A mystical, poignant and chilling tale about three hidden saints who have to face great adversity, danger and menace in the modern day.


You can get My Debut Novel: The Hidden Ones. From Amazon.



Dear Young Men of Baghdadi’s fiefdom,
Is Allah pleased?
When you fire upon civilians
When you shoot cowering women in the temple
Is Allah pleased?
When you blow up your own bodies
And your limbs lie upon the limbs of a young child
Is Allah with you?
When you kidnap young women
And use and abuse them for your own lusts
Does Allah approve of you?
When you deal in oil and drugs,
When you buy your stuff from gangsters and from thugs


Dear Purveyors of Western Freedom,
When you lay waste to Arab cities,
Is this for freedom and equality?
When you ignore millions of dissenters
Is this for freedom and equality?
When you sell and manufacture chemical bombs,
Is this for freedom and equality?
When you create heaven in your lands
But sow discord and conjure hell elsewhere
Is this for freedom and equality?
When you oscillate between who is your ally and who is your terrorist
Is this for the sake of freedom and equality?

The Delirious Derailing of Mullah Khan’s De-Radicalization


Mullah Khan, the irrepressible zealot and his sons, had been forced to attend the first ever de-radicalization programme, sanctioned and championed by none other than the British Prime Minister himself, Davis Cameroon.  Khan and his sons were deemed social menaces with their firebrand Islamism, their desperation for Britain to become an Islamic state, their adoration for the self-styled caliph of ISIS, Abu Bakr Al Baghdadi, and also for their failed mission to blow up a pig farm in Dudley with an explosive that they named “Kufr-Killer”.

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Raiders of the Lost Ramadan


“Quickly, Indiana!” Screamed his young sidekick

“Grab and bag that Ramadan

Before the beasts come quick!”


Indiana held his breath, outstretching his fingers

The kufi on his head slipping, sweat beginning to linger

That jewel, that priceless treasure stood

Tantalizing to his finger tips

Shining like an unearthly maid

Aromatic as a tulip

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The Grass

“All things hang like a drop of dew
Upon a blade of grass”. W B Yeats

A lush and fertile patch of grass shivered in the breeze, sighing blissfully. Fully exposed to the benevolent sun and enriched by the timely monsoons, the grass grew to a staggering height, accommodating countless creatures great and small. Nothing, so it seemed, could curtail its life-force; nothing could obstruct the sun or the rain replenishing it. The grass was suffused with a rich and deep shade of green, so much so that just to look upon it brought relief to hearts, just to hear its whispers in the wind brought tranquility to troubled minds.

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Not My Business


“So long as they don’t take the yam from my savouring mouth.” Niyi Osundare


They firebombed the tomb of Al Rifai

All that remained was mounds of rubbles in piles,

But what business is it to me and to my ilk?

As long as they’ve purged the bida and shirk.


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Watch Out For The Mozlamics!


Get indoors!

And lock em quick!

Watch out for the Mozlamics!


First they’ll wrap yer in a burka!

Then they’ll make you eat samosa!

Their Sharon Law will make you sick!

Watch out for the Mozlamics!


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You Can Bomb Us


You can bomb us from the land, the air and rolling sea!
You can bomb us while we sit at home with a cup of tea!
You can bomb us in the markets and in the dusty lanes!
You can bomb us on the sandy beach and promenade!
You can bomb us even if we are just little kids!
You can bomb us even if we’re old and invalids!
You can bomb our houses, bomb our schools and hospitals!
You can bomb our sheep, our goats, our tents and cute kittens!
We will build our homes, our schools, our parks, our roads again!
We will fill our markets, fill our shops and streets again!
We will grow our crops and feed our goats and sheep again!
We will shed a tear for those of us you killed again!
We will bury them in the searing earth and soil again!
We will live our lives in the flattened streets and dust again!
You can bomb us, maim us, starve us, leaving carcasses!
We will build and grow and thrive and gain our right, JUSTICE!




Stirring up

Impatient, insidious


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Before, I thought it all a hopeless mess

Imagined all a helpless cry of distress

Considered all a hapless guess

Rejected all a heartless process

Abandoned all, a homeless essence

Until I found it All a hidden blessing

Discovered All a hopeful beginning

Accepted All a history of genesis

Unveiled to All a heavenly gnosis