Wednesday, December 14, 2011

Mother's Lap

I know a place where I can lay my head,  

watch a movie, and imagine how it must have been.  

I know a place where I can lay my head,

think about my day, and think about my plans.

I know a place where I can lay my head,

get lost in dreams, and get a little rub.

I know a place where I can lay my head,

close my eyes, and hear a silent lullaby.

By Safiya Elmi, 8 years


What is life? I have asked myself this question more times than I can remember. I wrestled with it last spring and I thought the answer was agreed upon by the summer. The trees have scattered their leaves travelling far from the roots of which they came, following the cold breeze past distant lands and seas. On my face I feel the elements of winter and now in my heart the question decides to renter.

In all honesty I believe the answer awaits me upon my death, they say you reflect over your life as you take your last breath.  Whether what they say is true or false I will know with my final pulse. Until then life is and nothing more than a stringent test, judged on the use of that which I am blessed. Time, health, wealth and intelligence so until I am withered by age, every day of my life will be a white blank page.

I am from a place where the human has long forgotten that he was the chosen. Living just to consume and always in expectancy for anything and everything frozen.  Nostalgic hunger that shakes the liver, awaiting vanity to come quick and deliver.  Addicted to that daily dose of constructed reality, building a delusional and corrosive society. And here I am floating in the mirror asking myself why I am always standing and gazing at this familiar sinner.

The cerebral cortex was given to very man and woman for a reason, yet our perceptions and thoughts have been rendered dormant. We shy away or neglect responsibility as if it was a prescription.  These days looking at the world gives me much to say, sometimes I feel like I alone carry the memories of those who have unjustly past away. To explain further I asked a brother a question saying what if it was your mother who was sustenance for the vulture even before her corpse begins to decay.

Would you stand before me today with that same line of thought, saying with such resolve that only an idiot would give Somalia time and support.  I had to stop and wait for that familiar feeling of ignition. It’s this revolutionist mentality that reminds me those in a bad place in life are never beneath me. The thing about pain is it flows like an ocean current, just because it hasn’t drifted to your shores you think of it as stagnant.

Cultured hypocrisy has but one major repugnant, to think of yourself worthy by hurting the innocent. Theories played into strategies to drive the naive to their knees, promising peace while surely spreading and maintaining the disease. From here on end that has to change because we are that process of transition. Every single one of us has a part to play in life’s intricate equation. In all honesty the hardest part of it all is to determine your position.

Waking up just to retreat to slumber is monotonous; tediously watch the hour glass for the inevitable grave. Working for nothing of value in the expiring plains of today will only lead to the dismay of wondering why. I sincerely believe that my salvation depends on eternity and the pavements of good that I lay.

Come to think of it all at the end of the day I am human, genetically disposed to misdeed. For every sin I can wash away with action of a better manner and whole hearted intentions of the selfless kind. We all transgress if not upon one another then it is upon our lord and creator. My grandmother always says never ever stop making a prayer because it opens the doors for heaven to fill your world with the most amazing wonder.

Hamza Egal
Copyright © 2011

A Sign from God

It is insane, how much of ourselves we pour into others.
How deeply we love, hope and believe.
And how we gaze at our men,
All lazy eyed and opened hearts,
As if- their fingertips could caress open wounds
And soothe the heart of she who cannot see
How beautiful God has made her.

It is in vain
That we try to unearth the secrets of the universe,
That we learn the stars 
As though God had left a map of our destinies we could trace,
We create charts.
Venus is of love-they say
And the meaning of life is whispered into the secret language of the winds.
But if we could only understand
If we could only understand, that this is all in vain.

That loving a man will not make you beautiful.
That he cannot love you, when you are incapable of loving yourself 
And he can break you; leave you staring at the moon,
Eyes reflecting a silent cry for all the times you’ve bled and all the times you’ve healed.
But you will heal and will live.
Just as the rain fertilises a barren field,
You will blossom.

And you will come to know that there is no fountain of youth, 
The young, no more immortal than the old.
And the meaning of life is not concealed in the hieroglyphics of ancient caves
Nor is it muted by the murmurings of desert winds
But clear in the small mercies of everyday.
A child whispering into the ear of his broken mother
“Everything is going to be okay”.

That love is not written in the stars;
In the palm of a fortune teller,
Or in the heat of a drunken moment.
But in the eyes of a man
Who after thirty years of marriage, 
Still tells his wife that she is beautiful
And places kisses across the scars of where her breast used to be. 

You see
I have seen in the faces of strangers
A sign from God
That everything is going to be okay.

 (A work in progress....its been awhile! :D)

Farah Gabdon
Copyright © 2009

Have I Ever

Have I ever. . .?

Have I ever told you this story before.
Would you ask me for ever more.
It begins with the crucial
while it ends ‘as unusual’
mind is asked for separation
pain is called a sensation
mind the superficial thing
while the heart doesn’t give in.
All we really need. . .
'is to protect the seed.'

Have I ever told you how beautiful she is.
Would you ever ask me about life and its bliss.
One light, one soul, separated like a shadow
praised by the colours, you call it shallow,
such a confusion.
Tears left behind that bleak landscape
on your face (sadness on tape)
dry and salty Wadis
landmarks left behind
on the dark skin, facing the past of (so) malis.

Have I ever told you about, Love.
“What do you know about it?” rhetoric, is the broken soul.
Shed and ‘unshed’ tears, would they ever fill
dry Webi Shabeelle, down the hill
peace is hardly found
if mind and heart ain’t sound
decided to convince me by that happy nature
that universal gesture
a smile and a prayer
living my life by the written page – layer by layer
. . . have I ever?

Pen 'N' Paper
Copyright © 2011

Man's godly perception

As you live and learn you get to know that to have is to owe
We’re defined by our greed that we give or receive because of our wealth plus our deeds…
It’s not who we are it’s who we seem to be
Only in the eyes of men do we have to pretend here’s the lesson…
The road to humanly redemption is about perception…the road to heavenly redemption is about a connection…to a higher power… but to live right in this life the power is ours… so the question is…in this life should I be a perfectionist?
…when every man has a different perception of what perfection is!!!!

Zack Ahmed
Copyright © 2011


It is you who enlightened me,when I surrendered to the darkness 
It is your giving hand that suspended my sadness 
It is you who have embellished my life ,when it was nearly fading to dust 
It is you who have painted the upland i fasten on,when my strength couldn't uphold 
It is you who have elevated the river flood and dazzled the paddy field with the touch of the wind 
 Because of you harmony layed ahead and my pain healed by you purified touch 
Because of you the desert rose outgrown its pot and reached lengths beyond its roots. 
It is your scent I followed when i was lost in the forest 
It is your wings that kept me warm,when I reached your nest 
It is your feathers that I felt upon, when the coldness blinded me 
It is you who layed the rainbow on my path,when the midst drew me in to the waterfall 
It is you who sheltered me ,when I was soak en by the winter rainfall 
It is your thunder that kept away my fear 
And it is your heart that took away my tears 

Sareda Hussein
Copyright © 2011


So I'm told "God brings men into deep waters not to drown them but to cleanse them" 
But my heart forever complains Knowing that He works in His mysterious ways 
but I still dare ask why 
Looking around I know some have it worse than I do 
Wait ... just push that thought out of my head for a sec 
cos my problems seem to weigh me down more than theirs do 
I raise my hands up asking "God what can I do? 
Temporarily blind to see that He's given me al the answers to help me make do 
And still, 
my problems don't seem to vanish 
Seems like the only time I get to escape them is in my sleep
But even then it's restless 
I know I'll see them in the morning 
not even thinking "How do I know I'll wake up tomorrow?" 
Death is so from my mind right now, 
with my worldy problems blocking my every view 
Then I think, "God must be punishing me!" 
I replay my dumb days in my head and I can't help but cry 
Not thinking, "Hey can't you see your still alive 
He wants you to repent and move on with your life 
He wants you to cry to Him." 
But being an insaan, I'm too stubborn too see 
I mean, it's easy for me to give those that ask for advise some advise
"God sees and hears all, He will help you." 
So why can't I tell myself the same? 
Seems like the devil has me exactly where he wants 
sad, confused and lonely ... 
Cos in reality, God IS the only One that can help 
All I need is to devout my life to him 
bringing peace to my sou 
And whatever problem arises I just take it along 
Because He who created all, 
has always got my back.

Hibaaq Ahmed
Copyright 2011

Sunday, November 27, 2011

Preach Sister Preach...

Do not let them that sit and pass judgement
Silence you.

Let not them that tease our tongue’s and mock our accents
Dictate our speech.

Never…never remain silent 
To the injustices of the world.

Speak for those that have no voice
Translate for those that scream in foreign languages
And those who’s R’s roll too thick of their tongues-
Speak for hooyo
For us
For me.

Preach Sister Preach.

Do not let them forget the victims of tribal warfare
Or the millions wiped out in genocides 
Holocausts and wars.

Make them cry for the 10 yr old found dead by his mother
Toy car in hand
With 15 bullet wounds to his chest.

Tell them ..
About the brother held on terrorism charges
Stripped of his clothes, battered, raped and gagged…
And his family who’s cries echo across these grey skies.

Pray ..
In Arabic
For the mother who bled to death during childbirth
And the orphan she left behind.

Remember ..
The 13 yr old that was gang raped-
By foreign forces in native lands
Who claimed to uphold peace.

Make their spirits bleed
At the mention of 9 year old prostitutes 
And 5 year olds playing tag in mine splattered fields.
Make them feel the pain my mother does
When the bullet in her spine digs deeper
Each time they make her go to work

Tell them
Tell them 
That we are not terrorists
Who weave webs of destruction
But dreamers
Who live in the sanctity of an afterlife.

That we are believers
Who pray in Arabic
Who love in Somali
And lovers 
Who touch in English. 

Carry these stories on your skin
These pains in your pours
Speak these voices with your tongue
Let it seep into the ears and hearts of the unknowing
Let your voice be that which brings hope to the forgotten
And knowledge to the ignorant.

Do not let them forget.
Please...Do not let them forget!!

Preach Sister Preach.

Farah Gabdon
Copyright © 2008

Child Soldier

Ahmed Knowmadic @ I'm Just Sayin'


never felt so spiritless, 
stuck in a bubble of my own conscious, 
knowing my mind is here to deceive,
need to cut it to be free  
drowning, need to breath, 
drowning in to deep 
dripping from my finger tips, 
I should of have let you save me, 
I know I wouldn't have been like this,
dripping onto the carpet,
looking at my reflection in the mirror
 I know I've let myself go to far,
screaming to my self
what I'm doing can put me straight to hell.
I hear ringing in my ears
nothing is clear
but I know what I fear
trapped within this torment,
my heart skips knowing I'm haunted  
I can't even save myself,
weak beneath my breathe,
should I dial nine,nine,nine
or let my self die?
Cold sweat and the nerves start to hit, 
I should have let you save me, 
just save me, like you promised before,
and heal my wounds,
as I know you would,
red all over my wrist,
I feel so misplaced and so used. 
I honestly don't know what to do,
wish I could be with you,
be with anyone really,
to feel wanted to feel like I'm worth something,
see I cant cry 
but my whole life has been a lie,
never felt so spiritless, 
stuck in a bubble of my own conscious. 

 Idil Mahamed 
Copyright © 2011 

Memories of War

The violence and chaos in Somalia sits heavy in my heart
Night after night I struggle to sleep, comfortably
While the echoes and unpleasant sound of the guns make it hard
For those in Somalia to sleep.
Intentionally, I force myself to disconnect 
From brutal images of war
And, piling bodies of my people
So, I can go about my day
Without burdening my heart
Yet those in Somalia
Are forced to live with the brutality of war
Hatred lingers in the hearts of families
Who have lost loved ones
So, Children are taught to be violent
In order to fight violence.....
So, how can they ever have the luxury of forgetting the war
When war is just the reality of their lives?
And, how can I ever fathom the impact of war on them
When I am here - in a peaceful environment, trying to forget the images of war in my head? 
How can I ever possibly understand?

Halima Ahmed
Copyright © 2011

Were the winds blow

Please I ask of thee, be gone if you are false pretender.  Many a times I seek answers to the cascading agenda, I swear I have this taste in mouth, as if I am literally eating propaganda.  But I am a hungry Somalian preoccupied with scavenging for my freedom, so if you’re going to offer me anything please don’t hold back the banana. 

In equal shares like water and oxygen essentials for the living, nowadays its not like I am forced to listen. The message gleams and glistens, in the tactics is the difference. If only the mind offered a little resistance; I find my self seething as the information is over bearing.

I run wishing to reside were the winds blow, so I can be calm and collected in my vision. Peace and wisdom my unyielding obsession, I walk watching my steps and dusting off my tracks in case of unwanted intrusion.

How can I turn a blind eye to my own mistakes and focus on the others committed around me? I picture life on the canvas of my own ideology. Rendering my shoulders weak beneath its weight, as my thoughts flow heavy, Some times its eye catching sometimes it’s nothing pretty.

Respite I find in the ink of my pen, trying to retrace maybe my lost sanity. At times I think I have found it. Residing in the corner of my brain that resembles a lion’s den. Only to blink and misplace it all over again, if I cant reflect on my own thoughts past and newly brought then what then. If I have wronged you in anyway, your forgiveness I crave before I am committed to my anticipating grave.

Light footed on the soil, as I want my impressions to be made on your mentality. If you shy away from own mortal notions then damnation is found in obscurity. In other words decipher what you heard, or end up pecking at the pieces of offered bread like a cultivated bird.

Hamza Egal
Copyright © 2011 

Group 24 (Kenyan/Ethiopian Invasion ): Neighbor Of All Sort

What's your problem neighbor?
why would you help me if you,
in return gonna unsettle me?
the neighbor of all sorts.

Helping my people when doomed
giving them shelter and aid
calling the world to give me attention
the neighbor of all sorts.

Keeping me away from the limelight
by keeping me in dark like i never
belong to the world ever eh?
neighbor of all sorts.

You even represent me internationally
isn't the income result of the outcome
enough for you? once you loot you die for it
neighbor of all sorts.

Now you enter my home and wanna call the shots?
like you know every corners and staff eh, here is
stateless, peace-less, hopeless land that bears no one
to hangout with neighbor of all sorts.

You have done enough for us, but now you're
acting like we're desperate to play a game with you
quit being greedy man and let us move on
neighbor of all sorts.

Ahmed Abdi
Copyright ©201

Flying Without Wings

Ten thousand feet above the earth,
Am cruising across my nation of birth.
But am flying without wings,
Hoping not to fall into this sink
Of frozen land- encapsulated in icy crusts,
With no trace of vegetation growing from those golden dusts.

The land is been licked by years of drought
Sucking the life out of this thirsty terrain but without a doubt,
Those crooked roads have been sewed by unskilled hands.

So I wish I was a tailor,
Then maybe I could stitch a perfect gown to cover her,
Cause I hate to see her naked, I’ll make it out of silk or fur?
It will fit her perfectly from head to toe,
so that this blue dirac with white stars can be as elegant as her rivers flow.

I wish I was a Florist,
Then maybe I could plant seas of flourishing flowers,
So she can smell them and keep it next to her wardrobe,
Or maybe make a scented perfume that attracts the globe.

I wish I was an architect,
Then maybe I could build skyscrapers as tall as her,
Let her touch the sky or gaze at the sunset; whichever she would prefer?
Just because she isn’t in the “world beauty pageant” doesn’t mean just can’t enter
And just because she lacks in knowledge doesn’t mean she can’t be an inventor!

So back to reality! I ponder on how these things can be conquered,
Buts it’s one thing between dreaming and achieving,
Between acting and sleeping,
Between speaking and thinking,
So go ahead! and fly without wings, but don’t forget take her with you,
Because she’s the one that will catch you when you fall to be nurtured, care for and turn to!

Abadir Hashi
Copyright © 2011

The Privileged

sisters, brothers, childless mothers, from the motherland starvin

we from the north the land of pork and bumpin drakes room marvin

toronto niggas feelin marved and...

those not so near they sleep with fear, cuz they don't know what food tomorrow brings 

clothes on their bodies skinny bodies, slavin sweat shops

now here's a boy got every toy, rockin a fitted and a G-shock

she shops while he stops pissin

dying of thirst mouths dry..throats killin 

swallowin hurts.. fruit flies jus chillin

the final hours of his life he feels like speakin to the villan  

why am i lying in this dirt while you consume, my race your killin 

got millions eyeing for your scraps, continent feeds 11 billion 

subtract 4 billion from the math, the population earth has livin you KNOW that don't make sense

makin more food than we can spend 

and while i'm throwin half my meal the poor stay droolin in suspense

food network makin art with meals, hey look thats cool..this carrot bends

now watch me roll this veggie car, watch how bored fools stay ignorant 

who the fuck gave those fuckers a deal

could feed a village full of people with a zucchini steering wheel

and i  probably sound crazy talking about this show, but if you seen, wouldn't believe it

 if you seen it, you would know

lets change our shoes, in search of food, your son won't move, you gotta go

lets clear our minds and take the time, realize they'd use the food we throw

and i'm speakin to myself, i got to thinkin, gotta help

it clicked i'm blinded to the problem, people we're lying to ourselves

and see i know its much more easy, to put your conscience on a shelf

but shit aint right we're living wrong, if we could feel what they have felt 

3rd world..ONE world 

her son...your girl 

don't take advantage of a blessing, the dumb believe these cards were dealt

they eat with greed, loosen there belts

it's up to us to make the change, or in the pot we all shall melt

Ismahan Ahmed