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

Wounds

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

-a.K.a-

 


“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)

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Posted in campaign, Contemplation, Feminism, Freedom, Life, Poetry, Uncategorized

You Might Think Feminism Is Dead

Feminism is not removing my hijab

Or burning bras

Swearing and shouting

because being ladylike is torture

Feminism is not saying I can do this

It’s saying I can do both

and more

It’s saying I can make change as PM

without using my power to go to war

It’s saying I can have an empire

waiting for me outside my door

and come home to my husband and kids

and take control

It’s being a supermum

and a superboss

a superchef, supercleaner

superfast car lego building, abs builder

It’s being everything and more

and nothing if I don’t want it

It’s having the choices and chances to inspire

create opportunities and fly higher

It’s being equal but embracing our differences

You might think feminism is dead

and I might agree with you to be honest

-a.K.a-

 

 

 

(Image taken from PlayBuzz)

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

-a.K.a-


Check out Strength in Walking here

Strength in walking

Posted in Contemplation, Humanity, Islam, Journey, Life, Peace, Poetry, Religion, Travel, Uncategorized, Unspoken spoken word

The Traveller

You can walk for days on end

in the blistering heat

cracked feet

eyes squinting as the Sun refuses to give way

the traveller’s prayers are destined to be granted

destiny always has a part to play

But that’s not why we take this path today

It seems we are unconsciously walking on

Wondering when we will find that force so strong

to rock our boat

set our compass

align the stars as one would say

so we can plod, we can glide, briskly or swiftly

we can stroll we can limp

but we’ll meet strangers

other travellers

trying to find where they are going

along this gravelly smooth jagged and open road

the high fast anxious seas

to our peaceful destination

-a.K.a-

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.

-a.K.a-

 

 

 

Posted in Life, mental health, Poetry, Therapy, Uncategorized

Lightbulb

It is a myth you see

-unattainable here

This notion of so-called peace

Because as I sit here

rocking back and forth

It feels like an abattoir, not ease

 

The windows are blinded

just like our minds

It’s incredible we all cannot see

The blindfolds are binding

it’s hard to describe it

but the metal shines as it is released

 

It’s obvious now

as I float to the clouds

back to where it is all started

That it’s a myth you see

-unattainable here

not a world for the fainthearted

 

-a.K.a-

Posted in Islam, Life, Religion, Uncategorized

Rain

The clouds recoiled from the eager eyes of Earth

Teasing them with specks of gold then retreating again

A shy child holding out her hand

hesitating

then retreating to stand behind her mother

peeking from time to time behind her mother’s leg stealing glances at strangers

The land thirsted for a glimmer of hope.

A droplet

Waiting endlessly until

the perfect time

The people of the village peered at the sky through patient eyes

blocking the sun with hardened hands

signalling the end of a season

An eruption was simmering beneath the surface

Anticipation heightened as the sky began to shift

The sun, dominant and forbearing

was shrinking shrinking

The clouds thunderous and wide

-not in anger but more like a King’s welcome

the elderly, with their eyes closed, began to whisper prayers

the worried couple prematurely embraced in gratefulness

the children’s laughter interrupted by a slow, steady rumble.

Then an escaped, nervous giggle.

Silence sounded in warning

In the blink of an eye

gathering speed

the first drop

of new life

-a.K.a-

Posted in Anti-violence, campaign, domestic violence, Journey, Life, Poetry, Uncategorized

Tremor

Wrong words

Wrong moves

escalation of thoughts

Vivid memory of the last time

bruised skin, bruised ego

Vicious

Menacing

Present

Everyday

circling like a vulture

“so what we gna do?”

 

-a.K.a-


 

Domestic violence is a growing problem. Domestic violence is present, mishandled by the police and still ignored in many cultures. Considered to be a norm, or glossed over with excuses, it’s often too late. Be aware-spread awareness.

It’s not just a fist to the face. They lied when they said words don’t kill

Peace x

Posted in Islam, Journey, Life, Uncategorized

Having faith when the odds are NOT in your favour

Recently, I’ve seen people face a lot of adversities, as well as facing some myself, whether it’s exam stress, divorce, financial difficulties, or other hardship. So, I thought it seemed a good time to share some of the insight I’d gained from my own disappointments in order that it might make someone else feel better.

Not long ago, (about a week ago-queue Bobby Schmurda) I received my exam results and despite my hard-work-and I mean REAL. HARD. WORK-I was disappointed in my grades…because out of 11 exams I had failed 3 of the more important ones. It’s the first time in my academic life where I’d actually sacrificed sleep, chilling with friends, TV, reading, writing, attending weddings etc, in order to stay focused and achieve what I know I could. The first time where I’d actually looked at the higher end of the awards and thought, “I can get that!” The first time where I’d voiced those thoughts with my classmates…more than once.

Background-(feel free to ignore)

To provide a brief background, I had enrolled on the Legal Practice Course (LPC) at the University of Law, but instead of the 9 month course I decided to take on the 6 month accelerated course. In terms of content, the courses were the same, it literally just meant instead of attending university twice a week, I had a five day schedule. This obviously meant that students had to be prepared to be on the ball 7 days a week, as the prep work alone for workshops was intensive. In fact, the university said that we would be doing the work equivalent to a full-time job (approx. 50 hour week) if not more. However-and this is a big however- the reason for me attending the UofL in the first place was because the exams were open-book so I thought I would fair better as exams have not always been my strong point. Once enrolled, and I do 100% blame the university on all counts for this, a lot of the students, including myself, were alerted to the fact that it was a closed book exam now and the course itself had been switched up in line with feedback from law firms who had worked with the uni previously.

What did this mean for us?

It meant that teachers were not 100% sure about what was examinable; there were no past papers to go on apart from the specimen paper provided, which was inadequate not even a complete paper; we had the opportunity of sitting one mock paper and in hindsight I believe the marking was more lenient for it, thereby not benefiting us in anyway. Simester 1 alone saw a lot of problems. Students who were used to the organised schools of Eton and Oxford were PISSED (to put it mildly) at the sub-standard schooling we were receiving. People like me on the other scale of society were more focused on the heavy investment towards our education we had made and the lack of care it seemed that was being exercised.

We stand, we fight

When you put in the prep required and don’t reach your goals-there’s two things you have to evaluate. Firstly, either your prep was wrong. Now, in my case, I think I probably could have squeezed a few more hours in if I’m looking at quantity of prep. In terms of quality, what I thought was required was clearly not right. And that’s just the way the cookie crumbles sometimes-don’t mean we gna stop eating cookies right!

The second aspect is that sometimes it’s just your turn to learn a lesson. Are you a quitter or a fighter? When it gets hard and there’s a lot on the line, do you fall or conquer? No we don’t, we stand we fight and we win.

And it’s these words that I have had to keep repeating to myself. I’m now in Simester 2 and although some would argue “oh like come on failing exams compared to having a miscarriage or a terminal illness is so small”, but it’s not always about the calamity itself. It’s the impact of it. For my disappointment, it’s the work I put in. For your miscarriage, it’s the years of trying to have a child. For your divorce, it’s the years you tried to make it work. For you losing that business deal, it was the research and prep and sleepless nights you put in. Losing a pound for an obese person is a massive achievement. Losing (or gaining) a pound for an athlete is second nature. You can’t compare two people’s struggles. What you can compare, is the level of dedication and patience that is exercised post-failure.

You lost a child-but you didn’t neglect your second child in your healing. You divorced your wife, but you didn’t bash her and share all her secrets. You failed your exams, but you didn’t quit and sign on.

Your state of mind is your present and future. Change it and change your path in this short short life. Remember your prayers, remember your struggle and don’t stop walking, even when that path gets a bit rocky.

Peace,

-a.K.a-


 

ladder-to-success-and-achievement-e1338356141766

P.S- major reference to the Hunger Games which I have only just watched and absolutely love !

Posted in Contemplation, Humanity, Islam, Life, love, Peace, Poetry, Uncategorized

Black & White

It didn’t start with Hello

The conversation never started

Gifted are those Kings and Queens

that can always keep themselves guarded

Eloquent, elegant

they walk past each other in near silence

no clicking of heels

no jeering of voices

No excessive laughter

to the point where you have to question

Was it even funny?

or are they just politely listening

Fabric so soft, the wind dare not touch it

Rain does not infringe your modesty

Merely glides from it

and nature is admired

He likes the Moon

She the Roses

They never tire

in their amazement of their Master

They think she isn’t confident

But He who knows her knows her best

They think she is irrelevant

But the perfect human taught her best

They think he is boring

Yet they admire when he fasts all day

When he can say I’m not interested

When he can lower his gaze

Differences are celebrated

So why do people hesitate

We aren’t pro division

She’s black he’s white

and it’s okay

-a.K.a-


 

a-women-is-normally-sought-as-a-wife-for-her-wealth


 

Islam is equality, but I see too much emphasis on race and culture. It is a learnt behaviour. He/she will learn it too. If they are perfect in every way, don’t reject them because of the way they look, because of the village he’s from, because of her surname. If their faith is strong, do not let it be difficult. People make life harder for themselves and place obstacles in their path that Islam has not placed there. Don’t be one of them.

-a.K.a-