Saturday, February 27, 2010


Oh! Oh and Oh the human of education!
Let us strongly fight with deforestation,
Fall in love with prosperous plantation,
Adore, adore and adore its foundation;

Oh! Oh and Oh the human of innovation!
Understand the defect of deforestation,
It is as harmful as female genital mutilation,
It is useful to discontinue this violation;

Oh! Oh and Oh the human of creation!
Beware of this hurtful deformation,
Digest the value of forestation,
Stand against disafforestation;

Oh! Oh and Oh the human of navigation!
You should hate geological sterilisation,
Be fond of the brilliant naturalisation,
And let it mother and mother the sensation;

Oh! Oh and Oh you the botanists!
Associate with the horticulturalists,
Consult with the expert naturalists,
And so do us the active geo-artists;

Oh! Oh and Oh the plant-loving fellows!
Love plants because of the sweet fruits,
Look at their smiling and smiling flowers,
Lean on their cooling and cooling shade,
And laugh at their attractive landscape;

Deforestation is the mother of desert,
The father of the disturbing dust-storm,
The brother of death and dryness,
The sister of grisly blindness,
The grand-parent of shapelessness;

Oh! Oh and Oh the people with talent,
This is the right and reasonable time to plant,
The hey and humble time to attempt,
The high and high time to prompt,
The wrong and wrong time to lament.

Mohamed Abdikadir Daud (Stanza)
Copyright © 2010

The Youth of Tomorrow

Let me make somethings clear
The quran make diseases disappear
You hear
Let me borrow your hearts and ears
I gotta a story tell that happened last year
This is a sincere advise
Listen up and if your are really wise
Listen up and learn so you can concern
There was a youth who use to have hope in Allah
He used to hold on tight on the rope of Allah
So it was time for trails to see if he was real or not
Trails after trails it appears that he was weak
And half of what he thought he was
Tear after tear in his loneliness
Allah gave his strength and took him out of the darkness
By good deeds he came near Allah
Reminiscing of his bad deeds he got fear of Allah
On the road he found his soul and internal vision
He found him self in this tranquilized sphere
Harmony and passion adheres in the heart
The youth got more quite and distinguished
Dreaming of becoming pioneer for the ummah
Seeming he finally found his career
The road of victory and real success for Allah became more dear to him
Then the road of blaming and laming
Cause the youth understood motivation for Allah sake is really a salvation
Now when he got this fundamental foundation
The shaytan beautifies the temptation
His relation whit the Lord of Existence conceals the sensation
His admiration of reviving the Ummah back got big
The youth dedications gave him the real destination
Congratulations the Ummah got a youth from this generation
Thats in hesitation fot the goal and far beyond your expectations
Cause he realized the real situation and his obligation.

Mohammed Abikar
Copyright © 2010

The parade

I stood on the edge,
trying not to be noticed by those who would never notice me anyway.
I saw the parade,
the body carried through
covered and held in such esteem.
And I thought of all the bodies
that lay strewn by the way-side.
Limbs askew and insides outside.
These were women and children.
Children and the elderly.
The elderly and babies.
And their death and life are taken so lightly
yet a country stands still for this man,
this healthy well armed man
came on a plane to do his country proud
maiming and raping,
raping and killing,
killing and looting.
Am I supposed to be sorry
that your death machine was shot out of the sky
and a few of your bloodless men
were allowed to join the fate of thousands of mine?
Do not ask that I remember their families
waiting for them to come home this Christmas
with tales of starving 'skinnies'
of how shocked they were that emaciated bodies
could still hold so much blood.
Tales of how heroic they were fighting against an ill equipped man
forcing him to watch as they raped his daughter and shot his son.
Symapthy for this I simply have none.
It has all been used up for my land bereft of it's keepers.
I wonder why we need reminding how little we mean.
How keen you are to illustrate that we have died and you will live.
You've tried so hard to teach us,
does it seem we still have much to learn?
How many more lessons have you got
before we lose our hard-headedness at the hands of your defilement?
When do you suppose we will uncurl and brighten?
You've worked so hard and yet you do not tire.
We must unbend.
And I must stand behind your coffin.
I must watch the parade and feel the measure of your high esteem.
I cannot think of all those who are left uncovered,
who are no longer attached
It is you that matters.
Because in death you live.
And we just die.

Nimo Hussein
copyright 2010

Inventation to reflection

I try to be strategical like playing chess..
all that just fill up Noor(light) in my chest
at same time trying to focus on mine..
yeah I'm in progress to gain this worlds finesse...
praying Allah to bless my time and stop this crime..
give me a character thats noblesse,
tranquility(Sakina) i want to posses in my mind
faghfirli ya rabb(sorry my lord) for all these transgress
cause in your hand is every success...
I beg You to guide me to the actions of perfection
and never let me suppress my self or any one else
Come on everybody lets confess cause in the quest we call life
is full of stress and strife
some of us wandering blind
some of us will never find
the way to the light
im trying to call you to the way
can't your sight see the bright
yeah just another madman who like to express
Praise to Allah who relieved me from this distress
when it come to this wordgame im obsessed
And i wrote this in 20 min or less
I ain't do in it to impress
I hope im sending these words straight to your heart
Cause thats the address
My suggest is go back to your Lord
Cause the real contest is paradise or hell
Not Bentley or Ford
Hoping this a ringing bell in your head
Instead of going back to your little shell(Your world)
Reflect upon how long you will dwell in this Earth
How did you fell and when was your mom gave you birth
Yeah brother you going straight to dirt so is this life something worth.

Mohammed Abikar
Copyright © 2010

balance of the weight in life

This can’t be life
My mind wonders on
I’m impulsive seen as though I want so much more
Living life to the fullest
And what exactly would make me full to the stomach
Have I now got two minds westernize and a noble Muslim
I’ve never had a plan or goal
Preferred to be the dare Devil
And catch whatever that was meant to flow
But I can’t keep going with life with an unknown oath

So to the stars I wish to know my destiny
I feel guilty now knowing it’s written down
This sin I’ve done, I must prostrate to my Lord.
I’ve woken up on the wrong side of the bed,
Suddenly I’ve urge and felt thirsty to do the most sinful things
I want to sin, seen as though sin has been corrupted on me
Devil and the angle battling to help my Indecisive mind
All I want is to find the sign somewhere in mind
My hands are in chains,
locked up from actions I would not care to do

From a day today I know someday I’ll break down
And it’s been years I’ve cried
I know now if I don’t pick a path
I’ll forever be lost
Talking to myself, this can’t be a sign of insanity
Or just words I wish to say, picturing days I wish to come
What is it that I want, will the wild life of a partying drunk fulfil me
Will me being a mother and wife, be more fulfilling enough

I don’t know what I want, and this is it a confusion raging mind
A sign in my dreams would help, a guard to success
I don’t know, I’ve been afraid to question,
but how much can one take with the tests of the world
I can’t keep going down and fix myself up to keep going again.
I’ve very little patients, and anger has haunted its way.
I only want to know will saddening burden be the unfortunate event in my future once again.

So must I just forget, and how about the past can’t be forgotten. I’m in a spider web of the oddest situation.
This world I don’t think I can take so seriously,
I’ve living mostly based on misery

For I have been in prison in this world and with my Lord. Changing emotions driving me insane, but I can’t complain all though it has brought a sudden pain.

Idil Ahmed Mahamed
Copyright ©2010

She had a Dream

Mother dreamed of a place where she
Would not have to hide under the shade of a tree with me,
Where goverment planes would not be directing flames
At women and children.
In her dreams she could see a world of brick houses,
Of doors,
Of windows,
Of little fences.
That in this world she would cook big family dinners on an electric stove
And kiss daddy good bye as to work he drove.
Mother would hum and sing to herself
As she sat in a camp draining drinking water with a scarf

'God Almighty, please come and find me.'

She would take a stick and write letters in the dirt
So that I may learn to read and write not just wash shirts.
Telling me this is not where my life started
And it will not be where it will end.
Mother was a master story teller
By two I knew the whole message of Diin Iyo Dacawo,
Knowing full well that mother wanted me to be the turtle
Taking my time with the world
So that life may take it's time with this girl.
Mother told me she had visions for me
And she was going to get me to the place
She had seen in her dreams.
I believed her and started to dream with her.
That brick house,
That stove
Even that car daddy drove.
In the senses of my mind
I could smell air that was not rife with desperation,
Hear voices that were not muted from devastation,
See bodies plump, a world away from emaciated.
I am not sure why in my visions
We had different complexions
But I knew we were going to reach it.
Now mother does not sing any more
Does not hum anymore.
Long gone are the tales she told.
But now I can write and I can read.
And for both of us,
I do the dreaming.

'God Almighty, please come and find me.
Take me far away from this life please....'

Nimo Hussein.
copyright 2010

Friday, February 26, 2010


I Promise you that there is no way of attaining peace untill we follow the way of the creator and not the creation.

Once we were people that were united. Our unity was blighted by our gensis By Africa we was sighted as the enemies By the west we were invited to calamties We were people excited for succes and conquer On that path we became people under bunker fighting each other Because of our gensis We became our enemies And we brought the calamity To this poor land We brought famine to our women and children with our own hand Played the game satan planned Still we advertising this evil brand Learning this hate to our children. And we demand PEACE Laughing at people killing each other for a piece of land. They scoff at us thinking we are off this world We ain't from pluto we are just caputo finish. Our heart are huge thou Full of love and compassion And the savior is above the seven heavens and earth. The only solutions is go back to him make ablution submission in prayer ask the one only for guidance maybe he will give us ambition to restore the balance between passion and peace, between love and harmony so we could put down the bullets and armory.
And I Promise you there is no other way til we follow the way of the creator and not the creation.

Mohammed Abikar
Copyright © 2010


I bear witness that before anything else my journey started in your ovum.

I bear witness that you are a matchless mother, who bequeathed all of her properties and body-limps to me while still in existence, with the most pleasant personality; and the whole world can never replace any parts of you, let alone the whole of you.
I bear witness that I have traveled through the earth, while on your back (let the masses know that I have never been placed on baby-strollers) and in your belly like a sea bean in its shell travels thousands of miles blindly through the water and on the land.

I bear witness that you have worked harder than the most diligent ants, so that I can be the strongest someday.

I bear witness that you have proven wrong the phrase “survival of the fittest”, because I remember the day that you have put your life first in danger; so that I the weakest can be safe and sound.

I bear witness that you have protected me – better than a pit bull protects its master – from demons, devils and self-destruction.

I bear witness that you have gladly and anxiously waited one-third of my life for me to become a self-feeding emperor like a fourth-generation monarch-butterfly waits one-third of its existence to feed on spring flowers.

I bear witness that no one creature has ever attempted, is attempting or will ever attempt to tackle and topple all of my troubles.

I bear witness that you didn’t came to existence by chance, as claimed by the fraud and false evolution, but with the purpose that you will perform prayers and I was going to be borne out of your body.

You fed me, when I was an embryo and blood-clot-fetus, with the nutrition inside your womb.

You fed me, when I was the size of a kidney bean, with the food you passed through the placenta into my blood stream.

You fed me, when I was three inches long and weighted an ounce, with countless supply of life-sustaining energy.

You fed me, when I was five inches long and weighted five ounces, with oxygen that you grabbed from the thin air and supplied it to me through your nostrils.

You fed me, when I was ten inches long and with just formed eyebrows and eyelids, with special-made sustenance supplied through your esophagus.

You fed me, when I was a pound and a half, with breakfast, lunch and a dinner that you ate through your mouth - so that I can smooth out my wrinkled baby-skin.

You fed me, when I was three bounds and weighted more than 15 inches, with the right fruits and vegetables that was, in part, broken-down with the juice from the tiny glands of the mucosa – so that I can open and close my eyes in the darkest places of all.

You fed me, when I was a bit more than four pounds, with nature-made vitamin D that you consumed directly from the sun.

You fed me, when I was about 19 inches long and weighted seven pounds, with the milk in your breasts, and you welcomed me to the planet earth; joyful feeling over shadowed the pain you went through because of my birth.

You watched me with special eye when I was learning how to crawl, and you disposed my excrete matter without any hesitation.

You clothed all of my ills like the flesh clothes the bones.

You gave me the most important directions of all like a forger-honeybee gives the right-direction to its nest-mates, to the nectar.

You introduced me right from wrong when I didn’t know better than a robot.

You cooled-me-down like a water cools-down the marathoner, when I was peevish youngster.

You loved me when I was distasteful teenager.

You dragged me out of sickness with your mother-made remedies.

You even took me in and sweeten my story when the so-called soul-mate assaulted, salted and soured my middle-age life.

You were the most resourceful when there was no resources for a full-grown and aged me.

You flew me high from the troublesome past like a shuttle operator flies from the gravity-controlled land to orbit; so if you take off, I am afraid I will fall hard like when this engine is left on its own.

You raised me high from the bottom like a sea-wave produced in the depths of the ocean and rose 34 Meter-high above water level. If you leave me, I am afraid that I will falter and become fad like when this sea-wave comes offshore.

You filled me with lifelong lessons like a fully-filled gas-balloon. If you are taken away for any reason, I am afraid I will loss the lessons you taught me like when this balloon losses its air when touched with fire or other flame-causing materials.

You gave me stirring speeches and rightful warnings like Prophet Noah gave to his people against committing sins. If I lose you, I am afraid that I will be drowned with sinning like this Prophet’s people were drowned with water when they became heedless.

You have made my vast surroundings livable like a fish in the ocean. If you are taken out of my life, I am afraid that I will become lifeless like when this fish is left in the sand and out of its water.

You represent the Stork story; this Ciconiidae family member stretched out its wings over its baby to shield the rays of the sun and all the harmful objects; and it showered the baby with the water it brought with its bill. With your lead-by-action teachings, now I can stretch my own wings to my progeny and for all of humanity.

You represent the Salmon story; nickname Nimco, this creature came back to its birthplace-farm to glimpse around one last time and die, years after it has spent its life feeding on the plants of the ocean. With your guidance, now I can remember all the lessons vividly and just about this mammal can remember its one birthplace and death-place.

You represent the Zebra story; nicknamed Ayaan, this zebra placed itself between its baby and the lion that was trying to prey on the weak; as a result the mother died and the baby got to reach its full-potential. With your relentless rightful-protectionism, now I am realizing my potential, just like this baby-zebra did.

You are a symbol of the dragonfly story; this fly was able to find its way out of danger in the most difficult maneuver. With your help, now I know how to find my way out of danger and rise up when I fall.

You are symbol of Dr. Cabdalle Diiriye’s story; this doctor pulled three consecutive all-nighters to operate on his family-member-hero, with no advanced equipment in the least developed country. I am proud to say that you have operated on my life with better care than this doctor when he was replacing the valves and repairing the aneurysms of his patient’s heart.

Mother! I am indebted forever and I owe you a satisfaction greater than the most satisfied soul.

Mother! I am indebted forever and I owe you a favor bigger than mountain Everest.

Mother! I am indebted forever and I owe you a milk that no one on the milky-way can supply.

Mother! I am indebted forever and I owe you a lifelong teaching and enriching.

Mother! I am indebted forever and I owe you a lifelong clothing and feeding.

Mother! I am indebted forever and I owe you a lifelong dedication and caring.

Mother! I am indebted forever and I owe you a lifelong parental-pleasing.

Mother! I am indebted forever and I owe you a lifelong motherly-love and unconditional support.

Mother! I am indebted forever and I owe you a loan greater than life.

Hooyo! Let me be a grave for all your great-anguishes.
Hooyo! Let me a medicine for all your human-malfunctions.
Hooyo! Let me be a burning-basket for all your burdens.
Hooyo! Let me be the eliminator of all your ills.
Hooyo! Let me be the preventer of your pains.
Hooyo! Let me be a goal-keeper for your kindness.
Hooyo! Let me the buyer of your soothing stories.
Hooyo! Let me be the gardener of your greatness.
Hooyo! At least you should put all your pains and burdens on my back and let me carry them away to Pluto planet, bare-footed; you are the creation that I want to devote my life to.

If the human race were to not accept this and agree with me, then I have the rest bearing witness to this truth.

If this was not the truth, then there would have been no polar bear mother doing the massive and unprecedented motherhood work in the most unforgiving and most cruel climate.

If it was not because of your patience, tolerance, forgiveness and peaceful-upbringing, then there would have been no peace on our planet.

If it was not because of your governance, then there would have been no
ment and chaos would have erupted everywhere.

If it was not because of your schooling, then there would have been no school to school the illiterate.

If it was not because of your administrating, then there would have been no business administrators or accountants to record all the transactions.

If it was not because of your preaching, then there would have been no preachers to preach for perfection and piety.

If it was not because of your tenderness, then benevolence would have never been found in humanity.

Unlike the cannibalistic-spider mother, who ends her life by feeding herself to her young after giving birth, you have cheated death to make the ultimate sacrifice several times; therefore I am standing strong writing this piece to prove to the human race that you are the mother of all good.

I am writing this because I am prone to fault and you are always the bedrock and the backbone of my rehabilitation period.

I am writing this because you never took a fault-finding expoloration in my fault-invested life.

I am writing this because I have never seen, heard, or read about the likes of your generosity and sacrifice, before or after.

I am writing this because I want to excerpt every last energy, with no reservation or regret, in praising your priceless breading.

I am writing this because you have done everything in your power – consciously or unconsciously – to promote, profit, and put me above and beyond everyone else.

I am writing this because when I hear your name or sense your presence, my heart sinks into delightful-ness unlike any other, because you elate me beyond imaginations.

I am writing this because I am here to prove, publicly and privately, that you are the pillar of my life and you helped me prevail, with or without all else – all done with His permission, and fly away with success like a baby-eagle prevails and flies away from its nest.

Hooyo! I am writing this out of pain, pleasure and between; for the pain, pleasure and in between you went through for my birth.

I am writing this to honor your dignity and thank you for everything that you have done and have not done, everything that you are doing and not doing, and everything that you will do and will not do.

Abdinasir Haji-Bare
copyright 2010

Hear my plea...

"I fight a daily battle as a child.
I don't dare dream of counting how many toys I have because I do not have any.
I don't ask for the latest fashion trends or the cartoons every child enjoys.
I don't dare dream of being comforted, consoled, and held closely.
I don't expect a good night kiss from my mother and father because they are buried six feet beneath the ground.
I don't dare dream of going to a friend's house or being dropped of at a school by a parent.
I am a parent myself now that I take care of my young siblings.
I polish shoes for the enemy that have taken the lives of my parents.
They abuse me and mistreat me but I bear with patience for the sake of my siblings survival.
I don't think about going to 1st, 2nd, 3rd, or 4th grade.
I do not expect to live that long.
But I do dare dream of something great; that perhaps one day my plea will reach the corners of the world.
That perhaps the world may pay attention to my cries and pleas.
I do dare to dream of a better world for the generations to come.
I am not asking anyone for their sympathies, I am asking for understanding, not acceptance.
I am asking from every individual an effort for change.
A change that benefits everyone, a change that will hear and accept the pleas of children like myself.
So I ask you - do not let any child after me die of hunger and disease.
Do not let the children of my land be suspended from roofs or hanged.
Do not let the wars of this world prevail! Please, do not let anymore children be deprived of their loving parents.
I'm the plea of a child from afar. Let my dreams exceed to reality!

Nimo Abdi Warfa
copyright 2010

My thoughts on paper: SOMALIA

Sand and seas dyed red.

Cover the horn were torment sheds.

Tears of blood to pain ones shed.

Shanty homes left were homeless fled.

Rocky roads made of skull and flesh.

Appeasement unsettling: so peace is unmet.

Morning dew is gun-smoke.

Fumes of burnt hope, as rare rain competes

against puddles formed from teary streets.

The weathers heat: sweat beads on foreheads of

shoeless feet; tank-tops on males with heightened speech

veils on females with no goals to reach.


Bright skies don’t mean that the sun does rise

It means sunrise many sons have died.

Even as the West buys the East’s pride;

I try to make sense, how do cents take lives?

Streams of blood seem to flow from both sides.

There’s a certain limit were the eye runs dry.

How does killing stop killing if they both take lives?

Wisdom in a lesson is seen by the wise.

Amidst writing in the skies, war planes fly-by.

Debris the outcome of the once high rise.

Seas of blood subside; welcoming the outcome of feuding tribes.

Hopeless, we scramble for the will to survive.


The futures defined by surviving the day.

No past to a present astray; a peasants-peasant is the minimal wage.

So how does a comfortable world question our criminal ways?

Born into days cold.

Laying-low from bullets until Watchers say, “Go!”

Mortar fires land on mud roads; as far as thugs go

There’s no room for courage once guns blow.

A mother’s hug is gold.

Father’s watch kids grow; only to witness their death

as soon as words flow.

One can never know, the torment of a soul

that witnessed, the vanishing of his family in whole.


With my seat here, I sit near- thoughts crystal clear,

of landmines, pistols and missile spears.

Building falling upon infants crawling on arms.

As leaders steal our rights like thieves in night;

Freedom fighters that fought to instill our rights

Meet a thing called ‘Power’, hence forget our plights.

Tears spill from the fear we feel in life.

The Sun in the skies only brings one light; another airstrike.

Another fair fight, rather unfair– like.

Don’t guerillas bear rights as armadillos bear spikes?

Vanilla aired nights with red beamed lights.

Drones with settlement villas in hindsight


Who shall we tell the tales that we fell through?

The well that we fell-in; with no rescue caravan or king.

Yet in the same day that AK’s spray.

Street kids play soccer and resume in ways- that,

only promote hope of a future day-which may

possibly be better than yesterday.

However, the weather blows

Summer breeze or leave-less trees, I know

that there will never grow a rose without one dying.

If one is to laugh, another must be crying. So, I’m eying

the joys of the Afterlife; are reserved for those, withering rose

in this life.


Sahra A Jess
Copyright © 2010

Happiest women

We’re Muslim women and we stand up high

We don’t need your correction, because we are thy perfection

Our men treat us with Love & affection

Don’t even try it, because we’re not disrespected, we are never ever treated unjust or oppressed.

When we step out side that door Men lowered their gazes in utmost respect.

We’re not claiming to be perfect. our flaws are indeed visible,but Allah forgives because his followers are worth it

We are the Muslim mother and we are the ummahs queens , setting the best examples in the deen, with in our heart there is a light that shines to keep our sons and daughters on the sirat al mustaqeem

This Dunya doesn’t mean anything to us, as long as we have our family & our deen

Alhmdulilah ya allah for every dawn of every day and every breath that we take

Truly within our hearts Islam is the path that we choose

Its a privilege to be the pearls of Islam and we need Allah to be our guide.
Muna Abdi
Copyright © 2010


Diabolic, ilmatic miss leaded people,
Loving all life’s satisfaction not knowing its evil,
Condemned confused corrupted minds,
Get told to change a number of times,
With no regards or no regrets,
The whole in the ground they seem to forget.

The day of the judgment they chose to forget,
Not realising its punishment,
Worldly desires they seem to be chasing,
Not knowing its illness,
Forget the purpose of living,
Trading their eternal enjoyment for a bitter desire,
Small minded they became forgetting Allah's eternal promise.

We live in a era where the mind is utterly deluded,
Searching for meaningless material belonging,
Yet telling the heart a lie,
We are out searching what is beyond our power...

"O Allah, show us the way of those on whom you have bestowed your grace, not the way of those who earned your anger, nor of those who went astray.”

Ahmeddey M Hassan
Copyright © 2010

You said you loved me

You said you loved me,
You lied,
All that time I invested
You drove me insane
But I accepted all the pain
You inflicted
Because I thought you were worth it.
But you weren't
You broke my heart
No broken is an understament
You played with, took it where you wished
Tore it apart
You burned it,
You scorched it,
I still have the scars!
I only offered you love,
Forget the world on a platter
I would give you the shirt on my back,
If you needed it.

I loved you,
With every second that passed
With every breath I took,
I thought of you,
Of our future together.
I didn't realize you were just playing games,
Using me,
abusing me,
Returning when you missed me,
Leaving when you wished,
Could have been a great team,
We would have changed the world together,
Set it ablaze, remember?

I would sacrifice all of my time,
Gladly be your best friend
Your teacher,
Numer one confidant,
But what you said so confidantly,
You took back,
So quickly!

Do you know how much that hurts?
Maybe it was nothing to you,
But everytime you said those words:
It's not you, it's me,
My heart would become crushed
Tears would fill my eyes,
I wouldn't eat properly for days
How can I eat when the most precious person to me,
Is once again out of my life?
I would lie awake for hours,
Trying to find what I did wrong,
What mistake I committed
Wondering if you'd ever forgive me,
Wishing and dreaming,
Yearning and longing,
For you,
For your company.
Your simple hello,
Your smile.

The way you listened to me,
Let me talk for hours,
Of whats troubling me,
Only interrupting to voice your agreement,
My shrink,
I nicknamed you,
It's amazing how you lifted years of pain,
From my chest,
So simply,
Don't worry you would comfort me,
You'll see a brighter day!

Your poems,
I loved them,
Every letter
Every word
Every line;
Because I knew it came from you,
From deep within,
Even though you faced problems
You'd brush them aside
Hiding them behind metaphors
Poems and fancy language
I'd try to play decoder
But it's not something you liked
So I let you stay hidden
Even to me,
Because I never wanted to cause you even the slighest discomfort.
Now I ask why?
Why'd you leave me?
We were so good for each other
Even though I can't get through all the excuses you made,
I can only point the finger of blame
To myself,
Maybe I was deficient?
Maybe I was wrong?
If thats the case then tell me,
How can I correct my wrongs?
It's impssoble to turn back time,
So forgive me,
Like I forgave you on countless occaisons
But you won't,
Your love for me is on terms
Unknown to me
And no matter how much I still love you
I must confess
I'm tired
I'm tired of the games
Of the excuses,
I'm reaching a conclusion
Facing reality,
Accepting the fact that you said you loved me,
But you lied.
And no matter how much I love you,
No matter how much I want, yearn, wish
I know you'll never be mine.

Bint Qalin
Copyright © 2010

I am the voice....

I am the voice that shouts from mountain tops afar.
I am the ocean tide that puts out the flames of injustice.
I am the quiet breeze that eases the soul and mind.
I am the glimmering moon that illuminates the dark night.
I am the quiet sobs and sighs of children.
I am the tear drops that flood the river, the sunlight that brings warmth on a cold day.
I am the happiness and hope of my people.
I am the shade that instills peace in the minds of the oppressed.
I am the apple of every eye.
I am the strength of my people, the everlasting reminder of my faith and land.
I am the cries, sobs, sighs, and PLEAS of a child. What are you?

Nimo Abdi Warfa
copyright 2010


Oh, you poor Somalia

who used to shine as a five pointed star.

Now there are only three

and those separated from each other.

Oh, you Somalia

your cities that are bombed to rubble

your deserted streets

those which used to burn your eyes with colors

and your ears with laughter and joy

they are now only shadows of the past,

the history has been hewed to the ground

with your blood.

Oh you Somalia

your people have escaped

all over the world

broken to pieces like a pot.

Who poisoned the minds of the men

who used to bear you up?

For those men who made you strong

turned you weak,

turned brothers against each other

planted the seed of hate so deep

turned neighbours from gurgurshaa

to dhurwaa,

and lightness to darkness.

Oh you Somalia

it is so hard to break the circle of revenge

when black blood flows in the veins of the people.

To be able to cut the swords of the doqons

in addition to the power lots of wisdom is needed.

Wisdom to let go of the past

wisdom let go of the useless negative pride.

Then one day Somalia

if Allah Almighty is willing

and when the thistle bushes of ignorance

have been rooted out from your garden,

and the baby birds which have escaped from the nest

will sit on your branches again

you will rise again


among the brightest stars,

and all the five points will shine

together bright as they were

before foolishness came along.

And all we do is pray

and all we do is dream

that we don´t have to wait long

that this day is near.

Johanna Syren
Copyright © 2010

I use to love her

I use to love her,
And call her FRIEND.
Before she became a self righteous bitch.
She preached often, during the daylight hours.
Forgetting her favorite past time night hobbies.
She wore the veil,
Long and loose.
Kind of like her.
The HER I remember.
Draped in black.
Her soul as black as the garment she wares.
As though suddenly she’s purified of her past wrong doings.
Projecting her many insecurities
And self hatred
How quick she is to cast the first stone.
I guess turning a new leaf,
Involves turning a blind eye.
What was then,
Has no bearing on what is now.
How silly she is,
Seems and sounds.
When she appoints herself
As my judge, jury and executioner.
So righteous she stands,
Tall and mighty.
As though she has the power
And not GOD almighty.
What happened to only GOD can judge me?
Your tired favorite line.
To excuse you’re many years,
Of many bullshits.
Than you have the audacity to look at me
And judge ME?
I would say it’s like the kettle calling the pot black.
But that would somehow imply that you and I are cut from the same cloth.
Inhibit the same manner.
Or journeyed the same path.
And clearly that’s NOT the case.
But nonetheless I loved you.
And called you FRIEND once.
Before you became a self righteous BITCH.

This piece has no bearing and is not intended for all the wonderful Muslim woman who cover (Hijab) and make us proud. This piece is dedicated to all the self righteous, know it all BITCH'S out there.

Hayat Magan
Copyright © 2009

Saturday, February 20, 2010


I am a fair thinker with fresh mind,
I am a fictionist and film-maker,
The first film-maker from Northeastern province;
I am a deep-rooted novelist from a deprived province;

It is so long that I suffered at the hands of a dictator,
The dictator that maimed me for life,
The wounds of Wagalla are unhealed,
Unhealed, unforgettable and uncured;

Oh my fellows! Ah the forgotten North-easterners!
Let us all cry at once for the lost innocent lives!
Cry at once at the top of our voice,
Let us say farewell to the ages violation;

Are we real Kenyans?
I double-doubt my dears!
Geographically claimed,
Economically marginalised;

No reliable roads!
No rational rules!
Sense with me what I have said,
Then, oppose me with an evidence;

Bear in mind that I am the voice,
The voice for the unheard voices,
The solid sense for the senseless,
The clincher for the collapsed siblings;

I am the epitome of the speechless;
My words are the epees,
The epees at the neck of the corrupt con-men,
Let us dream please, dream and dream of development;

I am a free-will-founder,
A freedom-fighter;
I fight with wit-words,
Not with weapons;

Who am I fighting for?
I am fighting for the coming generation,
Calling for NEP-wide cooperation,
And cohesion with income-generation;

Hi patriots of Northeastern province!
Hi the patrons of Northeastern province!
Let us wake up please for stability,
Wake up, wake up and wake up for solidarity;

Let us say NO!
Say NO to tribalism!
Say NO to plagiarism!
Say NO to nepotism!

Gone are the errors of Moi government!
Gone are the steps of our right-theft arrangement!
Let us clap aloud with keen emotion,
Clap aloud with united hands for promotion;

Let us yearn for justice and human rights respect,
Let us fight corruption with zero patience,
Let us hear the yippee of our heroes and heroines,
Let us put not the cart before the horse;

Be it my foe or my friend,
I fear of the Fearless alone,
I am a born hero,
A born hero for my people;

I was born to die one day,
And born to die with dignity,
I am an abysmal Ocean,
An abysmal Ocean with human skin;

Call me a criminal,
Or a crass,
But I am the gallant,
The gallant for the nation;

I am a Pan-Africanist,
A Pan-Africanist with an affluent sight,
I am proud of my colour,
And proud of my culture;

I am a diplomat by mission;
Democrat by ideology;
Director by development;
And durable by say and solution;

Sense not a polemical script!
But a poetic powerful spirit,
Depict it as you wish,
Digress not from the theme.

Mohamed Abdikadir Daud (Stanza)
Copyright © 2010
Stanza is a Somali poet, journalist, translator, cameraman, political pundit, book-reviewer and author based in Africa. His new novel, The Beaming Blood, is waiting for publication. He can be reached at: