poem apologies

so I know none of you are reading this

that's why I'm finally writing it down

I realize it's long overdue

but you know
I've always been renowned

-for the over-due-
and as such
-the guilt, I've accrued-
has been great
the weight, I've incurred
has been weighty
-I want to be weightless-
so let me speak to you:
let me speak though
the written word
for it's all I can manage
at this present moment 

 I apologize.... if only I knew

then what I know now

I know somehow

nothing would change

everything would've remained

the same

still let me just say, sorry

I'm sorry E for never going back

for never leaving properly

for not returning like I said I would...

I couldn't, it was a matter of timing 

and I'm sorry D for not calling you back

after you drove me home on cold nights

whenever there was a lack

of transport,
know that I fully support 

you and your decision 

to leave. 

I'm sorry S 

for not replying to your message

(I don't think I ever will)

not because I don't want to 

just because i'm somewhere new

and I'm through with that, for now

for now I want to be
-un-scattered- 

I'm still battered: from the long hard winter

I'm sorry other S, for bailing that day

for not getting in touch since, to say

sorry. I am. Sorry.

and I'm sorry C, other C, for not making it

though we tried so many times

and that's why I've not been back in touch. 

you were there for me,

you understood me when no one else did

(human fragility)
-the experience of the otherworldly-

my guru, my teacher, i wish you knew

why I stopped replying...

why I disappeared

And J, I'm sorry never made it that day

or any other day after that

then too much time passed

with no words in between

and I'm sorry if I seemed

like I didn't care. I was just trying to be there

for me. And to the old gang

so many times I promised I'd visit

I didn't want to then because

i was failing and I knew

that you'd be disappointed 

I guess that goes for the rest of you too

poem apologies, who knew...

and to the girl who worked in Pooja 

I was supposed to show you around the city 

before you went back to India

sorry I didn't

and F, a hundred missed calls

I called you back a few times 

-empty lines-

-strange times-

and to all others who I may have 

wronged

I'm sorry. 

I hope you don't care

but I do and I hope I can find a way 

to actually be true and say
(as hard it may be) sorry
out loud. 

you know it's not that I'm proud

It's just, I forgot how...
Most of all
sorry you, truly madly deeply
 if only you knew
how much you mean(t) to me
even though it's through....

not a poet

nah, i'm not poet
i never claimed to be
in fact i started writing poems
relatively recently

because well
there was so much 

i couldn't formulate 

there was so much

i just couldn't say

(out loud)

see somewhere along the line

I forgot how to talk 

how to say the things
that I most needed to say 

and man did it frustrate!

and with no journal to write in 

-and disconnected from the One-

I wrote down a string of words
and called it a poem,
and then I wrote another
and then I wrote another

until life, became a series

of them,
of poems,
 like fragments of old journal entries
lonesome, broken
real emotion
(seeps through)
but more succinct
still indistinct, still only ink-

on paper

back then

I stopped writing
to connect to reality

but now here I am
ironing out this made-up fallacy

words upon words upon words

inadequate

for I haven't managed yet
to communicate

a single thing inside this mind

i still haven't managed to find 

a way to bridge the gap

between this and that

(experience and art)
the tangible and intangible
......

Poundland

Poundland

they sell all them legit brands

they sells ritz and polos

and jaffa cakes
and I think maybe even rakes

to rake up them leaves

in your back yard

Poundland's the one

they got a sick range of cards

I got one the other day,
for my sister Rae

I got three for a pound, 

yeah Poundland be sound!

that's uncle J sorted

and I got an assorted 

pack of biccies too
while I was there

man they were good, 

Poundland, they got everything 

everything you could possibly need

you know they even got seeds 

for them little garden birds to eat

i think, 

yeah I think I might have made that up

but Poundland, I swear 

they got everthing in there

they got flashwipes, cans of pepsi max

they got stacks and stacks

of pills, pain killers, vits and lax

pound land, 

yeah pound land be da one

no need to waste time 

calculating the sum 

of all your shopping 

one plus one plus one

-poundland be da one-

don't -

no i don't talk about it any more, 

no I don't, I no longer store

away sad poems in my unread drafts

rather I distract myself with these 

colourful crafts

with work, with words, with images

in thirds- I just endure silently 

yeah, I just pretend everything is okay

when in actuality I'm still suffering 

when in actuality it's hard to get through the days
sometimes my eyes, they betray
this reality, that somehow I managed to create
(elsewhere) they glaze over
they reveal
what my sealed mouth would never say
it's hard yeah, I hafta say, honestly 

sometimes I wish I could lay 

down all my defences and just be

but every time I try, 

my scars begin to bleed

every time I try

I almost forget how to breathe

-another unpublished draft-

wanta be

i wanta be a freedom fighter
and fight for our 

collective freedom

i wanta be an urban planner
and mend the broken streets 

of my asia

i wanta be a park ranger 

and wander for days and nights on end 

i wanta be a teacher 

and teach them how to bend 

their tiny minds, mind you.... 

they already know how to...

i wanta sing the blues, 

I wanta bellow out soulful tunes

i wanta be a travel photographer; 

and capture life from the dune

or from the bottom of a valley

i wanta rally,
up the animals of farthing woods

would you believe me....

would you believe me....
would you believe me....

i wanta build a hot air balloon
 maybe float away

I hafta say,
this isn't everything you are. 

you're so much more
than you believe yourself to be

me, I (still) just wanta be free...

i just wanta be an ascetic
and give up all wantings

(i think, it's hard to say for sure)

i wanta be nothing, i want to be nobody

yeah i think I wanta disappear, 

i think I wanta forget I was ever here

on planet earth

though my stay has been 

nothing short of miraculous... 

waiting for conviction

yeah man i hafta say 

that despite tryna' make 

the best of each and every day 

I'm bored, man,
I'm bored

in so many different ways

I'm bored, man,
I'm bored

of everything everyone has to say 

except maybe you

but you went away 

a long time ago

and so... and so... and so... 

I guess 

I'll just continue to be bored

yeah I know

I know I can't afford 

to mess up again, so I won't 

I just wish that I could pray 

that I could pray 

that I could pray

I just wish that I could say

that I could say

that I could say

-those foreign Arabic words-

with that same familiar conviction

that same conviction

-warmth-

it came so easy

once upon a time....

river and i

see every day

as I walk by the river

each weighty trouble

does slowly wither

away into thin air

and so do I

I guess that's 

the reasons why

I walk so much

river healing

river revealing 

certain secrets

river, it's between 

you and I 

all that we are 

we cannot deny

when we connect
I connect
river, I can see
yeah I can see
clearly

into another

watery reality
-river and i-

where we are

still in jail

still i fail

to engage 

with a thing called 

remorse

for I cannot force

myself to feel

a certain way

I can only pray 

that one day, we heal 

I can only pray 

that one day, we learn 

to better deal 

with the consequences 

of our actions

and our inactions

getting there, finally

finally, yeah finally
after a long hard road
finally a heavy load
is lifted and finally
I feel so happy

I feel so free
yeah finally
for the first time in forever

I feel like me 

again

I feel like me

yeah, I feel like I could be 

anyone I want to be

I want to be free

and so I am 

yeah, I'm already here

and so are you 

so are you my dear
finally

I swear, finally, I dare
you and me
and everyone we know
to get through
forever
-life is beautiful-
yes rough and yes tough
troubling, doubling in madness
but beautiful
nonetheless
-yes, life is beautiful-

make belief/ what a relief...

donar entry guy

what keeps you amused

is what keeps me bemused

a boring job, you say

day after day

training, on entering 

numbers into machines

yawn, but you choose to use 

interesting examples

yeah, through inserting 

provocative titles

into your database

like: miss(?)

yes what a miss,

that nearly was and asking

for a phone-number, top-notch

...innocent, maybe, maybe yes

maybe I'm just bored

of all, but your example

your request, for an address
haha donar entry guy
what kept you bemused

kept me amused

you made a grey day 

almost tolerable,

donar entry guy

pretzels on the table

olives and hummus too

life be weird, through and though

the things I mentioned, 

some how you already knew

guess I just like talking sometimes

to different people,
to people like you

can you tell I'm bored?

man I'm proper bored

they gone

lots of lost scribbles:
poems that once were

-ten thousand

ten thousand words

to write 

ten thousand demons

to fight (off)
and there's still

no end in sight 

-for I am, but
battling eternity- 

i shot the sheriff 

yeah I did it

I shot the sheriff 

before heading to Erith 

to be with

that one shackled
gypsy horse

they be horsing around

still, 

them other bandits

yeah.

urban wanders 10# 11# 12#

pure magic 

indescribable beauty

the urban wanderer

wanders 

against the sunset sky

in the twilight,
at nightfall

over a silver bridge so high

tracing the glowing orb, that hovers 

beside the towering shard
ours is a city with heart
a city with soul
just scroll, through the streets
watch as they greet
the ancient statue figures, it figures:

the river reflections 

the light deflections
emanating from the protruding

and there stands proud, yet humble

the great cathedral

and so there I wandered, I watched

the sunset sky 

and then I lied 

on the grass outside 

the Tate:
I looked up at the sky 

the leaves belonging to the
thin silver birches
fluttered and glinted
in the goldshine
and time
time ceases to exist
and Barry White, he sounds in my head 

the busker sings david bowie

-hours pass-

the saxaphone in the distance slows

the outline of st pauls grows
ever more distinct, ever more ethereal

pure magic 

indescribable beauty
yeah, indescribable beauty

and big ben at night fall, another day

another wander 

those dotty lights, still shining so bright

I crossed another bridge

and another bridge  

and then another 

I crossed the gardens too 

and then another garden
 and then another

 neat and prim, the gardens 

of victoria embankment seem
so tranquil and tranquillizing
harmonizing

gold light fades into twilight 

hours pass, another wander

another wander, south bank 

the london eye, even in the silent night

circulates, edges upwards 

majesty (not beauty you say 

but beauty, in every way 

is in the eye of the beholder)

Blackfriars, weaving through

no I don't believe its a construction
the gold haze surrounding tower bridge
on a warm middle eastern evening 

(even though its a construction sight; blackfriars)
but no, I don't believe it's a construction
used to lure in the tourists

-romanticism: pure magic: indescribable beauty- 

Byron, Wordsworth, Shakepeare

even Blake, these are my compatriots.

Yeah I admit some days I mark on every face I see

marks of weakness marks of woe

but most days I believe 

Earth has not anything more fair to show

yeah, I believe its my city 

London

its a beautiful city

real and pure

colourful, supernatural, to be factual

it is the best and as I lie, 

on the grass a smile on my face

music in my ears

eyes cast upwards at the clear city sky

I know I'm right
where I'm supposed to be.
Here. Not there, not in the mountains.
See me, I'm in awe always,
I marvel at the marvellous

me the born and bred londoner

the eternal tourist 

for london is something different every day

a thousand things to see,  

always in awe of this beauty

always in awe of
this fine city, so pretty 

the harmonies, the melodies

the faces, all different
ahh, what better thing
what offers more healing
than to lie on the grass for a thousand hours

and to feel at home in this city

by the silver birches of the tate

see while you wait 

I'll be here, just breathing 

smiling, witnessing 

the merging of day and night 

what a great spectacle to behold
I was sold
from day one-  

the peaceful glorious union

the oranges, the reds and yellows and golds

and then the blues and silvers that follow

breeze throughout

urban wanders, urban slumbers 

no bag, few belongings

belonging to the city 

i belong to you london

since sixteen, I been wandering

your city streets
in moonlight, in goldshine

i love you london

dunno

.................hmmm, dunno...................

.....dunno.....

finking of throwing it out
my samsung GT e810

ma gangster mobile, 

finking of goin' mobile
again

yeah man

im finking of chucking it out

chucking out ma phone

yeah man
 im finking of maybe perhaps

goin' it alone

but not really alone

just out of dis zone

of un-reality 

....dunno....

maybe

maybe I just 

wanta be free

maybe I'll also
(eventually)

delete

dese dumb internet pages

dese lonesome virtual spaces

where I post random tings

which bring 

...........about nothingness........

(no change)

...dunno...

hmm so listen yeah,
if i do disappear
and you wanta find me

I'll probably be, 

out dere roamin' da streets 

(searching)

yeah, I be searching

or maybe yeah
(more realistically)
you'll find me
drinkin' flower tea
under ma old pine tree
(in tooting common)
tryna find da old me
tryna let ma soul breathe....

(exhale)

maybe, maybe, maybe

-we'll see-

........ ........hmmm, dunno.....................

let me just ask...

can I just ask

what the hell
are you doing here?!

when you could be
anywhere

when you could be doing
anything

just what is it
that makes you think 

that you're okay, to be where you are

no clever repertoire
not now;
let's just be straight.

let's just get to the bottom of this, 

what makes you think
what makes you think
what makes you think

that its enough?
-here and now-

look, I don't mean to be tough

with you dear,
but it makes me fear

for humankind, 

I mean, if someone like you can't find,

or at least understand 

the truth, 

that your human potential

your god-damn human potential is
limitless, 

then what hope 

is there for the rest of us?

yeah, I'm talking to you

how long, I wonder...

how long, I wonder 

before I lose interest in you...

how long, I wonder
before you lose interest in me too...

how long I wonder,  

before I move onto someone new

how long, I wonder

 before we both remove

each other

from our two separate lives

separating

like

isolated atoms

-drifting apart-

how long before it happens?

this

losing interest

I confess, it happens often

often, I imagine...

how long, I wonder, 

how long before we do the thing 

we human-beings
must do

-part ways-

always,
it happens

how long, I wonder, how long...

bin juice

a trail of

bin juice 

to drag

the trash out 

early morning 

eyes pronounced

still shut

not ready 

for the wind

the smell of garbage

that it carries

lashes flutter

stay closed

found love in a trippy place

dem mellow highlands in far sight
dis pterosaur gliiiiiide right by
smoked tobacco in the neon lime
what makes the fox so deprived

(It’s da way I’m feeling I just can’t deny)
-but I’ve gotta let it go

we found love in a trippy place
da little mouse, yeah it licked my face
da stinkin' cat looked on disgraced
we found love in a trippy plaaaaace

riggy, figgy, siggy

we three sisters

riggy: figgy: siggy 

we three sisters

it's a little bit tricky 

-for the outsider-
to understand

the way we are
when we're together,
we're forever

bouncing of walls

early amitabh bachan

dear mr subway dude
don't worry about them yeah,
you weren't rude

you just had an attitude 

problem, the good kind 

-sort of undefined-
-more than unrefined-

like a bombay superstar

in the making

(a smile from afar/ from india)

you brought it with you, 

packed it in your suitcase

then took it out and wore it on your face

when you left the airport

-since when did I resort-

(to making stuff up)

borrowed perhaps
(your indian smile)

from the early

amitabh bachan

(remember leg 'o mutton) 

I don't even know
what I'm talking about 

any more...

mediate- to sedate

with not a minute to meditate; 

with not a moment to sedate

this restless heart, this racing mind

with not a second to find: 

words (words that mean stuff)

like I don't know-

I miss you golden boy 

and your lafungi brother too

like I don't know-

this mind, its paper mache

and I guess I haven't got much to say

yes my mind is mush

but as such I'd just like to say 

what's on my mind

what's on my paper mache mind-

let me tell you a secret

since the age of fifteen

I've be living in this strange dream

I've been struggling with this thing

-disassociation- 

it's why I can so openly write

with no qualms: 

let me tell you about it-

before leaving, this evening

I found myself in a basement 

an underground basement 

with some salafi sisters 

belonging to a place 

I can never go back to

and I watched 

the otherworldly mufti 

on the screen, 

I wanted to feel something 

so much i wanted to be affected 

but I wasn't.... so I left

I went back upstairs, 

and in the evening light 

I sat on my silly swivel chair

and I swivelled round and round 

round, till I was very dizzy

-it was trippy-

yeah it was trippy 

but then I left...

always leaving

distillation/ serendipity

-serendipity-

so entrenched now

that I can barely see

the latitudinal beauty

of it; of every pre-written connection

of every otherworldly synchronisation

distillation; impossibility

 an aching arm

cool yeah, 

I already knew that.

to absorb

funny how you just have

this vague idea in your head

and by some strange twist of fate

it becomes real and you get 

a real opportunity-

the law of attraction

the secret: they say

I just hope one day

I can absorb this stuff into my brain

and actually make the best of it

and achieve what I know I can

and do my best, I know I am

lacking right now, but still

I hope I can make the most

of being where I am
(somehow)

-I've got a long way to go-

is wasn't edgware

end of the line

a promise we made that time 

post fireworks 

we saw it through-

we travelled the distance

we travelled all the way to

edgware

is that where

we ended?

no it was high barnet

I remember now 

it was high barnet

-what carnage!-

that fizzy weirdness

that antique shop

that winters day

we went astray, 

we walked the whole way

yeah we crossed that log

in the suburbs, over a stream

yeah it was in those empty fields 

we shared our empty dreams

and secrets too

what a strange day 

and at nightfall

we found ourselves 

back in tooting

Yeah tooting

watching CCTV footage 

in chicken licken

traipsing to the police station

man sixteen, that was a weird year

from then on, I been well-geared

for weirdness

what you up to these days? 

drop me a line,
maybe we can go back in time

and travel through that empty field

once more. 

dat poet boy

da other boy

dat one from da past

da poet, his name

it keeps apprearing too

like his name on the database,
 in my inbox, 

no not my inbox

actually the info inbox

at work

dat poet boy

he was a poet long before me

long before we

ever crossed paths

now, years later, his name

everday it appears before me

in the info inbox at work

that’s what happens, I guess

when all the shadows of your past

are high flyer, do-gooder

wanta change da world types

yeah, dat poet boy, 

I remember him- vaguely
just like I vaguely remember
that name on the database
I never see your face
anymore, anywhere
I never think about where
we could be...

networking

yeah safe I got a lot of contacts

yeah safe, I’m pretty good at networking

but this networking, man I gotta say

its notworking: 

this networking is notworking

cos well see, I keep un-networking 

myself and starting again from scratch

scratch that- words upon words

maybe its just the circles i travel in

see they all intersect: see they all just reflect

each other (certain similitude)

waterloo scribbles

yeah, life- it begins after five

here i be sitting under the london eye

knees up, writing away 

in the post-storm sunshine

it hits me, those cosmic rays

the early evening glow 

bathes puddle reflections 

a cool spray of fountain breeze

wandering still, wondering still 

and smiling and whistling 

-it's uplifting- 

reciting wordsworth in my head

what a beautiful life he must've led:

oh waterloo!

if only you knew

how much I wanted to live this way before 

back when I was so bored

of it all.... I just hope you're making 

the most of this unearthly weather

what are the odds we'd be here together 

in Waterloo. Nil. We weren't 

but I've learnt 

to enjoy it alone, 

post-storm: that glittering gold! 

light on the tower, 

the sight never gets old

it just gets more ancient; more refined

it just grows ever- sublime

-london-

urban wander #7

a bit of conversation 

in the afternoon 

outside the british museum 

under the sun

i'm finding it hard to type

ma brain is melting 

but let me keep telling

you about my urban wander

yeah maybe i'll apply for

that one way ticket

to mars- nah I'm already there

yeah blad, I'm already there

on mars, from where I am

I can see through da stars-
I can see right though them
-translucent-

and he works in a meat shop

that young lad with squiggly hair

but he said he could be there 

whenever

sun, sat, fri, thurs, wed, tues, mon

-everyday-

in that order

come then, come kill some time 

-are you interested in science-

-are you interested in the sublime?-
loud and creative you say

come then, come kill some time

you made it, you wrote it

-yeah I'm more than a bit confused-

so I wandered again

yeah I wandered 

-I w(A)ndered, bemused-

-I w(O)ndered, confused-

Aww bless, I wandered though

Covent Garden, the back ends of Holborn 

Leicester Square too, 

the streets were alive with old memories
of you (not you, just no-one)
the after 6pm crowds
appeared, this time I had company

yeah I had some beautiful company

-still livin' in some vague dream-

a smile here and there

(yes there be healing)

einstein afro

a mop of white hair

or was it an Einstein afro

I can't say I really know

I can't say I really know

 for sure, but surely

he was there

one arm trapped in the train door

with the other he waved, 

yes he waved 

in order to save 

his limb from being torn away, 

he waved

manically

he waved in jovial horror

-the tube-

flashback tuesday

.....i watch.....
(in a daze)
the three small mice
and thier funny micy ways

on the platform of the station
-I watch as they elude patience-

scurrying scurrying scurrying

hurrying, hurrying, hurrying

to get to the place they need to be
-patience, little mice, patience-
...i watch (in a daze) i look to see...
everything, for everything be trippy
to this odd urban hippy
especially these
three tiny mice
so thrice, I breathed
and then and then and then

then a stranger, she came up to me
-from nowhere-
and she hugged me

and then and then and then
slowly I realised 

much to my surprise

 that it was her

yes it took some time, 

for it to register
-patience little mice-
(gone)

names upon names

I sifted through my mind

until I did find

it, yes I remember! 

....we shared a room one September? 

or was it a December? 

or maybe is was a July?

-time, it doesn't lie-
(stagnant)

in Switzerland was it? 

yes, I remember

flashback tuesday, the pieces 

they barely fit, if only I writ

it down, but wait I did

but wait 

I can't find that notebook  

and you know the archivist too

and you wrote an article about her 

in the newstatesman, yes the hard poet, 

I knew her well, 

a soul so true, a true freedom fighter

a voice of power, 

we'd chat for an hour, each time

we met in the prayer room

yes, small world and morad, you knew

her too? If only I knew

small world, 

flashback tuesday 

flashback tuesday
-where did the mice go?-
(into the dark tunnel)
-into  the abyss of uncertainty-
......i watch.......

then on my way home,
yeah on the tube

Francesca dude, 

I saw you, you were right there in front of me 

I said nothing, I just watched 

as you clasped the yellow bar

with both hands, muttering, I think

on our northern line train 

you looked so distracted 

so troubled: so maimed, 

inspecting your orange fingernails 

-dear, are you turning to rust?-

are you going off the rails 

again? I've spent too much time away 

and there are no words for me to say

so I remained silent

so I averted my gaze, so I looked some place
else, though i remember that time we spoke

about requiem for a dream, you lent me the dvd

when I was sixteen, or fifteen 

or maybe fourteen 

you were ghosting, when we met again 

by chance, in this same way,
on another train.
The questions remains

are you in the same place? am I?

back then, we'd both hit the back roads

now here you are a lady

now here I am a hobo 

I wonder do you still recognise me

probably not- who knows? 

I knew, you would get off at clapham south

when the train alighted. yes I knew, 

and you did, you ducked under a strangers

arm and gosh you reminded me of her

of my old best mate 

of your old best mate

of T,  she rubbed off on me 

maybe she rubbed off on you too. 

Ahh flashback tuesday 

flashback tuesday

flashback tuesday

Hmm I don't know what to say 

just another weird day 

in the life of sy

ah it could have gone awry

but it didn't, because I bagged her shopping 

and shared my biscuits

and watched the young ones, just laugh.
flashback tuesday
flashback tuesday
flashback tuesday
(three small mice)

urban wandering #4

I carried on wandering

past china town 

the patterned letters and neon lights

what was that? 

a duck in the sky, a duck taking flight?

now here, in Leicester square

where the tourists wait

where the serpents glare

the past; the timeless statues

they still keep watch 

the smell of butterscotch 

still fills the air, I forget

 where,

where I am? and then I wander

past St-Martins-in-the Field

and Trafalgar Square

that same lion continues to stare 

in the same direction (a million years

have passed)

-a crook in his iron neck-

just keep to the trek!
just keep trekin'

urban wandering #5

hmm but then I saw something 

something quite new,
something candid

something almost true

a man, from Vietnam 

in awe, sheer awe
at the beauty of big ben

that's when 

it clicked! 

but then it un-clicked for a

tourist clicked 

the button on his camera

and in a flash it was gone

-connection-

so I stared back 

once more
at the houses of parliament

-disarmament-

-antioxidant-

-entomologist-

(random)

like life, like london, like this poem

as I crossed the river

as I travelled back south

those familiar mountains

those estate blocks

appeared on the horizon

bounding! invisible, yet confounding

-the imperial war museum-

(closed)

the roundabouts:  

dem hotel workers be havin a smoke

under a dark bridge

away from the river boats

away from the suits

I carried on wandering 

my feet did not touch the ground

though once or twice, I ground

to a halt and just stared up

at the sun and I wondered

nothing. I wandered nothingness. 

a few countless more steps. I ended up 

where? Hmm I don't care

neither do you

still this beauty: it's nothing new
-discolour your life, with madness-

urban wandering #3

row after row
of tree trunk cut outs
 mismatched benches
on them
the same people reading

the same book,
over and over:
again and again

and the same kids are

running in circles
wondering and wandering
when and when

playing in water

-everlasting fountains- 

paper mountains, 

surrounding the city

-blocks: south london: blocks-

and the same elderly folk 

are caught up in forgotten dreams,

musing on times gone by

 (or so it seems) 

wasting time and
just waiting to die
yes, they're just waiting to die

urban wander #2

so I wandered past, I floated by

a string of music shops, 

a hundred shiny guitars 

they told me to keep to the stars

they told me to avoid empty reservoirs

they told me to paint over my scars

with bubblegum, hubba-bubba

or to take a rubber

and rub them out

(denmark street)

trippy beats

-yet, I can't see so much; 

yet, it's quite blurry-

(metaphysically)

-virtually-/-spiritually-

I don't know why 

I keep trying to explain

the way things are

because the way things are 

are so far -so far- so far 

from your reality

gradually, I'll stop trying...

but I wandered

yes i wondered

urban wander #1

a million things
to (re)discover

so I left to go
 for an urban wander

so I left the office
and made for the streets

I left them there,
the pile of sheets 

(on my desk)

-i let them rest- 

for a while

for they can wait
for another day 

so I walked away

so I wandered
into the world 

into the strange world 

of London

-a thought with each step-

reflecting/ musing

spacing/ choosing; 

to wander, but not to wonder

certain things

-this is not me-

reader: I can't make you see

that I can't see, not really

radiohead

(how to disappear completely)

the song: the story of life

spring sunday

beautiful sunshine 

breeze on a spring day 

the goldfinches, they sing 

their courting melodies 

as we lie on tall grass-

the hearty remedy:
the healing:
-fades-

left-over sadness

for laughter with sisters

-instils a weighty gladness-

to be alive 

on this one spring Sunday
to just lay:
to look to the sky
to feel truly alive 

is a beautiful thing

-so smile-
-so just let go-

victoria coach station

different faces

heading to different places 

different bags

 slot in- between

empty spaces

changing letters 

on the screens

scattered all around:
torn magazines

changed again

scattered destination

(the coach station)

different faces

heading to different places

nuns on sojourns

the student on his return
(home)

young man in a daze

a pair of forgotten runaways

with nowhere to go

(the coach station)

victoria coach station:
where time does slow

especially for the elderly
on day trips
putting up with dodgy hips
and aching knees
awaiting the promise of sunshine
and cool spring breeze,
in a seaside town like Clacton 

-the coach station-

coach station dreams:
we're all just killing time
we're all just waiting to die

-joyfully-

old friends

lucy, special soul

you inspire me 

to be the higher me 

and dear bruce

lets make a truce

to stay connected 

for lately
i been resurrected

you'll see me around
now i vow,
to stay visible

i won't hide any more

not like i done before 

i'ma just keep sailing 

though this one life 

silently ima continue 

to battle out this strife

ima shrug off the mess

that won't allow me rest

in peace, yes till i cease

ima shrug it off
and ima just be
-so free and so happy-

where's wally in westfield

so some how, 

on boxing day

I found myself 

in the most unlikely place

(well unlikely, 

for a vagrant like me)

a vagrant who'd rather be 

in the wild

the wilderness of

Westfield

in Stratford

it was something else

-completely absurd-

(to be there)

man, I swear

I'd never seen so many

folk in my life

my oh my!
as we traipsed
we planned for an escaped
and so we escaped

to a quiet place, to the top floor

and like a pair of wally's

we played where's Wally

as we looked down

at the crowds

at the swarms of people

they looked so small

-enthralled- 

to be part of the surreal-

to be part of the unreal

I didn't at all feel

like we were 

the same species

were we?

woof : pitter patter

the rain 

the park 

the sky, a dark 

grey: another day

under the same shelter 

-a dwindling dweller-

-keeping from getting ever wetter-

in the background

the same black wolf dog

-recites his ever-familiar dialogue-

barking in the rain

trying to regain:

-conversation

with drops of rain-

woof woof

woof woof

pitter-patter

pitter-patter

pitter-patter

-barking rain
it does scatter-

stay blessed

i suggest 

you make the best

dear friend, you are

so so so so so blessed

entirely and completely 

for all those around thee 

are beautiful; 

they give you strength 

they make you smile

when times are hard

they make you forget 

for a while

-love-

from above

-a gust of wind

broken scaffolding

fell from above

high above, it landed 

a few inches before me

'that was close!'

she said as she flit by

her blond ponytail 

swished side to side

-spaced out-
woah man, 

I was about to die!

thing called hope

in time 

i hope palestine

will remind you 

of a thing called hope: 

through words you showed

me everything; the olive trees 

the arid valleys, lush green villages

Bethleham's cobbled quiet alleys;

stars so bright
against the night

sky, the gold dome 

and tears in the early morn

interrogation:  

the weary complication 

of a dire situation

-resilience-

so many stories 

so many lessons 

to be learned

so much I yearned 

to be there with you, to see- 

though I live vicariously 

through you and though

every character 

I create, 

for every story that I make 

up in my head

see I've already led 

a million lives, 

I've already journeyed 

through a million different times

the beauty of imagination 

the joy of fascination

-the practise-
(you: the storyteller)
(me: the writer)

in time 

I hope palestine 

will remind you 

of a thing called hope
-beauty and love-

certain east african brothers

east african brothers

man, dey got swagger

-shatter- 

all your pre-existing 

conceptions 

resist all your fallacious

apprehensions

da ones dey be feedin' you 

on da box,
see dese east african brothers

dey be in da mosque

prayin', while you be sayin'

shit about dem
-engineered falsity-

(d'you get me?) 

cos what I see, to be true

man, it ain't nothing new; 

dese east african brothers
dey pursue
something out of dis world
-something ancient-
-something learned-

dey posses a certain kindness
minus, da arrogance; dey possess

a certain humility and truth, 

yeah dey be true

dey be real, I never knew

much about dem before 

I never really saw

da way dey were, 

-absent pirates-

stiving and righteous
-yeah-

dat east african swagger

upright, frank, valor
seeking worth

dey ask no questions, 

dey gone' be dere
always ready to volunteer

I gotta say 

man, dese east african brothers

dere mothers,
sure raised dem right 

I'd like, yeah I'd like 

to know more about
dese east african brothers

to tarry

you got married

while i tarried 

the street corners

for a little too long

happy for you now
happy that you

finally belong, 

some place. 

torn teeth: twins

I heard a story today

that I wanted to share

a story so simple,

but at the same time

a story so rare

so I made a cup of tea

camomile

and I wrote down some poetry

I wrote down this poem

girl your  

simple but rare story
it was

incredible; but highly credible

-compressible-

using some words 

I'll turn your story into a poem

-the story: the poem-

of that time

your foolish twin brother

dived into the shallow end

and his braces, they got caught onto a tile

while you were somewhere else

and to save his own life

he pulled away 

torn teeth hung from his mouth
 blood flooded the pool

and you recieved a call
from your cousin

'take him to a&e'

you said before you returned home

by then your mother, she already knew

something was wrong

but you said nothing

instead you bit into your sandwich

and your two teeth started bleeding

'wash your mouth' your mother said

before that you admitted you never

believed in twin
synchronicty

but now to this day,
you say

you get sick, whenever gets sick

though where he is

you never really know

these simple stories go

a long way, in teaching us lessons

beautiful lessons

the kind you'll never learn

-elsewhere-

baited breathe

did i already know? 

that you were in so 

deep. did i weep?   

when I found out

where you were?

where are you? 

what did you do?

the past few nights  

i've dreamt of all the 

places you could be

locked up, I await 

apprehensively, 

on baited breathe

-communication-

the past few nights

it's been hard to breath

knowing 

that your someplace

no one ever wants to be.

fried chicken and ice cream

chicken cottage

tea and ice cream in the office 

with a mate: a good mate- 

was it fate?

those shared jokes
laughter so true

days like that I knew 

I made the right decision; to leave,

still sometimes I grieve:
on all that never was...

queen of malmö

cascading waters

the atlas mountains

thousands and thousands 

of charging bedouins; shouting

never!

-ghosts-

that lost their way

-ghosts-

they never truly fade away

and I hafta say 
it's more than 

disconcerting

that his blue house stands;
there, yeah, I hear 
he be smokin' hashish; 
without a care

in the world, 

-wait-

for soon the dark skinned

queen of Malmö

the strong Swedish warriar

will restore order

-draw lines -

cross the border

now, 
for they're coming.... 

another dream day

another day of

living in this dream of

living in between 

two places

another day of seeking 

God's graces

(thoughts abrasive)

-this soul: vegetative-

another day of seeking 

new ways 

to face, each and every

shiny piece of trouble

instead of burying it in rubble

i'm seeking new ways 

to face; life
and glossy pieces of trouble 

polished and pummled
by the devil himself

another day of

living in this dream of

living in between 

two places
-one chases;
the other-
-fiction: reality-
(certain duality)

i awoke in the early hours 

of the morning

i'm still mourning 

the loss of the one 

who's behind bars

some place far- far- far 

away from here:

some place:
I don't know where

too many unpublished poems

too many thoughts unvoiced

too many secrets to keep 

too many times-
I made the wrong choice

i never had a choice,
the choice was never mine
now I've got half a mind 

to expel (the entirety)

another day of

living in this dream of

living in between

two places

(hidden traces: of eternity

of heaven and hell)

exist-can't you tell?-

man, can't you tell?!

I awoke in the morning

to the sound of troubled voices 

outside and outside I thought 

am I asleep? am I awake?

am I alive? have I already died?

so i stuck my head out of the window

half dazed, they looked up at me, 

un-fazed, they looked away 

another day of

living in this dream of

of living in between 

two places 

funny and strange
for the day- it hadn't even begun 

spiritual malaise; hadn't even sung 

it's oh so familiar tune. 

you're right, ima loon.

-proper- 

Hergeisa

give her a few years

she'll be gone

you'll find her 

in the place she belongs-

riding her bike 

through the valleys

surrounding hargeisa

im'a go see her 

when she finally does 

settle down there

with her guy

well, I'll try 

at least to make it 

for life is what you make of it

know that, yeah

just know that fact

even when the odds are stacked

against you.
life is what you make of it

a somali and a pakistani

a somali and a pakistani 

walk into a bank with a suitcase

ahh man, 

I can never keep a straight face

when I tell this joke

ha! the joke is; there ain't one'

let me just run

with this a little longer

-I know, I know; I'm right plonker-

where was I? 

oh yeah,

a somali and a pakistani

walk into a bank with a suitcase

full of coppers, 

and the coppers;

they looked bare suspicious

truthfully

-fictitious-

you kind of had to be there

an option

the option appeared before me

-manage your inmate list-

I ran the risk 

of crying out laughter 

at the sheer ridiculousness of life

at the sadness of the option

the option that appeared before me

-manage your inmate list-

perhaps the option exists

for the lonely gangster 

for tribesmen behind bars

for lowly outlaws 

from that faraway planet of Mars

-manage your inmate list-

this life man, 

it does consist

of a whole lot of crazy-ass shit!

and man I hafta say 

a part of me is actually looking 

forward to judgment day 

when all this insanity

makes sense, when things fit,

when clarity is finally made clear 

yeah by then I fear, 

it'll be too late

-to dissipate-

clarity

clarity

clarity