"dark rooms"

LeT Go

just throw 

it all away 

settle in disarray
///a slow fade//
       lie in chaos
stare blankly up at the stars
*************************************
no.... it won't last.
no, i won't ask.
anything of you.
;;;;'""""""||||||||||||||||||||||oO----\\\\||||:::::
ever feel like giving up

on love and life-

on doing whats right

ever feel like

you're losing sight 

of things that matter

nothing even matters

ever feel like giving up

on love and life

 sometimes its night

in my heart and soul

the world and its contents

seem empty and cold

*   * *** ***
the lights are going out.

one by one by one
 **** *
** *
                      *
maybe i should run
away /settle in disarray 

maybe i should never return

thirteen going on thirty

some lessons i will never learn

some things i will never understand

* - *
this too shall pass 

LEt Go

-

BEAUTY of the DAYS gone BY

trajectory

as soon as you decide 

to follow a different trajectory 

one that guides you towards the light

they come at you from every side

and it breaks my heart

that you traded in your thawb for something else

and it breaks my heart

that you're traversing shadows in the night

 damascus. tehran. 

the revolution. the war.

the door

its wide open 

nightfall and we're at the lake.

the day it all began 

your life

mine

and it breaks my heart

the way the sun set breaks my heart

try as you might, you can never truly start

      over

ghosts reappear 

     so many ghosts

 so many ghosts so many ghosts 

so many ghosts

>

they reach out, they take form 

and try to change the direction 

in which you're going

and it breaks my heart

the way we all continually hurt ourselves

and it breaks my heart

that they want to love you

when you desire only His love

and it breaks my heart

to break all these hearts

and it breaks my heart

to break all these hearts

the distance the closeness

looking back, there was only ever me

my shadow stretches

it rises it falls

it fades into darkness

looking back, there was only ever me

and

desire, 

and

distress

and     

the mess

that is living 

in this world. 

confess nothing to me-

for this life is not real. 

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

often

dunya

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

waiting. 

so entirely through with

breaking

my own heart. 

a thousand times over-

<this being human>

beauty is a dark cloud

The Weight of My Words

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

                

                    somewhere 

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 

     solitude

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

divergence

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

                             -interlude- 

I       almost.....  couldn't say 

anything 

so long 

       goodbye 

so long

please try

to take care of yourself

goodbye         

        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

canteen lyf

weight upon weight

from the back ends of borough market

to the castle canteen

   I'm losing 

                                    steam

  half-living 

                             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, 

o_0
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

lovers

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

   depleting

mrs patel grabs the bread and soup

the others cry out      

meanwhile

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

ella

Ella

i hell'a

hope

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 

i think of you

months have passed

              & you're still 

always on my mind

          & i'm still 

trying so hard to find

     an atoms weight of peace

         and i'm still 

waiting on the ease

               that follows 

                   hardship 

   hardship

          to sew each rip

string and needle

of a tattered heart

     a patchwork in progress

textile art
yet, it still exists
    your heart   

 & in the month of ramadan

you start

(to feel again)

       ramadan
<3  + - //://: @ <///3   

             I pray for calm, 

and a stillness

+
for the sadness to subsist

                  I pray and I wish 

   and I pray for you 

                   when I open my fast

I pray for your happiness
^_^

               I sincerely ask

Allah to take care of you

   & of all tattered hearts

comfort becomes sparse

                                   at times 

but lest we forget

the One is nearer to us

     than we sometimes feel

SubhanAllah  

presence

I stare at the blank page

           open      on whatsapp, 

and I wait and I wait and I wait 

for the word to appear under your name

online

It flickers into existence 

like a hologram

   a mirage

online

transient letters 

      imprinted on a surface

    only a surface 

                    you surface 

         

online

          and for a moment in time

       time stops. 

and here we are 

we are both here

        so faraway

so very near

your presence lingers

         I disappear 

I go back

  

        online

you're no longer there

..... I stare and I stare and I stare

at the blank page before me

and there are

so many things I wish to say. I miss you.

so much, I wish I could make you stay

present

but goodbye is done

and we've already  become 

cyber ghosts

drifting in and out of unspoken dialogue

haunting....

                 presence 

your presence 

    I hope it never lessens

for it's all I have of you

love

real hidden gems

        the laundrette

that old iranian sam owns

the naval officer- come- material cleaner

            two bouts of cancer later

he's still standing,

still working the machines

the tumble dryers

           sam an outlier

                           he dreams

of taking care

of    his sick mother, his mother

             a lover

               of London city

     dreamer of a home

he can never go  back to

   but his kids are scattered now

        across the world

they possess all sorts of degrees

                  elevation

they don't come to the shop

     any more   

                 

***

the soup kitchen

moses visits them all

   far and wide

across the city,

    to eat a meal, with others

companionship, it's what he seeks

  up right moses

with lots of stray papers in his bag

a steely gaze,

    a knowing

a hearty laugh

     that reverberates across

them all,

all those soulful places

filled with people

          in some kind of need

material and emotional

   this being human.

      

***

the church

   that self appointed

old pastor jack visits

     he takes my hand

     he tells me the angels came to him

         in his youth

his father died at war

    but never did they go hungry

         work 

his mother worked in a factory

         Jerusalem is alive in his mind

he hands me a bag of lavender

    and talks about mash and eel pie, 

   to listen is to be alive       

it's to arrive

                at a junction.

***

the real secret gems 

spinning with eternity, eternally

sitting on the floor

  of the silver hive 

the little boy who dreams 

         with      eyes       wide

open, to know them 

    is to know 

the secrets of the universe

to know them

is to know

a single molecule

brings form to the cosmos               <<<>>>>

                                                            (the blinding light streams in) 

>>>>///////////////////////—————————

where he       goes, 

                   none can follow

   sitting on on the floor 

of the silver hive

the little boy who dreams

  eyes dancing, senses in overdrive

 so still, so silent, so faraway

the ground beneath him sways

all around

musical atoms surround

the buzzing of the bees confound 

   with their hidden language, 

     beautiful and rich

all of a sudden a switch

occurs, ———————

up he scrambles and proceeds to ramble

he moves arm hand up and down / heaven bound

  and starts to spin

with the bees, with the music 

    he loses it, 

he finds it

spinning, hands clasped

he spins fast 

so fast, to grasp (to learn/ to unlearn)

the music sounds, the bees buzz 

round and round and round

he spins he spins 

he grins, in a trance

I watch him dance, 

with the wind, 

with the music

with the bees

with eternity 

eternally

eternal 

the little boy who dreams

with eyes wide open

to know them

you can never know them

Kew Gardens, The Hive (inspired by a boy with downs syndrome who dances with eternity)

 

 

stairs and leaves

and that staircase
that went on forever
that staircase
the blinding glass
    of the chandelier
that evening
      tired of staying
tired of leaving
         tired of believing
in oak trees
   that shed leaves

stay a while.

these silent nights

these long walks

these winding paths

these cosmic doors

the secret garden is in full bloom

stay a while, 

                            don't leave too soon, 

these moments 

                        components

                                       of another way 

these absurd conversations

                    hope coupled with frustration,                         

 simple elation

ridiculous new beginnings

between losing and winning

I came by mister mouse at paddington

on the platform, half torn, 

he scurried all around me 

I was rain drenched, almost free 

from the night monsoons

my heart was racing from sprinting

across neon river roads

vague umbrella silhouettes

I suppose I suppose I suppose

there's a protection in it

i go without
the bridge over the serpentine
green earth and inky sky, both half mine
the handsome stucco houses

two stars above

the road is curving, 

and I'm losing my way

  but this

hope and frustration,    

 simple elation

of feeling a certain way

stay a while

won't you

stay a while longer

paradox of the free

is it funny

or is it sad

we never really know

anyone

is it funny

or is it sad

that often, too often

 we become

a shadow of who 

we once were

when did you stop

wishing 

                                       believing

wanting

    when did you stop dreaming

beautiful things

impossible things

always impossible

always out of reach 

lessons from above

they're only meant to teach

you, but you never learn

you just continue to yearn

for things not meant for you

let go

one day you'll come to know

something

in the folds

my empire of dirt

it sounded on the radio

a country boy's hurt

after a wander around

a burnt down house

somewhere out east

by the lake, the wild heath

the moody sky 

beneath it, I seek 

an atoms weight of peace

           a crease

unfolds in a field

       a swamp, a wild rabbit

             crazy horse

comes up again

                           and red cloud

       the bisons

they go quiet

the birds chirp, chirp, chirp,

the wind is so loud

 there is no peace

no peace no peace 

                                         no peace

but at least

          there's life

(somewhere in the folds)

shapes in condensation

sweet november 

glittering gold

a rain drenched 

concrete corridor

footsteps and puddles

condensation

it's a jungle

outside 

the bus conservatory

draw a map

find your way

circle another sun
wide open in outer space

the universe 

          reiterates

strands of

 that age old message, less is, 

more,

do not store

any ill, 

cease to berate

                     fate
                                             (misread)   

a path like this

a path like this

a path like this

rain is falling

the end is shrouded in mist

the river is fading

an old dream reawakened

to walk until the path is gone

to cross borders

every border

every border that exists

the rain is falling

the rain is falling 

            pitter patter 

pitter patter 

the rain is falling

draw a map
in the condensation
find your way

c4,     8d

layers of life

/sometimes/

all of real life

feels like fiction

tears at the janazah prayers

     searing pain, lasting affliction, 

a lingering embrace

a lingering embrace

in a holy place

in the house of the Lord
your reward
resides in jannah, with Him

the children's laughter, echoes

in a room full of broken hearts

the end the end the end

the boys in white

will grow up too fast

       tears fall,              

                         i stall

               in prayer

tongue tied

 we're tied, to dunya

until the day we die

and death will come to us all 

how long will you stall, sy?

 all of real life 

feels like fiction

              

                  the wisteria

birdsong, the towering pylons

the underpass 

the lonesome paths

maybe I should ask

something of you

    but what 

all of real life

feels like fiction

             bob geldof, nick mason

                             a crowd of strangers 

I wear patience

                    like a cloak

I close my eyes and

                                I float

towards the light......

                      but then

 clinking glasses and adult laughter

      bring me back to a world  

                                                       not mine

the boys in white will grow up to fast

the reeds blow in gold, the water 

reflections waver

all these places, I savour

the freedom

the millstone fell on the rat in 1703

300 years ago, it's hard to believe

the wishing wheel

swallowed up our wishes

and left us bereft

the rest

(who knows if they came true)

all of real life

feels like fiction

that ethereal night 

the view from the top of the building

there at a gathering, 

was it a cult, was I at fault,  

                  for not arriving  

              I lost my card

                too busy striving 

to make it some where

all of real life

feels like fiction

following that old canal 

that old canal 

talking to the nuns from belarus

talking to stanley francis 

about history

in a secret garden 

all of real life

feels like fiction

the chandelier at africa house

the mouse

meow caught

/////it got away

it got away

all of real life

feels like fiction

the everyday

the everyday
sitting in the cemetery office at dusk
the doors are locked, and we're at home
sipping on tea and talking about the past
in a house surrounded by death
and what's left what's left what's left

the everyday
sitting in the old english garden
listening to the sound of water hit the surface of the pond
watching the birds, flit through skies of gold
writing down stories in my journal
and what's left, what's left what's left

the everyday
wandering by the canal
pass door ways shrouded in wisteria
through a garden centre
by the old church;eerier
than before, a thousand thin mirrors
belonging to a gas tower
and what's left what's left what's left

the everyday
wandering around the museum
waiting for my shift to be over
staring at stone men
watching women in sari's
and boys in kimono's
and what's left what's left what's left

the everyday
bus journeys that never end
thoughts that trail on forever
a pair of lungs on fire, legs that often tire
a waning will to aim higher

what's left what's left whats left

(perhaps, everything)

alhamdulillah
for the everyday

(recalling memories on the) 48 bus

48 bus

      there's never enough

                                timeeeeeee

two d a y s, 

nothing makes

sense anymore 

things seem meaningless, 

I wander what it's all for

---------------------twilight

                gazing out the 48 bus    

 window

in faraway         walthamstow 

listening to heart

wishing I could start

over anew

someplace else//// 

gosh, how tiresome, 

                these thoughts on loop

take a step back, try to regroup

she said you seem depressed

i shrug, think it's just the meds

I'll be fine when I'm better

just trying, to keep moving,

I keep losing

track, of where I am

but right now I'm here

and I miss you

a kiss on her forehead

when did you get so big

beautiful girl

stay free, stay free stay free

i know your mum just wants me

to settle down, and to grow up

I don't want to, but some days I feel so stuck

the bus goes past clapton pond

strangers take their seats

I watch others delete

thoughts, passing reveries

so many memories

the bus goes by

my old offices, 

the church yard where I would sit

the walls of the old chapel

I painted them in white

how strange and fragmented, 

this one precious life

this living

this living london

come undone

the streets I would often roam

the bus goes by

the city, the city, the city

monument

until it reaches it's last stop

the real journey begins

noticing things

the way the evening light

hits the cherry blossoms

the way the clouds shift

making shapes, broken and solemn 

the way the wind passes through 

the way the tropical palms sway

every time that you 

drift by and opt to stay 

rooted, muted, in a secluded

patch of green

the way the ancient crows seem

to know everything

they make their homes in pines

out of small lines

of straw

straw, that's what it's for

to make a home

*

the way the evening light

hits the weather vane on the asylum 

the way that you wear silence

as a cloak, concealing

it pointed east

the crow took flight, fleeing

in that very direction

(a home to come back too)

*

the way the gates were opened

the gates to the secret garden

the way that life unfolds

the way the universe holds

onto you------ and keeps you upright

in restless times, when nothing is right

see, when you spend so much time alone

you notice the crow in his home

you notice each undertone

wandering and wondering 

seeking refuge

in a secret refuge

(a thousand of them)

you notice things

the way things are 

for just a moment in time

and everything is as it should be

everything is everything 

Alhamdulillah

slow down, don't stop

a thousand moments

                  maybe more

a frail old man

eyes fixed on the floor

he carries a mammoth book

 he moves slowly

ever so slowly

(from a bus window)

                                          at twilight

a blind man bumps into

                    a sign outside a newsagents

a hovering stick before him

he moves slowly  

ever so slowly

someplace else

       a lady using crutches

she struggles as she clutches 

onto her everything

             she moves so slowly

ever so slowly

///heart breaks, at seeing souls make

    slow movements

but to move still

but the bravery 

but the life

but the bravery and the life

but the life 

      on the other side

the boys and girls from chelsea

sip martini's outside bars

dressed in tuxes and gowns

 on roadsides with fancy cars

the other side

a small private school boy

exclaims the lipstick pen is epic

unceasing laughter 

it's epic, shit it's so epic 

that lipstick pen

but also your boyhood  

spirit (keep it safe forever kid)

the kimono

the strangers

the runners that run by

the river that flows 

the lost foreigners that wander

drifting, sub alive

                   --- unable to identify 

with the townscape

and the people that make

it so

so so so so 

no tarrying, for some, just travelling

though

just looking to

the sky

and at the people

gosh the people
wondrous and unearthly

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

V&A reveries III

hiding in silver

waiting in gold

searching in tapestries

for wisdom, I sold

nothing, but a map 

a map a map a map 

I told you not to go

off track off track off track

it's not safe, but wait

forget it, just keep going

go any way you like

I'll keep wandering by the casts

under curly delicate glass

far from home in asia

far from home in the far east

far from home in renaissance

hmm hmmm hmmm but at least

we're in the same dimension

on the great bed of ware

if i fell asleep would I wake

elsewhere

 i wonder

life at the museum

it's all people watching and botching

up words.... too lost in thought

I can't remember a single thing

you said stranger,
 oh...?

oh japan is that way

oh kipling is there

asia is behind you

you're really quite near

////can I dream again?

sad girl

sad girl 

why are you so sad

you never said goodbye 

she know's you well enough

to understand

and if she doesn't that's ok

soon she'll forget, 

sad girl, you regret

everything

why not live well

so you have less to regret

                                            to forget

nothing is set

in stone 

not even your heart

(though you may think it)

sad girl

why are you so sad

you keep shutting everyone out

to keep from getting hurt

you end up getting hurt still

sad girl, I wonder what it will

take for you to learn

sad girl 

don't worry the feeling will pass

don't worry sad girl 

you'll get better soon

and when you can breathe again

nothing will seem so bad

gosh, sad girl 

why are you so sad

everything is ok

it will be just fine

though you may not believe it

there's a fine old line

between sorrow and gold
try to unfold
///// those old mind maps
             timelapse

the future is bright *believe it*

a prayer

Oh Allah

please forgive me 

for the times I fall short

the most merciful, 

ever majestic 

i'm so lowly and fraught

with injury, so inwardly

elsewhere, but oh Allah

I can hear

you calling me

so I rush to pray

peace is my forehead

pressed against the ground

tears streaming down my face

no longer lost, I am found

Ya Allah I miss You the most

I miss the days where I would 

converse with you for minute eternities

Oh Allah, I'm eternally 

without, without without 

when You were beside me, 

I miss those days

I never felt alone, you always raised

me Allah, please raise me up again

I miss lying in masjids at fajr 

I miss walking on hills reciting prayers

I miss feeling close to You

I miss gazing out of the bus window on the 155

and feeling as though I'm truly alive

under Your watchful eye

You've given me so much

Helped me through my darkest days

Showed me miracles

and helped me to lay

my demons to rest, 

Oh Allah

life is a test, and it's tough

and I feel like I'm forever failing

I've tried scaling

so many walls 

but i keep falling back down to earth 

Oh Allah

You closer to me, than my jugular vein

please don't let it be in vain

please help me to gain

Taqwa. 

shalimar gardens, in battersea

it felt like shalimar gardens 

at twilight 

it always did

the birds never hid

away in trees

they flew in the pink sky

only they were black kites

maybe eagles

not pigeons and seagulls

and the water had all dried out

and the people had all gone home

and it was always better then

once the people had gone

and the world was quiet

and still and anew

it felt like shalimar gardens
what else was there do
but to tarry for a while longer
just a little while longer

weeping willow and a blackbird at sunset

restless skies

blustery winds

weeping willow

weeps louder 

his entire body is shaking

swaying, wildly flailing

tears are everywhere 

blackbird tries to console him

he perchs onto his shoulder

and whispers into his ear

for a moment weeping willow

stops flailing and wailing

he is still, he can hear

///mysteries, everlast///