water colour

ever feel like you're living inside a watercolour painting? It's faded hues are ever changing, absent of emotion. 

the grind, the hustle, the crowds, the river... the miskeen from the lanes     

ever feel like you're living inside a watercolour painting? Vague as anything? The elders are there, childhood friends, the market sellers and the canteen folk, wanderers, your beaming local Councillor. 

<  >>>>

the morning light spread, the smell of the bread factory fills the air.... 

can you smell inside a watercolour? 

 painted, even brush strokes, made marks, mixed colours, blue and yellow makes green....

they hold hands, the elders from the Island, they hold hands and sing a prayer

we danced together all afternoon, to songs I only heard in a distant black and white dream. shrouded. 

maybe it's the 6am's, meditating by the empty lake, in the empty grounds of the asylum

maybe it's the sunrises

those watercolour sunrises 

and the unearthly peace of living in a peopleless world

everyone has left the planet, my dreaming keep me busy, my imagination runs wild - some days, I lag behind.... the bittersweet loneliness of living - of a life, without reigns

it's the end of the world

wash it away..... let the colours bleed

full of grace

it's better this way

wandering 

alone

out in the wilderness that is life 

the painter paints

in monotone hues

don't be fooled

by the tea dances

by the laughs and smiles

toilet selfies that beguile 

haven't you heard the clowns prayer

haven't you read the tramps guide

a heart exhales 

for a brief while 

when it relieves another

and for a brief while

 its not so sad

to live in this sad

world

* _ *

elders r friends

86 years 

 electric pink hair
a heavy trolley in tow

you taught me always go slow,
marina

76 years

a heart of gold

you twirl me around glovina 

you tell me i look beautiful

and kiss me on the cheek
you tell me to speak
my truth- always

93 years
gentle and upright
your heart catches the light olga
the older
you get, the more lovely you become

and
when i feel down

you make me so happy 

you give me faith

in a world lacking
when all i know are endings
you help me see the beauty in them
in endings
I'm spending

my time
in earnest.

and you don't know

how much you've come to mean to me

elders r friends
 i'll always remember 
the way you glowed

the way you showed

me love

x

nothing lasts (so hold fast- you said)

thought about you 

when i went for a swim

the ocean is far away

the stars above our heads

died to soon

you said i was your eyes

you don't know how surprised

I was, when you said 

that i was your eyes

when you said you missed me

when you said you wished we

could be together forever

i have holes in my hands

the coal burnt through my flesh

even at my best

I was never so good

I don't think i ever would

have sacrificed anything

for everything 

you offered

the world

i'm sorry 

sw13 timelines

stateless

faithless

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 

Almost Blue

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

almost blue

still
 thinking of you
thinking of you

almost knew

it would end
always spend
too much time
thinking

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

almost blue
still
thinking of you

still wanting

it to be true

forever lasts a day

a single memory in a haze
growing thicker

and thicker

& thicker 

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

walls.

in between

love and hate

the never-ending wait

and a fate-

willfully abandoned

In between it all

umbra sumus 

stray-nge happ-nings

strange happenings

call point checks

running for miles

twilight reveries

swimming 

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

outside 

not inside the internet

pearlette

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 >_<

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 

gleaming

perfect made up face

beaming

noor spreads

the khutbah is in turkish

lost in translation

i try to translate 

the

unhearing

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

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

insulating

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-

- 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

?

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

WE TAKE CARE
OF EACH OTHER

and the generation is passing over

that golden generation

you know the kind

the ones

THAT TAKE CARE OF EACH OTHER

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

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

O

w(air)

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

goodbyes 

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- 

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

wherein

I saw things in truth

when I lived it

I'd like so much 

to live it again

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

hold 

days go by 

thick and fast 

so do the nights

wandering 

tooting 

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

stranger

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

l(only)

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
hence.

miles upon miles 

so this is what its like

///

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

TRANSLATE 

THIS 

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dreamers strange
dreamers strange
dreamers strange

streets are there

strangers

& 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

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

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
destabilizes

took a while to
realise-this

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 

free

         from a certain branded

freedom
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

relearning 

the art of the doss
relearning
how to be lost
(the found kind)

Alhamdulillah

i almost forgot

what it felt like

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

choking, I TURN MY GAZE TOWARDS THE BUS WINDOW

AND STARE,

INTO THE NEW MALDON DISTANCE 
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.

http://sysprints.blogspot.com/2013/12/we-are-blind.html

nero man

(prelude)

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. 

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

purposefully

what's good

wandering around india house

purposefully 

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)

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.

numbers

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 

thinking 

blinking 

back paralysis 

-l(8)-

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

/////////////////

only 

1

minus everything

BEAUTY of the DAYS gone BY

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