decisions

...to accept

or to decline

I'm wasting my time

sitting here

thinking

blinking-

slowly sinking

back into an unreality...

the hollow

days pass by

dark circles beneath dark eyes

and yet another sleepless night

to follow

this be a hollow

existence

real shadows

they're real 

shadows can feel 

too, you know.

girl- interrupted

Do you remember 

in Girl Interrupted

when Susanna erupted

and said she didn't know 

whether or not she was mad

well that bit made me sort of sad

and her troubled journal entries
 too, her wry observations
made me question 

all situations
 that I put down in words

were they real,
or were they like hers

unrelated, fabricated, desecrated,
Not sure why I was so captivated
by her, 

by the troubled writer girl- 

Hmm I don't know,
but I've come to know this; 

I am bound to my book, 

but my book is not me 

you see, humankind we

are not the sum 

of the worst thing

we've ever done. 

minds troubled

up in flames-

unspoken words

a never-ending train of them 

haunt minds troubled

imprinted

at long last 

a chance
to write over the past

so I tread over old

footprints in the mud
thud, thud, thud, 

from the last time I was here

I screwed up then

it will probably happen again

but life-
 even though sometimes you're hard

even though lately
I've constantly been on guard-

thank you for existing

thank you for resisting, 

my pleas for you-
to give up on me. 

cracks

less than perfect

cracks beneath the surface

are beginning to show

less than perfect
there's no need to unearth it
it's time for you to go
see, you were wrong
it's clear to us all
you don't belong,
here any more

how it is now...

so this is how it is now

we're all on different parts 

of this big ball 

known as earth 

and this be my turf
at present, I guess

but I won't stay west 

forever. I endeavour

to travel back round

full circle one day

and on my way

I'll stop off 

and see you all

but right now, 

I just need the tools 

to make it that far 

without falling apart
I need to make it

without falling apart

without falling apart

have heart-

always and forever

ease

cloud and blue 

silent all the way through 

a gold breeze
travels into
the tiny holes,
of the flowery net curtain

and I'm curtain 

this is ease

runs deep

I mean, it's easy for you to say 

that everything will be okay

and truly, honestly, really
 I wish I could believe you 

but what I'm going through-

runs so much deeper than that

to be free

mad contemplation

as I wander through the woods

I'd give up all my goods 

to live under this one

ancient tree

all I want in life is to be free

I just want to be free

I want to be free

I want to be free
I want to be free

Windswept Tree

...lately I've been having 

the strangest dreams 

it seems, they're more beautiful 

than I ever imagined reality to be

rural Rotherham, unearthly sunsets

from the past, the colours 

and that one tree

that one lonely windswept tree. 

Some days its hard to breathe. 

Some days I wish I could leave

this time, 

maybe rewind, 

maybe fast forward

a few days, a few months, a few years 

to a time when all my crazy fears

just dissipate...

a kid named salvation

he waits on Salvation

platform 6

kings cross station

be patient-

he's probably just 

running 

late..

techni-coloured humility

-wildflowers

a thousand hours

for each to wilt

for each to tilt

its head 

downwards

dusty dreams

so often is seems

so many of our dreams

are left to gather dust

in a yesterday forgotten

Wake up, it's Fajr time!

Dear sis, I miss 

my fajr wake up calls

from you. You and I,
we grew together,
and now you're gone

 forever, and my phone 

it no longer rings-

see, it was those little things

that made us who we were

back then.

silver snow, evergreen and the night sky.

a cup of sweet tea

under the midnight moon

seemed to cure my soul, 
of its restless moody gloom

sipping whilst treading below

on a sheet of silver-specked snow

an ethereal glow, emanates from

the shimmering floor, 
bird shadow 
against the night sky

and the shrieking cry
of a lonely fox

the white flakes 
cling to evergreens 

eternity seems 

ever present 

Further above, 

a streak of purple

and a pool of stars so bright 

the London sky, 
looks beautiful tonight

Strain of Madness

I can't seem to shake 

this feeling of deja vu

see, I've been through

this before, back then 

I swore, 

I'd take care 

this sense of fear,
exists inside me 

it grows and so does

the sadness, a strain of 

madness has spread

and still
even now
I can't work out
this old riddle 

I'm riddled, someone's

fiddled, with my head.

let it be said- 

I've never felt so low.

maybe its a sign 

maybe it's time 

for me to go 

away again

maybe I should 

come back when 

I figure shit out. 

Son

black eye
busted lip 

time now son 

to get a grip

time now
 to change your ways

time now
 to shave your face

time now
to end our
row-

son it's time to wake up. 

son it's time to
get out of this rut 

it's time son

to live right.
ah don't worry boy 

you'll be alright

ice cold words

...in fury

he burned

 as he turned

them around 

in his head

 those ice 

cold words

she had read

out loud...

End of the Line

Ma, that night

when you called me-

I tried so hard to sound happy

Could you tell I was faking?

Could you tell I was breaking

from the inside? It's hard to hide

from you ma...

pink snow

a shade of pink

 the sky so low 

the snow- 

it settles, 

in a transient 

peace.

Dust!

That that I were dust!

That that I could trust 

(wholly and solely)
in You Lord. 

The Body I Carry

Lately, 

I've grown

so weary

of wearing

this wearisome

 body- 

for it be

too weak

for it be 

too ungodly

...a prayer

alone

 afraid

so troubled

I'd trade

it all in

to be there

 with You now

 Creator 

help me 

somehow

to let go- 

of this 

dunya.

Once I Met an Alien

She looked at me

 earnestly, and said

 I'm not being funny yeah

 but aliens do exist

 and often I enlist- 

their help...

Don't Cry, Mia.

-aroused from my sleep

by the sound of you weep 

Mia, you live in the

half-way house next door

Mia, I live next door, 

to your half-way house
a portal lies between us-
they say, Mia, that you reside

somewhere  

between fiction and reality

madness and normality-

they say you live
in the thoroughfares  

of this world, the hidden 

corners, the sacred spaces

those elusive places-
shared with ghosts 

and jinns and demons

-regions

unrealisable
to ordinary folk
Mia,
you said life is no joke
you were right 

every night
I'm aroused 

from my sleep

by your weeps, your wails 

they reverberate 

they grate,
so do the other noises-

Mia, in the early hours of the day

I lie awake
and I listen to the voices 

I can hear them, 

muffled and low

not of this world

they haunt you, 

they taunt you
you cry.

These walls are so thin

If I could break them in

I would, Mia.

I'd offer you a warm embrace

we all need the strength to face 

the creatures of the dark.  

The wounds, Mia
you said
the germs had spread

infected bloods
 course through your veins
the body a prison-
a prism, a cell.
I could always tell
something was wrong.
In the morning Mia

I think about you 

I wish I knew 

what makes you wail 

like that,
your
sunken eyes
forever cast downwards.

Neighbour

I wish a noble saviour

would save us all.
I wish we didn't have to
trawl,
through these gutters.
Mia, we pass by 

sometimes
on the street and we greet

 each other 

sometimes we talk, 

I saw you in Smith Brothers

buying jumpers from 

the 1950's

and in the garden, we cross

paths. We offer smiles 

and exchange fruit 

I wish I could get to the 

root
of our otherworldly woes
this feeling of otherness grows-

Mia
I used to bump into 

you at the swimming pool too,

Mia, we'd swim in a pool of tears. 

Mia, every night 

I hear you wrestle your fears

often they win and often I hear you cry. 

Don't cry Mia, don't cry. 

A Girl named B

B,
North London girl
I remember when we
first met-
you talked so rough

you looked so tough

with your 

cornrows, tattoos

and muscles-
I imagine,
you would often get into
tussles?
B,
what really got me, 

was that diamond

attitude of yours
you know 

I admired your flaws

because they weren't 

really flaws.

See B
you had this kindness

about you, a warmth-

fire too.
You were fierce
B,

I wish I was as fierce

as you.

-to disappear.

See, I'd like still to disappear

 but I fear

 I'd just wind up back here-

 (again)...

here in my head

here in my heart

 I'm too tired to start- 

(over)...

and maybe, I lack the will,

maybe I'm still too ill

to make it...

...a glint

a glint on the
dry pavement
a sole recollection
a dead reflection-
cosmic star shine, 

under a sterile orange glow

it caught my eye; a silver cross.
galaxy-gloss and mud-encrusted
yet to be entrusted- 

I picked it up. I don't know why 

and I don't know why

a heavy sigh, escaped my lips 

as I traced its dirty cold tips,
the black string, had been ripped

off, two tears, torn apart

I wonder wearer,
what made you lose heart
in infinity, in the divinity
of this moment?

Concentrate

'You're too 

spread out 

to concentrate'

I was late 

to class again

remember when 

you said that 

Mister M-

you were right

I lacked foresight 

back then, 

but you were right 

I was to spread out

to concentrate. 

I still am. 

I still cram 

too much in this 

head of mine.

Hallucinating Bones

You were a skeleton 

wrapped in skin-

an unearthly grin

flit across your unearthly face-

it's hard to erase

that image from my mind

Could it be? Could it really be? 

Was that skeleton
 really me? 

These Empty Epiphanies

I got it so wrong, 

I can't believe it's taken me this long

to realize it.

There's a reason why I 

failed 

to make it 

to the black mountains

of Wales

to live 

a natural life-

to be precise

to find freedom in solitude, 

to find union in servitude. 

There's a reason why

every door has 

slammed shut 

in my face

There's a reason why

my fall from grace

has been anything 

but graceful.

See, I've always been hasteful.

Perhaps I've never truly been 

grateful. 

There's a reason why

I didn't get that job 

in Midhurst

my thirst 

to leave the city

grew, this much is true

But I realize now

it's not the city

I needed to escape

somehow-

it was the grief

the sorrow

the promise of 

tomorrow-

of pastures green

of going unseen

of being

simple 'being'

There's a reason why 

I remain in the city

I just don't know what 

that reason is yet.

I wanted to forget

that's the real reason

I wanted to leave this 

place, every trace

of here reminds me 

of you.

Still I wonder 

can this spirit inside grow?

I don't know, 

I just know

sincerely-

I want to see clearly

Really-

I just want to be free. 

But it would be easy

to 'be' 

some place

where no one knows me

See here, I'm often

overcome by guilt

the guilt of staying away

the guilt of going for days

without seeing you. 

-of letting you down

-of making you frown

because so often I bail

because so often I fail  

to make it. 

Maybe I can find a way 

to be here, 

Maybe I can pretend to be

somewhere

else. Right? 

Can I delight

in home yet be afar

from everyone I know.  

For here I am now

in no-mans land

trying to find my feet

and stand

on them firmly 

yet

still I'm restless

still I'm reckless

still I'm feckless

I got it so wrong

I can't believe 

it took me this long

to realize it-

?

Me against the World

As I walked through 

the shadow 

of the valley of death

I watched the condensation

 of your exhaled breath

escape from a 

crack in the window 

of your car

a single star, 

lit up the heavy sky 

I could have walked on by

but I didn't. 

I lurked. I looked
I cursed. I mistook 

you someone else
I mistook you for me-
you know

it was as though 

I was watching my 

younger self
I stood there

impelled-

I needed to dispel

any association

any notion- 

of kinship

of similarity

when in reality, 

we couldn't be 

one and the same-

It's just me against the world

I heard you rap 

along to Tupac

alone in the dark- 

the stark

reality of life;

it's rife- 

the politics of pain, 

troubles remain

they makes up life.

You looked up then and said- 

ain't no one care, if I be alive or dead

I got nothing to lose. He moves

me- Tupac. 

He knew the truth- the truth be 

I lack half the tools 

I need to be a man

I ain't got no plan 

I don't give a damn

about nothing.
I am nothing.

But everyday still, 

I rise,

still I rise- 

still Demise

watches me from the horizon...

Broken Face

Oh no, what a disaster 

look here girl, this plaster

will keep your eyeball in place

see there, your face-

looks almost normal.

Now let me thread your lips 

together using a needle and

some coloured string
mind you, this might sting
a little. Don't look so scared- 

you've nothing to dread dear

I'll have you looking like a fair

lady in no time. 

I'll fling together bits of wire

that will repair or at very least diguise

the cracks above your eyes

that scar beneath your left lid

bid, it farewell, 

I've got some stuff 

that will hide it, but it might swell 

a bit. And I've got some blu-tac 

to stick back your darling nose

it's split in half again, 

darn these facial woes!

Beneath the Midnight Moon

I found her

lying alone 

beneath the

midnight moon.

A fistful of weeds

A fistful of thorns

adorned her clenched

grasp, hold fast.
 Her wrists 

were covered-

She's slipping 

Blood's dripping 

She bleeds

red coats the weeds 

and thorns-

then a voice whispered

in the silent storm,  

the wind breathed

into the air

into her ear-

you reap what you sow

thorns and weeds

the reasons 

you feel so low

you know child

you deserve 

the woe

bestowed 

upon you

a fistful of weeds

a firstul of thorns

she silently mournes

she drifts into a fitful sleep

she wakes 

and breaks 

and breaks into

a wistful weep 

her cries echo in the wind

and bring a sadness,
sadness looms among

the evergreens...

She left

She left 

the same way she entered

through the back door

calmly and quietly, 

she didn't want to draw 

attention to herself.

Gosh, what a sorry story

my life has become- 

here I am again, 

on the run!

There was an art 

to the way she would start

to live life over.

The trick, is to stick
to the plan.
One must never look back.

Her ability leave so freely, 

required a will so steely

in nature.

In the end I managed to make 

my not so great escape.

Wait- 

go easy on her, it's not all her fault

try to take her with a pinch of salt

try to understand she just couldn't take

it anymore.

Listen, I just didn't
understand
what it was all for!

People like her, 

find it impossible to endure-

that kind of propriety, 'stuff society' 

she thought and so she did, 

So she just walked away.
  

Come what may

its time for me to go my way- 

wherever it may lead...

Two Wayfarers

I hope we don't fail

to wander together

along the Swale

on a winters day
we'll watch the birds

as we follow the 

old Saxon Shore way

we'll cut through the 

apple orchards

the sky may be moody and grey

but our spirits will

not fray.
We'll share jokes 

and biscuits 

as we go 

You know,

we were always 

going to be friends. 

This ancient path along 

this ancient shore

was meant for 

two wayfaring tramps 

like us.
So let us wander together

whatever the weather,
and who knows

maybe the storm will fade

and the sun will make 

a brief appearance
And as we walk 

you'll ask me a string 

of questions 

like you always do 

and we'll talk about all the 

things that interest me and you 

like old films and birds 

and art and strange words.

But let us 

take the time to 

pause

when we reach the sea wall 

and enjoy those views across 

the saltings and the creek-

Conyer creek; 

we always do seek 

lonely places

empty, wild and free.

I wonder, 

will we make it to Ship Inn

before my ship 

comes in?

Park up!

Gosh,

the way you park up dear

I swear, if I filmed it

and put it on youtube 

you'd get over a 

hundred million views-

stop. start. bash. crash. 

driving for years

in this same theatrical fash!

I love you man, 

no one can make me laugh 

the way you can.

Potato Boy

Whenever I peel potatoes

I think of you Polly

you were such a wally!

like me- you see

that why we got on so well!

Ah hell, Polly- 

where have you gone!

You know,

I was thinking today

you must have cut 

ten thousand 

chips 

from ten hundred 

potatoes

(at least)

you were such 

a potato

potato boy

I miss you

kid. 

Mister Cool

...yo mister cool

sitting on the tube 

afro under your straw hat

oyster card taped to the back

of your iPhone...

Same Shit/ Different Year

Same shit 

different year

I swear-

I can no longer bear

this affliction

sweet benediction 

release me

Lord, decrease me 

in my suffering

for I am suffering.

*

This pain,

I no longer gain

from it, 

Lord, I feel 

myself wane

and I feign

Lord, I feign  

normality-

but this normality-

its carving holes 

in my sanity. 

Humanity, 

be grateful.

*

Lord, this pain

It will not leave me 

Lord, it aggrieves me 

that I cannot live 

like an ordinary person

I feel my condition worsen

everyday 

and I can pretend that I'm okay

but pretending 

won't make the pain

go away.
*

Lord, I pray to be healed

So I can wander in a field 

of Your remembrance....

*

Same shit

 different year

I swear, 

I just don't care

any more...
*

Ah, don't worry-
this despair

it won't last 

I'll hold fast 

I'll be patient

like I've always been 

I seem to be

getting better at it. 

*

I guess

this here-

it's simple

recognition

of a condition

I have

it's called 

'being human.' 

I still haven't gotten 

used to it.

In Medina

Late one summer's afternoon

I fell asleep in Medina

in the mosque of the beloved

and as I slept, I dreamt 

I dreamt a terrible dream

that shook me to the core

It was so dark, it bore

a crater within.

I woke up in a cold sweat 

I didn't know where I was 

the prayer space was empty 

and I felt empty inside. 

I couldn't understand
the reason why  

I had been abandoned

and left there. Then a beam 

of gold light 

streamed in

I screamed in 

silence, to this day

I haven't shaken away 

that strange feeling

of abandonment.

Killing Time

...lately I've been killing time

rehearsing lines

I'll never say to you...

Unpublished Poems

A string of unpublished

poems, reside in my drafts- 

cast off, lonely and unread,

I'm fed

up of writing. 

A cold draft 

enters through my window

and into my soul

it occupies that hole

inside of me, 

where you used to be. 

Just know, that I miss you.

And know,
 that my heart aches for the day
you say the words
you never dared to say

 back then, back when
 we were together. 

Yakeen

Do you know

what it means

to possess yakeen?

Yakeen.

It's more than belief

to be brief

it's certainty

in the unseen

it's that surety

that knowledge

that life is but a dream

An apparition of sorts

Yakeen is a gift

from the One

it has the power to lift

one to a higher plane

at the same time

you remain

grounded

Yakeen

it's like grace

but different

Yakeen is knowing

and its showing that you do

(know that is)

by the way you live

by staying true.

There is no doubt

in yakeen-
there was a time

I was graced with the gift

of yakeen

Paradigm

...see, I couldn't walk

I barely had the strength to talk;

my pulse raced and I faced

that same desperate uncertainty.

Life is a series of events

strung together

by a thing called time

I dread the coming of

another paradigm, 

a new design

and what it may bring
I cling, I cling, I cling-

Mad Clarity

So I was planning on writing this book

last year, about a Christian monk of Olde
with a heart of Gold, from Anatolia. 
His name was Mad Clarity

and this man; brilliant, old and wise, 

possessed a certain kind of duality

Mad Clarity was quite the hermit.
For life did not permit
him to be anything else.
One day he found a time machine, 
and being a curious human being, 
he flipped the switch. Was it a glitch?

Mad transported himself from the past-

he travelled fast, through a future so vast. 

Was it a glitch?

The means by which, 

he arrived there? 

Or had he been sent to complete a task?

To ask the questions, modern man 

never asks?

He ended up in a new land

He ended up in Hackney

in the year two thousand and thirteen.

Initially, he thought

he was having a strange dream.

Then, he would grapple, and try

to understand the meaning of life

in the process, he would drive

others insane, with his seemingly

inane ways.

He lived on the streets
for weeks on end.

He would talk to mosquitoes, 
to birds and clouds and trees 

Whenever he could, he would

talk to the people in the TV, 

and in photos and on posters,

he never got used to modern things

like cars and coasters.

He tried to figure out the things he once

knew, like who he was, and what was true.

Anyway I don't know 

what happened to Mr Clarity. 

I'd like to get back to him soon. 

I just can't seem to find the inspiration 

to write about that kind of 'loon'...-

an olde monk living in a modern funk

I just hope he finds his way home
some day soon...

Rapunzel of Baghbanpura

The Rapunzel of Baghbanpura

caused such a great hoo-ha

when she escaped from her tower

and made for the city!

She hitched a ride in a rickshaw

She did not abide by their law.

For sure, she'll end up dead!

-the people of her village said. 

But she didn't, instead-

 she made friends

everywhere she went. 

She played cricket 

with the kids from the slums

and shared deep conversations 

with them raggedy bums. 

She soared like a black kite, 

always in flight, always gliding

never hiding, from life. 

The Rapunzel of Baghbanpura

was a warrior, of sorts.

She wandered through side-walks 

-along Grand Trunk road; 

she would help a strained donkey

carry his heavy load.

On her off days, Rapunzel

shared words with the poets

and visited many a grave 

No one can save

that girl, the people of the village 

would say- 

this is what happens, 

when you depart from the old ways.

Rapunzel didn't hear. 

If she did, she wouldn't care

what they said. For she had fled

and now roamed. She now owned 

the city. She pitched up a tent

wherever she went 

using her chador and some sticks
never gave a toss about the politics
 of being a woman.

And to this day

the Rapunzel of Baghbanpura

has found a way 

to live and live happily

in the city 

of Lahore!

A Thousand Pieces

Misdirected? Disaffected?

Is it everything

you ever expected?

Man, I don't know much

I just clutch

onto the things I once

thought I knew

And all I know is this-

I feel

so disconnected

from the real,

from my own story

no matter what

I can't put the pieces

back together,

severed

like a broken jigsaw puzzle

with one thousand pieces,

too many pieces of me

are missing. I keep wishing

they'll turn up some place

under a stack of unsent letters

encased, unfettered

or in a box of photos

tucked between two books

I need to get out of my head

I need to look

deeper

I need to look back

and start again from there

from where I began

this time last year

and give it all up again

everything that

enslaves and opresses

my soul

like these expressions

that I sold

on to you- reader;

I still don't know

much.

A Mirage

Truth is

they won't care,
if you disappear-

give 'em a few weeks,
they'll forget you
were ever there.

Better than I am

Instil within me 

a desire to be 

better than I am