Thursday 1 August 2019

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

Sunday 28 July 2019

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

* _ *

Monday 8 July 2019

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

Sunday 7 July 2019

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 

Wednesday 19 June 2019

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 

Monday 27 May 2019

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 

Friday 17 May 2019

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 

Saturday 27 April 2019

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 >_<

Friday 19 April 2019

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

Thursday 18 April 2019

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-

Tuesday 16 April 2019

- 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

?

Monday 15 April 2019

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






Friday 29 March 2019

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- 

Sunday 24 March 2019

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

Friday 22 March 2019

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
///

Monday 25 February 2019

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
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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

Monday 18 February 2019

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

Wednesday 13 February 2019

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

Tuesday 12 February 2019

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.

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. 

Sunday 3 February 2019

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)

Sunday 20 January 2019

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.

Wednesday 16 January 2019

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

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
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>