A poem for Nazanin Zaghari-Ratcliffe, a British-Iranian woman jailed in Iran. Foreign Secretary Boris Johnson's comments as well as UK-US impact on Iran in 1953 sealed her fate.
I was using public transport for the first time in weeks, and although deserted, I still encountered people in the same train carriage as me. My beloved London was quiet now, and the absence of people struck all the more with a deep blue sky above me. I was on my way to volunteer in... Continue Reading →
Restless and anxious, I come back home. Meaning, I sit back down with my laptop to write you a short story.The days are still dark now in February, one storm after the other blowing through the UK and my mind. Dark days indeed I think, scrolling through twitter: adults attacking a teen climate fighter, hate... Continue Reading →
Chose to walk streets in search of hopeBumped around, ran out of smokesTraced my pavement steps as if on ropeLoosely tied round last night's jokes. Slept with new beats instead of blokesShook my head, that's me folksBack to the cold and newfound dopePaint this umbrella with silver strokes.
Pray for the city shining through puddles Soaking my parka and pizza and soul Say this pilgrim expects cuddles After a long and weary walk home. Traffic lights in bloom, they stop, I run A jungle of fluorescent smog my goal Home is where there is no sun Only traffic and a commune of moles.... Continue Reading →
The public reaction I woke up to today was similar to the one on 24th June 2016, the morning after the Brexit referendum. Labour has lost big, while the Conservative party painted the country blue. In London, still gripped tightly in red, people seem defeated.
Impatience is the price of youth and the interest rates run high and the internet runs wild In patience do we find the truth.In wastage do we find the lootbut guilt is raining from the skybut your kilt is brushing up my thighImpatience is the spice of youth.Insane is the new coolhow we go on... Continue Reading →
I am guilty of being that friend who delays the whole group by stopping and taking a photo of every rainbow reflection, rain puddle or pretty skyscraper. I both want to be known as the friend who takes good pictures and also not have it assumed that I will take their picture at every outing.... Continue Reading →
not a bad place to lie down It is strange to see my city in uproar Suits replaced by woolen scarfs conscience marked on my very street Next to banks towers and hands Hills and mountains rise up now Shining my way back to my flat Burning through eyelids somehow Grabbing my bag and raising... Continue Reading →