Chance Destinies

Chance Destinies 

We are the master of our destinies 

But if we were truly free then there would be no destination or path written for us 

Nothing entrenched in our pasts 

That would make us who we would come to be. 

Every moment would be a memoryless flirtation 

As significant, or insignificant, as the decimal point 

Whose small movement can make such huge differences, or none at all.  

Significance is all a matter of expectation 

What is the norm 

A true measure of our worth?

Not to the One who created and nurtures us. 

And at that one time like the appearance of a different moon. 

Perturbations of momentous tidal changes, significantly altered the celestial order

Then at that point

History was not what it used to be 

There...

History was unmade

To live within that tsunami is all we should aspire to 

Not the death and misery of millions 

But the chance opportunity to renew

The bond that he came to remind us of

(C) Shafeesthoughts 

20th November 2018

king and country

King and Country.

Why did they die

To let live the lie

For King and Country

To remember them still

Lifeless, as they killed 

Bloodless as they died

Industrial war 

On a scale as never before 

Loosed upon this world

Like a whore 

Death 

For sale 

Destruction 

Evermore 

(C) Shafeesthoughts 

11th November 2018

“hundred years of lies”

Hundred Years of Colonial Lies

Hundred years of Colonial Lies

A poem for those forgotten soldiers 

Who fought and died for a war not theirs. 

Conscripted into the ranks of gun fodder 

Limbless they saw all the horrors

And not one iota of benefit

For this was not a war for a better World 

But continued misery, under their colonial masters 

Not a war to protect, but a war over Africa’s sweet soil. 

Whilst all this has gone and been done 

We still live in that past 

For Africa still scrambles out of that pitiless pit  

And the World still reels from our colonial past

The present and the future 

Of neo-colonial arms 

In Palestine, Syria and the Yemen 

They yet live, from palm to palm

Suffering the injustice of seeing their futures denied 

Their children killed, yet more cannon fodder for our guns. 

(C) Shafeesthoughts 

11th November 2018

“Nabiha Iqbal- “If I Survive” “

“Nabiha Iqbal- “If I Survive” “

A poem from the words of forgotten soldiers 

Who fought and died for a war not theirs. 

Conscripted into the ranks of gun fodder 

Limbless they saw all the horrors

And none of the benefits 

For this was not a war for democracy, nor freedom 

But continued misery, under their colonial masters 

Not a war to protect, but a war over Africa’s fertile soil. 

Whilst this has gone and done 

We still live in that past 

For Africa still scrambles out of that pitiless pit  

And the World still reels from our colonial past

The present and the future 

Of neo-colonial arms 

In Palestine, Syria and the Yemen 

They yet live from palm to palm

Suffering the injustice of seeing their futures denied 

Their children killed, yet more cannon fodder for our guns. 

(C) Shafeesthoughts 

9th November 2018

AwKwaRd

Awkward 

Acute 

Socially inept

Facts checked 

Nothing said 

Cross talk 

Like symbols chattering in a street 

A cube amongst round fellows 

Those words that just tumble out 

Tripping and falling over one another 

Nails screeched down blackboards

Cutlery tumbledown

Crash smash bash

The spilt milk 

Those empty spaces 

That beg to be filled 

Awkward 

Is not a condition 

It’s a place we’ve all been. 

(c) Shafeesthoughts 

5th November 2018

Bromley, London