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

Monday, 7 January 2019

let it go sy.

the lost guide
i defied
my soul compass
and headed for the night water
silently berating myself, by now i oughta 
know better
better than this
better than this, than this 
 a hundred thoughts flit, 
flit through my mind
why can i never
the right words 
      i go quiet
i don't think I know you
i don't think i ever did 
i think you always hid
behind circumstance
i think i always hid 
behind circumstance 
behind dreams of a life i would never attain
i think i shouldered the blame
when it wasn't wholly mine to shoulder
and now as i grow older
                  grow bolder
more careless
maybe heartless
      maybe fearless
maybe truth shines though 
somehow i realise 
i don't know you 
i don't think i ever did 
(in the horizon- there was nothing)
I never had a future
not alone. not with you. not with anyone
i have no future
and i have no words left
you rendered me empty,
       once again bereft
radio silence/ 
you never cared
rarely said a kind word 
cold- harsh, you never spared
a thought for me, only for you
you know
you weren't the only one hurting
alone, grappling, seeking, burning  
you weren't the only one angry, left behind 
trying to find
meaning, once again
from the wreckage
you never cared 
you never cared
you never cared
you never cared 
so why do i 
even still

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 

Thursday, 31 May 2018

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 
          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)
<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

Sunday, 18 March 2018


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


It flickers into existence 

like a hologram
   a mirage


transient letters 

      imprinted on a surface
    only a surface 

                    you surface 


          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

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


but goodbye is done

and we've already  become 
cyber ghosts

drifting in and out of unspoken dialogue

your presence 
    I hope it never lessens
for it's all I have of you

Tuesday, 5 December 2017

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
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
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 

Saturday, 11 November 2017

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 
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)

Sunday, 29 October 2017

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

Thursday, 27 July 2017

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 
                                       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

Tuesday, 4 July 2017

paradox of the free

is it funny
or is it sad
we never really know
is it funny
or is it sad
that often, too often
 we become
a shadow of who 
we once were
when did you stop
    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


Monday, 3 July 2017

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)

Tuesday, 13 June 2017

shapes in condensation

sweet november 
glittering gold
a rain drenched 
concrete corridor
footsteps and puddles
it's a jungle
the bus conservatory
draw a map
find your way
circle another sun
wide open in outer space
the universe 
strands of
 that age old message, less is, 
do not store
any ill, 
cease to berate
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

Saturday, 13 May 2017

layers of life

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)

for the everyday

Tuesday, 25 April 2017

(recalling memories on the) 48 bus

48 bus
      there's never enough
two d a y s, 
nothing makes
sense anymore 
things seem meaningless, 
I wander what it's all for

                gazing out the 48 bus    
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
until it reaches it's last stop
the real journey begins

Friday, 31 March 2017

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 

Thursday, 30 March 2017

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
just looking to
the sky
and at the people
gosh the people
wondrous and unearthly

Wednesday, 29 March 2017

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

 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 japan is that way
oh kipling is there
asia is behind you
you're really quite near

////can I dream again?

Monday, 27 March 2017

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
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

the future is bright *believe it*

Friday, 24 March 2017

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

Thursday, 23 March 2017

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///