Monday, 14 November 2011

The Unseen Eye

*Put on blindfold*

The last thing I saw before perpetual night. 

Was a lions figure in the clouds sketched into light,
So I guess a found the truth in time.

When it hit me... 

As black does.. 
Everything became smaller.  
Everything lost its order, 
my eyes began to turn to face & brain, 
and now I was a spectator watching the other senses game.

As my seeing stopped.

My hearing could pick up every decibel of a pin drop.

As I lost sight of my tears. 
My nose learnt how to smell fear. 

As my vision forgot how it behaves, 
I begun feeling the folds within waves. 

When I turned blind.
With no relation to anything metaphoric I was able to taste bitterness.
and for the first time in a long time, 

I told the time without seeing it.

Truth be told. Time was saved. 

I did not have to close my eyes to think any more, Nor did I need to close my eyes to focus.
and you may not know this, 
but I've been told that once your inner eye has seen your inner self, 
you find peace within.

So now I will hide away. 

Basque in the glory of my ones with self. I will eventually accept, 
and grow to reverence my lack of physical sight. 
With time. 

In my blindness I will learn to rejoice,
Even if it was by force and not by choice.

By Sophia Thakur 
Follow on Twitter: @SoundWordsmith

Saturday, 12 November 2011

Life-Span of a Shadow (edited)

I'd like to Marvel at what  the street-lights see
The comical outlines of it's shadows,
Tripping & slipping into street-fights
Street-Nights are profound..

We are
Bound by a two dimensional shape
Walking with us without a sound,
But thoughts drown it so it turns to

The clouds hang on us like a bad smell
euro-centric attitudes & ego-centric dudes
keep us in cyclical delusion 
 spiteful smiles caress our mind into a false abyss 
Forever Lost in a definition of bliss
The proof, is in your shadow..

When the sun rises, death capsized the soul of the shadow until another night
Orange lights give off the sense of fore-shadowing..
As the author of life scripts our existence

show resistance & we face a painful truth

Tragic shadows paint the picture of pain, flashing turquoise off the wall, blinding sight & the ability to hear,
We'd be lying to ourselves if we said, we had no fear.

Some will say they're Simply shaky imitations, but then what are we?
Concrete validations
filling the spiritual voids in our soul
With dark, black holes,
Wandering aimlessly with us..
But with careful reflection
We won't slip into nothingness

Ever pondered the Life-Span of a Shadow?
Simplistic minds attribute it to light reflecting off an object
inquisitive minds however, abject..
Perhaps they've seen, the consequences..
When man chooses not to reflect..

Tuesday, 18 October 2011

Words Apart Film Competition

And we have a winner for the Words Apart Film Competition

Zainab Ibrahim 18
from Newport, south wales

she guessed:
"Your poem is about the mouth speakin truth or gossiping or lies, I think."

Which is close enough, it was "words"

Here Is Zaynab's poem:

An illness, gnawing away at my temple.
Everyday I'm becoming the monster I resemble.
Gut-wrenching affliction at the realisation of my action.
Why do I return to the path of deadly poison?

Disease-like, yet graver and much worse.
A daily tornado of torment and curse.

And soon I shall face the wrath of my consequences.
When will a young hopeless soul come to his senses?
Day after day a battle he is losing.
Is it the path of the damned or the noble he'll be choosing?

Can Anyone guess what it is?

Tuesday, 11 October 2011

The Life-Span of a Shadow

I'd like to Marvel at what  the street-lights see
The comical outlines of it's shadows,
Tripping & slipping into street-fights
Street-Nights are profound..
stories told, age old tales spoken in the peak of winter's cold

walls embrace the moving animations of the past 

Forever Lost in ignorance, lost in a definition of bliss
As Rat races commence in the gutter of life.
When the sun rises, death capsized the soul of the shadow until another night
Orange lights give off the sense of fore-shadowing.

Tragic shadows paint the picture of pain, 

flashing turquoise off the wall, blinding sight & the ability to hear,
We'd be lying to ourselves if we said, we had no fear.

Some will say they're Simply shaky imitations, but then what are we?
Concrete validations
filling the spiritual voids in our soul
With dark, black holes,
Wandering aimlessly with us..

Obstructing the light from entering our hearts
and we're left with dark silhouettes who follow are every move... 
simply opaque objects orienteering ourselves into an obsolete existence.. 

There is a luminous hope peering through the crevices 
of our souls, 
careful reflection cultivates it into a glowing transparency,
The shadows nemesis.
and in to beautiful struggle or a resolute resistance.

Ever pondered the Life-Span of a Shadow?
Simplistic minds attribute it to light reflecting off an object
inquisitive minds however, abject..
Perhaps they've seen, the consequences..
When man chooses not to reflect..

by Mohamed-Zain Dada

Thursday, 15 September 2011

The London Transport System - An unofficially personified guide..

The London Transport System - An unofficially personified guide..

blotched red all over his cheeks, a slow mover through the rain
jolly but wide, and defiantly not wide eyed
He needs his own lane as he struggles from groin pain
deep breaths each step, 'I need my Asthma Pump' he sigh'd.

Shoulder THUDS into an oncoming skinny student's head
flabbergasted he turns apologetically & turns another shade of red
droopy eyed, a manly strut.  Semi-Conscious of his man-boobs.
lunch box filled, pain au chocolat, bacon sandwich and frubes.

has a break at every opportunity, snack or kit kat
winding out any built up constipation
consistently trying to maintain concentration
constrained by time, his bowel movements crave emancipation.

TOP TIP: hustling, bustling city, sirens tryna catch loony tunes on the loose
If you see the police, it's obligatory to warn-a-brother. 

His name's Slick but he's always under going works and improvement,
he does his shxt underground, and his lines are always on movement,
in his dirty, rat infested world, under 18's go 50% off..
as long as they provide I.D, or oyster's...
Slick leads a gang across London nicknamed 'TFL' - TIGHT FINING LOW-LIVES.. 
enter at your own peril.

jump Slick and his watchmen will chase you
or shut-down operations to financially castrate you
escalating dangers for the average buyer
Slick's TFL have CCTV everywhere, 
with every step tracked.

customers come from far and wide to ride the train of many colours
metaphorically speaking, getting high from Highgate to Gants Hill
'Mind the Gap.' - Slick's catchphrase for life, repeated regularly
because some fall to suicide causing great distress and delay to Slick's operations.

some pay a weekly or monthly fee for Slick's services, 
like prophylaxis or preventative medicinal measure which turns out to be a scam
*cough* swine flu.
N.B  racist ham roam the roads and may stop and search.

bulging eyes, weaving in and out, and a watermelon shaped head
shouting behind the blotched fat man in front like a hammerhead tormenting a fat seal 
stinging rhyming cockney and selling fish, he specializes in Eel.
jelly like facial structure, a big black stand dominating the central streets with his fishy'ness...

his antithesis, this city banker or w@nkxr as he calls him walks past
abusing suits who clog up the streets with pollution
"we don't need bogus ass's taking bonuses
It's like the sun resolves around Uranus, 
stick this fish where the sun don't shine."

having finished his tirade, he served others
free from the congested charging of others
other fishermen with big black stands and watermelon heads are like his brothers

By Zain

Monday, 5 September 2011

Thursday, 1 September 2011


Our first entry is by Romanna from South London:

"Simple yet so much satisfaction.
A pleasure better than any,
yet a pleasure that lasts only minutes,
that costs only little,
leaving you with dissatisfaction.
So many forms so many differences,
able to match your mood,
able to match your clothes.
The form varies so much from the almost impossible to break,
to that which has entirely changed in form.
What did we do when we knew not of this pleasure,
how did we fill that void?
how did we subdue that depression?"

Competition Time

Got a little online workshop for everyone.  In our weekly sessions, we once did a competition of writing about something but not using the actual word.  So we described our 'thing' as creativly as possible and we'd guess what this was, for example, one poet wrote about an 'Ice Cube'  without using the words Ice or Cube or Ice Cube.

"Boys N' the hood, still slipping out our hands,
hope to gain higher learning
but hope melts into water
when there's no higher earning.
Cold, Arctic, used and abused
like the remnants of my soul"

Did you guess right?
'Boys N' the hood' and 'Higher Learning' are two films, Ice Cube the rapper acted in, whilst the rest of the poem describes an Ice Cube.

Hope you get it?  

Now for the competition

The first part is to guess what I'm describing in my OWN version below, the second part of the competition is to write your own version and send it to me so I can put it on the blog.  Please leave your name and age, and email to:

The winner gets two tickets to the première of Words Apart's Film: Mother Britain on November the 11th 2011.   

The poem can be about anything and doesn't have to have a meaning... Remember to guess what I'm describing in the poem below too!

"Flying into the cosmic stratosphere, beings of untold magnitude, unknown size.
Unfortunately incorporating lies.
A cataclysmic sonic boom tapping the periphery of your ear drums
often leaving you in a beautifying abnormal abyss
ignorance leaving most of us in short term hedonistic bliss
cells, phones and emails, chats and messages and shouts from your window
a soliloquy of madness
"I'm sorry Maam, he was found dead," turning the wife into the widow
An outburst of sadness
They  penetrate, persuade and can permanently alter man's state
Twisting fate, a techni-coloured diversity , spreading truth, Joseph.
Though the spectrum can turn darkly grim, Goebbels."

By Zain


Monday, 8 August 2011

Poetry Jam and Live Lounge

Words Apart and Charity Ulfa Aid presents...  A CREATIVE REVOLT AND SHOWCASE OF LONDON'S TALENT. 

Poetry Jam and Fundraiser for East Africa Famine... On Friday 26th August 2011, From 5:30pm onwards!

@ London's premiere poetry cafe.... Rumi's Cave....
Enjoy the live spoken word of London's best young poets and Words Apart...
A chance to unite the youth in a night of creativity.  

Featuring Poets and Musicians:

Edgar Da Silva
Sophia Thakur
Adil Hossenally
Manuel Josias
Fauzia Amao
Alaa Kassim
And More!

Hosted by Zain the poet

Rumi's Cave is:

Any young poets who want to perform, please contact Zain, email him at or @Zainthepoet Via Twitter. 
 Only £2 Entry, all proceeds go to East Africa Famine

Wednesday, 27 July 2011

Mother Britain: The Short Film Coming Soon

Thank you to everyone involved in the short film... from the young poets to the parkour peeps and the film-maker Hannah...

The premier of the film will be at the Noble Sage Art Gallery in a few weeks, dates to be confirmed.

If you are interested in viewing the short Film: Mother Britain get in touch...
The journey of youth poetic collective Words Apart and how they grasped with their identity's in multiculteral Britain, what ensues is them asking themselves what they truly are in a country of their birth but not their origins with the help of free-running....

'From Curry Hut to Jerk City, 2 for 2 to fufu,
black magic and vodoo, blessed souls
and pure hearts...
Britain is change, a paradoxial kingdom of 6 figure salaries
and 6 pounds and hour in the corner shop... ' - an extract from a poem in the short film - Dear Mother Britain.

Saturday, 16 July 2011

Be part of the Biggest Youth Film to Hit the UK

Anyone who missed the initial meeting still has a chance to be part of the Poetry - Parkour Film.

The film funded by the Royal Society of Arts with a £2,500 grant merges the art of Parkour with Poetry (Free-Running, Click here to see the Parkour group working with Words Apart for this Film!

The concept will be Britishness and what we identify as being British.  We NEED YOU, THE YOUTH to add to the film as POETS, ACTORS, WRITERS, BEAT-BOXERS, DANCERS, ARTISTS, PRODUCERS, DIRECTORS.

Be part of London's biggest youth film this summer and attend the premier afterwards, it's also something great to put on your personal statement.

The first two days are like this

MONDAY  18th JULY - Planning and writing 

TIME  12 - 3pm  at East Finchley - Noble sage Art gallery - 2A Fortis Green , London N2 9EL 

Directions: come out East Finchley station turn left. Walk to the hilltop and turn right at the lights. It's there in front of you!

TUESDAY 19TH JULY - planning and writing - @ the Noble Sage Art Gallery again. 


On Tuesday, Locations for the filming will be confirmed.  BUT if you want to take part, you MUST ATTEND the sessions on MONDAY AND TUESDAY. 

Any problems tweet me or ring zain and get my number

Ring me on 07852337369 if you have any problems! 

Arji and Zain

Monday, 4 July 2011

Words Apart Film Project: Get involved!

Ladies and gentleman... 

Stand by for take off For... 

A great opportunity for young poets based in London to work with Words Apart first film project 'Twisted Tongues.'  

Just a little reminder first... a couple months ago we won a grant to make a short film about young people in Barnet. It would interact with local services and shopkeepers and attempt to understand the problems and issues facing us in this age. In the application we spoke of different cultures, ages and heritages coming together to explain how hard it is for minorities in this 21 st century. 

SO now the time has come for us to raise our game up and take WORDS APART POETRY to a higher plain. We will have music and sound added by Goldielock sand two young people from Rithmik Youth Centre. This project will also bring in the local parkour people into the mix.
So now we come to dates.


Two Days planning and two and a half days shooting. We have a professional film maker in charge of the shooting and an editor who'll knock it out within two weeks of the final shoot.

The earlier  session will be a two hour meeting and planning session ...


For more details or to get involved please email the following details to this address:

Please outline: Your name and age

Tuesday, 21 June 2011


Friend-ship. The journey to sweet, soulful serendipity trying to find you're Shams.
Tabriz, a rambunctious dervish willing to roam the sea's.
And start afresh.

snakes in the flesh divert your path....with more fake friends then stars in the sky.
Self centred, power-driven, dog eat dog.
eclipsing you're soul's purpose, malevolent demi-god.

pseudo smiles like polystyrene tiles, fickle.
clothes obsessed, material like textiles. Sickle.
hammering ostentatious actions.
What's yours is mine and what's mine is yours.

find Rumi's Cave and basque in solitude
but be wary, you may become weary..
so eventually it is important to find your mirror.
A reflection of yourself in the reflection of companionships heart.

sure start, true mentors teach first.
the poisoned chalice, camaraderie a blessing and a curse
the fallacy of friends revealed through stabbing stealth.
But a true acquittance will help you admire your inner self.

through and through. Means if they go down, you do too.

Monday, 13 June 2011

2 boxes, 1 window

she's so self-righteous
he's apparently pious 
Driven to a false truth like two flat tires,
Kwik Fit, but there's no quick fix.

He enjoys sitting on his window sill, still.
The Street has Talent.
Judicial law got him thinking,
fit chick walks past.
Reading Maya Angalou, with no clue.
The caged bird is really just a bird in a cage.
for him they should stay caged
'SANDWICH PLEASE.' he shouts

Bitchin' as usual,
Piff girl walked by,
critiquing what she wore,
she's got a sketty face that whore
staring down as she swore
But a pseudo personality is pure she assured herself.
Cos' all the dirt's on the outside she told herself
be true to thy self-righteous...
she read it all wrong.

Friday, 10 June 2011

Dividing the Pie

Divide and Rule.

A simple equation = Man X given a gun + Man Z given a gun.
One will be triumphant and the dividers have already won,
either way they'll get a piece of the pie.

circumstance divisible by the circumference
which dictates the die a meter.
chances for survival? Acute. 180 dead, 90 alive.

natural resources reflect the reaction,
sometimes resulting in an inaccurate inaction
or the secret sponsorship of a rivalling faction.

Enticed by a just cause, only to realize 'justice' had a clause.
And it was Santa Claus Plus Consumerism.
Capitalism multiplied by Christmas.
Or the long division of ethnics

Neo-colonialism - More-fierce than an agent smith in Nicaragua.
Contra's. In. Abundance.
Captivity. incorporated, with arithmetic
or Covert. Invading. Army.

Imperial or empirical formulae now defined
by standard deviation Or
diplomatic deceptive devices.

euphemisms makes the modern apart tides legal.
preliminary self defence is especially regal.
like punching you before I think you'll punch me.
the logic is assuring, I'm sure you agree....

Lucrative arms bless twisted palms,
as war lords thank the polytheistic heavens
for many blinded AK's..

47 lay dead in the ditch that day.
47 million made that week.
Sales of Arms.
Maimed Arms reach out for hope.
But the only scope available is for the long range sniper...

By Mohamed-Zain Dada

Twitter @Zainthepoet

Sunday, 22 May 2011


They're overwhelming me
It's overwhelming.
My minds' a bit perplexed
and my heart's a bit upset
And my limbs dont want to accept
My body wont co-operate
Nothing's working in sync to my dismay
I drop and play dead
But these demons still prey on me
They lay on me
heavy and strong
like artic cold iron in the tonnes
Crushing my morale
with weakness i am overcome
And the onlookers ask ''what's wrong?''
Looking for one to blame
but failing to see

I am the wrong

Trying to be right
Trying to conquer myself through strife and fight
But they cast me with obstacles along the way
Conflicting me with things i am too feeble to face
Theyre overwhelming me
its overwhelming.

By Zibz Hilwa

Blue Moon

Seeing the moon in daylight sky
Glowing love on a background of blue
It reminds me of the mercy of god
The beauty of life
And the thrill of waiting destiny

So I say goodbye to misery
As I love to live life in eccentricity
Completely fully entwined in mystery
The mystery of life
The intrigue of future

For you see, as strange as I may be
As childish and sometimes foolish

I know I'm blessed by the most gracious

& I know that good things come to those with patience...

Saturday, 14 May 2011

Reality is a Sketchy Imitation

Reality is a Sketchy imitation,
numbers in bank vaults
inflated oppression like an Israeli occupation
engrained in the minds of the youth
like a pre-pubescent teen singing sensation

hyper hegemony, a twisted hallucinogenic taking man higher
than any cocaine or powerfully potent chronic.
Made a President's economics concentrate on semi-automatics
spending millions on star wars not education.
Now that's advanced Reaganomics

simple misunderstandings taken on face value,
the past tense dictates future events
complex common sense sits on the fence
whilst linguistic lies go from myths to truth.

the Over-curious cat did die another day
9 days later and curiosity saved the mouse
Bond's built like bridges with the consumer
more poisonous than a cancerous tumour

fake teachers, fake stars...
narcissistic egotistical mentors..
models who aren't fit for the role..
truth or Haqq, a labour of the heart revealed like a slow-burning coal

a pageant picking the prettiest flowers..
infatuated with the concept that beauty is outward
Anger the by-word for Strength
controlling it is being a apparently a coward

Every word spoken, is stored.

Every truth, untruth and lie
eschatologically more powerful than wi-fi
Into one invisible web of stories
Into one loud silent conversation........

Life is a temporary loan.. lost in interest
infesting our thoughts
we've mistaken a toy for the real thing..

Knights on Stage

As they prepare for war,
I take a quick moment to bask myself in the heat of the atmosphere
& Ask myself … what moves me more,
The moan of the beat or the tone of the speech?
Am I lyrically inclined or rhythmically beseeched?
A question that only time’s slow tempo will tell.
When my heart has settled for a definite answer between wisdom and rhythm.

So… Consumed in the belly of the beast, I am the crowd.
& The crowd will eat you alive if its hunger’s not satisfied.
With a rumble, I standby for the lyrical feuds.
At the back of their minds, each contender knows that you don’t get a 2nd chance at a 1st impression.
& I know that I’ll get as much as I give, so I make my presence known in the court
By making most noise for the one I support.
In turn, they grace the stage with art on page. War is waged.
I await my knight in rhyming armor to breakthrough in the battle for my heart and headphones.

Pacing the stage in the same way your words travel my mind.
I am listening, because your words teach me.
You are knowledge.
& I am weak and in need of power.
So I just take it in and can only marvel at your skill and hope one day that you will
Instill your talent in my words. So that like your verses, mine can be stated as fact.

The wordplay stole my heart and I fell in lyrical love…
So I guess it’s decided. The tone of the speech is what my heart is lyrically inclined to
Which was kinda expected,
& With your kind of talent, the braggadocio’s respected.

& Though you prefer the irony of the shade of the spotlight,
You’re still my soldier, my warrior, my legend and charmer.
A wordsmith, a winner, my knight in rhyming armor.

By Fauzia Amao

Words Apart at the Royal Society of Arts!

On Monday Words Apart were invited to the Royal Society of Arts Youth Awards for Innovation for winning a 2 and a half thousand pound funding application. It was a great evening with 3 groups being awarded funding too. This year, the RSA received a lot of applicants across London so Words Apart have done incredibly well to get the award for our project. A special thanks to our mentor/poet/musician Arjunan Manuelpillai for leading Words Apart and being an inspiration to all of us.
The evening started with a session of ‘mingling.’ We showcased our poetry with a laptop and different pieces on our table. Everyone was quite new to the concept of networking but includes repeating the same 5 minute speech until it becomes integrated in your verbatim.
We were then presented the award, fellow Words Apart poet Edward and I gave a quick introduction on Words Apart. Edward O’Garro Pridde performed a fantastic poem which blew everyone away about the nature of Youth Centre’s and their importance. Edward also explained the concept of our film project which will screen in Barnet in the near future and will be based on youth identity.
The award was for our project called ‘Twisted Tongues.’ The award given to us was for a film we will be making this summer, it will be a 10 minute drama written in verse incorporated with parkour. It incorporates our youth poetry group – Words Apart and another Youth parkour group. Parkour, also known as Free-running is the art of going from A to B in the most extravagant way. So walking to college would mean doing back-flips, running up walls and jumping off the top of a bus-stop. The parkour group is run by the recent winner of a Sunday Times Film competition, Lish David.
It was an evening which rewarded the efforts of everyone in the group. Words Apart have made great strides this year having performed at the South Bank Centre in the Royal Festival Hall supporting some of Palestine’s best poets. As well as performing at the Finchley Youth Theatre, the Harrow Arts Centre and the Rumi Festival. We were even invited to the Albany Theatre in Deptford to see the incredible theatre production: ‘Krunch.’ We have also increased our on-line presence with our YouTube Channel: WordsApartPoetry and our blog site: ( a website coming soon) 
This summer heralds some exciting projects for Barnet based youth poetry collective ‘Words Apart’ with the film being made as well as the continued weekly Monday night poetry jams. There will also be a monthly live lounge exclusively for young poets to be held in the ‘Rumi Cave’ – A café in Willesden Green in tandem with community based charity Ulfa Aid.

Sunday, 27 March 2011

While I was Writing

I don’t know if these words will find
The one’s they were written for
Or that the expression they contain
Will be heard by those they were meant for

Or Even if
The need is greater than the art

I find these times to be of great concern
I sense the breeze is strong for those of duplicity

This is the irony in these tales
And their meanings
Drone bombs fall on my brothers
My sons my daughters my sisters
Blinded by poverty and the air of deprivation
Blinded by machines that show no mercy
Blinded by the men who control their aims
Blind are those who see not this travesty

Foolish am I who thinks we will reach this amnesty
Yet, despite this anger and rage
These lyrics are not bullets
They are not incendiary
Maybe these thoughts are too simple
Their aim a little elementary

Could it be that such emotions
Just don’t reach the parts of us
That will give rise to a force
For change

That will actually deliver
The people of Gaza from their innate disaster
The price of the suffering in Bosnia
And the screams of Ten-year-old Husna in Chechnya

I use to believe
Now I just bleed words
And lyrics for us forgotten misfits
We chase the web for YouTube and a million Tweets

While I was writing this…

Another family’s dreams was just blown to bits 

“While I was Writing” by Cypher 7 A.D
Cypher 7A.D is a Poetry & Spoken Word based enterprise aimed at expressing issues that count, not those that sell..peace.