Sunday, April 22, 2012

Reflecting on the Man I've Become

I look back and think about the man I could’ve been//
The ideal self that isn’t me//
I look back on women that I’ve loved//
Casually, physically or through blood//
My passion is slipping//
I don’t know why I am existing//
Trynna find meaning in my religion//
Life’s blurred with ugly vision//
The money I could’ve made //
Or the money I could’ve saved//
My friends are in their graves//
My mother is in the same//
I don’t know why I ever changed//
Do I have a right to ever complain???
I manage to avoid that pain//
I laugh and joke about the past//
While people enjoy the new Zack//
And they tell me I’m so relaxed//
And they tell me I'm so social//
Than for a second I feel normal//
Than we talk about our families//
And our histories//
And our losses//
And our victories//
And then I realize that who they see isn’t me//
And I look back and think about the man that I couldn’t be//

Zack Ahmed
Copyright © 2012


Black smokes covers those who are around me
look around me
and blood is what surrounds me
My ear wanders in search for cry
And to my surprise there was a pitch
that was high
a distinct sadden and hurt sound
that can only be a mothers cry
See it wasn't like we asked for this
it was a few hours ago when my mother was in a state of bliss
Then men rush in bullet flying hoping all of them
but one pierced my brother and one can see death's fatal kiss

Now my mother is weaken
As her son's killer stood there watching
My brother's soul flowing along side his blood that was oozing
All she was saying was Islamic chanting
 but it got quiet when the killer started speaking

She looked back and was caressed by tape
screaming and squirming as he continued to rape
I stand to be her savior of fate
but by the time i built the courage
it was too

 Abdirashid "Africa" Mohamed
Copyright © 2012

Rubbing salt on your wounds

Your eldest sons preserved your beauty and decorated your soil with their purest blood to keep you free A century later and your youngest have  sold you so cheap and wish to bring back the colonial  chains
Elders speak so fondly about your grace but they preach to deaf ears and closed hearts for ignorance is bliss 
Men have used lineage to start wars and keep peace at bay
Delude themselves that their power lies in divisions and superficial borders
Holding a gun to the head of his brother and with open arms welcoming the intruder
The outsider that wishes to carve you open and exploit your worth
Why is that your sons now value dirty dollars more than you?
These outsiders come to you with worn out ideas of how you should be ruled and give power of governance over you to fools
Empty heads in extravagant suits equate only to empty promises and ignorance in excess For the last 20 years you have worn the rags of war, they labelled you a failed state and said that  your problems were of your own making
Now they speak of intervention and aid because you dare question their policies on your soil and seas
I wonder is this a gesture of goodwill or another scramble for your precious resources?
I see now that terror resides on our terrain making peace a recluse and corrupting the innocence of youth.
They tell your young that mass murder will lead them to salvation
While the west uses this as an excuse for invasionAs long as I breath
I shall want no other for none compare to you dear mother 
O how I wish to sit upon your sandy beaches to let your sift breeze console this broken soul

Qalbi nura Galaydh
Copyright ©2012

Poems are Resistance

I cannot pull it out of a status,
or force it out from a tweet.
I cannot vanish it from a youtube clip.
I wish I could.
Even as tears stain my face,
and lumps refuse to fade in my throat,
I cannot cry Zionism away.
I cannot write away the hate and bile of occupation.
I cannot put enough words together to force the world to confront
A people  being written out of history.
As quiet as open air prisons and phosphorous bombs and check points and aparthied walls
and prisons packed full of little rock wielding children.
Palestine is being erased in deafening silence.
On our watch.
And I am trying because I know history will never forgive me.
I'm trying to memorise every name of every dead child they allow us to know.
I am trying to take a mental picture every time I see a mother crying.
I am trying never to be hardened to the shame that Zionism exists on our watch;
I want it to forever reach every part of me.
I want to never have a logical response to 'why';
I need it to always baffle me
That 'promises' from God could bring the devil himself on earth.
If you were meant for it
Would it not have been more humane?
I am trying to never stop being rocked to my core
When I hear Gaza is being bombed again.
I need to be remember it always.
So that I can face my own children at least
When they look at me
and wonder how we let Palestine disappear.
On our watch.
This cannot feel rudimentary,
Even if it has been for too long.
I cannot feel like it must just be.

So I am trying to sing my resistance
I am Palestinian while Zionism is in existance.
Steal the land, kill the people, take even the falafel.
But a random Somali girl in London sings 'viva Palestina' with everything she touches .
I will not let Palestine be erased quietly.
On my watch.

I'm trying.

Nimo Hussein
Copyright © 2012

Twisted Tales

Allah blessed us with Islam and such precious land
Made us into shades of caramel and chocolate brown
Our tongues may differ in dialects but the language is one
why then do we not appreciate Allahs grace after all is said and done?
Many listen to parables and old tales concocted by twisted minds
Then they mix with half truths to form a history book of lies store it in ancient minds
And upon this  foundations  are laid and generations raised False information born from fragile imaginations passed on from generation to generation
Young minds unable to tell what is fact from fiction fall victim
Elders continue to water the roots of evil and then complain of its bitter fruits 
And so slowly it becomes poison that runs through their veins  
Opening a gateway to ill pursuits
Decades of distrust because of old conflicts
Innocent men made to pay the price as though they were the convicts
This disease is contagious crippling the old and corrupting the young
Discrimination came from Iblis and tribalism is just another branch of his evil
Call yourself  Muslim while tracing the footsteps of the devil
Dear tribalist how can u blame me for what Allah made me ?
Put the mistakes of past men upon my shoulders and forsake me?
Family ties are severed and friendships buried in favour of  spreading the seeds of ignorance
Respected elders promote dated tribalist ideology inherited through hatred and arrogance
How can we accept being held hostage in our own land by belligerent fools
Intent on growing this cancer in young minds and using them as tools
Tribalism conceived from dead souls and hollow brains has dug many shallow graves
Made weak minded beings it slaves
Now the time has come for emancipation from this disease
Time to turn to Allah for ease from its release
To give the next generation freedom from tribalism and a chance at peace

Qalbi nura Galaydh
Copyright ©2012

Hypothetically Speaking

What if I could plant a memory in your reality? Touch your thoughts with my pain. Consider remembrance a destination and I am your runaway train. Suggestions of your brain corner you to consistent blame, everyday you awake and every morning is the same. Dark clouds and ever persistent rain, say you were on a plane free falling to gravity’s calling. How would your heart manage the strain?

It was never about how we had fallen but how we awaken. Replace sense to give back the dreams that were stolen. Tenderness and torture, carcasses for the vultures, that pick the bones left by the hyenas. The representative monkeys swing on the trees for show, while the intercontinental elephants trample the ants below. Ebony eyes continuously seek justice beneath the African skies, who is my land benefiting. Last I checked the essence to give my children a bright future was still missing.

Africa’s splendour resides on a brochure, scratch beneath the surface and you enter the realm of the hopeless governed by the minority of the thoughtless. Feel free to question my thought process but don’t break the mirror because it reminds you of your ugliness. Cowardice and lies as truth does not cause profit to multiply thus the life force of the peasants must be present to apply. Mental slaves never pay respect to the gifts freedom gave or issue the purpose of the streets they pave.

Every honourable story I heard as a child revolved around a shepherd, then grew up and saw that he was the only one that would fight to save a single sheep from the mouth of a leopard. For days I carried this reality in my head, from running the street to seeking rest my bed. Sometimes they say I speak the dialect of the dead. Different from today’s ambition, I wish not to take from the poor man’s bread.

But here we are in a never changing situation, why is my livelihood been exported. When industrialization would stop exploitation and give the people the skills of production. We are the forefathers of novelty, nothing has enhanced this world more than African contribution. How can our children reach their abilities potential when our elders don’t view their deeds as principle?

Handshakes and international relations turn beautiful plains into heavy interest laced burdens. Concaved backs along with thoughts of living and nothing to show in kind. Both eyes functioning yet truly blind, as if your certificate of birth was your death with your sweat signed. Maybe I am the one who is ignorant and seeing life though a distorted vision. Yet I am not here to teach a lesson but to start a truly liberated tradition.

Valour does not mean firing ammunition, it means being a father a teacher. Swimming stops you from sinking the same way water keeps you amongst the living. The human emotion is not bulletproof, fed up and torn hearts is the testimony. The cries of the young have a familiar melody. What I can’t seem to understand is why there is so much weakness in the kindest hand. Africa is more than a diamond in the rough it’s the home of heavenly wonders, they say colonialism is over yet they still plunder.

Slavery just changed the old structure, found me foolish enough to accept their manager because we share the same colour. Here I was a few years ago thinking democracy was the answer, now I weigh my options. My heritage and my own makings will free me from these illusions. My objective is for us not to object to the truth, search your history, in those pages you will find your sovereignty and proof.

Hamza Egal © copyright 2012 all rights reserved.


Hardships are
easy to speak of
but hard to digest
often my little
brothers tongue
which is no stranger
to food and water
will speak of it
in arrogance
his well
rested and nourished body
every argument
my father noticed
had replaced
struggle in his home
I can see it
in the way
his hardened thoughts
converts  lessons
in his throat
giving pillow case
for fragile hearts
the illusions of
grandeur my brother
wears breaks him
but he’s
found a way
to gather himself
after each “you don’t understand”
to my father
the possibility
of starvation
rests with him in bed
the wounds of loss
tattooed on the palms
he uses to pray
that we may never
have dialogue
with distress
if ever need be
I simply touch
the scars
on my father that sever
as bookmarks
stories his body
but I may never buy
lessons that
refuse to settle
in my mind
my struggles are
associated with electronics
not survival
I can’t fully digest
sleeping on hope
and waking up
to struggle
my father has made
a habit
out of hardship
hangs portraits
of pain
in his chest
serving him a reminder
that this here
this pain is reality
the thought
never leaves me
that maybe
when he goes silent
stares off in the distance
he imagines
himself back
in back alleys
in tattered clothes
no promise of
of food or water
wondering how on gods
earth he will ever
raise a family
to know struggle
without actually struggling
I bet he never
pictured this
I cry
when I see him
watching the animal network
smiling as if he was actually there
eyes brightening up
softly whispering
“we have elephants in Somalia”
I wonder if he knows
I have elephants in my throat
because when
I thank him
for everything
his eyes brighten up the same way.

Ahmed Knowmadic
Copyright © 2012

The Depletion of Two Fronts

Blinded by a barrage of banners the ballast of purpose
deemed worthless
as the spoils of war are ransacked
throughout its fortress

where once laid delicacies
draped like a curtain now, pauperized roof panels
leak onto fragmented floors where shattered glass and shutters remain

the reminiscence of deeply rooted
deviated divisions

deprived and deceived

they depend on worldly desires
that are crystallized within the prying eyes
of foreign legions

who's convoluted schemes
only obstruct the view of
their, narcissistically arbitrary depletion

Abdisalaan Haji
Copyright ©2012

Child Soldier

I was raised in state of war  
I serve none but a failed state  
Am hired gun with no allowance  
Angel of death everywhere  
People getting killed for no reason  

Changed by the environment  
Having no educated parents  
Schooled on how to survive 
Trying to avoid violence
Yet all I hear is the silence of the bullet

Looking around wondering why life is like this
Sides claiming everything
Persuading people to the extremes
Keeping the masses always at loggerheads 
I hold on to my belief trying to gain relief

Staring at the sky in a daring place
Looking for change in strange places
Hopeless people trying to arrange a way out
Acting heroic finding a way to manage things
Having a low range vision

Am neither a visionary nor evolutionary
I just want the best for the people
They see me as a kid
Hoping to please people
Is it wrong to believe in change ??? 

Yaya Ahmed
Copyright © 2012

Kony - Africom 2012

Joseph Kony? something smells phony
Close up on Jason Russell hugging a black kid feeling lonely
Close up on their tears zoom in on their fears
Queue the sad music and let them share their story
Travel back to the states bathing in their glory
Tell everybody to buy wrist bands and t­-shirts to show your support
Demand the US to act now and bring this man to court
Start a global man hunt, call it the KONY 2012 campaign
In the meantime ignore the Palestinian children still being slain  Ignore the 1.5 million in
Iraq that lost their loved ones, still feeling the pain
Ignore the 500.000 in Sudan massacred for a few nations financial gain
Ignore the 300.000 infants in Dadab starving to death crying in vain
But explain this, who gave the US the right to invade a sovereign state?
Who gave the US to decide a people’s fate Bring Kony to justice?
Sure but what about Mr Bush and Mr Blair Hand shaking , costume wearing war criminals signing secret affairs But their killing kids from afar so I guess that doesn’t count
The real reason for US sudden interest in Uganda ?
Oil in large amounts

Astonishing how a few Americans angrily accuse a warlord
Acting as if they actually care about abducted
African under aged children equipped with AK ‘s
A-list celebrities absorbed, take to twitter why don’t u ask them to point Uganda out on the
Atlas Amazingly the aggressor being assaulted is absent since 04 how inaccurate their assumption
Africa always depicted abroad as in infant in need of adult supervision alas neo –colonialism 

Frequently spreading falsehoods for their on facility
If foreigners so eagerly wanted to fight for their freedom
The fire has been flaming for twenty five years  in Uganda
Fuck the UN feeble fake peace flag  waving firing ‘’friendly’’ at a few 
US financing so called Libyan rebels caging blacks in fabricated zoo’s

Reactions rather rare regarding the ruthless eradication raging in Darfur
Rehearsed revolutions ridiculous rhetoric’s  respected hypocrites
Reforms enriching the rich ,rwandan residents still relive recent events
Rewriting history reaching for their recourses & restoring hope , really ? RIP

Invade the indigenous population investigate and instigate
Insist their incapable of being intelligent and self-sufficient
Instilling a sense of insecurity leading to inferiority never ending animosity
Israeli immigrants

Crucial part in killing Gaddafi for trying to create an African currency ending foreign dependency
Celebrating corrupt kings for their constant co-operation covering  up their crimes
Covert coup d’états  in Chile and Colombia carried  out by the CIA , claim they were communists
Congo conquered, christened  & crucified in the name of civilization quoting King Leopold 
Competing with China not caring nor concerned for the countless caught in the crossfire 

Orchestrating occult operations occupy on every occasion
Obama in the  oval office aiming for Africa’s Oil
Opium openly shipped overseas oppressing Afghanistan

Massacred many  merely marching for a meaning
Media manufactured manipulating the narrow minded
Missiles meant for Iran since the days of Mossadegh
Mosad  mass murdering in the Middle east
But maybe I’m mistaken mislead by Malcolm’s message..

Ismail Mohamed
Copyright © 2012