Tools of violence

Identity violence

Symbolic violence

Communication violence

Historic violence

Revisionist violence

Repetitive violence

Infantilising violence

Nostalgic violence

Communication violence

Prejudiced violence

Tiring violence

Destructive violence

Sexual violence

Gendered violence

Religious violence

Spiritual violence

Class violence

Linguistic violence

Colourist violence

Male violence

White male violence

Co-opting violence

Toxic violence

Co-opted toxic violence

Ideological violence

Paternalistic violence

Patriarchal violence

Symbolically patriarchal violence

Promotional violence

Just violence

Violence violence

Tiring violence

Too tired coz I’m broken and it’s the result of all the above and more violence

Mental violence

Inferred violence

Implicit violence

Bright-eyed violence

Broken souls violence

The once you had bright eyes but then you got co-opted and are stuck but still need peeps and I get it but don’t you get that I get it, so why you gotta erase the stuff we excavate and stop us entering and flinging open the doors-no revision check, not open the doors break all these fracking symbolic capitalistic colonial walls – so that we can all evolve together and your tired eyes can weep and rejoice in celebration with us all, bold beautiful and brave and bound to the forward March of completing our shared ancestors abolitionist principles and journeys to create a new fair fresh deprogrammed society so we keep being we and us, and you and me, happy and free together… urgh! Gah! For f***! *sigh* but you can’t and that’s violent, violence.

So instead here we stand. Ina pyramid and I keep trying to educate and create and collate and collaborate while we survive and you thrive but I don’t even cry coz I’m proud inside that at least someone who got one part of our ancestral spirit souls good side to the table where it’s all about whose there to dine, and whose outside… not about our fellow people who die and are also pushed towards pipelines to die. Whether quickly or slowly, that’s for us all to see with our eyes.

I’m too tired to speak, so I’ll leave it to that… and sleeps for the night.


Tyrannical rule in UK. On the #EveofWar I cried. Now I cry #GivebackmyTax

The world is in a sad state of affairs.. Protests and the will of the general people, those who express it are not being heard, protests online, offline, mass-MP emailing, die-ins etc.

Our fellow countrymen who extend their voices in this arena who are impassioned either against or for are not being counted. Instead the politicians in their big house all seem to care about their record, their ego, their will that they are speaking for the common man/woman. Oh and following the party whip line, so they can keep getting paid for working toward those localised and personal projects that they care about. I honestly see no difference between many politicians and benefit cheats or unproductive “fine artists”. You know those people, the ones who could chew off your ear with eloquent bullshit, work hard at not working hard, be so organised to keep their effectively cheating and selfish way of life afloat. But above all it is about themselves, their thoughts, their work, their beliefs and we the ordinary folks grinding in our mills should deign ourselves honoured they are gifting their services, their intellect to the world.

Well I say no, no Mr/Mrs/Ms MP. Enough is enough.

The gulf war, the escalation in the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, 9/11, the “War on Terror”, Afghanistan wars, the Iraq War, The Great Double/Triple-dip recession, 7/7, the Blood in the Arab Spring, Libyan war, the tension and escalation in the Middle East .. The list is endless.

All these have occurred in the last 25 years. There are countless gun-attacks, massacres, bombings and attacks, not sure of the difference apart from geographical location, not listed. Not to mention other “natural disasters” that seem to be heard of more widely due to our networked society, but conversely also make the emotional affect of each marked event more impactful, as it is felt communally across the world.

But what is it that you do know? The people with the leisure and payment from the people to work towards a peaceful co-existence with nature with the world. Those who are paid to study life and people, of patterns and learning from last collective mistakes? What is it that you do with power that has been instilled within you by me and my fellow UK citizens.. You ignore a vast, vast chunk of societies will.

So hear this from the ground; we do not want war. We want those billions of pound that yet another war sinkhole will pump towards arm dealers, fascist nation-states (allies and otherwise), pockets of trade associates – we want that money. Our money. The money given into this nations great coffers for the use of its people. (and the Queen and her ilk – but that’s another story).

We need that money to feel secure. To feel great once again. To ensure our bins are collected on time. That our streets are awash with dirt and disease. To make sure public transport runs on time without asking for more than we earn ( which it already does in most parts of the U.K.). For the NHS and all that that umbrella contains; keeping baby incubators alive and in plenitude, beds in ER for loved ones, research into ailments, cancers, disease made with the general public and access in mind. Hospices to keep loved ones comfortable towards their departure from this world. Helping the displaced, the homeless, the lost, the sad, warm and functioning of sorts throughout the year. Keeping an honourable emergency services running with the people it’s serving in mind. Not targets for funding, but targets to save lives, to protect, to help.

I came to age many times over these past two-and-a-half decade. I was a week into my year 7 class, aged a mere baby at 11 when 9/11 occurred and the world was struck with this bug. This War that seems greater than the Great War, which I’ve learnt about since. This “War on Terror”, begun by ideological miscreants, with no end in sight but their future burning even brighter.

While my fellow people and I, us general folk who have managed to clamour and hold down the semblance of a life. One modelled on the lives you before us lived. You middle-aged and always care-free drivers of the road, perusers of retail departments, of long luncheons and coffee mornings.. As I aged 15 at the time of the recession hitting us have worked hard to keep hold of jobs, of paying taxes and fitting in like a jigsaw piece into the society I have seen before me, have served you.

My fellow generational, economic and social peers and I have been there, the mass that in our hurry to be part of this society, of “getting on with it”, not rocking the boat and being sensible have helped fund your tyranny. Even as you claimed expenses unjustly, were found out, were asked repeatedly to declare your true intentions and serve the will of the common people. Now, as we the people will that there is no war on Syria. A country whose people have no links to the attacks that occur here in this part of the world.

Your pontification and shallow arguments made me, your in every ways a lesser cry. As I saw everyone around me dying a little, frazzled and a social mess. You not only locked the doors to your big house, but also to the lives of the people you serve. You are no better than any tyrant you wage war on.

This is why I am excusing myself, economically from the situation you rule and that allows you to rule. As economics is the only ideology you hear.

Give me back my tax.

#NaBloPoMo #29: Poetic Greed, my chained thoughts are not free..

Interesting meeting with a man today. Reminded continually of the frailty in essence of the existence of ‘the’ human condition. How existence is a personal experience, felt, reflected and renegotiated individually in the midst, in the bosom of society and culture.

All guarded I was,
Sat serene, unsure as you buzzed,
My mentality a little tired,
Your soul seemed close-to and cry’ed,
I was set apart,
I wonder what you thought as you set out this impasse?
Some flickering of light shines,
I cannot remember if I have any lines,
My curiosity piques,
But my tongue it still not yet free.
Something murky sits in between,
Communication requires patience,
A quality I cannot quite see.

Yet this condition.. I am drawn.. I wonder if you are you a whole?

I am reminded of the poet,
who has drowned out death,
through languages untold,
since days of our mutual ideological lore.

His refracted words beat in my chest,
I hold them like my faith close to my breast,
My empathic antennae quivering through viscous henna,
Quietly unsure if forces are pushing or pulling,
or that this is a base of trust blooming..

Let me leave you with these petals now,
As I allow my love, my heart to drown;

How long will you talk of the mosque lamp and the fire-temple smoke?
How long of hell’s loss and heaven’s profit?

GO, see on the Tablet how the Master of Fate
Has written what will be, before time began. 

Oh heart, since the world’s reality is illusion, 
How long will you complain about this torment?
Resign your body to fate and put up with the pain,
Because what the Pen has written for you it will not unwrite.

The Ruba’iyat of Omar Khayyam

These stanzas remind me of my love’s viewpoint. Though they stick with me, I feel in someway I am predisposed like Khayyam to keep pushing against these ideals of fate and acceptance. But more so than that to rail against or ponder on the upholding of expectation and falseness, confining cries from a world that only seeks to bind the lights within us that could shine so bright. 


#NaBloPoMo #25: My impatience caught up to it’s conscience, again.

For now here’s some poetry what I wrote on 23/11/15 when I should have been asleep, in wee hours of morning, as I lay visiting an old site of comparison and worth, put on a pedestal to keep allowing myself to hurt;

Instant electric attraction we had,
From the moment that our eyes clapped,
Minds met, thoughts kept, hands felt, lips licked, love flicked,
Soulmates’ kiss.

Hours flew, you met me, I knew you,
You grew, me too,
Love gathered, looming large,
It slew the me and the you,
Outside in this our ‘samage’*

We. That’s all that it was,
Simplicity with no external worth,
Internal cuts of self-hurt.

Sparkly loves eyes lost that bright hue,

The spark,

The gas pipe was broken, no plumber, no electrician did we know,
No hope was entertained no stopper for death’s croak…

As artificial sparks were entertained,
The fluorescence of lust came to slay,
As you chucked love into its grave,
the one I dug gleefully as I struggled to with tools brought to save, selfish.

Selfishly I craved,
but naively with no idea what I made,
The We I help us negate,
the Darkness that lovers spark can create..

The hurricanse, the tsunamis it can keep at bay,
The strenght needed to be selfish,
To pray,
Coupled together,
Doubled forever,
Entertain no other,
Making space for only each other,
Our true souls lovers,
Marked by that first spark,
but needing constant paraffin so no lustful depravity can be let in…

Like that surrounding us on separate roads as we follow the world’s din.

I know this now, too late,
My impatience caught up to it’s conscience again.

Sat opposite yet another pale imitative comparison,
I wonder if your faith in our unequal separation is still so persistent?
Or at you at that peace,
the one with waves,
of constant reticence and hesitation,
Coupled with a impulsive fervour,
the addictive need to fuck it and jump in.

Anxiety breeds misinformed misdeeds,
but I am not a me in need,
as you are a you,
who knows what you see, feel, need.
Not now, Not me.
– Not now me.


*Samage – urdu/punjabi word meaning society/community/zietgeist


Default Man – Default Me?

So I’ve been debating since midnight whether or not to post this. I mean I’m trying to be disciplined and post something up everyday. If only to prove to myself that I can. But, at the same time I know I’m going to have to run a longer, further, probably even several articles to explain this one.

Oh well, I guess I have to bite the bullet sometime, and pray my paranoid anxieties don’t lead me to dream horrible things.

Today I (re-)ran across theory of the Default Man, pushed to the fore quite recently by Grayson Perry. The idea that the White, Middle-class, Middle-aged man is the norm, the ‘guy in charge’ and prevalent across our society. Now this theory is centuries old, for sure, despite being acknowledge, affirmed and challenged throughout history it hasn’t quite gone away. Just been chipped at, until some may argue even those who own but a small sector of the Default Man’s huge silhouette are having epistemological crisis’s in their selves. Be they white, middle-class, middle-aged or even just a man, any one of these are having the same stinking journey, full of crippling doubt, never-ending ailments and spiritual disease that’s rife in all of us.

Default Man

As a Woman of Colour* , it just got me thinking, due in part to my recent run-in with my old, bad, fucked up self, where do I fit in? What does a Default Woman look like? Is there such a thing as a default Asian, African, Hispanic, Jew, Muslim, Chinese, Pinoy, ..etc. etc.? Or does this one default apply to the entire globe? Because, you know, of course only the Western anglo-guys have ever conquered and colonised all of land and sea, across the whole wide world, right?! Since time immemorial; Thanks Alexander the Great!

Alexander the Great Mosaic
Alexander the Great Mosaic

I guess I would really like to explore what a default woman looks like, behaviourally speaking, but also in appearance and expectation, and perhaps contrast this with what an Asian woman like me, is expected to aspire too. What are the consequences of fulfilling these societal aspirations pushed on us, or for coming up short?

Also, as I thought earlier, if I a WOC, aspire to be respected, independent and content, for knowledge and dare I say some power **, what then? As has been so painfully pointed out to me on my journey to better myself and strive to be acknowledged and respected for myself and my mind, I might be “getting too big for my own boots”. By working towards higher knowledge and independence, I am seen by most people, across the social and cultural divide to be a range of different things; “a coconut”, “a bounty”, “a self-hating asian”, “a curiosity”, “misunderstanding”, “slow”, “silly”, “naive”, “bird”, “unable to get it“, “stupid”.. the list is sadly endless.

So perhaps this is the greatest flaw and one that should be pointed out and yelled louder. Instead of bemoaning that the Default Man is everywhere, maybe we can all try and change the angle. Look at how we treat and respond to those who try and negotiate access to these sites that we deem can, and must, only be occupied by the privileged few. We should encourage people of all colours, all genders, sexes, sexualities to be granted the ability to move freely. To grow, change, to nurture and expect to be nurtured on our way through our journeys in this life. Perhaps then we can begin an end to our unequal past.


*(I know shady term, I will totally explain why I use this another time – stay tunes ;P)


**(Only enough to be left in peace and provide a happy existence)