Friday, July 30, 2010


Around all the corners of the world,
With its lots of ladies and women,
I have never seen one with your parallel beauty,
Neither your competitor with character,
Nor your simile in the semantics of personality,
My queen, lyrics never ever narrated like you!
No artistic personification depicted like you!
Neither in Kiswahili language!
Nor in French language!
You are a duplicate of golden dew!
In prettiness, you are the women’s summit!
There is a romantic wound in my lungs because of you!
Hot romantic pepper is burning it because of you!
It produces vibration and smoke because of you!
My heart is totally emaciated because of you!
My liver is occupied by love because of you!
My soul is hypnotic because of you!
Deeqa, all my organs are smiling at you!!
Their cooler and comforter is you!
My sight and vision fell in love with you!
Staring at you with full philosophy of love!
Pearly-like Deeqa, felicitate and receive!
My heart and liver are inflaming because of you!
As you are the only one implanted there forever!
Time is elapsing us without our bilateral sense!
Don’t postpone the plan that we scheduled!
And the rendezvous that we tabulated!
Failure of meeting me as per framed,
I will risk my own life because of you!
I will travel by the Mediterranean Sea because of you!
Safety of life is determined by the Creator of me and you!
I will endanger my life as to pillow on your black soft hair!
On meeting you my dear Deeqa, the love will swing!
And with it, I will play melodic Bullo and Dhaanto!
I will hoist romantic flag for it my darling, Deeqa!
For it, I will wave buds and flowers darling, Deeqa!
I will feed it with oxygenated pulmonary blood!
I will call upon the community to be an eye witness!
All the youths will dance upon our jubilation!
I will hug you in front of the congregation!
I will gladden you my dear and dear Darling!
And then, I will shower you with lasting love!
Kissing and caressing my dear and darling Deeqa!

Mohamed Abdikaadir Daud (Stanza)
Copyright © 2010

Suicidal Thought

I live life beautifully
And step wisely
In vitality
just so my fantasy
could be seen

AND now your my adversity
cut me down you took my life in need
took my hand and cut me deep
so now I am in relieve
heaven..........passion breath, I close my eyes with the depth
to deal with you is
living with thee
So mastitis I be,.........with free
come to me you said, don't be afraid I have been where you been
and in this life you get to see, affliction, things you will never want to envision
my unparalleled notion is what bleeds me to my consolations
Be my guest and master my glare, my existence, my extensive linger
my words, my voice my mania of your manifestation
of you laying here numb..
What you hear before your dead is your remark of your own said
please aspire your deliberation on your hereafter ma'am.

Fayzah Muhammad Showsta
Copyright © 2010

The ABC’s of Somalia

A house no longer a home

A people no longer a nation

A mother no longer a mom

A father no longer has a son

A land once pure

A people once sure

Becomes barren

Barricades of dead bodies

Buried by the numbers

Brace yourself child this is the world you inherit

Brace yourself child you have a lot to fix

Counting stars

Caged by bars

Came from far

Covered in scars

Cruelty is the movie and you are the star

Dying the innocent is dead

Doomed to a future so bleak

Dazed at the damage that’s been done

Disaster knows no kindness

Dare to dream and hope after it all

Elements of earth’s centre

Existence of a place that doesn’t exist

Evicted from the place you called home

Empty souls drift the streets

Emptier are their bodies that once lived

Far from ending

Foolish hearts still hope

Favorite stories no longer bring smiles

Fireplace is cold with ashes

Fear has paralyzed the strongest

Good is if you are still alive

Gone are the times of joy and bliss

Gone is the peace and prosperity

Gullible are the children that race the streets

Greatness now a thing of the past

He told her everything would be ok

He held her and wiped the tears with his sleeve

He held back his tears to be strong for her

He hoped with all his heart he was right

Her big brother was all that was left of family

Imagine if the war didn’t happen

Inhale; let the fresh air wash away the hurt

Intelligent minds left to wonder

Inert you have become, cold as stone

Illuminate the dark, with just your hope

It only takes one to rise up and speak

Jokers only smile back at you

Jump, like a plane lift off

Jackals dine on deer never the other way round

Jaded hearts, faded dreams

Jarred ends of the fibers that make you

Killing no longer for a reason

Kernel k can’t sleep at night anymore

Kingdom come, kingdom blown to dust

Kingdom stands alone

Kingdom stands in a pool of its people’s blood

Lies told lead to more lies

Lives taken like they meant nothing

Love robbed of its existence

Learning the death of a loved one on a daily basis

Larger than life you once were

Mistakes repeated like re-runs just incase you missed the last

Murders by the numbers like it was a marathon of who killed most

Mission accomplished you have hurt the hearts

Mission failed, those hearts have healed

Magic wands can’t make it all go away

No longer is there an aim for a target

Now the motto is just shooting, no target

Never mind if she is your mother

Never mind if he is your brother

Narrow minds and numb hearts

Oil the lamps as dark sets in

Ornaments of the land are now the bones of its people

Ordeal after ordeal nothing surprises you anymore

Only if it were all a bad dream

Only if you would wake tomorrow and all was well again

People fought for wealth, for wealth is power

Power made you feel like no other

Power came first in a race with peace

Peace perished and so did the people

People weren’t there to witness the power you have killed for

Quiet are the playgrounds now the children are gone

Queens once in their homes, now minorities in foreign lands

Quilts of dust on the faces of the few that made it

Quest to find a destiny so dear

Quest to return to where I call home

Rest now my land, for you have been through a lot

Reminisce now of the times you were grand and beautiful

Read the sad faces of your people

Reassure them, its ok now

Resilient land, remain strong and don’t despair

Remain our home, and don’t desert us

So alone in a world so crowded

Silence said the master

Sit down and see what you have done

Surrender your weapons, seek forgiveness

Sense of remorse, shall eat away at your soul

The time has come

Turn to your left and then your right

That’s right not another face insight

This is what you have gained

This is what you have failed to see till there was no more

The rivers once blue, now run red stained with blood

Until now you were blinded by greed

Until now you told yourself you can’t feel

Untrue it was, until now

Underneath you your knees shake, they fold and bring you to the ground

Undo the done deeds I dare you now, do you see what I was warning you about

Vastness of space, the silence that’s deafening

Victory is yours now, if the goal was to destroy it all

Very well then, how does it feel?

Vain war you fought, very little you gained

Victory is yours now, how does it really feel

Wait, are those tears I see in your eyes

What happened is this not what you killed them all for

Where is your family child, was it worth the trade that gun you hold

When it’s all said and done what now, where to from here

Wailing and wishing you could take it all back

Well that’s a pity, if only that was how the world worked

X, y, z

Famo A. L
Copyright © 2010

Thursday, July 29, 2010

{Group poem 11 Part 1} Domestic Abuse [brothers version]

Let me make it short and succinct
Nonetheless sincere
None should live in fear
Nor should they despair
The four corners of the home are there to confine
Not hatred, abuse or violence rather
To build bonds and cultivate the future
To express and rest the soul from stresses of the outside
The four corners are not there to limit
Rather to calm and preserve the soul
The walls are not there to reflect the sound of violence
But a source of silence for the intimate moments
In short, make your home a ‘Home Sweet Home’!

Keeping silence
Holding me in place with violence
Keeping it for myself
Holding my head since I was twelve
Keeping hate locked away
Holding weakness over my head so I had to stay
Keeping me in suspense
Holding my hand with force, so intense
Keeping me alive
Holding my water to survive
Keeping the traffic moving while we fight
Holding my bruises up to the light
Keeping down, slapped in the face, can’t hear your voice
Holding up, can’t sense your sight, I had no choice
Keeping away from doing harm
Holding tight to your love and charm
Keeping love a mystery, our bond grows stronger
Holding out your temper, just a little bit longer
Keeping out of trouble
Holding back, I receive twice and double
Keeping to your word, deception and lies
Holding on to your vow, teary and lonely nights
Keeping me in prison
-Pen 'N' Paper

Domestic is abuse it is more than just a beating
It leaves the child with mental scars, prohibiting him from eating
So he blocks everything out and becomes numb
It aint his fault that when he was a baby he used to suck his thumb
Constantly being called useless and dumb
Scarred both mentally and physically
He never has nightmares, the nightmare being his reality
Wondering what the cause is for this daily punishment
Being locked up alone at night in the basement
Battered and bruised
Ridiculed and abused
Assaulted and accused
Hitting a child is not matter of discipline
Try to put yourself in that person’s position…

Duale mahdi, Pen 'N' Paper and Ismail Mopreme
Copyright © 2010

I fell in love to who she was, but hate what she turned out to

-- Check it, she knew about me way before I was even born
Homegirl had ties to my great great great grandfathers
Yeah she was old school, but that intrigued me greatly
I truly loved her to pieces, from the very first sight of her beauty
I remember asking myself repeatedly, is it even possible to be that pretty?
Could she have been a fallen xural ceyn?
She was so strong, educated and fought her battles independently with great strength
She was witty and clever, which always kept me interested
She was gorgeous, from top to bottom
She always rocked the natural look and he beauty was beyond the seven world wonders
I could swear, her and I were a match made in heaven
I'm sure Allah, took extra time and care while writing our destinies together
She was pure, never touched and not tainted with any filth
The stories about her past were beyond my imagination
It was understandable why her name was on the tip of every men's tongue
But our fairytale love came to a sad end and my heart still aches of it
It was back in '92, when our problems reached boiling points
She wasn't the same anymore, she totally flipped the script on me
She was robbed of her power, beauty, wealth and joy
I know i still love her because i get shivers when i hear the first syllables of her nomadic name "So.."
By the 2nd and 3rd, tears start to run down my face "Ma .. Li .."
And by the last, i swear i can hear my heart shatter "Aaa"
When i hear the beautiful anthem written after .. " Soomaaliyeey toosoo, Toosoo isku tiirsada ee, Hadba kiina taagdaranee, Taageera waligiinee.."
I fall into a comatose love sleep to which no one and nothing can wake me up
Except herself, her and her sweet voice with that southern dialect "Kac macaan, Kac"
Its been 18 years since our break up and if I had the opportunity to speak to her today, I'd tell her
" Don't worry macaanto, I'm not cheating on you for Canada, she's too cold half the time and moody the other, America is just too crazy for me and Europe, lets not even talk about her. But you, Somalia, you just perfect for me"

Somalia Ha noolato

Mabsud A
Copyright © 2010


Note: Please don't be discouraged by the length of this note - in the end you will be glad you have read it.

In a world that has become a global village, where values are flattened and virtues that appeals to some (or lack of) are spread. In a world, where nothing seems black and white, but grey. Nothing is right or wrong but "maybe right" or "maybe wrong", it's difficult for one to maintain a clear definition of his/her Islamic identity.

In a global village, where this identity has become a synonym to being "anti-integration" or “anti-Civilized”, the Islamic identity is being tested and tried in many "democratic" countries, with bans on religious symbols such as the hijab or debates against Muslim faith-schools. We're also witnessing many attempts of shaping this identity to suit the interest of some.

However my concern is not the ideologies of the kuffars regarding this topic what’s disturbing is how Muslims could care less of their own identity, which Rasullullah struggled to uphold till his last breath, its how we Muslims have become so engrossed in our daily lives and upon being "accepted" that we've sometimes left our values and lost our identity and joined the masses in what they do so not to stick out or not to be seen as strangers. We're ashamed of some of our principles and never dare mention them so as not to be seen as strangers. We'll celebrate Christmas and New Year, Valentine and Easter so not to be seem as strangers. We'd delay our prayers, or not pray them at all so not to be seen as strangers. We'd take off our Hijab and shave our beards so not to be seen as strangers. We'd remove layers and layers of our Islam and re-interpet other parts of it so not to be seen as strangers. How much more can we compromise?

I heard about a beautiful hadith that brought tears to my eyes and had me intensely thinking of how much the ummah of the best of mankind (sallallahu ‘alahi wasalaam) has changed, am not sure who narrated it but I think it’s a sahih hadith coz I heard it from sheikh kamal el mekki in one of his lectures ‘chain reaction’, that when the verses in the quran were revealed that commanded the wearing of the hijab and veils, in one of the villages of makkah a young muslimah covered in her full hijab attire in a market place started to be teased by a gang of quraishi, ya’nee they were trying to see her face or something like that so she immediately refused and continued to buy her groceries . now among the quraish gang one of them decided to stick a nail on the end of her cloaks so when she starts moving her hijab falls off, he succeeded and the lady screamed now there was a muslim man who was watching what was happening and when he saw how the quraishi ridiculed a muslimah, he rushed to her side and killed the quraishi and ofcourse after he did that the rest ganged up on him and killed him. On hearing this the prophet saw rounded up an army and went to war to avenge the death of this mujahiid.

Subhanallah, look at how the muslims were selfless and fearless, today we have brothers who slander and snare everytime a muslim girl walks pass them, we have sisters who dread wearing the hijab, not knowing the jazza it posses, complete opposite of what a muslim is. Muslims by name, who have no shame, who detest what was brought by the best. Our identity loss is already taking place, can you see why a revival is needed?

We wonder why muslims are being persecuted, ostracized, and massacred all aroud the world,

We wonder why our dua’s are not being accepted by jalla wa ‘alla

We wonder why our enemies have lost all respects for us and degrade us like the scum the floats on the sewers. Its coz we have abandoned our heritage, we lost our guide, we turn to the quran and the sunnah when we are sick and indebt. We are all here today because we claim that Laa ilaaha illa Allah Muhammadu Rasul Allah is what we believe. Nevertheless, the problem is that for many it is a belief that dropped its bags and sat down on the tongue and did not move on to penetrate the heart. We have forgotten that it was Islam which made us honorable, and without it we are nothing.

When the Muslims opened Jerusalem, the Christians refused to give the city’s keys to anyone except the Caliph. So ‘Umar ibn al-Khattaab, may Allaah be pleased with him, set off from Madeenah to Jerusalem. His entourage? One attendant and a mule, which they took turns to ride. It happened to be the attendant’s turn to ride on the day they were to reach Jerusalem. The attendant volunteered to give up his turn because it would look “awkward in the eyes of the people” if he rode and the Chief of the Believers walked. ‘Umar, may Allaah be pleased with him, refused, saying: “yakfeenaa sharaful Islaam – the honour of Islaam is enough for us.”
On the way, while walking across a muddy area, ‘Umar, may Allaah be pleased with him, took off his footwear, put it under his arm and raised his clothes so they wouldn’t get muddy. When Abu Ubaydah, may Allaah be pleased with him, who was one of the commanders waiting for him saw this, he ran to ‘Umar asking him to ride his horse while entering the city. He said they were in a land where the quality of clothes reflected the rank of people.
‘Umar, may Allaah be pleased with him, replied: “I wish someone other than you had said that. Have you forgotten that we were a lowly people and it was Islaam that made us honourable? If we seek honour from anything other than Islaam, Allaah will return us to that state of lowliness.”

The more one thinks about this, the more we realize the importance of keeping and upholding our Islamic identity in our lives and reminding others as well. We need to learn and re-learn about our heritage and Islamic roots, we need to keep close to the fountain of our spiritual life, the Quran and the Sunnah of our Prophet (Peace be upon him). We need to be proud of our identity, that's the first step, and we'll only be proud if we understand the beauty of what we have.

It is said that if you want to destroy the tree of a nation then strip it off its history, and surely enough the nation will wither away and die. This parable is unfortunately poignantly befitting for our Ummah now. Ibn Khaldun, in his muqadamat said that a group is defined by a shared goal. In our case the goal is jannah. But how many people know the number of gates, levels or names for the different quarters of this supposed goal?
A closing point; no way can the ummah find its way back unless and until we return to this goal. No way can we appreciate and comprehend the meaning of jannah without a deep studying or the founder and leader of this great nation, Muhammad Sallahu Alaihi Wa Sallam. The most productive human being ever to walk the earth. So heavenly was he that his companions described the fragrance of his sweat as that of the sweetest musk! And may Allah bless the poet who said:
"And were a group of riders to follow you,
Your sweet fragrance would be enough to guide them"
By knowing him we will know the best of ourselves and fall in love with the best of His creation. There are many facets to the challenges we face, but rest assured, the bud of Islam is soon to blossom once again. Qadrallahu inshallah J

Bishara Ali


Dedicated to: A.W - I'm glad you didn't push the trigger and grew out of such lifestyle, Ramadan Kareem :)

He said he held 45 on his head
Hoping to end the misery life has gifted him
Life on the fast lane has raped him of his inner strength
Born to poverty with a black badge wrapped around his skin
He has little to be hopeful for
They would rather fund an abortion center
Then fund his education
So he sits and reminisces on the good times
Where his mother would shed tears at the sight of a dollar bill
At the prospect of feeding her babies
If he, could, he would place the world at her footstep
And pride himself for being the man he is
But rather tonight he abandons that and becomes the man
That would send him to live the life of a thug
Adorns himself with bling bling
The only means he knows how to shine
Life where colors like blue or red make difference
Life where the streets luring you with its lust
But vomits you out instantly when trouble emerges
Blinded by ignorance
Driven by desperation
He takes the road of loneliness
Concrete walls that pierce right through his skin
Ignored by the world and placed in a cage
He reminisces on his past
Life on the fast lane
Sitting in the dark and silent cell
He tries to reminisce on what attracted him to this filthy
Where brothers and niggas were abundant in times of happiness
Yet even family abandoned you in times of trial…
As he pushes the trigger – the nigga in him speaks out and says
You were born alone
And you are dying alone…
Life on the fast lane,
Sh*t, that was something.
But was it?
click, click

-Halima Ahmed
Copyright © 2010

I am

I am the composite of many nations, cultures, people.
My Home is nowhere, and it is everywhere.

I am trapped by the boundaries of separate cultures,
And at the same time it is by this I am freed.

I can feel at home in a place where no one looks like me,
And feel estranged in a place where everyone does.

I am labeled as “different”, “strange”.
Yes; I am different.

Still; I am the same.
I am a part of two entirely different Worlds.
Loving both, belonging to neither.

The place where I was born could never be my “home-country”,
And the place where I am could never fully own me.

I am one, and I am the other,
Too opposite to be equal, too similar to be opposing,
There will always be another owner of My Heart.

Divided, so it seems- separated by the boundary of my distinct Worlds.

And when I am there, part of me will not be, and when I am here,
My Heart will be elsewhere.

I am a chameleon.

I have adapted, molded, into every situation that Life has thrown my way
World traveler, sophisticated, uncivilized.

Running barefoot, balancing on high-tops.
White or black beneath my skin.

Who am I?
I am neither and I am both.
I am a part of a whole, divided.
Could there but be a way to possess one World?

Mukhtar Mohamed
Copyright © 2010

I am sorry

I am sorry if the woman you crawled out of didn’t teach you manners,
always desiring and wanting what was never your to have.
Just acknowledge that despite your best efforts,
he wants me.

I am sorry if God didn’t consult with you.
Asking you if you wanted the same hair texture as mine.
You think this shit is Burger King and you can always have things your way?
Cause if that was the case, I too would have chosen the option that allowed me to super size my breast.
Yet you don’t see me attacking your amble breast because mine couldn’t measure up.
Or me hating on your beautiful purchased Korean human hair.

I am sorry if you never had the opportunity to master loyalty or trust.
For all you’ve ever known are rotten, hating girlfriends who would rather break you down than build you up.
While I have been fortunate enough to be surrounded by a group of amazing friends who watch my front, side and back without being told to.

I am sorry your ambition didn’t evolve past your first job,
Still clocking in and out of call centers,
the way men clock in and out of you on the weekend rotation.
I guess I can’t be mad at you for doing what you do best; picking up a phone and clocking in overtime on my name.

I am sorry my lucratively, luscious, large lips offend you.
I assure you, their purpose wasn’t to suck off the sad excuse you call your man.
But if that was my desire, trust me when I say, your name would be a distant memory on his lips.

I am sorry that despite your best efforts I don’t have dark skin sister complex.
Did you really think your fair skin, green eyes, freckles, or any other superficial traits you may have makes you cuter?

Especially when your ugly personality over masks that every single time.
Just between you and me, my face is one shade lighter than my black ass and I love it!

But more than anything, I am sorry you thought you could knock me down, in order to stand tall – BITCH did you really miss my 5’11 frame dripping in CONFIDENCE.

Just in case you did, I am resending the memo.

Hayat Magan
Copyright © 2010


The occurrence of the past has led us to the present.
Today, today I wish my words would be pleasant
Today discussions are irrelevant I stand defiant
Long I have been patient; of the truth my mind has been absent

Foolish enough to be sleeping with the enemy
When it is only I that can protect me
My existence is heavy, cut of from reality
Even international help cant get to me
It would take you an eternity to decipher what my eyes see
Starved from humanity, in the debris is where you will find me

My brain is and can be picked like a faulty lock
My life is cheaper then that of the cheapest livestock
Sweet memories in my mind I search and look
Reality is nothing but a reminder of what they forceable took

I am a Reflection of mankind’s animosity
Your actions activate my anger and hate
I am the soil and the soil is my state
From this darkness we shall find away to illuminate
From this madness we shall find away to elevate
Only those that submit, accept designated fate

Hamza Egal
Copyright © 2010 .

He embodied truth

Dedicated to: Rap

He embodied truth
Truth that could pierce your heart
And leave you in awe
He embodied patience
The kind that is unknown to many
He embodied wisdom
Wisdom that could easily link him to great scholars
Or perhaps even exceed them
He embodied honesty
The kind that was essential to be truthful
He embodied the womb of a caring mother
The kind that would disprove those who said only women are compassionate enough to love and give unconditionally
He embodied inner strength
The kind that warriors failed in achieving
He embodied peace of mind
That kind even those who achieved nirvana
Have not tasted yet
He embodied poetic flows
The kind that made his poetry seep in
And make an abode in your heart
And make your mind question everything
He embodied inner and outer beauty
The kind that you couldn’t stop staring at
He embodied freedom even behind bars
The kind that would embarrass you and I
For being locked up within our own souls
For being hooked up to wires that constantly manipulates our minds
And steals our mental freedom to think, rebel, and free our minds
We buy into freedom of speech sh*t
But what good is freedom of speech when suppression of thought is practiced widely?
He embodied all that we lacked and yearned for.
Yes, he embodied truth and freedom.

-Halima Ahmed
Copyright © 2010

Dare to Dream

Land of ours destroyed to the rock
Land of ours drenched in blood
Land of ours dying so young
Land of ours deserted by most
Land of ours denied your right
Land of ours hurt as you are

Maybe there is time to fix you
Maybe there is time to repent
Maybe the people will return
Maybe one day you’ll stand strong and prosper
Maybe one day your people will no longer suffer
Maybe one day we’ll no longer say back home, but actually be at home

Lord of the world let me pray as I bow before you
Let not hate divide my people
Let not the past blur their vision of the future
Let not the innocent pay for the wrong of the rulers
Let not every mother suffer, and her child die of hunger
Let not hope be lost, for this land and its people

Maybe I am naïve, and to you I sound crazy
Maybe we’ve done so much wrong, we don’t recall what’s right
Maybe we’ve diminished the integrity of our land in the eyes of those watching
Maybe it’ll take decades for us to recover and redeem ourselves
Maybe tyrants will replace tyrants and continue the turmoil
Maybe you’re right in doubting my sanity……..But I Dare to Dream!!

Famo A. L
Copyright © 2010

He said “I am Africa and Africa is ME”

Dedicated to: S.H.B

He walked in the room
With a persona that reflected the radiant light of the sun
His long dreadlock represented wisdom that could captivate any soul
There was something about his walk
Yeah, there was something about it
He walked as though he was communicating with the soil
Comforting her to believe in her greatness
And that these vultures could never rape her despite stealing her resources time and again
He rhymed…
Oh, yes he rhymed
he rhymed about Africa and its greatness
And of its past warrior and the future rebels
He talked about talking without any fear
He called for liberation of thoughts
His voice seeped right through
And even those who opposed his ideas would LISTEN
Yes, they listened
And, appreciated the wisdom of his thought
He rhymed about life on the fast lane
And its deceptions
He rhymed about Africa too
And proudly said “I am Africa and Africa is ME”
Yes, his persona reflected the radiant light of the sun.
And, he embodied the qualities we would all yearn to have in our brothers.
Yes, that is my African brother.

You are greatly missed.

-Halima Ahmed
Copyright © 2010

A dream ... A Somali dream

Once upon a time, a black-man named Martin Luther King said: “I have a dream”. Today, I also stand to say: “I have a dream”.

I have a dream.
My dream is to see my homeland in peace.

I have a dream.
My dream is to see little boys with a toy instead of a gun.

I have a dream.
My dream is to see a rebuilt Somali state.

I have a dream.
My dream is to see a Somali state that 'delivers' justice .

I have a dream.
My dream is to see every mother being able of feeding her kid(s).

I have a dream.
My dream is to see every kid receiving a proper education.

I have a dream.
My dream is to see a united Somalia.

I have a dream.
My dream is to see a nation that does not discriminate based on ‘qabil’ .

I have a dream.
My dream is to see that everyone sees this dreams.

I have a dream.
My dream is to realize my dreams.

Abdikafi N Mohamed
Copyright ©2010

Last night's dinner

last night's dinner was precious
I still taste the rejection
it stings my lips
so I start the day with a cup of pride for breakfast
I remain earthbound
looking at you from a distance
your face appears as space
the sacred house of constellations
veiled in a vast shadow
it seems like your stare
bears two burning suns
that set on your palms while praying
the twlight it creates
bends shadows
an entire universe being blessed
after saying Ameen
I am taken in
by the gravity of your sight
cradled in the white of your eyes
next to the vessels
Where your color is
watching The Light walk in
stepping through a path
kindling seven holy halos
God is The Light
that guides us to the Deen
blesses us with sight
to enjoy the beauty of what is seen
I strive to catch this light
chasing it through galaxies
bouncing off of walls and faces
I chase the light into His eyes
this world we living in
its going bits and bits down the drain
soon gonna come to an end
understand, Supreme Master Plan must come to pass
the vast earth swimming through space
will drown at last
Look arround you what do you see
things going outta order things you wouldn't wanna see!!
with you naked eye that is
that is, if u believe in your pupils without being a pupil, of Life
deception is sight, truth is Light, God is Might
He might strike me down this night
See people get triggered but it all depends on who figures you out
i dnt know if no one know's it
they threw me inside da whole Insha allah uma expose it
expose the soul to corruption from self
after mental death whats left
a dead body walkin through life, no ears, no brain, no sight
Soon there gonna see there on there own
everyone seem's to be looking staring at your wounds
Pick your self up, ask God for help
that's your only hope
only hope to escape the smoke and fog
just trust in God, you dont need arms to hug to get the love
just look above but kno that God is Most Near so dont steer
from the path, its simple, just do the math
1 God created 1 soul and multiplied us over tenfold
the world is old and will corrode
so keep your soul clean, from dirt and mold
just submit and let God take control
Hold on to His hand
its something more greater then this life your struggling in
God the Almighty He'll take your breath away in a second
Dont tear..its ok He'll allway's be here
always here always Near, jus be sincere,
His verses are clear and was sent as a mercy and guidance
the essentials to have for God, Love and Fear
shed a tear when u repent cuz the end is near
close like 2 fingers, the Prophet showed us a while ago
and its been 1400 years

Copyright © 2010

Sunday, July 18, 2010

Mama Africa

Constant battles are fought in her streets
Many mutilated
Few crippled
But the blessed ones are embraced by death.

Exploited by the same hand she nourished
Kicked in the womb by the same feet she space to walk on
Strangled by the palms she loved
And murdered by the minds she nourished.

Sold out by her own
Abused and killed by her people
Death and agony she must bear of her loved ones
The smell of death must she become accustom to

Frustration and agony is all she has known
Abundant with resources and wealth
Yet she must bear poverty
Unity is her other name
Yet division is only all that she has ever known.

Beauty and tranquility is what she cries for
Hatred and corruption is what she gets
Her beauty and serenity stolen by outsiders
Peace of mind must she learn to live without.

Her young cry out for help
Embrace her at night
Lack of shelter leads them to seek refugee elsewhere
Those out of the continent wave her flag proudly
Proudly they display her colors
In celebration they come together….
She wonders when help will knock at her doorstep.

-Halima Ahmed
Copyright © 2010

Like an Autumn’s dead leaf

Floating in the air

Like an Autumn’s dead leaf Fallen from a tree,

Passing by your cheeks,

Caressing them lightly,

As the wind is guiding me,

Whispering sweet words in your ears,

What I kept away from all my diaries:

I am this leaf, stolen from its roots,

So glad I found a home in you,

So happy you are my only route.

Challenging gravity, still floating in the air,

I can now say, with you there’ll never be a despair

My destiny with you will only start,

And Till death tear us apart,

I want to end my falling trip

In the palm of your heart.

Barryck R.
Copyright © 2010


Hes been the main man in my life.
And when I'm weak, he's my back bone and makes sure I'm standing up right.
I can see your love for me, for it shines through, lighting up my darkest nights.
It's so easy for you to make me smile, just be by my side.
And when I would fall down and cry my tears you would wipe.
When I was scared, you assured me things would be fine.
Not sure how I could of made it this far without you.
My Father how I truly Love you!
Kayla Okrah
Copyright ©2010


My hoyos in the world how could words ever do you justice?
your strength beauty and love is not easy to explain, a woman
who's been through so much hurt and pain, yet she still remains.
loving, loyal true.
Oh my hoyo how i love you,
for you are HALF of me
you without me how would i survive?
you've taken care of my every needs,
Hoyo i guess im trying to say i need you like i need air to breath!
Truly a gift from Allah because you come first times 3x, your hoyo,
your hoyo, your then Abo you see, you mean the world to me and i
love you so dearly, my lovely Hoyo macaan!

Kayla Okrah

To be Muslim...

To be Muslim is more than a name plus a title to be addressed by
recognize..... That being Muslim is not enough but by following Islam,
Than and only then do I truly succeed and survive this trying life.
Submitting to the will of the one true creator.
Following his last messenger who taught us many things such as good manners and behavior.
Believing in the unseen and the messengers from a fore, aiming for the highest heaven in order to enter it's doors.
This and many more make me a Muslim, better yet a believer of Islam.....

Kayla Okrah
Copyright ©2009


Qabil....Who cares about it anyway?

Dearest TNP members and poets :)

The past few days I have been receiving an email from someone named Yasin Ahmed who claimed the way Somalia TNP posted poems were very bias and often impartial towards a group of people mostly from the tribe that my family is, my friends and finally my family members. I ignored Yasin’s email altogether because I found it to be quite stupid. He sent me another email last night saying his accusations were true and I was embarrassed and therefore did now want to write back. Finally today I decided instead of sending brother Yasin an email back I would post a note here for everyone to see so the question never raises again. Hopefully.

First and foremost I am the most anti-qabil (anti-tribe) person you will ever meet on the face of this earth. I do not embrace or celebrate something that has destructed my nation and in general the continent I am from. Many might argue qabil was not the source behind Somalia’s failure and their argument might be valid but to me seeing two Somalis fight and literally kill each other in foreign land because of the different tribe they subscribe to is a failure in itself. The fact that a group of Somalis will send charity based money to people who are of their tribe rather than those who are desperate in need of it is a failure. The fact that the Somali politics is structured with tribal ideology is a failure. The fact that we have to assume each activists will ONLY advocate for those from their tribe is a failure. And above all discriminating against another Somali who speaks and shares the same values, culture, tradition and often religion because of some mythical story of how the tribe they subscribe to came about is beyond failure. It is morally repugnant and haram. And, I for one do not embrace failure – and for that matter I do not embrace tribe. On a lighter note – How the hell does this person knows the tribes of the 50+ poets of this page? I have been communicating with each one of them for the past year – and I personally do not give two cents about any Somali tribe including my own and I am sure the same is true for the poets of this page. And, most importantly I have never posted a pro-tribal poem..Never. Anti-tribal poems are quite welcome on the other hand :)

The other issue this person raised was I post poems of my friends – this might be true. A lot of the TNP poets are people I call friends, many I love and respect dearly. However, I met them all (except for three) through Somalia TNP and that is what gave birth to our friendship J People in this group are talented, great poets, wonderful individuals and they for one do not need a friendship pass or for that matter even tribal token to have their work posted and celebrated. They are beyond that!!

Aha, family....You might see a lot of people with “Ali or Ahmed” as their last names on this page but I ensure you the only family member who thinks highly of this page lol is my sister (Fatima). And, trust me although we live in the same room she emails her poems to me or tags me if she posts them on FaceBook and that is how they get published. And, most important in the past year and few months she has only sent me 5 poems of hers.

So in conclusion, Yasin Ahmed (we share the same last name btw and you are far from being a family member to me) please know the reason why I ignored your emails were not because I was embarrassed but rather because I find it irksome and stupid that a talented person like yourself would waste their time in accusing someone of tribalism when they could very well use that time to accomplish something beneficial.

-Halima Ahmed.

A Speaking Womb

In the Swiss built hospital of SOS in Mogadishu an ugly incident happened several months back. A doctor saved a pregnant women by removing her womb. Her husband demanded compensation for the loss as he claimed that he did not authorize the doctor to take such action. But the doctor insisted that without the removal of the already ruptured womb, the life of the patient wouldn't have been saved. This has led to closure of hospital. The city grew tense. No where women could receive services free of charge other than SOS hospital. Some women died while impasse was being dealt with. Other pregnant mothers lived with worry and tremendous emotional stress as they didn't know where they would go if time came to deliver the baby. When the case was settled, nobody apologized to these mothers and the general public. In this short poem, the womb gives an apology to the people especially families who lost mothers. It also apologizes to mothers who underwent emotional pain as a result of the hospital closure.

I am An organ. An organ I am
Just an organ albeit important
I am a womb. A ruptured womb I am
From inside my owner I was removed
Gates of trouble were flung open
The steam of bitter row boiled over
compensation demanded
Explanation denied
Doctors drowned in the depths of fear
Hospital services forcefully suspended
Poor mothers became a statistic
Clerics of Islamic courts intervened
With cash payment case was settled
But no one took the blame
No party apologized to public
Nobody sympathized with the mothers
Nobody comforted the braved families
Tears of pain dried in their eyes
I'm sorry. So sorry I am
Brothers and sisters
People of Mogadishu
Please accept my apology
I'm the cause of this trouble
I'm the cause of this misery

Abdi-Noor Haji Mohamed (Eagle Of Hope)
Copyright ©2010

My Sakura

He is my emblem of love,
White morals,
Tinged with palest of pink petals
Supported by strong stem of a man
He was never promised to be mine a second longer than his bloom.

So if tomorrow I awake,
To find a fleeting pink carpet of your petals laying at my feet,
Just know that
Like the coming of spring,
You represented new life to me
And watching you bloom this last year,
Was as spectacular as watching a Japanese Cheery Tree blossom.

Hayat Magan
Copyright © 2010

Sparks of Light

Like a star I was for you
Brighter than any other

You had your wishes
I was prepared to meet them

But like all other stars, I could be extinguished
And for you my time came

You could have let me in due time
So I could move on

So I could continue to shine
But not for you

You never let me
Until I was exhausted

You continued until you had me in your grip
And then...released it like a falling star

The stardust appeared to slow down
and nothing was as before

A fallen star, I became
One in which you lost

A similar, you'll never find
and I am pleased until I find my sky

You think you put out the star
That it will never shine again

But a spark of light is still in me
Just waiting to shine...

Stronger than ever !

Zana H Hashi
Copyright © 2010

Just like you I am part of humanity

I introduce myself. Who am I do you ask? Well, I am Me.
Just like you I am part of humanity.

I am a young Somali female who is driven by the famous words of Mr. King. “I have a dream.” But unlike him it's not for racial equality.
But I yearn for something much deeper than that.

I dream that there will be a day where we will live in Tribal tranquility. I dream that we will be able to medicalise the disease in our hearts and mind.

A disease formed by the wounds that were left untreated. A disease that clouds our eyes with blood. A disease which makes us green with envy as we look on to other countries. A disease that has blackened our hearts which were once full of joy.

If you were deaf and I could sign, would there be dialect. Or if you were blind would you condemn me because of my tribe.

To me in the world there are only people of two kinds, those who do wrong and those who do right.

Does it make sense to you that the blacks can forgive the white, but we are divided by tribe?

I already stand on grounds that aren't my own, and hold two cultures on either side. Because of a mindless civil war I am severely deprived. Deprived of my Mother land, my mother tongue, my culture and My Somali pride.

So I ask you this, How Dare You complicate my Life with Tribe?

Shukri C. Ahmed
Copyright © 2010


Static in the air static in my ear
When they look at me, in hollow eyes I see the fear
My mouth is wide open, but the words are unfamiliar
Even if I were shouting, ignorance wouldn’t allow them to hear
Some times I wish I could just disappear

So I run until there is no more earth to tread
My soul wavers, holding on by a single thread
Whispering, turn to the darkness instead
Fighting demons on the street and demons in my head

Caught by the temptations of the apple
My pulse and heart beat are far from stable
And my body, exhausted no longer able
Like Eve the devil wants into my sacred temple

Saying why do they watch you die and crumble
Expecting you to live the life of a rat stuck in a tunnel
No exit and no hole to dig out and funnel
With a burst out of the static I stumble

What they don’t seem to see and understand
This struggling all thou heavy, is a brand
Not your fashionable designer, but it feeds my fire
Its warmth a weapon and a restraining cover

Consider me the animal, when I am the human
My defence mechanism takes me to a place of seclusion
I peel away my inhibition, I love my reflection
As it rides the waves on the surface of the water
I wash my face in the cool river, surrounded by nature
Clouds roll in the distance, taking away the static and thunder

Who said my days had to be a long and hard sentence
Just my way of existence, no living someone else pretence
No simulation, for once pay attention and listen
I am not alien or a numbered inmate of your prison
My veins are laced so my blood is ancient wisdom

Pour it on the soil because you fear my religion
Label me with hate and call it terrorism
No longer justified, everyone in hand has a prism
Your lies and true colours in clear vision

I raise my hands to the heavens and my foresight is clear
Hate me or love me it doesn’t matter, because I am here
I am not your subject, nor do I aspire to be your master
I want to live my life with at least one peaceful chapter

Hamza egal
copyright © 2010

I knew this brother...

I knew this brother, dont want to give away his name
Growing up he was everything we wanted to be, he had money and fame
And everyday was different, never the same
He had all the girls and played them like a game
He had the latest clothes on
Never wore the same shoes twice as he felt it was wrong
But he wasn’t happy and was putting up a mask
I often wondered what was wrong but didn’t dare to ask

I minded my own business but admired him from afar
No need to lie I too wanted to be the neighbourhood star
And then one night I saw him, stumbling
I approached him, he started talking but I couldn’t understand, he was mumbling
Then the smell of alcohol entered my nose
He was intoxicated; I prayed he didn’t leave the smell on my clothes
This was the price he had to pay, I suppose

But then he started to explain and confess
That he was far from happy living in distress
He said he bought materialistic things in hopes of relieving the stress
‘’My life is empty and one big mess’’
I was shocked and couldn’t believe what I was hearing
I looked at him and noticed he was wearing an earring

I was blinded by my worldly desires
Thinking the one who has it all is the one whom everyone admires
I couldn’t be more far away from the truth

I went home and took a shower
I must have stood there almost an hour
Iblis takes everything that is sweet and makes it sour
So many times I gave him all the power
I didn’t even put up a fight
But I swore from that night
I would struggle with all my might

I knew this brother don’t want to give away his name
I used to avoid him as he didn’t have money or fame
The girls didn’t even know his name
When I reminisce on the past I feel full of shame
Cuz this brother lived simple, always in the mosque always the same
I thought he was annoying and that he always used to nag
Constantly reminding me of death, I looked at his clothes, he lacked swag
Indeed he was happy and never wore a mask
I often wondered what was the cause but didn’t care to ask

And I noticed every time I saw him he greeted me with a smile
‘’Asc brother, lets sit and take for a while’’
It went in and out through the other
‘’Inshallah and you too brother’’
Was what I forced myself to utter

I sighed and went on with my pursuit of ‘’happiness’’

But he didn’t give up on me and I wondered why
Cuz he knew I wasn’t interested but he never passed by
Without always giving it another try

Now it was the other way around
I searched for him everywhere but he was nowhere to be found
So I went to the mosque and hoped he would be there
Longing for his advice he always was willing to share
But to my disappointment he wasn’t in sight
I asked the imam, he answered that he had departed
I asked him where so I could get my journey started
He gave me a sad look and said he had martyred…

He died while saving a sister
She didn’t see the buss coming when she crossed the street
He pushed her out of the way, swiping her off of her feet
She ran towards him , knowing what had occurred
La illaha illalah was all she heard…

Ismail Mopreme
Copyright © 2010