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We are all fallible

7 Oct

We are all fallible
We all have our foibles & flaws
We are the Spirit & The Light

We are damnation & devils
We are designed to destroy
We are the Compassionate & The Heartfelt

We are the guns of glory
We are the gullible & grief stricken
We are the Survivors & The Soul

(C) Khakan QureshiIMG_20160917_092613

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The State of Humanity

24 Sep

I despair at the state of humanity
Those without faith questionning religiosity
Those with religion frowning on sexuality
Those faux superiority spitting on ethnicity
The able bodied mocking those with disability
The patriotic bowing down to patriarchy
Social class creating a world of exclusivity
Selfie absorbed people can’t create harmony
Narcisstic souls break down savagely
When questioned on their “individuality”
Highlighting the differences deliberately
When humans should focus on similarity
When we build a global community
Only then we might achieve equality

The Equality Act 2010PhotoGrid_1494866945954.jpg

100 Gay Men In Chechnya

23 Apr

100 gay men in Chechnya
Singled out by homophobia
Seeking refuge or Asylum seeker
Persecuted by Russian Torturers
Crucified by Chechen Leader
The actions of police lambasted in UK by a Gay Minister
Petitions are called by political provocateurs
News provided by unknown reporters
Concentration camps or detention centres
No one steps forward to be a mediator
Media reports genuine cases or imitators
Shocked by the news
Shared by social commentators
Putin speaks to Kadyrov the Eliminator
All the people bow down to the Dictator
Wants to rid the gays in Chechnya after Easter
Denying their existence he calls The Punisher
“No reason or evidence to purge gays in Chechnya”
LGBT Activists argue who’s the better campaigner
Mainly in Western culture grow the Protester
where are the marches for the LGBT in India
Who spoke against the gays thrown off high towers
Donations by the day to the fundraiser
Rubs his hands in glee is the Administrator
A signed petition to the German Chancellor
3 anonymous men speak of the horrors
Unnamed sources reach out to the news investigator
No concrete evidence state the distracters
Is it real or elaborate hoaxers
Story spreads over social media
100 men is an accurate number
Is it exact or propaganda
Hidden behind bars we are left to wonder
What ever the truth or how high the number
As the story unfolds it could be mass murder

Of 100 gay men in Chechnya
Singled out by homophobia

Mashal Khan

16 Apr

A child was brought into the world
He was an inquisitive, open minded child.

How do I learn he said
You learn by asking questions they said

He went to school
and asked questions
What an intelligent boy they said
I am a smart boy he said
How do I learn about the world he said
You start by asking questions they said.

Then he went to college
This is a safe space they said
I’ve got lots of questions he said.

And he asked and asked until he passed
And off to university he went

Join the discussion and debate they said
Can I ask a question he said

So he asked
And the room turned silent
And on him they turned
And the silence turned to stone

You ask too many questions they said
And shoved him out the room
He’s a blasphemer they said
And pushed him to the ground

Please help me he said
But they stamped on his head
They stamped, stamped, stamped
Until he was dead, dead, dead.

A broken history of my future

13 Feb

I acknowledge the past but I am my future
I can’t change the past as I am for the here & now and have to move forward
The pains of my parents during the Partition Years I cannot partake
the colour of colonialism I cannot shake
For I was not there
How dare I impress the burdens of the past
referencing history like shards of glass
picking up pieces for my own endless farce

Playing on words like it’s my history
I wasn’t even there, is a mystery
how monoculture reigns, re-think the legacy
Unlock the slaves, freedom is a fallacy
Remove the flags, swim through the Indus
Declasse we are, no need to remind us
My past is my memory, I cannot let go
The wars of the world, ebb and flow
I acknowledge the past but I am my future
Regardless of the story, into dust we will grow

Don’t sabotage the past for your own personal glory

December Rain

18 Dec

December Rain

The green cavalcade worms it way through dry, arid sands before it retreats,
White sirens call for help
Whilst white helmets dip their hands in warm decay
Lift out souls day to day

A city once thriving
A population once living
A story hard to believe in
A young man hides in a room
With nervous voice at ready
Tells the world
The rain is heavy

December rain.

Choke back the tears
Don’t realise the fears
He seems like the walking dead
He keeps his sanity
On the brink of insanity
He loosens his tongue instead.

He describes the conditions
The loss of medication
The need for salvation
The loneliness and isolation
He focuses on the living
Like rats in a dark room
His words are full of pain
As he tries to ignore the rain

December rain.

He names the West for lack of trying
A sad regime keeps fighting the dying
Hearing voices he ignores the calling
The rain non stop, continues falling

December rain

He speaks from a cold empty space
Describes his world as a dark, dark waste
Saliva on his lips like honey would taste
As his eyes wide open says
There is no haste

For the December rain
Keeps burning down
Hot like fire
It’s a burning hell
Freedom for the fighters
Rebellious, pray tell
Dropped by the President
The rain has a shell.

Syria.

The Concept of Other – Pt 2.

9 Dec

The whole concept of “other” is strange to me. Being “Foreign”, “Alien” “Different” has negative connotations and represents fear of the unknown.
When I was a child, I didn’t “fit in” with the boys rough and tumble in the playground. I didn’t feel comfortable with the gender role created for us – boys in blue play football, girls in pink play with dolls. I wanted to play with dolls. I was “different”
With my friends in secondary school, I felt excluded. It was a multicultural, mixed faith comprehensive school. I identified as Asian, but not Asian enough.
With my Pakistani Muslim peers, I wasn’t either Pakistani or Muslim enough. I was more “Punjabi” because I wasn’t from the Mirpur and I didn’t speak the native language.
With my Sikh and Hindu friends, who stated their families originated from India, in particular from the Punjab, I wasn’t a true “Punjabi” as I was neither Sikh nor Hindu. I was “different”.
My identity seemed mixed up, like a mongrel ready to be put down.
Within my own family, i couldn’t quite connect with my brothers, who seemed to mock me whenever they had the chance. I was slow and dim witted, a loner and isolated in my own world. I was “different” and on the peripherals of the brotherly dynamics, hardly ever included in the socialisation of siblings, although the rivalry fell with abundance. A machismo world full of masculinity and hormones, Friday and Saturday night was club night and I stayed at home. I didn’t “fit in”.
i didn’t fit in because I didn’t talk sports, sex or state “She’s fit!”
I didn’t fall into the category of heteronormativity.
I laid the blame at my asexuality.
When I explored my sexuality, visited several pubs and clubs, opened my eyes to the world of homosexuality, I didn’t fit in. I had no label to hold my name. I wasn’t a “type” that could fit in. Not an otter, bear or whatever label is fashionable. I had no boxes to “fit in”
My religiosity was hidden. No prayers 5 times a day, or a pilgrimage to hajj. I didn’t show my faith, so couldn’t possibly be Muslim. I didn’t “fit in” like birds of a feather. Although i have read the Qur’an and the Bible and carry my own moral compass, worked with the most vulnerable in society, the poor and the needy, provide to charity in my own way. The colour of my skin highlights my heritage and origins, but when I speak, my voice is clear (as if you can’t be one colour and sound like another)
I’ve been told even my voice is “different” – a hybrid of London, Birmingham, with a slight twang of “theatrics” thrown in.
Am i from the North or the South? I am neither. My voice and accent is just part of me and who I am.
I met my partner who doesn’t say “You’re different”.
He knows who I am and loves me for who I am.
Our hearts, minds and spirits transcend the superficial world of “you don’t fit in”. We are so different, yet similar. We are chalk and cheese, like two worlds colliding. Yet we fit so well together.
We acknowledge and recognise that acceptance of others is key to moving forward.
I recognise we all have issues, stresses and factors that shape us. We all have identities which are unique.
Our DNA tells us we are unique individuals.
All our identities are multifaceted.

Did you know in the late 1940s and 1950s, the sci-fi movies created in America at the time were a part of a political propaganda, at a time when Americans felt they were being “invaded” by other countries, and policies, especially in relation to communism? and isn’t it ironic that here in the 21st century, USA is pedalling more Superhero/sci fi movies than ever before at a time when there is a global crisis, a fear of the unknown and countries being “flooded” with immigrants ?? Just think about that for one moment.

We fear the unknown, yet we say we love the “uniqueness” of individuals and to celebrate our “differences”.
In todays world, there is so much division, we can’t just focus on the differences and ignore all the similarities.
As in my relationship, It’s the similarities which bonds us together.