfair
the lost river tyburn 
has disappeared
the antiques have been shifted
hedrix's house
                        has half drifted
away, whats good
tea shops and memories
marble arch
a bruised heart
what's good 
not my organs
whats good
the town hall hotel
stories of geesers
and pie shops
and lots and lots
of other stuff
what's good
wandering in bethnal green
what's good
wandering around india house
what's good
the silence of savoy chapel 
watching scar throw mufasa 
to the wilderbeast again
but everything was different this time
i left during the intermission
made hakuna matata a new mission
whats good 
the sunshine on the river
the city's landmarks glinting in red
bled, gold and crimson
whats good
not my organs
but i gotta keep 
going going going
whats good 
not my organs
it was snowing snowing snowing
what's good
battersea arts centre and busan
essoira across borders
tears at the secret garden
ace hotel, rain
the odd old man, a bit insane
handing me a sweet poem in nero
what's good

it's all good

a week 
living london
guiding and being guided

it's all good
(and verily with hardship there is ease)

Sunday, 20 January 2019

Wheels & Wonder

skateboarding at sunset
                   thru empty roads
winter wind blowing
           thru my hollow bones
the full moon is gleaming
in the pink and blue tooting sky
at home, Meow is sleeping
his face is tucked behind
his tail, its very cold outside
even the trees are shivering
but I will continue to ride
my skateboard
think on that crowd
of running young deer
running to where?
some secret meadow
a secret meadow…
gosh, I don’t know
where the deer were going
they were just going
going going
with the winter wind blowing
blowing blowing
thru their brittle bones 
I remember now what it feels like
to be young and free
I remember now what it feels like
to be that kid me           
reclaim your childhood joys
         for its pleasures await you.

Wednesday, 16 January 2019


elusive elevens  
dreaming in thirds
hiding in O's
swimming in 7s
thinking in 5s 
dying in 6s
6 bouts of irl- illness
6 lots of irl medication
5 wayward crows 
by the 5 inch lake
5 chances to mistake
as opportunities /////absent 8 
8/// came too late.... 
to l8
dreaming in thirds 
swimming in 7s 
dying in 6s
thinking in 5s 
back paralysis 
5 buses
5 trains
a plane
6 dreams
each a variation
of the same 1
5 nights
5 cities
swimming in 7s
thinking in 5s
5 oceans
5 mountains
elusive elevens
5 prayers in 5 days
5 ways 
to change
dreaming in thirds
swimming in sevens
drowning in 2s 
hiding in 0s


minus everything

Wednesday, 26 September 2018

dunya is

dunya is 
waiting in the cold rain
for a dream, thats faded into a mirage
it's going to castle 
and realising that life goes on
that they've already forgotten you
dunya is distance
its transience
its floating in outer space
never settling
in one place
it's trying so hard to erase
everything that hurts you
dunya is silent sadness 
it's words unspoken
its half the wing
of a half gnat
it's falling short
it's falling apart
it's losing sight
it's losing heart
dunya is living 
it's knowing
that's its incomplete
and so are you 
and so is everything 
dunya is a story that'll never be finished
 its words that will never be scribed
its truth, shrouded in lies
dunya is dark 
it's a lark, a laugh
a cry, a sob
a few breathes in a few places 

but sometimes 
more than sometimes
it's a pretty beautiful place
filled with pretty beautiful people
and things

just imagine 
what akhira 
could be. 

--- de-illusions

miss you every day 
miss you in every way
miss your sad eyes, your beautiful smile 
miss you so much
every once in a while

i tell myself to let you go
      but more often
i tell myself to let you know
that I still love you

but what good will that do
when circumstances haven't changed
not mine, not yours
they remain closed

all these unforgiving doors

and I'm just stuck outside 
wondering what to do
feeling so hurt 
so entirely through with
so entirely through with

my own heart. 

a thousand times over-

<this being human>

Tuesday, 11 September 2018

thoughts on a tree top

thoughts on a tree top
     the branches are solid. 
the birds flit up above 
     i will stay up here forever
between the sky 
between the earth
            somewhere between 
this world
            and the    next

for here be peace.
                    here be rest.

/////return to fitrah 
and i think about what's to come 

by the sea
i begin to countdown
the days till i can leave
the noise of the city 
   and return 
to myself 
to nature

      the sands 
the pine forests 
       the empty paths
the unmarked maps
and no where
and no one 
and nothing
but Allah

return to fitrah
-to be alone/
to find home
once again

Sunday, 26 August 2018


its almost...
             september already
   oh lord,  
                 my heart is feeling heavy 
i almost.....
      forgot where I was going
oh lord, 
            i have no way of knowing
               if this path will lead me anywhere
but if it will lead me back to You, I swear

     I will follow the co-ordinates

 C-four / K-twenty -three 

       lord, please be with me
every step of this   lonesome journey

oh lord, 
               i lost my way
I       almost.....  couldn't say 
so long 
so long
please try
to take care of yourself
        paths diverge
and life....
goes on. but it never does 
                 for without heart
there is nothing
oh Lord, 
                I'm still waiting
on a miracle 
               though a million have already occurred
oh Lord
I'm waiting on a miracle
                   a dream differed. 
deterred, by difficulty 

the road ahead

oh lord
i miss You

Friday, 15 June 2018

canteen lyf

weight upon weight
from the back ends of borough market
to the castle canteen
   I'm losing 
                             in an oddball dream 
in it, remain piles of unwashed dishes
and mountains of vegetables
sketchy and wondrous characters
sitting on pastel-coloured round tables
trading tall tales, absurd fables

ilham brings me flowers
that she picked from her garden
mira brings me china plate
on it a pink boy and a pink girl are kissing
words above
kissin don't last
words below
cookin' do
john brings me something too
half a packet of lockets, a celine dion cd
anji brings me a book
the sensuous poetress
a book of poems
written by an aging minx
that sometimes frequents the castle
I read one, and wince
I convince
myself, that everything is fine
but the line
is blurring           and change is occurring 
david accompanies me, to fetch black pepper
i wait on a golden ticket at sainsbury's
                    it takes so long
    like everything 
    every thing in this dream
a spectacle of visions           
stella, she says I'm too kind
and that people will walk all over me
i know she's wrong and I know she's right
     i know im wrong and i know i'm right

aerus sings a song and plays the guitar
and afterwards asks if i'll marry him
strum on, 
I walk backwards
etherealla says her legs aren't working so good
/ |
elsie goes on about the narcissist, and power and abuse
what's the use
no she doesn't want to get married
no, already she's carried
too much weight, the weight of others
that never knew the how to love
warren's not shown up for weeks
maybe he's gone back in
I think maybe I'll bump into him
fishing by the wandles edge
Barry's indoors most days
paul hardly comes round, he says 
it all gets too much
someone told me they saw him at the tent
martin's head aches have stopped
he's stopped asking about brothels
he's stopped wearing his aviator glasses
and his top hat
he tried to give pretty yasmin 10 pounds
merril's still smiling
despite it all, the MS is ever limiting
making warriors of the sick
alan is still going to the hope group
at springfield 
he said so, I dropped a flyer off at his house
I didn't know it was his house
margie is back
she gave fidyah, because she can't fast
the cancer's gone, 
her mother's gone too
she said she went to australia to say goodbye
later tony comes by
I don't know where he went
navid is away
I hope he found the comfort he sought
Ray wasn't around
Ted got spooked
the man who puts out the vegetables
from the bloodied mountains of pakistan
is becoming mute
he says its hard, and the devil comes at him from every side
in a dream I told him to hold tight
to God's rope
he signs he saw sam
and he wasn't himself
agressive and in pain
he wasn't himself
and gosh, 
the weight, it's sometimes crushing
mrs patel grabs the bread and soup
the others cry out      
in the kitchens the highly functioning golden girls
chop and cook and stir
perhaps soon, another change will occur
canteen life
gets me high
brings me down
canteen life
goes round and round

Sunday, 3 June 2018


i hell'a
the rest of your days
are filled with sunshine
and lasting joy
 you've enriched my life
ten folds, what can I say 
you brighten each and every day 
with your songs
and your presence
with your outrageous jokes
and worldly life lessons
you got me in stitches
& brought me to tears 
you're a special soul 
& I thank you my dear
god bless you ella