Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Writing Blues, my paper dripping

Life isn’t fair,
Writing Blues and my paper dripping
Oozes tears
Every time I get to thinking
Sinking deep down
I’m losing wits!

Can You Help me?
Looks like my soul
Has left my body
Too tired to fight
Yet flightless
Stumped by situation
Is it a fiend?
Can You Help me?
I’m going crazy
Hope gets rejected leaving me neglected
Unheard was my message
Shot was my uncle, while he was teaching
Though I survived Death
I got scarred,
Can’t forget that day
Can You Help me?
Can You Help me?
Can You Help me

Abdulkarim Mohamed Jimale
Copyright © 2011

Ghetto Child

What do you know about a ghetto child,

a tableau vivant of a life run wild
so many things to say
so many people crossing my way
frame of mind, so many stories to tell
unspoken, foretold, guess you know it well
where does this route lead
I see them young fellas bleed
engaged to the life of the culprit
just to make the dark scenario fit
the expectations of a thug
dying for a living to make a fast buck.

“What do you know about me
the lifestyle I’m living is not used to be
the one you suggest to be in a great rush
touched by the life with the sense of touch
hold me back before I’m dedicated
to the rebels they used to hate and
unappreciated, you begin to appreciate
the mind that slows down and reaches you late
flashbacks back up the present action
fully grown to the short lived affection
when you are betrayed by your own kind
what do you know about a change of mind.”

The world you have found is not appealing
can you imagine such intriguing feeling
pushed to the side you try to see
dark alleyways were not made for thee
set it free, picture how the picture goes dead
ghetto child haunted by homicide instead
gloomy nights, going to make fight of it
four bullets, riddled with hope while he got hit
desperation and disbelief hit the floor first
they say a departing soul does not bawl a curse
a tableau vivant of a life run wild 

What do you know about a ghetto child?

Pen ‘N’ Paper
Copyright © 2011

Prince Charming

I know love is not like those fairy tales I've seen 
or rather love is not all pink and red.
Hoping that maybe my love will turn out just like the novels I've read.
It takes more than smiles and great moments 
There's much more to it than that. 
Only, we realize that after the love we thought we had has run its course. 
Cos I know that my prince charming will have his flaws, 
just like me. 
Being humans we easily make mistakes you see. 
Nobody is perfect, but don't blame me, 
for looking for that someone who is closest to what they describe is how a perfect man should be. 
So in reality,
a "true perfection lies not in what a man has but in what a man is". 
All I'm looking for is a man who is firm in his mission (Religious) 
A man of his own words. 
One who helps me to make up for my failings and weaknesses. 
Recognizes my preference, desires and moods. 
One who is sensitive and respectful towards my feelings and others, 
while never forgetting that straightening a bent rib is impossible and might lose. 
So you see there is no prince charming seen in the movies. 
He isn't going to be perfect in every way.
But he'll be close to it in my eyes, 
for I know who ever was meant for me I'll find.
My very own Happily Ever After.

Hibaaq Ahmed
Copyright 2011

What are you waiting for?

Some dreams are gentle some are raw, uncanny some dreams maybe, you wish not for a second episode. I found myself on a deserted road, it lead me to a green and plush valley. Words can’t describe the beautiful scenery laid out by the heavens before me.

I took shade by a silver flowing river, the breeze caressed me beneath an old and ancient tree. I sat in silence and let nature flow through me, as the wild life roamed freely. I made plans to stay and leave just before the dark; strangely all of a sudden I felt hostility. For some reason even in the shade I felt a burst of heat. Something shifted to the side of me; in a single bound I was on my feet.

What are you waiting for, each spoken word felt like a blow. Heavy and rapid in impact, before I could ask the question, what my eyes saw my brain could not find the capacity to reason. I was looking into my own face, what are you waiting for, once more my replica asked. Before I knew it the surreal valley had turned into a graveyard as if an eternity had passed.

The skies had darkened and the animals had fallen silent. I asked what is it you want, and my replica replied in kind. I have always been temperamental when I feel confined, so I took a step towards this look alike. He said don’t waste your time as you cant harm me, for that would be like harming oneself. I made a prayer to my lord wordlessly and to my astonishment the being said how you forgot that same prayer when times were well.

Hamza Egal
Copyright © 2011 


Somalia captured my heart just like a seasoned archer but the reason of my departure was justified when your self-destruction intensified. 

Memories of guarding our livestock from hyenas feels so ironic when I left you, reminiscing is so hard and causes  heavy tears and deep scares nevertheless your my rock and source of happiness so I give autonomy to my smiles and cries.

Operation restore hope was a disasters resuscitation attempt as a result anarchy was introduced into a system of chaos, pillaging of life and the stench of death hanging in the air

Resilience, faith and signs of life at the heart of death's domain kept the light of your star on even though it's dim, it was bright enough

Revival it's self was a struggle for survival in a self induced destructive coma with a fluctuating promise of stability 

Nobility and brotherhood was the thread of our society, we had a perfect formula moments in my life that I treasured.

The absence of unity left us with a reactive atmosphere of clive war. Our reflection showed us the imperfection of a cohesive society built on the weak foundations. Still reserve hope for my motherland that one day our people will see how great we can be as nation.

H Khalif
Copyright © 2011


If you can dream, dream all you like.
If you can think, outside the box too.
If you can speak the truth you might feel today.
Cos the truth is all that matters,
so wisdom can expand.
Only with a selfless heart can true wisdom be found.
An open mind, no mind alike.
When its theories don't add up, it seems to understand.
Common sense ...
They might have formed their own opinion,
and judged you in their own way.
But being a silent observer,
as eyes believe for themselves,
and ears tend to sway.
If your hated, don't give it a second thought,
for God doesn't hate you.
What they think doesn't really matter, as long as you know that too
Smile in their faces when its all about you.
For men are good at doubting and leaving you feeling confused
Just making sure you aren't trapped by the fools.
For our lives are like a candle in the wind,
no time to lose.

Hibaaq Ahmed
Copyright 2011

Me. Myself and I (Part II)

Me. Myself and I

walking along the beach, hand in hand
beautiful blue skies, stepping across the sand
there was me, myself and I
happily intertwined as time flew by
as night begged and the sun set, anything but shy
full of will, hearts met
promises were made
as night faded
thinking to myself “we made it”
but were they looking ahead too fast
wishful thinking “we will forever last”
awoken by warmth, touched by her gaze
beautiful eyes locked me in a place
Me. Myself and I yet unable
as I's unlocked, pointing towards the table,
“'Don’t be lazy, let’s go out and eat”
a voice whispered, myself finding feet
food was served, a delicious treat
dimmed lights as we conversed, we ate in peace
so in sync, a worry the least!

Me. Myself and I

reach out with a single phrase
don’t expect from me a speech in praise
of somebody who couldn’t care less
about me, myself and my people under stress
placed by a system based on currency
profit engaged with greed, claiming “her heart is free”
TV drenched in propagandistic agendas
“Brave new world” alienating “the savage”, do you remember?
Silence me, if me, myself and I became a threat
my story is punctuated by the long silence of the dead.

Me. Myself and I

will never forget the day
when you came my way
would you blame me, having a try
to understand that cheerful cry
it is that cheer that keeps me strong
there’s nothing wrong
a bond greater than those. . .
call me simple minded, just keep it close
taken away by pride
having you by my side
call me ‘Ghetto child’
the one unable to hide
standing out
girl, you left me in doubt
raised to cope
fed with hope
don’t underestimate
those behind the gate
of society
son of liberty
shudders by the yard
welcome gestures trying hard
remember the river bed
the steppe I once had
the stem of the word
of my people that you heard
daughter of freedom
haunted by a demon
– global slavery –
don’t forget about me

Me. Myself and I

Mo Warsame in collaboration with Pen ‘N’ Paper
Copyright © 2011


You know the kind of love you have for ur sisters 
when you are with them, they drive you crazy 
But when you're not, you miss them madly 
you can be best friends, and you can be enemies 
but at the end of the day, you go back to being homies. 
but let us say Alhamdulilah for having them in our family 
having Big sisters. is one of the greatest gift in this journey♥ 
they are the kind of best friends, that will remain the same 
no matter how much you fight, they will be there to the end 
they understand you, cause they've been through the same 
and they cant be evil against you, cause the blood wont let them. 
and you share alot of things. cause u have alot in comment.

Najax Cabdulahi Sarsarey
Copyright © 2011

If only I could, I would..

If I could change the world
I would, if I could
I'd take away pain and strife
I'd give everyone a perfect life

If I could bring peace
to one and all
I'd do it right now
I'd make the call

If I could work magic
and cure the sick
I'd do it this minute
I'd make it stick

If I could feed all the hungry
Make sure no one else was
I'd do it in a second
I'd do it without a doubt

If I could fix everyones' pain
Make them well and whole again
I would surely do it
If I could

If I could, I'd make the world well
I'd clean all pollution
in the rivers and streams
I'd make the world a place for
children to dream

If I could I'd do all this

If I could be your pillow
If I could warm your soul
If I could always be there
When life loses control

If I could be your water
When desert life winds bring
The worst life has to offer
I would be your song to sing

If I could be your ladder
To lift you from your pain
Then I could be fulfilled and
In your heart I would remain.

If I could change myself I
If I could change the world I

If I could change things with a
I would, but know, I simply can't

If I could go back years ago
To a gentler world than what we
I'd choose a peaceful, calmer
When it was easier to rhyme

If I could ease your troubled
Some words of wisdom I'd

I'd tell you that tomorrow's day
Will banish all your fears away

If I could just
Explain quite clearly
All that I mean
If it would just
Seem to be nearly
Plain and clean

If they could just
Appreciate it
I'd show my hand
But I would just
Hardly believe that
They'd understand

If I loved each person as I should
I'd make a difference, I know I

If I could I'd do all this
no doubt i would

I'm only one, it takes a few
To change this world of me and you..

Nomad WithDeen
Copyright © 2011

Hold On My People

Pen on the pad
Pad on the table
Pillow on my head
Trying to cover up my eyes
But the images are still perfect
Tears rolling down my cheeks
I wish you could drink it
The drought took my happiness
Because with out you I’m nothing
Oh Somalia it’s not the end
This is a struggle
Just another story to tell
But how many hearts are torn?
How many kids are dead?
Hold on Somalia
The sky is still blue
So is our flag
Hold on Somalia
There is still a brighter day
Africa is free now
Oh my people
Don’t you think it’s enough?
Time to heal our hearts
And clean up our minds
Oh Africa will you watch us suffer?
Or shed a tear with us
Oh my beautiful continent
Will you watch us fall?
Or help us to get up
We are no longer slaves
But yet we are dying from starvation
Charity begins at home
Oh Africa let your magic shine

Bring smile to those kids
Build houses and schools
Oh Somalia stays strong
The Almighty didn’t forsake us
And you are active in my prayers
Oh my people hold on

Poet of The Streetz (P.o.s)
Copyright © 2010

Sweet Nothings

Only if. . . he wonders if she would stay. . .
he remembers, as if it was yesterday

tears in her eyes made her vision blurry
life became a desert, trapped in a sandstorm, unable to see

all she ever asked – the three letter question
“why” – no matter how hard, he is beyond redemption

guilt is the ugly brother of sin
it eats his heart from within

hope and fear huddle against each other
as if they were made for one another

touched by unbearable pain
lukewarm tears leave behind a stain

towards her heart, running down her cheek
a glowing visage, left behind so bleak

promises, it took months to put out the blaze
“how can I smile, if I ever see that face

you don’t understand.”

there is more to this story
neither about romance nor glory

be beyond words
she starts at the end, ‘cause it hurts

where do you go from here
you let go, out of fear

to lose everything
sweet nothings.

Pen ‘N’ Paper
Copyright © 2011

I hear the Mogadishu music

Did you hear about the Mogadishu music?  
Them ammunition at nights, it plays my song
Shit, I can’t raise my kids in here  
20 years and we can’t work it out  
Crazy it seems but we can work it out  
This land of anarchy 
Long live the child that grew up sleepless
Where the streets have no name
Long live the child that grew up hopeless
When no one else even cared!

Ali Maxamed
Copyright © 2011

Wednesday, September 7, 2011


Anaa danqadoo runtii jidhkaygu dubaaxiyee dadkaygoow maxaan falaa?
Anaa dayaciina iyo darxumadiinaba dhibsada oo ilmadu iga daadataaye dadkaygoow maxaan falaa?
Anaa doodoo wanaag ku dadaala,ee dadkaygoow maxaan falaa?
Anaa isku daya in aan had iyo jeer idiinku deeqo dabuubtaydiyo odhaahdee dadkaygoow maxaan falaa?
Anaa isku daya  murtida in aad ila daydaane dadkaygoow maxaan falaa?
Anaa dibindaabyadiyo duligoo idil idinla necebe dadkaygoow maxaan falaa?
Hadaan isdiloo inagu hadaynu is dabarjarayno dadkaygoow maxaan rabnaa?
Hadaan duqaydii ladhaafin dhalaankii hadaan ladaynin dadkaygoow maxaan rabnaa?
Hadii uur dooxad dhacayoo walaalihi wada degiyo hadii deriskii is cunay dadkaygoow maxaan rabnaa?
Haday dunidiiba yaabtay xalkiiba ladiidayoo hadii nabadii ladoorshey dadkaygoow maxaan rabnaa?
Hadii waa dacar qabiile haduu degay oo ku faafay damiirka wax fiiriyiyo maskaxda daar inaga yeeshay dadkaygoow maxaan rabnaa?
Hadaan wadankeeni duminey hadaan dunidii ka hadhnay dadkaygoow maxaan rabnaa?
Maduugoowdee rajadu niyadu way dugaashataaye aan dadaalnooo heedhe tooba illaah denbi dhaaf ka tuugno.
Nabadii aan doono wadajir dalkeena dhisnoo israacno.

Copyright © 2011

My People

The centre of attention, walk on your knees.
You stuck up in the system. 
The vision above the sea.
Water so natural its should be called "free".
Freedom is in the eyes of slave or a war-child, let them free!
Free as bird, no evil hand that hurts.
Cuz the earth is not made for one or two.
Unity was first!

Ahmed D
Copyright © 2011

Cupid Must Die

Cupid arrow comes and brings…LIES

Whispered sweet lies of forever and dreams 
The briefest of love with the intensity of lifetimes
The Passion that consumed all fibres of my being
Erupting volcanoes, releasing raging tremors within me 
And when the sun rose, overtaking the moon
My love was gone, undeniably too soon

So I position myself to fantasies, plot and scheme
Of ways to recapture lost moments for keeps:
‘If blood is drawn with those pieces of broken dreams
if perhaps the wound are drawn sufficiently deep, 
surely a glimpse of the dream may be captured it seems’


‘if I drain my whole body of tears, 
fate may pity me and erase all my fears
cupid must acknowledge the sins he commits
and restore my soul, draping the hole he penetrates
so I cry and plea to dilute the pain of love

this the end, I give up hopeless and helpless
My heart was shot with the essence of hell
Illusions of painted love upon which I fell
But I refuse to be an object in cupids game
Form now… I’ll live not love, with great caution and care 

By  Eva
Copyright © 2008

Drops of Water

Sweat drips moistening a once delicate face and feet continue pounding upon earth that has become to feel like molten lava

Beat by the heat she is just a frail mother

The razor sharp hunger pains cut through her gut

No shade from this blistering heat for she owns not even a hut

The sunken eyes of her weakening frame opening a gateway to a broken soul

There was once a joyous heart burning with fire that made her whole

You see although her land and people continue to deceive her

Her faith will never be defeated

She fights on for her children whether or not anybody receives her

How many more times must this situation be repeated?

She is a Somali mother, our symbol of purity and pride

Left abandoned to walk for days; simply this cannot be right

All the while vultures hum evil melodies around her

Yet some sit bound to parodies

Play fight in food-filled malls and when duty calls expect applause for what little they give

Where is the guarantee that a life of luxury they will always live?

Just remember that your wealth is but a loan and; why even in good health moan?

There is not a single thing in this world that you truly own so give back to purify your heart from black stains of greed, which like virus spread and of it feed

Division is submission to weakness giving predators a chance harness strength and fuel to break our spirits

They wish to keep us mentally chainedand  economically starved but we are always spiritually rich with treasure chest of cultural gold heritage

The time has come to awaken spirits and remove the marks of shame upon each of us

Because those dying are from all of us

Qalbi nura Galaydh
Copyright ©2011

Bleeding Love

Was love born out of words written?
Has spells cast been uttered unknowingly?
Is it you who has enchanted yourself
And let love be born out of words written

Did your first line seal your fate?
Did your pen become an instrument of cupid’s game?
Did the ink of my name seep beyond the skin?
And flood the depths of your marrow?
To reach your soul?
Is it you who had enchanted yourself
And allowed love be born out of words written

Have words become the measures of night
Can each toss and turn be counted as a phrase
Has the awakening of love defeated slumber
Has restlessness broken free from your ribs
Entrapped in your skin
Has it haunted you since?
Is it you who has enchanted yourself
And allowed love to be born out of words written

Does each line rhyme with a heartbeat?
Have stray sheets become your lifeline?
Does life depend on the stretches of ink?
Do you fear to reach a full stop?
Do you fear to reach the last rhyme?
Is it you who has enchanted yourself
And allowed love to be born out of words written

Do you worship the symbols of love,
To be pardoned by these heartless phantoms?
Do you seek the favours of cupid,
To be pitied and be of those that won?
Do they guide the whispers of the heart,
To the contract entitled the princess and I?
Is it you who has enchanted yourself
And allowed love to be born out of words written

So if love was born out of words written
Surely death can reverse the spells cast
And to bury the words will only set deep roots
But the ashes of fire are the best demise!
So watch the words drown in a sea of flames
Set yourself free!
And let love perish out of these words written.

Copyright © 2011