Posted in anger, campaign, Emotions, Health, Journey, Life, mental health, Mental State, Poetry, Therapy, Uncategorized


Just another wound

broken men soldier through life

picking up scars

from broken pasts and broken hearts

but they can’t cry

or speak

society does not permit

gravity to touch their tears

it makes them weak

so they sit mute

fading yet failing to disappear

persist in their hollow drama

whispering their pain to the back of their eyes

their dry eyes

and boiling temper

I look at you confused

my broken man

wondering why you won’t release your stress

and trust the security I offer you

Another wound

my broken man soldiers through life

deeper scars

from a broken past and a broken heart



“Soft hearted people are not fools, the know what people did to them but they forgive them again and again because they have beautiful hearts”

-Islamic Quote

(unsure of the writer)

Posted in Contemplation, Emotions, Health, Islam, Journey, Mental State, Poetry, Uncategorized



Watching the world go by through the holy stained glasses

clouded overtime from the mist left by the believing sinners


Yet reminded that God is ever watching

Ever near

Yet I can’t shake this feeling of being


Witnessing happiness

Feigning joy but in seclusion self-mutilating

Resisting urges to give it all in

Give it all up

To Be Alone.

Telling myself I can’t fight anymore

I can’t pretend

Telling myself you can

One step at a time

But telling no-one else


Then waking in the early hours of dawn

To confess the sins of the night to the Lord

So close.


Posted in domestic violence, Emotions, Freedom, Health, Humanity, Islam, Journey, Life, mental health, Mental State, Poetry, Spoken Word, Therapy, Uncategorized

Strength in Walking 2

It was while she was running
Rainy days
Blistering winds
betraying tears
Forgiveness isn’t a friend of the stubborn
She had laughed in his face
Cried inside but showed no pain
Now it was while she was running
Traffic crunching along
Gravel sounds made her turn around
but she was still moving on
The shadow of the world
Shone through the hazy streetlights
and yet she ran
Hood pulled up. Close.
Hands shaking from misery
and exhilaration of defiance
It was while she was running
away from her mistakes
that she ran into freedom-
the freedom of walking away


Check out Strength in Walking here

Strength in walking

Posted in Anti-violence, campaign, domestic violence, Emotions, Poetry, Uncategorized

Round Circles


Eye for an eye just once

Not again


That was when the blame game started

Eye for an eye just once

Not again


Back and forth we went all day

That was when the blame game started

Eye for an eye just once

Not again

Four Times

Got kind of heated then relieved

Back and forth we went all day

That was when the blame game started

Eye for an eye just once

Not again

Fifth count

It was all over, on the floor she lay bleeding

Got kind of heated then relieved

Back and forth we went all day

That was when the blame game started

Eye for an eye just once

Not again.




*Image taken from BBC Webpage

Posted in Anti-violence, Anti-war, Emotions, Freedom, Humanity, Islam, Journey, Justice, Life, Religion, Uncategorized

Muhammad Ali-A tribute

An extract from “The Soul of a Butterfly” by Muhammad Ali and Hana Yasmeen Ali

“A newfound FRIEND

It was a hot day in May. I was at Fighter’s Heaven, my training camp in Deer Lake, Pennsylvania, getting ready for my fight against George Foreman. After a long and hard workout I’d gone back to my dressing room with Gene Kilroy, who helped run the camp.

We were sitting there when there was a knock on my cabin door. Gene went to see who it was. A young boy with health problems wanted to meet me. I told Gene to send him in, and seconds later the boy appeared with his father. The boy wore a heavy sweater and a wool cap. I asked him why he was wearing that hot sweater and cap.

The boy told me that he had leukaemia and that he was wearing the cap because all his hair had fallen out, due to the chemotherapy that he had undergone.

A wave of sadness passed over me, and at the same time I realised how lucky I was to have healthy children. Gene took a picture of the twelve-year old boy with me and as the boy prepared to leave I asked him his name.

“My name is Jimmy” he answered, and he added that I had made him very happy. I looked at him and told him that I was going to beat George Foreman in the upcoming fight and that he was going to beat cancer.

Jimmy gave me a hug. “You’re right!” he said.

As the boy was leaving I said, “Jimmy, don’t forget what I told you.”

He gave me a big smile, waved goodbye, and walked out the door.

A couple of days later I had the picture of Jimmy and me blown up and sent it to the boy’s father. On it I’d written:

‘To my friend Jimmy,

You’re going to beat cancer. I’m going to beat George.

Love, Your friend,

Muhammad Ali’

Two weeks later, while I was on the way to do my road workout, Gene told me that the boy’s father had called to thank me for the picture. He’d gone on to explain that Jimmy was now in the University of Pennsylvania hospital and didn’t have much more time to live.

This made me feel so sad that I told Gene to let the boy’s father know that we were driving down to the hospital immediately to visit little Jimmy. Three hours later we arrived at the hospital and went straight up to Jimmy’s room. When I walked in he was lying in his bed and I saw that his skin was as white as his sheets were.

Jimmy looked up with bright eyes and called out, “Muhammad, I knew you would come!”

I walked over to his bedside and said, “Jimmy, remember what I told you? I’m going to beat George Foreman and you’re going to beat cancer”.

Jimmy looked up to me and whispered, “No, Muhammad. I’m going to meet God, and I’m going to tell him that you are my friend.”

  *              *            *

The room was silent and we were in tears. I hugged Jimmy goodbye and later that night when we returned to my training camp, none of us spoke much.

I guess God had a bigger plan for Jimmy because a week later Gene informed me that Jimmy had died and that I was invited to attend his funeral. I couldn’t go, so I asked Gene if he would go and represent me, and he did.

When Gene returned from the funeral he told me that there had been an open casket and that the autographed picture was beside Jimmy’s head.

Jimmy’s death was a powerful lesson in the midst of all the activity and preparation for my job–a boxing match– of how fragile and precious life is. We must always be mindful that each day is a gift from God that can be lost at any moment”.

No-one will ever be able to comprehend how much Ali inspired me to use whatever voice I have to try and make a difference. To stand up for what I believe in and to do right by people. Whenever I need some motivation and inspiration I pick up this book and find hope, I find courage, I find humility. I find a freedom fighter, with a gentle, loving nature, but with a fierce courage that only some possess. People like Muhammad Ali are rare and I have been blessed to know a time where I was able to see his impact on people. I pray to God that nobody ever diminishes his influence that he had in this world, and that he is not forgotten as just a boxer-because he was so much more than the greatest boxer of all time.

The world will be a better place if we all take snippets of his nature and instil it within ourselves. We truly lost a legend on 4th June 2016.

I pray that Allah welcomes Muhammad Ali with love and mercy, and that he is amongst the finest company in Jannah. I pray that his family have patience in this difficult time and draw strength from the love the world is displaying; I pray one day we can all be as solid in our faith as Ali was and be role models for future generations. Above all, I pray that Ali is at peace. We love you Champ.





Posted in anger, Contemplation, Emotions, Journey, Life, Poetry, Spoken Word, Uncategorized, Unspoken spoken word

Second to Last

The cussing the fighting

the breaks and the crying

the pain is denying me

from even trying

What is the point.. when you’re missing the point

the defining part of everything’s gone.

You’re raising others on a platform where I stood,

So imma brush off my kicks and just stand where I’m stood

On my own two feet on my own misunderstood

With the weight of the world dragging out my blood

Just for once, just this once, don’t be blunt, spare my feelings, just for once sugar coat the feelings, or lack of, just for once

Just for once, just this once, don’t be blunt, spare me failure, just for once, sugar coat the feelings of failure just this once

Hard-work is a frame of mind and so is defeat

Hard-work can give you success but so can defeat

It’s harder to come up again when you’re feeling weak

but if you’re not tested in this world

your future is bleak!

It’s a lot when things get hard you’re meant to look at someone less

but I’m accustomed to striving for the best

If I put in the hours and graft you know that I want it

so when I cry at this test of Allah I’m just being honest

They say the answer will reveal how much effort you put in

but those grades don’t reflect my dedication

It’s blatant

In a system of division

Where only the strong from birth will conquer

Entering this competition

Is just cold-blooded murder

So it’s a lot it’s a lot

but you can’t quit now

because a quitter never made it off the ground

And what’s worse than failing is not trying in the first place

so even if I get up I’ll be aiming for second to last place

and that in itself is better than giving up

so fix your hijab, back straight and stick your chin up



Posted in anger, Emotions, Free Speech, Justice, Life, Unspoken spoken word

The Rant

Tests of all kinds

hitting me like the meteors

some eagerly await

I’m not playing

this is fear in my voice

my heads bowed in disgrace

you should wonder about your life here in this world

it’s so temporary

yet people fighting over class wars

and making enemies

it’s all fake

I made a mistake of falling for lyrics

until I started to create my own

to remind myself to stay with it

and now I share it

it’s great

why can’t we learn before we make mistakes

too many people walking around with misery

and heartache

jolting each other awake

there’s traps out here that kids learn how to set in school

imagine those sets they put you in

elevated you 

or downgraded you

where are you on this hierarchy my friend

coz I’ve got friends living in luxury

some on the government’s p’s

but make no error in judgement

there’s just as much dirty laundry in either estate

so put your negativity away

this life’s too short for class wars

if my accent offends you then that’s great

I walked past you and 

made you have an opinion of me

within a second

damn I prepped for nothing

my presentation might not be perfect

but I still kill it on wordpress

at least to me

even one reader who takes to these words

and elevates

is someone who I appreciate

take my words as a warning

like that of lowkey

it’s a shame

when people gotta learn from mistakes

of their own and not others

learn from history and don’t repeat

listen don’t be offended by my accent my religion

my appearance my criticisms

don’t be afraid

instead look at this world objectively

and realise that when something blows up on the media

it’s because something else is going on somewhere else

and distracting you

from something great

great don’t mean it’s goood

but it’s still make it great

open your eyes

next time come at me with more educated guesses

and we can sit around drink coffee and debate this

but the thing is

before I can lure you to listen

I already know it’s too late


Posted in Emotions, Poetry



It began

sucking my blood dry

I could feel it gush towards my heart

8 seconds

it took 4

so strong was it’s power that it struck

harder than last time

and it was getting stronger

and I was weakened

there’s a certain type of pain only the heart feels

not anger

not selfishness

they only affect your brains mood

i’m talking shyness, disloyalty, betrayal and…guilt

you feel it here on the left

you feel your cheeks redden

your heart pounds

you act sheepish

anxiety is your oxygen


your behaviour changes

you cascade to your own destruction

you become the collateral damage of your own actions

and your arms and legs, your mind, seek a way out

but there’s no way out except…repentance


because that is another process only the heart feels

and only the heart can mend what only the heart can feel

your body simply follows it’s beat

a slave in some ways

can easily be trapped and make you weak



you remove your heart

but you carried on as you were

you couldn’t feel so much

didn’t really feel hurt

you’d take it all back, just to feel love

because that’s the strongest force the strongest tug

we can learn to moderate what we want to feel

at the end of the day, we have free will

we have to accept we live in a world of opposites

we can’t feel good and then not feel emptiness

conquer your demons, the angels never leave

He notes your struggle, like of Adam and Eve

resist the temptations of this worldly life

be happy over sad, choose good over bad

be content never ungrateful be nice never hateful

take steps to glory, repent and retreat

then one day you’ll be smiling when the Lord you do meet



Can you feel guilty, even when you haven’t done anything wrong? Even if you remove someone from your life, and you did not do so in a harsh swearing, cussing, insulting. Just the blunt truth that change occurred and there’s no point acting. What is the use of that feeling of guilt? As if you had done something wrong.

I don’t get it


Two images that I’ll leave this post on:

guilt  Quotation-Donald-Lynn-Frost-inspiration-feelings-Meetville-Quotes-195719

Posted in Emotions, Poetry

Weather: Sunny Mood: Rainy

The rain pours down the window outside, I feel alive

I can sit in my room and focus my energies on whatever I need to try

The gloom and shadows, the out of focus vision, is the weather that I prefer

The way the sky sheds tears, reveals others are hurting worse

but when the sun illuminates through the clouds and breaks them with force

I am reminded, whilst being blinded, that there is nothing hiding my remorse

The brightness cannot cover my sorrow it displays it right to the core

To the point where I must bury my head,

wave the white flag to this inner war


“A kind word is a form of charity”- Prophet Muhammad (peace and blessings be upon him)