Sunday, September 26, 2010

Invincible beauty.

She’s is the epitome of modesty and no she is not a billboard honey, her mind is fully conscious so her soft-spoken words are never empty. Many of her kind are falsely enchanted by money they search on the dry lands and the search on the sea.

With heavenly grace she glides through the crowded streets of society, invincible to the masses she only leaves a trace of a sensuous aura as she passes. She sees no gain in exposing her delicate flesh, engrossed in literature to further educate mentally and spiritually is her only stress.

Like a pomegranate tree I wish to sit by her so the sweet fruits of her thoughts fall all around me, cares for her family before she even thinks of self, like the most prized work of art worthy of only the highest shelf.

Her words are carefully measured, she educates the raged children of men, polishes the rough jewel with only a pen, some times I wonder how she came to be so close to perfect, her love is bottomless and deep as the centre of this massive planet.

Cloaked in mystery she is blessed with true loveliness, it lays in her heart and reflected out by her face, in her eyes my humble beginning i can trace, invincible beauty she walks through life with a steady pace.

I noticed her with my eyes closed as I searched for something different then what usually tempts me, taken back by her sincerity, her words in the depths of my body ignited instantaneously.

Commands respect and offers nothing else in return, from the soundness of her mind one can surely learn, within her I see the makings of a great mother, a formidable warrior if you attack her belief and honour, in my world it’s a true admiration to have her.

Surely a blessing from the heavens, when the world focuses only on the exterior, to find the most precious treasure, I plunge beneath the waves of her cool river and found the wonders concealed under. Secured within her protective cover she is full of life and humanity.

Perched on my mind she continuously remains, caring words from her lips whenever she finds me dealing with life’s many pains, amazed by the way her resolve and kindness never strains, I have given up the fight because I have come to learn that this wild heart of mine other then its owner, she is the only one who tames.

Hamza egal © copyright 2010 all rights reserved.

Saturday, September 25, 2010


She wonders if angels take breaks

and go to sleep.

If they work on a rota

and someone is late

Would that explain why

they didn't hear her weep

Or see her little body rake

with sobs so great.

Someone told her that love and faith

held hands and kept pain at bay

It was never strong enough to keep him away

Not once safely in bed she could lay.

At school she was pig tailed and uniformed grey

and with everybody else she was the same.

But she felt her difference wound

tightly around her woman's place.

Everyone else was to her

what white paper was to an ink stain.

She prayed and prayed

and still he came.

Everything matted and heavy

Like breathing lead.

Others count ceiling tiles

and try to escape the mental constraints of this bed,

she, instead asks God 'can you hear me'

Your angels may not have given you my message

But I left one with them last night

and all the nights that precede this.


You created life and now I'm begging you to take it.

Not knowing how wrong

But knew it could never be right

her body too weak

so her spirit put up the fight.

And because she lives

she knows angels do not sleep at night

That they delivered her message

and in her He put it right.

Nimo Hussein

copyright 2010

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

On Impulse


-on impulse

The Creator

of his glances

made them press masterpieces into the horizon

he perfected nature through his supplications

remained as a living sign for destroyed tribes

in desolate cities only the devil loves

he knows

his beauty has been written about by prophets who know its value

his honour is based on what he honours

not, the lies he lies about



my love is based on how dry your lips are of lust

i pray that my body enscripts its own eulogies

in the grave where i am buried,

you beside meour existence is greater than our existence

we live


i will sing my children songs of you

take them to your land, and have them pray for you

tell them

you were the first to take a heart I have not allowed back into me

I mourn for tombstones

they will kno

wthat I wanted to share your shades

carry your sins

ask God to question me for your actions

my mornings

are made of your words and my head wraps

the thought of you feels like being saved from an execution

my beauty and your dreams being realized through me, of me,

my nights are of the wind telling me

you are the universes poems, the earths epiphanies

the deserts stories, the blessed similes

i brag to my soul that I was not created alone

so, give me hope

that when our hands join, it will resurrect dead cities

we will die on impulse

of a death in prostration and truth

-hodan ibrahim

Copyright © 2010

Nothing to lose

I got nothing to lose and the world to gain, my life is a loan and everything is preordained, I live out the terms and return without a complaint, I been made for one reason and that is to serve and live like a saint, so don't come here and preach that I'm insane, I believe u always return to where u came, I was made from the earth n I shall return to it, its my obligation, see its just that one stop that one station, before I'm called to my final destination, nobody is safe from it come with me and I will give u the necessary information, this life is temporary I suggest u hand in ur resignation, and submit before u r sentenced to eternal damnation.

Ismail Hassan

Copyright © 2010

A letter that time forgot.

Just the other day I received a letter, addressed from a young brother I used to know, who now spends his day circling cages, it read dear friend I haven’t seen you in ages, I hope life’s been treating you better, you crossed my thoughts so I scribbled down on paper.

I remembered how you used commend my ambition yet you always said I was wasting it on the wrong mission, at this present hour I am hunted by the slow pace of time, I have it in abundance as I constantly keep my eyes focused on the clock’s face.

Captivated by power I had my mind solely persistent on wealth obtained by any means, regardless to the harsh words spoke by my mother, I felt it was my destiny to shift the devils roots and the chemist’s white powder, it was all good so long as I never touched either.

As if I had never used my reason before, I accepted within my self that I was to see out this long spell, I remember the inner turmoil as I was marched down the corridors of filed cells and shoved into the four walls that was to be my new home, my heart sank and a chill run through every bone.

Although I have come across many obstacles in my two and a half decades of life, the seclusion and the emptiness cuts through my fortitude like a knife, yet relative comfort I have come to find in shelves of books.

The pages that I once shunned have offered companionship and knowledge that I was oblivious too. They say a man benefits if and only when he uses his time wisely. I have come to perceive life as simple as connecting dots, the only difficulty is that the ink of life cannot be erased, but man’s deeds can surely be replaced.

The soreness of our community has also given me much relieve to a sad extent, I must confess, as many of my brothers share this confinement with me. I wonder the count of those out there when so many waste away in here.

How is it that we forsake reality only to be awaked from our internal slumber by sirens and handcuffs, a question that seemingly reverberates around many a thoughts, I dream of walking out of the gates and my heart floats.

These walls don’t make you reformed, but surely offers you time in which a destiny can be formed, the days are cold and the nights are colder, I swear as if a minute in here lasts forever.

Hamza egal © copyright 2010 all rights reserved.


Growing up in the worst streets of the nation’s poorest corners, aching out a living in a neighbourhood where poverty is the only thing each individual is got in common. Is like a wild life each soul has to fight for what is theirs. In this neighbourhood promise of tomorrow is never the promise. You got to settle for what you have today and cherish what you get tomorrow, but only live for the moment.

Like prisoners stuck in a world of injustice where reality is just unfair, take us back to a dream scene where we could survive for another day. Like a moving cloud above the mountainings you could find our every tears drop like a rain fall.

Born in a world of gunshots and coming from a place where the rich folks call it poor people zone, but it’s our home, all we have known, where we got grown. We learnt from the streets it can be bleak, expect the worst of nightmares. So we struggling, fighting to eat and wondering when we will be free. How does comfortable world question our ways of living?

All we got is life on the street it’s not what we want, but we ain’t got anywhere else to run to and the boys from the hood are raised up hardcore. We were born and raised in poverty but we still smile, out of the darkness we came the farthest amongst the hardest survival. Heaven is there a chance that you could come down and open doors for hurting people like us?

Ahmeddey M Hassan

Copyright © 2010

Doctored Education.

They say history is written by the victor, the same writer was my schoolteacher, a one-dimensional story I was told, misguidance for truth I was to hold, evolution from crawling on all fours too this close to perfection, all scientific calculation resulted in a chance explosion that formed this worldly creation.

Knowledge comes to the one who desperately seeks it; the more I search the more I thirst, difficulty at the start of the journey to sieve the worthy of my time first, seems like the more I climb the hill gets steeper, like drowning in the shallowest part of a river, classical ignorance is believing in man made delusion.

Inquisitive by nature, to blindly follow what I never understood was never my demeanour, in the early years at times lost my way chasing childish adventure, come what may to rationalise all was always my gambit, second nature to my born habit.

Now they question me on democracy, debate on why I vindicate it so loudly, pay attention closely, so when you finish reading these words for the journey you are mentally ready.

Definition by the oxford dictionary, a system of governance its power gained from the majority, based on the principles of equality, its origins accredited to ancient Athens, as if time never existed before this pretence.

History planted it seeds in Babylonian Mesopotamia and India even before Greece though of the idea, but lets leave chronicles for another chapter, I am more concerned with its perceived image and how it differs from its true nature.

We are ruled by the minority, freedom is a flag waved in our face, ordered to walk a prescribed pace, we sweat the money that they so spend lavishly, or on the artillery to blunder the riches of ancient cities, all in the name of this democracy.

propaganda extracts us from reality; brainwashed and tuned like the TV set we sit before, we may see the bigger picture but choose to ignore, we live under tyranny and oligarchy, and the agenda is our slavery.

They say the wise man is the one who knows that he knows nothing at all, on this earth I know one surety, this soul I lent from the almighty, but before I return it I will give sound to my vision loudly.

I see no freedom under cloaked oppression, I see no freedom in the killing of the innocent, I see no freedom on capitalising on the weak, I see no freedom having to watch my words as I speak.

I see freedom in the belief that our goals with every atom must strive to reach.

Hamza egal © copyright 2010 all rights reserved.

Love, Value, Unity and Revolt!

As you read this poem and read the first word of every stanza (Love, Values, Unity and Revolt) think of ONE word that when you play around with gives you these FOUR profound and empowering words!

Love for the human conditions should be the link that ties us together

Although we might be different

And like gardens


We are nonetheless


Who are not wild?

We are people

Who hold sheer human emotions in their hearts

We all yearn for basic human understanding and acceptance

To gain basic human rights

Value of what’s right and wrong

Just and unjust

Bias and unbiased

Are the common denominator

That should upheaval the slightest desire

To steal





In order to claim your freedom

Unity for the sake of better world

And, no am not talking about a perfect world

For perfection is overrated

Am talking about a peaceful world

Where you and I can walk side by side

Without being threaten by the ideas

Engraved in our subconscious

The ideas that suggest

Your freedom must mean my oppression

And my happiness must mean your misery

Revolt against all the forces that tell you otherwise

Claim your own ideas

Embed your values with ideas you think are just

Think for yourself

Free your mind

And revolt against the forces that oppress others

For when you keep your mouth shut about their oppression

No one will come to your rescue in your times of need

Love, Value, Unity and Revolt

Do these mere words ring any bell in your enslaved mind?

The mind that has told not to think

But rather to just obey

And heed to the warnings, false warnings, of politicians and media





Each one of these words

Are engraved in a word that we all chant

Too often claim

Too often embrace

Too often preach

But never practice

Ever heard of something called revolutionary?

Revolutionary warriors

Revolutionary ideas

Revolutionary Rebels

Revolutionary you and I

Study it

Comprehend it

Embrace it

Break down revolutionary

And you shall get





Inspired by RAP (He mentioned the first (love) and third word (Unity) I added the second (value) and fourth word (revolt) - RAP is one of the inmates my group and I have been working with for book discussions and poetry workshops.

Halima Ahmed

Copyright © 2010

Saturday, September 18, 2010


Some people dream of a fancy life,

And some dream of how to survive.

Some dream of a future beyond them,

And others dream of living only a day more.

Some dream of making billions,

And others of a day that their voice may be heard.

Not all dream the same, But to some life is a game.

They chase after fame, And all their problems on the suffering they blame.

Can the oppressor and the oppressed be weighed the same?

Burnt lives and buried children, a daily image I can’t seem to push away.

Oh oppressor what has led your soul astray??

Of better days I dream.

A soft breeze brushing against the trees, and a beautiful flowing stream,

My mind wanders to a future that is much brighter,

Through hard work our burdens will be much lighter.

Climb the mountain and hang tight to the rope,

A better day is to come inshaAllah - don’t lose hope.

Dream so that you can reach the stars,

And your wishes soon will enter other’s hearts.


- Nimo Abdi Warfa

Copyright © 2010


My emancipation lies not in international treaties

Where men occupy pretty tables

Discussing the fable

That is fundamental rights and freedoms.

I am free because

HE made me.


He is the reason I am made into being.

HIS lessons are not in what we lack

But what we readily have.

Holding tight and praying dear

My freedom is near.

HE has veined Creation that even through vanity we are one.

The seas have wept and mountains shook

When we have charged and punished

With more than what we have took.

We have seen herstory broken Dismembered and stolen.

For her lessons we must never learn

We have kept her bound.

And yet strangely, she has always been found.

See we can force, coerce, cajole and yet it isHIS hand that turns that circle.

I know I am free because GOD has spoken.

So lil man, sit down.

Theres no reason for your table.

Your fundamental rights and freedoms will always remain a fable.

I am Free because HE made me.


He is the reason I am made into being!

Nimo Hussein

copyright 2010



Ladies you might think we are up to no good.

Man, tell them how life could be and even would

If manhood was erased from the neighbourhood!”

“Bro, you got a point!

Nothing works being out of joint.

To lift the confusion, we talk about sticking together.

Bondage, family joint – without manhood it wouldn’t last forever!

“Yes Bro! I feel what you say.

More wisdom like yours should cross my way.

When I was young I saw that apple tree, the fruits of it were sour.

By time it ripened all fruits became sweet – let me show the power

Of manhood during spring, summer, autumn and winter.

Manhood is like a tree in a field providing shelter

For different livings – like you my lady – beautiful firefly

Hold tight to my charm through the winter – four seasons to come by.

“Bro, how would a tree look like without a root?

Tell them about family; a base called home – and give them my salute!”

“Salute to the roots! The foundation:

My family, without you life is hollow

And the wisdom of my roots is what I follow

Seeing the leaves of that tree playing in the sun shine makes me mellow

In mood, talk to the offspring my poetic fellow!”

“The leaves you mentioned leaves no room nor space

For any doubts, about the bright future we face

One people

One family

One tree


Pen 'N' Paper

Copyright © 2010

Friday, September 17, 2010

Facing reality

We know when we’re wrong

But every day we just maintain

A steady rhythm on a pathless journey

And yet we praise ourselves in vein

We get up courage to fight the fear

A nature instilled to keep us down

But then we fall and turn away

Treading waters so deep, we drown

Unleashed into this madness

Without the armor to shield

How can we ward off all the evils

When we’re roaming in their field

Our instincts do get us through

But only to the next day

Please realize this is a game

We’re his pawns, while he’s at play

If I could get real with you for a minute

The war is within us, am i wrong?

There’s a hindrance that you cling to

And it beats you because it’s strong

It takes perseverance and patience

And an acknowledgment of thyself

Cuz if I could get real with you for a minute -Rock bottom has taught me well

Will you continue to deny?

And fall further into his grips?

Or will you respond to the calling

And humbly submit to His?

Go about living as you were

But take with you one thing; If you got real with yourself,

That burden wouldn’t be

Now are you ready to face reality?

Mukhtar Mohamed

Copyright 2010


Who was there when I cried, who was there when I was left behind?

Who was there when nobody cared?

Ya` Allah, You were there.

All glory to you, Subhana Allah!

Alhamdulilah, all praise to you!

You heard my duas. All over and all over again.

You saw my tears shouting out of my eyes, longing for the truth. You were there.

Oh, Allah, Ya Ghafur, Ya Rahim.

Ya Allah, accept our prayers, accept our duas, accept our dhikr.

Grant my parents a place in Jannah, my family, my friends, the good-doers and the followers of our propthet (saw)


You were there. In rain, thunder and when the sun was up.

You are the highest, the most All-knowing.

There are no single moments, minutes or seconds when you are not with me.

They say belief is a statement repeated over and over till you actually accept as true.

But you, you are beyond that.

My goal and happiness are more worth to than me than gold or silver.

Diamonds can’t even weigh against you.

The appreciation I have can beam up the complete universe up. Even with closed eyes, the brightness is overwhelming.

So far gravity can’t beat it in any way.

Ya Allah, never leave me, not of the blink of an eye.

Ya, Allah, I ask you to forgive me.

I ask you to increase my Imaan and knowledge.

Oh, Allah, I ask you to bring me closer to my deen and leave this dunya behind and strive for the Akhirah, the Ever- Lasting.

I ask you with a purified heart, with no expectations but with thankfulness following

. I ask you by all your beautiful 99 names, can you please forgive me?

Laila Siad

Copyright 2010

Muslim/Woman/Black [M.W.B]

Each day I wake up and smile

Smile for all the blessings Allah Ta'aal has showered me with

As a Muslim to live and adhere to ONE creator

To obey and worship Him alone

To abide by His words

And that of his messengers and prophets

Which He has sent to guide us

To be blessed with the wisdom and heart to bow down to the creator alone and not his creations

To be blessed with a holy book that distincts right from wrong

To be blessed with a guide to go through the trials and attribution of this world

All by His mercy and love

Each day I wake up smiling

Knowing as a woman I may be blessed to carry another life in my womb

Pamper and nurture it

And never have to hide my emotions in fears of being told 'don't be such a woman'

For I am a woman And a proud one

And I don’t have to hide my tears

For only the strong are secure enough to show their emotions

I smile at the fact that women are the heart beats of their society

Backbone of their homes And strength and the pillar of successful individuals..

Each day I wake up smiling as

I look at my skin tone

And remember the struggles of past black freedom fighters

And the future rebels I smile knowing am part of a great diversity of

Intellectuals, freedom fighters, protectors,

I Rejoice at the triumph of Black leaders and homes

I celebrate the strength of Africa

And those in the continent or elsewhere

For we are all BLACKS

Despite our different background



Traditions And appreciate the wisdom of our forefathers

I look at my skin tone and hear each pore wanting to




And, dance with happiness

To the tunes of James Brown Say It Loud Am Black and am PROUD

Ahh.... The joy of being Muslim, Woman and Black….

The beauty of encompassing the best of three worlds

The pride of being three in one and one in three...

Don’t let them tell you otherwise sisters :)

Halima Ahmed

Copyright © 2010

Street Dreams

Street dreams

Follow me, sweat soaked my pillow

In the morning, can you see the old man sitting in the park?

Feeding pigeons his only delight, everything else is dark.

On the bench close to the Queen’s Peace Fountain

Peace is a term which expects you first to experience pain!

Nothing is like it seems.

I might outshine, but don’t fear my thrown shadow

I dare to sit opposite – the scene was encouraging

“I came here for running – but you are here before sunlight reaching

Your eyes...” – “My son, I am half blind – Life wasn’t either kind

Or was it me who destroyed everything? – History doesn’t mind.”

Street lights

Shining through my window

Piece of bread for the pigeons, his most treasured possession.

Peace of mind for his soul, became an obsession.

“Pigeons remind me of the freedom I once had.

Like you, I was running through this park – Life wasn’t bad.

But when you start dancing with the devil and lose house and wife:

That is when the devil danced with you – and you lose your life!"

No more street fights - no more street nights

Reach for the past like a grieving widow

“If you ever wanna get to know me...

Close your eyes and use other senses to see.”

In the morning, can you see the old man sitting next to the Queen’s Peace Fountain?

Take the right steps in life – before life takes you on its memory lane!

Street dreams

Follow me, sweat soaked my pillow

Nothing is like it seems.

I might outshine, but don’t fear my thrown shadow

Street lights

Shining through my window

No more street fights - no more street nights

Reach for the past like a grieving widow

inspired by: Canbaro Luul aka Zana Hashi :)

Pen 'N' Paper

Copyright © 2010

He is

He is the first flicker of light in the early morning daybreak.

Low key, quiet, and breathtaking.

He is the beautiful breeze that kisses my face after I am done dancing in rainstorm.

Soft, alluring, and full of life.

He is my cup of hot water on a cold winter morning

Warm, nourishing, and soul rejuvenating.

He is my favorite worn out teddy bear.

Gentle, secure and playful.

He is adrenaline after a good fight.

Powerful, heart bounding, and intense

He is my favorite tune on constant replay

Soulful, reminiscent, and familiar.

He is my favorite all time indulgence.

Forbidden, alluring, and extremely satisfying.

He is my favorite Dwayne Morgan poem.

Sexy, intellectual, articulate and mind boggling.

He is my bed after a long, tiring workday.

Inviting, seductive, and comfortable.

He is one of my photographs come to life.

Original, untainted, and copy written.

He is like a new piercing

Addictive, exciting and novel.

He is the epitome of all the characteristics that makes a strong BLACK man.

Minus all the misconceptions

He is every fantasy craved turned reality.

He is my man, and I love him.

Hayat Magan

Copyright © 2010

Liberation from the roots

This one can be a bit confusing - I mean it confused me myself lol.

For years I sought to gain liberation from you

For your presence has done nothing but inflicted my heart with pain

Injected it with sorrow time and again

Agony was all I got in turn for the love I showered you with

But I am reminded of the beauty of the trees

For they would be nothing without the seeds that were planted in the first place

Stronger roots only borne stronger leaves

And I guess that is how I have become to be me

I am stronger but my heart can still be broken

Unlike yours that hasn’t even shed a tear in years

I possess the qualities and strengthen of the seeds

But also the beauty and delicacy of the leaves

I cry

Thinking of you

How could you

And most importantly why would you

I thought growing up the trees and the seeds were one in the same

Forever, intertwined in a relationship that would be unbreakable

But I guess I was wrong

As humans we are just fragile

Unable to sustain humane relationship

And you talk about sustainability in the environment

Girl please

Although he pains my heart

And sometimes has control over my behavior

He has forgotten the sun shines, only, on the leaves

And I will become the best of me

With or without him

Halima Ahmed

Copyright © 2010

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

My People's freedom..

my people's freedom lost in mid air,

it seems that of our struggle no one cares.

jailed, imprisoned, gang raped and so much more,

all this pain seeps deep down into my hearts core.

why can't people hear the cries of my kind?

my heart fills with pain, and thoughts wander in my mind.

for so long i yearn for peace,

when will my people finally be at ease??

a struggle we endure,

children pray for peace with an intention so pure.

hidden genocide - our fear has turned into determination,

far and near we walk with much motivation.

My place of birth is The Ogaden and for it i fight.

bloodshed of the kith and kin - is it wrong or right?

then why do many insist that in the darkness we dwell,

can't we see the child who cried so much that his eyes seem to swell?

Silence no more my friend,

for a righteous cause i'll break and bend.

come along and lend us a hand,

if not my friend then please for my rights and that of my people let me fend.

- Nimo Abdi Warfa

Copyright © 2010


Knowledge is power, but power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely, absolute knowledge and power lie in allahs greatness, havin faith in ur heart is the only refuge from ur weakness, its a reminder to ur human limits, ur equal to all and greater than none, u may breathe today n be a corpse tommorow, so if god has given u knowledge beware of arrogance it is soon to follow, don't look down on ppl it is the act of the man who's heart is empty and hollow, emerse urself in ur faith and u will knw wat is to be free of sorrow, let religion bloom in ur heart like a flower, and soon u will understand the meanin of true power, use ur time wisely before it turns u into empty flesh n bone for the earth to devour

Ismail Hassan

Copyright © 2010

Memoirs of a modern day slave.

When I look around my surroundings, there resonates a vacant atmosphere, as if there was a need for something to appear. Something unfamiliar, causing the birth of hope, for so many who have slid down the oppressor’s slope.

Mankind continues to stumble further into the haze of hatred, entrusting blind leaders to navigate us around the obstacles of this giant maze, driven by our unsavoury desires of greed and lust for power and conquest over one another.

I sit under a moonless night, thoughts of lost generations reverberate around my head, nations hell bent on murder, plunder over peace is chosen instead, a society without a speck of morality, examples to the young, do we really need to ask why they are unruly.

The knife and the gun to express their frustration, expect nothing less when all good is forsaken, replaced by contractual deeds and by any means money making, media spoon feeds the ignorant false representation.

I flirted with democracy and asked to see her concealed beauty; she put me in a trance as my eyes only gave her surface a glance, intoxicated by love’s possibilities, induced by words of freedom and equality.

I awoke a victim of an electoral dictatorship, controlled and checked by CCTV, would it be far fetched to think in my brain they installed a microchip, I see my fellow captives still in denial, while the victims of our taxes continue to mass and pile.

Revolution flows through these veins, accustomed to the many aches and pains, holding on to the truth that the sun’s rays burst forth always after the rains, waste no time on reality TV and superficial wonders, nothing changes if we keep turning away because the affliction is upon others.

To be continued…..

Hamza Egal

Copyright © 2010 .

Saturday, September 11, 2010

Revolution will BE televised!!!

I don’t play the race card

I really don’t

Or hate those with different skin tone

Or even blame the society for the failure of black homes

Be it in the continent or in the U.S.

I don’t play the race card

For there is NO race card

Only racism that bleeds this country

And when you speak out you are almost made guilty for speaking the truth

And reminded that you are just playing the race card

After all, the president is a black man

Forgetting that actually the other half of Obama is white

And, he for all I care resides in the white house

A roof that has fostered oppression and discrimination

Be it under a republican or a democrat

George orwell said we live in times where speaking the truth is a revolutionary acts

But we are blinded by ignorance

And no I am not talking about being unable to see

For the blindness of the heart is far worse than being unable to see

At home I am told to keep my distance from people who live in the “ghetto” for they may drag me with them to the graveyard

I am told that knowing prisoners will cloud my vision

And make me weak hearted

But has my family forgotten that those behind the prison could have easily been my cousins, uncles or even long forgotten father?

Just because you think you are different does not make you any different in the eyes of law makers who are exclusively out there to lock away Black men…

Now, don’t get me wrong….

There are those who are just evil and hurt people.

I don’t stand for them and this piece is not about them but rather it is about men who I have met this past month.

It is about the men of ECI who have liberated my thoughts and taught me that everything we read or see isn’t the truth.

I know reasons are attached to their presence here whatever that might be – but people learn from their past and had their skin color be different I doubt half of these men would have been here….

Here I am told keep distance

Don’t trust them

Don’t interact or exchange anything

…I will abide to those restrictions

For I don’t want to jeopardize this program for those here and those who will join in the future

But what I will do is overcome my quietness and shyness and share my words

My innermost ideas and love for justice

I shall take your voices with me

And haunt dead souls with your stories

Wake up conscious that have been sleeping for oh too long now

And with this is in mind

Best believe

Revolution will BE televised!!!

-Halima Ahmed

Copyright © 2010

Hey There Cliche

Hey Mr Poet,
Mr Snap Snap Your Fingers
Incense Kinda Poet.
Mr Ideas Out Of This World,
above any man, woman, boy or girl.
You know how it goes,
your poems are deep and deep is yours
You hold fundamental truths
These mere mortals need to know.
Mr Poet so engulfed in your incense
and the 'snap, snap' of less intelligent fingers.

Hey Ms different
Ms Unique,
Ms Never A Follower
Always A Trendsetter.
You're a walking cliche down to the letter.
Your hair so different in that Rihanna way
You're less like the needle than the rest of the hay.
Those clothes American Apparel unique,
Those TopShop one offs
So different
your outfit could be any mannequin
in any store.
Your 'difference' is really just something you bought.

Hey Mrs Pan Africanist princess,
Mrs Filled To The Brim Of Kingdoms Raped
And Herstory Plundered.
Mrs Afro Crown or Natures Locks,
Mrs Higher Than Weave,
one version of black beauty,
Mrs Reincarnation Of The Black Eve.
Tell me, Mrs Light Skin Is Raped Skin
And Straight Hair Is Bad Hair
where does that leave those first Africans the furthest point east?
I wonder if you can overstand some of your ancient Queens looked like me!

Hey Mr Beard All Grown,
Mr Akhs This and Kuffs that,
Mr I Respect Women But Call Them All Hoes,
Mr Working For The System is Haram
But Dealing Coke Is No Harm.
Mr Music Is Forbidden
Except When You're Spitting.
Find a Qu'ran and just sit quietly and read,
learn more about what you say you believe.
Mr I Started Praying Last Week,
Who the hell gave you the right to judge me?

Could it be Lady Niqab,
Miss Monopoly On The Hijab?
Miss May Have Forgotten God Wont Ask Her About Me?
Mr Never Bothered With The Part About Compassion And Mercy?
Or Mrs All To Preoccupied With Hell, Brimstone and Negativity?

Please, lets move away from what we have to be
Make up and skirts
don't necessarily mean flirt.
We are multi dimensional,
It is delusional to think we only have the one face..
To live both Potter and Macbeth,
Britney and Mozart
There is more than enough space.

Nimo Hussein

Copyright © 2010

Friday, September 10, 2010


Surrounded by people

Yet the needles of loneness constantly pierces my heart

My eyes wander around in search of that noble sight

Yet that gullible feeling in my chest knows oh too way

That the coming of this sight is like witness day break at pitch black night

The complexity of the situation has stolen the sleep in my eye

The ease of my mind

The comfort of my heart

Constantly longing and yearning for the impossible

I seem to have lost track of the possible reality

Too drown in my own self pity cage

I lock out the world that I have once knew

I gave up my comfort

For an exchange of a journey filled with uncertainty


And tears.

Halima Ahmed

Copyright © 2010

My 1st Encounter With The Disease Called *Love*

Now Life Is A Funny Entitity
I Once Had A Companion Named Anab,
She Promised Me A Lifetime Of Eternity,
We Were Both Young Freshies
Who Jumped Into The Love Fraternity,
Then Education Called And Beckoned
For My Admission,SouthEastAsia , India To Be Precise
So i Filed My Life And Visa Into Submission,
Now She Escorted Me To Heathrow Airport ,Crying.
We Held Hands And i Assured Her That I Will Return ,
Gave Her a 500 Rupee Note With Gandhi As A Souveneir As A Reminder To Never Stop Trying.
She Was My First Love Not To Sound Coy,She Resembled Hellen Of Troy.
Her Beauty Matched Her Personality,A Strong Somalian Nubian Princess With Loads Of Talent.
Now Lets Go Back 7 Months ,Excuse My Vocabulary, I Think This Line Just Hit A Dunth!
Ok See It Was A Blind Date,I Was Standing In A Tran Platform,Looking Around Scratching My Head Like I Had A Brainstorm.
Little Did I Know She Was Hiding,Time Biding,When She Observed Me From Head to Toe,And Considered Me Outstanding.
She Came Out And Said With The Voice Of Alien To My Ears Asalaamu Aleykum.
Fast Forward 7 Months And 15 Days.My Name Was Called Out To My Gate,She Shivers And Her Eyes Turn Maroon,She Says "Hyder Why You Leaving Me So Soon"?
I Answer Her Question With A Kiss,And Promise To Return To Her In An EyeBlink.
Funny How Physics And Distance,Ruins And Strains A Whole Experience.
And I Wasnt Even At A Distance Of Castor,10 Million WHy's...
And 100,000 Tear Tissue Supply ,Later...
I Mature But Yet I Think ABout Her
,And What Could Have Been,If I Stayed Behind To Be With My Oleander Queen,
The Impossible Dream Is An Untouchable Dream,Today Is The Beginning,Is Tomorrow The End?

Hyder Noor
Copyright ©2010

Please Lets think

I have seen

A battle between the same kinds

At the age of thirteen n fourteen

Forget about eighteen and fifteen

They play with machine guns

Like the marine

And they can be so mean

Coz they have seen a lot of crime scene

Not big TV screens

They know nothing about protein

Coz they roll down the streets

With that slick sixteen

There is no race but a virus (T)

So if you cross to the wrong way

You fly away

And it will be the opposite of your birthday

Please Sir don’t speed down the way

Coz they might be someone lying helpless in the highway

At parties

We don’t bring deejays

Coz any minute can be a doomsday

There is no safe way

So you better run away

Still words play in my head

Why do I have to run away?

Weather day time or meal time

It is still crime time

No play time

I swear it is time to search for peace this time

I will give it a rhyme

And I swear I don’t wana be on the prime time

If I had one chance

I would delete the 90’s

And bring back the peace time

Let’s change

No need to hate

Coz well all meet as Somalis at the end

Please Let’s Think

Poet of The Streetz (P.o.s)

Copyright © 2010

Ramadan Challenge: #12 Sadiiq

Food for Soul

Oh son and daughter of man,

as you go about, each day,

fulfilling your commitments.

You have successfully managed

to arrange your day, without

forgetting your body's need for food.

Now weight yourself intimately,

of how well is your soul nourished?

Like your body, your soul has right upon you.

With the blessed month, you have

a great opportunity in front of you.

Don't leave your soul to hunger.

Note: conclusion to 'Void.'

Sadiiq Ashuhle

Copyright © 2010

Cursing and Blessing

Mustafa was never going to get into medical school. All those years of studying to get good grades had been a waste of time. Mustafa kicked his Organic Chemistry textbook under his bed. He sat on his bed, picked up his thirty-pound dumbbell to weight lift to keep himself from cursing and ruining his whole Ramadan fasting.

He couldn’t believe that after two years of applying to med school that he had just gotten one rejection letter after another. It wasn’t fair. He had the best grades, highest MCAT exam scores. Oh, he knew he wasn’t the only one Mustafa had met plenty of wannabe medical students at shisha lounges downtown. What a crook America was! He believed that if he did everything that these people asked, that he would get his dreams. Instead, nothing, he was still the same refugee Somali guy living at home, except now a biology degree hung on his wall. Life sucked.

“Are you still mad Mustafa? You need to have faith everything will work out Insha’Allah,” said his younger brother Guled leaning against the doorframe.

“Shut up.” he snarled. “Mind your own business.”

Yes, Guled and him looked alike. They both were six feet, with the same bronze skin coloring, same fine features, and curly hair, but that’s it. Mustafa was very ambitious and could never still sit still. He worked all day at the Riverside Hospital then still had extra energy to burn, on the basketball court, which is why he had twenty extra pounds of muscle more on his body.

Guled, on the other hand was always so relaxed and calm. Guled was double majoring in African and Islamic studies at Ohio State. He wanted to get his PHD one day. He never worried about anything. He waited and hoped things worked out Insha’Allah, and somehow they always did.

Mustafa was not so lucky. He had to work hard to get the luck that came so easily to his younger brother.

“Dinner’s ready!” His mother called from downstairs.

“We’re coming Mom!” Guled shouted.

Finally time to eat, Mustafa set down his weights. He passed starving hours ago. Fasting in the summertime was the hardest, because you couldn’t eat until the sunset, and it was August.


Mustafa’s tongue watered when he saw the Iftar meal spread out on the Arabic rug. He inhaled the smell of curry and cilantro. His stomach growled in anticipation. Mustafa rubbed his hands together. The best part of the month of Ramadan had to be all the great food you get to eat every night.

He sat on the floor next to his brother Guled. His mother and fifteen-year-old sister Marian had filled the Persian rug with the silver serving plates full of food. They had cooked suqaar beef sautéed in green and red peppers, rice brewed in spiced and fragrant water, ari goat meat stewed with potatoes, ground beef sambusa wraps, fresh maize muufo, xalwo gelatins squares, and strawberry banana smoothies.

“Are you going to eat that?” Mustafa asked, snatching a ground beef sambusa wrap from Guled’s plate and took a bite out of it.

“This is so delicious” said Mustafa while grabbing food and putting some of the food on his plate and some of it in his mouth. “Thanks. The trick is to eat as much as you can, so won’t be hungry when you fast.”

“Brother, you should not eat too much, because the Prophet (Peace be upon him) said a few mouthfuls are enough, one third for food, one third for drink, and one third for air.”

“But I am starving, I nearly died today. Mom you make the best food. Thank you.” Mustafa moaned with delight as he bit into the succulent goat meat.


Mustafa slept in a deep sleep. Sprawling, out on his bed until he felt a nudge, he peered from under the blanket, and the sun burned his sleepy eyes.


He glared at him. “What do you want, Guled? I’m sleeping.”

“Wake up. You cannot sleep all day. The whole point of fasting is to practice self-discipline, so you know how it feels to be hungry.”

“Hungry- I am still full. I think I ate too- much food.”

Guled raised his eyebrows. “You need to get up. I will be downstairs. We are going to watch the Messenger of Allah movie”

“Count me out.” Mustafa groaned. “If you won’t let me sleep I will find something else to do.” He didn’t want to stay home and worry all day about not getting into medical school.


“Guled, you missed the best basketball game. My team was the kings of the court. We won like ten straight games. ” Mustafa boasted as he limped into the living room.

“What happened?”

Mustafa sat down on the couch. “I took the ball from Ahmed Texas. I had a clear shot. I decided I was going to slam-dunk. I ran. I jumped so high, Guled. I swear I flew. I dunked. It was perfect. Until I started falling, Next thing I knew-.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m good.”

“Why are you wasting time playing basketball? This is not a vacation. It is Ramadan.”

“Wasting time? I took off work, so I am on vacation. You might not have summer classes, but I have a job. ”


“Look I am fasting. Last, I checked Guled it is not a sin to play basketball.”

“Brother, I know but fasting is not just physical, it is spiritual as well. I know we are all in different places in our Deen, but you need more faith.”

“Faith-I had faith, I worked and prayed, but it’s pointless. I will never be a doctor.”

“Mustafa,” His mother shouted.


She came waving a letter, “you were accepted to Ohio State Medical School!”

Unshed tears filled his eyes, “I got in -?” She handed him the letter, “Oh Allah, forgive me, have mercy on me, and grant me repentance,” Mustafa whispered.

by Sindiya Darman

Ramadan Challenge: #13 Halima "Racist mentality at the Masjid"

I walked in the Masjid

Greeted my sisters in Islam

And stood shoulder to shoulder with a sister from South Asia

As we prepared to pray Tareweeh

I heard her whisper to the sister on her left

No, no my mind negotiates

She didn’t say what I think she said…

Although racism bleeds many hearts

This was not the place for it

This was not the Month for it

And this was not the environment for it

How can you hate on someone for their skin color

When Allah Ta’aal has clearly made it known only those with piety were superior in His sight

And not those with lighter skin tone

I heard her whisper again this time only louder

My mind had not failed me

For her mother tongue, despite our difference, is my first language

Grew up in her culture

And understood the depth of it

My mind started racing

Should I confront and embarrass her?

Or should I let it slide by

The imam called for the salah

And my mind was still semi distracted

After the prayer she smiled at me and said Assalamu Aliakum sister

Confused I replied Walikum Wasalam

My mind battled my heart for it wanted to confront her

Yet my heart pled to spare her the embarrassment

I finally decided somethings are truly better left unsaid

As I existed the masjid

I saw her staring at me

Looking at me as though she has never seen a person of color

Minutes later I realized I was uttering words in Urdu

Her native language

And that shocked her

I understood what she said

And now she knew

And that killed her

Not the fact that she uttered those words

While standing for salah

In the House of Allah

To worship Allah

How weak is the human heart

That it sins even in such Blessed Month

May Allah Ta’aal grant us both forgiveness

For, despite all, she is my sister in Islam. Ameen

Halima Ahmed

Copyright © 2010

Ramadan Challenge: #11 Sadiiq


Strip away a man from his exterior mask,

a mask filled with luxuries of life,

beneath it, you will find a man still in search.

Through turmoil of never ending cycle,

each day he goes out to find his piece of dunya,

and during night, he worries himself to sleep.

Such is the life of void, a man who has nowhere to go except downward.

Imprisoned among those alike him, engaging

in the pursuit of happiness route, which is another code name

for materialism. It doesn't matter then, if you are dying or dead inside,

as long you can project yourself, to pass through those judgmental eyes,

foremost being the ones you woke up with every morning.

Then another day, another dollar awaits him.

Note: to be continued

Sadiiq Ashuhle

Copyright © 2010

Ramadan Challenge: @2 Yassie

{ May the peace , blessings and Mercy of Allah be with you all...}{ الـــــــــــــــسلاااام عليكم ورحمــــــة اللـــه وبركاته للــــجمييع }

Ramadan 2010

Finally our beloved month came along...

Exactly while it hasn't been so long...

We were still counting months ,and it arrived in days...

Ramadan ,The beautiful month where I finally understand what the Adhaan means...

The warmth of Mercy that streams through me when I compare myself with the poor who's forced to skip his daily meals...

Thanks to Allah The-All-Merciful who has His eyes on the weak and the strong..

The rich and poor, the old and the young...

Fasting during daylight made us all feel in harmony...

Enemy's reconcile without any assignments or in the same old violent melody..

Each Muslim automatically becomes benevolent to no matter whom it is...

Hearts provide the source of inner peace..


Ramadan the month of forgiveness..







But wait..

Ya Umati Muhammed( p.b.u.h) how's Ramadan 2010 ??

Who's fasting and who can't ?

Who's dying and who planned ?

Who has never prayed and who seeked for the Forgiver and Hider of Faults ?

Who killed and who's ready for his results ?

Ya Umati Muhammed(p.b.u.h) how's Ramadan 2010 ?

Allah The All-Compassionate...

The Inspirer of Faith...

Allah The Guide to Repentance...

The Forgiving to all your sins...

Obsessions of a hypocrite that fast with his bomb ready to blow up every innocent step..

Money that made a rich man desire a whole nation to be vanished and in bloodshed...

Compare it with a poor and weak man gathering his strength to be thankfull to The Rewarder of Thankfulness..

The power to pray along with the Imam is his ultimate bless...

If you never fast here's your chance...

If you never prayed start with the Morning prayer..

If your book is full with bad deeds repent now..

If you hate someone forgive him...

Ramadan is not about food...

Ramadan is to find a way to the Straight Path..

Ramadan is to finally read the Qoran or to listen..

While never giving a chance to be close to Allah The Responder to Prayer..

Allahu Akbar Ya umati Muhammed (p.b.u.h) !!

Let us gather our duaa's beneath the Throne of The All-Compassionate...

And pray together to let those see that Islam is peace with or without our Holy month of Ramadan..

Our Lord! Let not our hearts deviate (from the truth) after You have guided us, and grant us mercy from You. Truly, You are the Bestower." (3/8

Our Lord! Put not on us a burden greater than we have strength to bear. Pardon us and grant us Forgiveness. Have mercy on us. You are our Maula (Patron, Supporter and Protector, etc.) and give us victory over the disbelieving people." (2/286

Our Lord! Pour forth on us patience and make us victorious over the disbelieving people." (2/250

Our Lord! Give us in this world that which is good and in the Hereafter that which is good, and save us from the torment of the Fire!" (2/201..

Ameeeeeeeeeeeeeen !!!!!!


Copyright © 2010

Ramadan Challenge: #8 Nimo H

The lights have come on

Strangers greet each other ever more kindly

The blind remember the deaf

the deaf remember those without the use of limbs

The living remember the dead.

The hungry today remember the hungry everyday.

Ramadan is here.

Nimo Hussein

Copyright © 2010

Ramadan Challenge: #8 Nimo H

Which of your mercies could I ever deny?

Even though I may chose wrong instead of right

You gave me a path,

You drew that line.

If I should follow

and heed Your signs

Then forever I shall live

in Your eternal shine.

Now which of Your favours could I ever decline?

Nimo Hussein

Copyright © 2010

Ramadan Challenge: #7 Nimo H

I'm praying and praying this wondrous taraweeh.

I'm standing and bowing

and bowing and prostrating

I'm the loudest most sincere voice in the chorus of 'Ameen'.

I'm watching and not speaking

her niqaab is faded and I can see that ones hair.

This woman can't control her kids.

She's wearing makeup.

A phone goes off.

Astaqfurilah, she listens to music.

I saw her last week with tight jeans

Now she sits here with that wrapping.

Who is she fooling?

This sister is far too fond of house guests

I've seen them come and go.

Her son is always on the street corner with those boys

Her daughters fair not much better.

I do not associate with her

but only to hiss a 'salaam' as I pass

Never any eye contact.

I'm obviously above her.

and down again for another rakat.

Nimo Hussein

Copyright © 2010

Ramadan Challenge: #12 Halima

"O you who believe! Fasting is prescribed for you as it was prescribed for those before you, that you may become God-fearing." (The Quran, 2:183)

Ramadan is:

Time to reflect Ponder

and contemplate Worship and repent

Turn to your Lord

Cleanse your heart

Rejuvenate your soul

Ask for His guidance

Blessings to pave your path

Wisdom to illuminate your spirit

Ramadan is asking your Lord to grant you

Compassionate heart to help

Courage to speak out

Strength to resist the shaitan

Ramadan is a time of reflection

Time to build a strong wall of faith

To sustain you throughout the year, InshAllah

-Halima Ahmed

Copyright © 2010

Ramadan Poem Hodan


sentences on skin

forgiveness macheted into lonliness

we've tried our best

to put our hands out as long as we deem safe

supplication caught in rain

we redeem ourselves in bookshelves

in thoughts of absolute nothingness

in hopes that what we are becoming

is just who we were undiscovered

in the hopes that our tongues will capture

angels in droplets

that we swallow into our being

to see what we can become

-hodan ibrahim

Copyright © 2010