Somalia - The Nation of Poets!

2012-02-11T23:19:00.001-08:00

Somalia- The Nation of Poets (TNP) has officially compiled over 1,000 poems written by fierce, passionate, talented young Somalis from North America to Europe to Africa and all the way to Asia. The poems on TNP touch upon various themes relevant to the Somali diaspora. TNP has featured poems about Islam, to what goes into the formation of one's identity, to war poems, to poems about Somali men and women, and about our fathers and mothers, to yearning for homeland and Africa, to the struggles of being an immigrant, to ramadan poems, to love and poems on heartbreak, and everything in between! Some of the poets are as young as 8 and others slightly older ;)<3

Group Poem 25 (War Poems): Bullet to your gun

2012-02-01T17:55:00.001-08:00

I can be the bullet to your gun
I can be the suicide bomber
I can be the snake of your country
That’s who I can be

I am the star of your flag
I am the silent leader
I am the melody to your anthem
That’s who I am

I can be the pirate of your ocean
I can be the terrorist of your land
I can be the serial killer of your innocent people
That’s who I can be

Waxaan ahay ubaxa dadkayga
[I am the flower of my people)
Waxaan ahay dahabka dulkayga
[I am the gold of my land]
I am the formation of your land
I am the end of war, beginning of peace

Asha Ahmed (15 years old)
Copyright © 2012

*Thanks to sister Nimo Yusuf who encouraged this young teenager to write a poem and then send it to me!

Group Poem 25 (War Poems): City & Colour

2012-02-01T17:53:00.003-08:00

Taste the flavour

of this city and colour –

railing against her fate

is it really too late ?

Memories faded like the chimney smoke ,

burnt is the past, you survived the stroke .

“Why does it hurt ?”

the art of the human heart .

Those moments of imprisonment ,

consumed by doubts . . .

“Please help me to break out !”

When and where, who has been haunted ?

Each line and verse foretold, conducted

to enlighten hazy memories . . .

discomfort of mind and body, the misery !

It struck a whole nation over night ,

hostility between brothers let us stride .

Towards a tomorrow ,

shrouded in sorrow .

Emptiness we cannot explain .

Pain, tell me if we can ever trust again .

Feel the shimmer of the city lights . . .

the city of sorrow breathing through the night . . .

Melodious is the firework by the grenade . . .

those moments when you try to evade . . .

the pain that quenches the thirst for life . . .

Silence, you could have cut the air with a knife . . .

“I want to survive” strength of will became second nature !

Taste the flavour

of this city and colour –

yearning to see her new-born ,

is there a rose without a thorn ?

The emotions rose to a hurricane force ,

if only I’ve been left with a choice !

Longing for her children far faraway ,

“I miss you to this very day !”

I had no heart if I did not embrace you, White Pearl –

your soil coloured the feet of your daughter, when she was a young girl .

I see those eyes that touch your soul with every smile .

Sincerity, have you seen it with your very own eyes ?

Something as precious cannot be described ,

few things has to be lived, when the time is ripe .

That perfect harmony, that sigh of relief expressed in her countenance .

Shimmer in her eyes, sincerely wording, rewriting her life at the other end .

Sometimes you have to live through the ugly . . .

to appreciate the beauty . . .

you have been surrounded by for so long . . .

a hardened heart is . . . a pity . . . but you keep holding on .

Rising with the stars ,

distant is the horizon, we seem so far .

Keeping a safe distance, paralysed with fear ,

afraid we couldn’t bear the misery here .

Responsibility is a heavy burden ,

an upright frame that became a hurdle !

H o m e, the place where the earth’s surface and the sky still meet ,

a tedious journey back to intense feelings and heat !

Looking back at life, the past events and my concern ,

leave behind a trace of hope, there is a beaten path that leads to a return . . .

to this city and colour –

Taste its flavour .

inspired by Amaal Said

Pen 'N' Paper

The world dragged me to my knees

2012-02-01T17:53:00.001-08:00

Wie der Ruf der Sterne,

schimmert meine Hoffnung in der Ferne.

Sie erzählen, alles wird sich ergeben,

wie oft lag ich daneben.

Das Lächeln deiner Generation,

der Ruf von Zuversicht hat meine Faszination.

In the open air,

exposed to her stare -

you read every single line.

‘How did his burden become mine?’

Life and me were not closely acquainted.

Who remembers the echo when we fainted?

Sensitive is the one touched

by memories, the summer haze brushed

from the shoulders of the past.

Who was willing to make it last,

those tales close at hand.

Would you ever understand,

if I told you how they began,

would I begin to comprehend,

my own journey and its destiny?

Those tales of the stranger in me,

who feels resentful about everything we break.

Left in pieces, what is left to take

from this, where old habits return.

‘This is all he has come to…’ is all you learn,

from those who don’t weigh the words on their tongue.

You used to be the storm after the peaceful calm.

Destructive, seems every single letter -

‘Constructive is sincerity…’ it was never a minor matter.

Eager to please,

you finally cease.

Clarity is all you lacked.

Hoping to find back,

to those roots that took root

in my memories…(when everything seemed so good).

"Share with me that 'One in a lifetime monologue’

that monologue sharing with me those worries,

that little hope that switches from time to time,

that Somali written in English,

that English inspired by Somali,

that hope inspired by worries,

those worries swallowed by hope.

I want you to ask me, 'What moved you to do so?'

I want you to tell me where I went wrong.

I want you to ask me about motivation and having a motive.

I want you to tell me that it is okay.

I want you to know that I am just a man with more flaws than any other man.

I want to know if I ever get the chance to get to know you.

I want you to know that they need you,

I want you to tell me, ‘Do not forget where you came from.’

I want you to remind me,

that you and that me,

that you call mine.

Remind me of the land with the valley vast and beautiful.

The arid landscape brought back to life by the colourful.

The colourful gown & pride of your women,

pride worn with modesty and a smile,

the accessory shared across both hemisphere.

‘How far are you willing to go to find an answer?’

‘What do you know about yourself?

Give me an answer truly calming the storm in my soul.

Tell me, that you and I deserve it.

Show me, that we deserve it.

Brother & sister in faith, by mankind, in humanity.

Let’s take one sincere step towards each other,

one sincere gesture.”

Yours truly,

Mr.The-world-dragged-me-to-my-knees - "I just need to breathe, pause for a second. Holding onto things for years, that I do not comprehend."

Do not stop believing.

Somalia.

Pen 'N' Paper

Appreciation (*)

2012-02-01T17:52:00.003-08:00

Appreciation is my dedication

I hope I dedicate to give peace to my nation

Create sense in a dream, it needs to be awakened

I was awake for some days, and..

Thinking about the tools that will move fools out in a dark end

We born with a heart, so don't pretend!

Love the things for your friends as same as the things for yourself

Appreciate the good and the worst times

Memories live forever

Like a candle that never goes off it brings true light of better

And its better to realise what you have is temporary, it doesn't last forever

They say we; "Young forever" living for materialistic wishes

They sing songs to stay young together

So blind, I feel ready guns are penetrating my longs can't hold the urine in my bladder

Its so natural to appreciate

So edible are true feelings

Glass shinning lights on the ceiling

What a metaphor

I'm so better for, the simple things in life

A brother who holds your rights

A sister that knows your dreams

And a dream that becomes reality

I believe in that dignity

I'm digging the picture but the image is pinching me

Why say never is never

Then why is it not meant to be?

Is fate not invisible like time

And is Karma not like the guardian of low waters such in a running stream

So when ones drowning in his sleep

He can be freed if his soul was in peace

In the end, Its only for God to judge

Is it hard to let go the steady hold of grudge

Bunch of flowers for the dead, will not get them back

But it will show respect

Bunch of flowers to forgive, will live to be different

Different to be wiser

Different to take a distant of the wicked

Slang used by kids, to say a good witch is wicked

Some play innocent but deep down inside grows sickness

You just a misfit!

You don't fit in!

You been abused by your bullies

But you came first in the bloody race

I see life as a driving aim

Everyone is on the steering wheel to for fill their aims

The rich smell of petrol made them faint

Monopoly Politics, we like puppets in a game

But to God, we are valued slaves at birth

Yes, we are all equal as humans but differ in ways, we choose our lanes

So may the richer shake hands with the poor, and explore similarity in symptoms

True kingdom of justice and understanding

We just standing in box to hear each confession

Not taking lessons of the lesser

Cuz, struggle in the feet makes good practise

Appreciate each blessing

Depression was not an escape

It was mainly being locked down lonely in a cave

Panicking surroundings around your body that screams, pain!

And I want to believe and appreciate

Rainy tears, they integrate on top of your face

Then it dries up, the weather changes like a mood

Seasons are perfected to unify and to open eyes

Evil eyes are in to divide the good that lies inside

I'm not on about lies that show pride

This heart speaks real of a cause

Of course I do it for Africa

Me don't want to fall off my course

Mother nature needs some patience to regroup her sons cuz they lost

What a shame

Some die to get fame

And some find burning love in someone

That's a soul mate to die for

All my love and trust is packed in one

I'm humbled by her tender care and her daring love

I don't need an applause

I just need a build nest near her soul

Cuz of her heart I adore the motivation she sends through my bedroom door

My dreams will let some minds think

Martin Luther King, let me spring in the spring water

And give some Zamzam water to

Malcolm X

I hope one X will not make a trio

And end with sex

So lost in society, I say this planet has more piety than its context

He keeps wanking on the net

While I'm stressed up to make a change

I give away what they take away, no Robin Hood

Young brothers want to dress up like a wolf and be hood

They think they are misunderstood

I think not everything is understood

But you know what's good, when are in your grave and it lights up for angels who congratulate!

That's when you know your praise to the One where not in vain

Don't let some whispers make you go insane!

Try to pray like this is your last day

5 am, you still awake, tears led you to wait for the morning prayer

So excited to communicate with your Lord

Trust, true winners are believers

So appreciate yourself

Don't loose it or abuse it

Believe in all the bad sides that forms the weak

Before appreciating the good which defines you as unique

Ahmed D

MOTHER THE TRUE STORY

2012-02-01T17:52:00.001-08:00

do you see the chaos ?!

pitch darkness !

the eye of the storm she is!!

scratching

digging

fighting

in that cave

i can see the bleeding cuts on her hands

the sweat on her body

the heavy breaths laden by time

but she keeps

digging

fighting

chanting

not listening to the mourning of the owls,

the blood river from the altar

or the greedy bats

look! how the pain,fear and grief are standing there desperate ?!

trying to understand

how she is not seeing the unbearable ?!

how her eyes are hooked up with

the bright light of the beautiful day ,

the sweaty hands rebuilding the city?!

the joy behind the mask of sadness

incomprehensible!

how she found the way

let the others pass she say !

how slefless

damn it is slefless

but this is how her soul darned together

since the dawn of creation

the well of mercy and passion

she is

a hope anthem

a way to freedom

a love sanctum

she is my Mother !

your Mother

she is a Mother !

a gift from God

truly she is!!!

when our Prophet peace be upon him tried to explain and make it understandable

how Allah showers his mercy on His creations , he choosed the mother's mercy and love to her child as example ..coz nothing is comprable to that in the human world so May Allah bless my mother and grant her jannat al ferdous and all the mothers amiin .

to all the mother suffering out there , in refugee camps , under the unhuman conditions, in the ruthless cities , struck by poverty we pray for them..yes we pray for them.

LAST WORD IN THE MIDDLE OF YOUR BUSY LIFE , TRY TO CHERISH EVERY MOMENT WITH YOUR MOTHER , COZ ONE DAY ONE OF U WILL NOT BE AROUND PERMANENTLY .

Ismail A. Ali

Nuura

2012-02-01T17:51:00.002-08:00

There is so much of her in me

This woman.

Stood proud.

Head dress forming an earthly hallo

About her voluptuous frame.

Her name is Nuura.

And she is light.

Forever radiant.

I have bathed in her

sparkle Basked in the twinkle of her love

And learnt the pains of a woman’s womb-

Broken whispers of almost babies

That made her lament And retreat into herself

Like a broken angel

Or an angelic human

Whispering in virtuous calm-

Bismillahi rahmani raheem.

They said that bleeding

Would make me a woman

And loving a man

Would make me bleed

A different kind of love.

She taught me that blood

Could also break a woman

And that tears

Made even angles human.

That humans-

Sometimes came in the form of demons-

And demons- sometimes looked like friends.

That forgiveness

Make’s the broken -whole

And the secret to happiness

Lay in gentle remembrances of Laa illaha illallaah.

The velvety chuckles Of man and wife.

And in the soft caresses between mother child.

Between her

and I.

There is no woman

Like her.

Her name is Nuura.

And she is light.

Forever radiant.

Farah Gabdon

Tribute to Arfa Karim Randhawa - Elegy

2012-02-01T17:51:00.000-08:00

It is a mournful day for the black and white,

As the inevitable death snatched miss Arfa Karim like a kite,

Without forewarning us arrange for her mourning rite.

She was not snatched but taken away by the Almighty God,

The powerful Creator and the Benevolent lord,

I ask Him to forgive me for employing "snatch" that is odd.

We burry her body for today,

But carry her legacy every day,

And keep her name without nay.

Let us all mourn and cry,

At once weep and sigh,

To the gifted soul say goodbye.

Let us attend her funeral without my,

Attire not formal clothing and tie,

But for prayer take our hands high.

Avoiding faults, abstain from saying fie,

Dropping sorrowful tears from eye to eye!

As we are all like the feeling of one guy!

Shush! I am sending condolence,

To her parents and siblings in confidence,

I am sharing the pain with them in patience.

May Allah rehouse her in paradise!

As He made her active and wife,

And awarded her ingeniousness as prize.

Not only Pakistan lost Arfa Karim Randhawa,

But she is mourned for in the heart of Somalia,

All over around the world, here and there.

Her manner outgoing and genial,

Her conduct well-behaved and desirable,

And in thinking, genius and intellectual.

Her smiling attractive and admirable,

Her colour arresting and invariable,

In technology, inventive and reliable.

Her shape slim and beautiful,

Her height medium and wonderful,

Her vision innovative and powerful.

At school, she was so bright and brilliant,

At home, she was acceptable and obedient,

And to her nation, she was lovable and compliant.

To the world, she was creative and significant,

To her peers, she was a role model and a knight,

And to the Muslims, she was productive and important.

Mohamed Abdikaadir Daud (Stanza)

Mohamed Abdikadir (Stanza) who is a Somali Poet and author based in Khartoum where he is pursuing Postgraduate studies in Peace and Development Studies mourns for the sudden death of the award-winning Pakistani genius and the World's Youngest Microsoft Certified Professional, Arfa Karim Randhawa, who passed away on 14th January, 2012.

Soulful Wishes

2012-02-01T17:50:00.001-08:00

I got my eyes closed

My mind holds

Precious invitations from the heart to the soul

Stereo rhymes spoke real of soulful wishes

Blessings from above like nutritions

Meditation a peace of mind

Like you been missing

From the letters that I wrote

And the notes that I typed up on a BB

Upload it straight on FB

It must be the feeling that plays around me, lonely

Lonely to keep a distant of the phoney's

Real with myself, on myself, me & myself

Not three, cuz TV never showed me

How to be free

The media and the news

And me still swinging to my blues on my balcony

If I jump out, then I'm out in the in air

Let me feel how the falcon breathes

And what it sees, scooped in to win

I bet the sniper bleeds

Drops of rain

My heart awaits that day of joy and pain

And that final day when it stops in silence

I'm still flying with birds and I'm not even sharing breadcrumbs

The journey to the grounds of death

But my beds wants to spread out a blanket of resistance

Its missing my presence

A lonely tear of soulful wishes

My soul is full of vivid pictures

See I print it out

No appetite for copycats

Straight dismissing

And I'm fishing stars while a dark kitten whispered

Bitten by that scratchy tone

Now I'm energised

How can I lean on the squeaky house mice

Memorised memories of memoirs

Kept in my pockets

Deep thoughts like rockets

Sought to shed a light in the sky

My friends were a lie

More like a Villain inside

The trust is lost

I'm not a hero

If I must be some one outside the box

Then Robert de nero

Fake as we running for a image

For what is high must once come down to zero

His arms lift up wide in the sky

Look a like he's crucified in Rio de Janeiro

Me I split the eye of the Pharaoh

So far in the Nile I feel like I'm swimming near my own home

Singing like I'm on a bears throne

My words are on top of my head no halo, no one is feeling me

Dark scenery, when I close my eyes

I live in my heartbeat

I rest my soul

We will dream in nights

I got my eyes closed

My mind holds

Precious invitations from the heart to the soul

Stereo rhymes spoke real of soulful wishes

Blessings from above like nutritions

Meditation a peace of mind

Like you been missing

Ahmed D

Leaf Lecture

2012-02-01T17:49:00.002-08:00

from the window i saw them

leaves wearing the yellow dress

burying their smile in the shades

i kept wondering ,

why they left the green

why they didnt resist the fall

the wind convied my words

as it usually does !!

and i get that look from them !

look that washed by years of wisdom

saying :

Oh fool. that is life !!

life with all it's colors and tastes

with every smile there is a tear

with every dawn there is a night

with every death there is a birth

and by contrast the beauty is recognized

our lives are seasons

so be thankful for the good moments

and be patient when it gets tough

so fool it is our time to leave

if you still didn't recognize !!!

Ismail A. Ali

Let Me

2012-02-01T17:49:00.000-08:00

Let me lay you down

and caress your body’s curves

with my hands

like easterly winds in spring do

over Kilimanjaro

Let my lips run their course

on the soft skin of your upper body

kissing all angles

leaving no crevasses or beauty marks neglected

Let me hold you tight

with unconditional care

and our bodies warmth nurturing each others spirit

like a mother holding its first born child

in a land filled with infertility

Let my eyes survey your figure

investigating its perspicuous form

for any distinct features I haven’t already discovered

like a hawk over the African plains searching for prey

Let me rub you with organic oils

sending your heat and cold receptors

wilder than animals in the Amazon

bringing out the shine and rich color of your skin

to represent you as it should

Let my senses feed on your perfection

let them indulge in the essence of satisfaction.

let me be alone in the pleasure of appreciating you as art

let me Love everything there is to love about you

alone and uncontested

Ahmed Knowmadic

Oppressed

2012-02-01T17:48:00.002-08:00

They say I am oppressed

Because of the way I dress

Because my shirts cover my breast and you can’t tell the size of my hips or chest?

See you live in a world where less skin is best, and designer labels means your blessed

But what about everything else, what about the rest, what about your respect

Oppressed from what? My dad, brother, uncle, husband, cousin

You think he is forcing me, but no he doesn’t

And you say you will help me get freedom, but your freedom is my oppression,

I’m sorry for the misconception

But your perception of my reality

Is not really my actuality

Because in my eyes I am FREE

I’m free from the Holloywods and TMZ

So-called Labels of Beauty

For beauty is in the eye of the beholder

And this beholder is no less bolder

Than any women in a low-top shirt, that has every pervert looking up her skirt

So tell me which freedom do you prefer?

Nasra Osman

Heart Ache

2012-02-01T17:48:00.000-08:00

Tonight

I want to feel my heart ache.

To feel it quake

Then break onto itself

And spill its contents

So I can see.

I have lost count

Of the number of sins it conceals

And beats into my blood.

A steady lump

Rising to the back of my throat,

And I am choking on fear.

On the smell of burnt flesh

Against a blazing fire

Whose fuel is

Men and stone.

I am choking on regret

And despair of a heart

that does not feel

until the pain

of melting skin

and scalding water

is all too real.

I am gagging on

Torments that never end

iron chains

and food

melting wombs

from the inside out.

I am choking

On every moment of neglect

And every second glance

That wasn’t mine to have.

I have never felt so far

From the beauty

Of a life

Held firm by Islam.

Tonight

I have felt my heart ache

and quake

Then break onto itself

And I have seen its contents.

Tonight

My heart is full of regret.

And hope.

I am kneeling for forgiveness.

And searching for the sweetness of a faith

That drips from eyes

Wet in awe at the wonders of creation,

And the softness of a heart

That trembles at the

Gentle melodies

In the words of God.

Farah Gabdon

Today I Am A Refuge No More: I Am A Somali

2012-02-01T17:47:00.001-08:00

Today I am a refugee no more; I am a Somali

I am awake my brethren – and I am not alone

The 20 year slumber has come to an end

And the dawn of a new era is just beginning

I feel the spirit within me awaken

I sense the warmth of my blood rushing to my heart

As the dormant power within me unleashes

Today I am a refugee no more

I envision the sight and sounds of Somalia

I hear the beauty in the voices of children reciting the quran

The echoes of laughter in the crowds whisper sweet sonnets in my ear

the hustle and bustle of the suuq

create beautiful melodies

I see the colourful clothes hung on a rope soaking up the sunshine

I see hope, peace and love

Awaken enlightened my brethren

Somalinimo is alive

The rain will quench the thirst of the ground, people and wildlife

Sprouting seedlings will emerge,

the signs of life will return once more

to our home, long forsaken- but nevermore.

Dk Ahmed

Where do we go from here?

2012-02-01T17:46:00.002-08:00

We have been there before, maybe once,

or even twice. You are doing this for your sons,

even though they are nothing more but a dream,

that you seem to chase, I see that gleam

in your eyes, determined to make a difference.

Slowing down the pace at the other side of the fence,

nevertheless - at times I’ve seen in them that agony,

“that shackled hope restricted in me”.

I wish I could show you a better way,

a living, lived for the living each day.

We begin at dawn with, “once upon a time

I used to be, trying to find something to call mine”.

Taking a first step in the right direction,

the second showed your sincere affection.

A prayer in the name of the Great,

pure is the heart pristine from hate.

The only trouble that makes me stutter,

that seems pouring through the gutter;

my neighbourhood neglected her and him,

a life left alone comforted by sin.

We carry on as if we were promised a future,

that we were unable to behold, unable to nurture.

The beautiful soul entrusted to your care -

did you dare to be fair or am I another nightmare,

that you’re unable to count to your own.

I wish the disappointments in my chest had not grown

now that I’m unable to shake off the pain…

another generation left to believe “it was all in vain”.

“Who are you?” identity left them in fear.

Where do we go from here?

We set with the sun to rest,

avoiding the bitter taste… to detest.

Do you remember those days, and your ways,

thinking “why do I even bother”… crossed the boarder,

no relief but a sigh… “why do I even try”.

We reason… for no reason,

sincere is the tear… shed simply you cannot bear.

As long you fear… trust thee, the Almighty is near.

“Who are you?” identity left me in fear.

Where do we go from here?

Pen 'N' Paper

No Rules in Remembering You

2012-02-01T17:46:00.000-08:00

There are no rules to remembering you.

No games to play.

No trick no win or lose.

No prior warning, It's games over my love.

Some days I'm good and other days I'm dying over you.

Patience and prayers what gets me through I feel peace when upon His name I call Tell me did I do you good?

Am I still your cadceed!

I know there is nothing you can do. These eyes will weep and this heart is in pain. Few seconds all it took for present tense to grey into past.

A piece of paper certified you as DOB and DOD!

Don't get me wrong.

His decree I accept and nothing is said unless He is content! But how am I to ever know, if you are proud of me!

Want you to repeat that quiz and I promise not to guess too quick!

Sit me down go over our family tree for one last time!

Trust me when I say, I finally know it by heart!

No abti or adheer can ridicule me!

And my af Somali isn't so bad! Can you tell I speak a word or two?

Smile now laughing cow is overthrown. You always said that will happen oneday, but guess What Tunisia, Yemen and Libya are all revolutionized!

And as I write this Stephen Lawrence’s murderers are sentenced at last!! But I learned today "Justice delayed is Justice denied". Father, there are no rules to remembering you May mercy of Him shower upon you

Sam Said

Poem by Haboon

2012-02-01T17:45:00.002-08:00

Anigoon gu weynayn waxa aan ka goohaa

ka gubtaa had iyo jeer gacal iyo xigaaloow

dhibaatada gumaystuhu geyigeena badayoo

qoloba gaar ka dhigayoo kala gooyay ehelkii.

ma gartaan dadkayguna in lakala godoon shoo

gaaladu dadaashoo talo ay gudoonsheen

gebo gebo ku gaadheen gurigeenu nabad noqon.

maxaa kula gudboon adi

maxaad gaar u odhanlayd

maxaad caawa goyn layd

garta yaad hor dhigi layd

yaad garab ka sugi layd

duqaydii maxaa guray

aaway eey wax garadkii

culimadii maxaa galay

dadkii geedka tegi jirey

garta hoos u deyi jirey

guurtidii maxaa helay

aaway eey wax garadkii

inata aan is goynoo

gaas iyo kabriid ba,an

gudeheena keenoo

gamta laysu joogsado

ayaad gacal u moodnaa

kuwii galab carawgiyo

lama galada kuu diray

in aan garano weeyaan

dadka xumaha geestiyo

cadawgeena gaarka ah

Haboon

Warning

2012-02-01T17:45:00.000-08:00

Warning

He covers his mouth to stop from yelling and screaming

He turns his head left, and their lies his father, mother and baby sister’s bodies bleeding

Slaughtered in their beds, like cattle sleeping.

He must stay silent, and for a moment forget his grieving

For father would not be proud if he acted as a weakling

Finally their gone, he realizes they are leaving

So he goes to the window, quietly peeking

He sees them back in their trucks, and listens to their tires screeching

Smoking guns in their arms, as they laugh while fleeting

He lashes out, angered, pleading and weeping

“Why, Oh Why Allah, please tell me the meaning

Why these enemies have taken my family this evening”

He wiped of his tears, and shook off his fears

And vowed, “I will avenge my family, even if it take 100 years”

Warning

They called it a breach of trust with fraudulent intent

“I knew he was strange, when I heard his accent”

But they never cared, they ignored his internal torment

They never gave him advice or cared for his discontent

But now they regret, as they stand there and lament

How this orphaned man, went to such great extent

To inflict disaster on everything they represent

Survival rate is low, they say around 5 percent

Now they will feel the grief, he had underwent

The loved ones they killed and what they meant

The corpses are now all under one giant tent

All being identified by families, of his enemies’ descent

His bodies pulled out, disfigured and bent

Finally, to them now it all makes sense

If only they would of observed all his signs and his warning

Maybe 200 Israelis would still be alive this morning.

Warning

Nasra Osman

Unrequited Love

2012-02-01T17:44:00.002-08:00

A proposition was made to me to change my journey

A competition between my mind and heart, like a tourney

It was time to find her somewhere down my dark road

I had strength, for all I needed was a map to decode

I prayed to the most high, for this path was dark and cold

At the end of path was the light and soon the scold

As I took my first step in to the light of love with hesitation

She stood there and in her eyes I could see the frustration

Still her beauty could not be described by words

I was even deaf to the beautiful sounds of the birds

For my love for her was for all eternity

Love, all I wanted was her company

I swear the light of love struck me like a lightening

I lay there with no hopes of her in sight of me

Why me? Why me? As I crawl to beg for her forgiveness

But Allah is the most forgiving for that I was a witness

But why she denied my love was my question

Because I felt weak and hopeless near depression

An unloved man is in one whose eyes you can see the desperation

The feeling that maybe I was condemned to eternal isolation

They say the bad end with the bad would this be my reality?

To be ignorant is to be a fool it had to be my hypocrisy

Was I supposed to give up on my one and only love?

The choice was not mine, it was made from above

I knew the hate in my heart, the darkness in my soul, was the reason for her unrequited love.

May Allah shine light on the ones with darkness in their souls.

(Amin Ya Rabi)

Abas Abraham

--Dreams are illegal in Dadaab

2012-02-01T17:44:00.000-08:00

She lives where the died are envied

Two doors below hell,

where smell of gun powder and feces greets

you, acacia and brittle thorn trees

Stand guard

Emaciated figures,

once proud farmers

–slump by the road trying to sell

charcoal to passers by

…that never come.

Asho does not know politics,

Or policies,

Or pirates.

She does know numbers

400,000 too many,

12 months, no rain,

6, that was family.

but the most difficult task,

Is rocking herself to sleep,

No longer even able to weep

She sings,

Century old nursery rhymes,

Huwaaya Huwaa

Hooyadaa ma joogtoo

She dreams that she could

Make love with

the scent of freshly baked bread in Mogdishu.

Brave through the mountains of Bossaso.

Drink tea with the sweet darood people.

Kiss a mango softly in Kismayo.

Bled love, passion, and euphoria on an empty sheet of paper.

Write a poem in the sand of Makhir beach,

Make a hammock out of hoyos garbsar

And, dance in the rain to synchronized melody

of a lovers heart beat,

See a child smiling, laughing, living,

perfect and harmonious like soft strokes of piano keys

Then scavenger hunt possibilities with a Rahaweeyn

Echo the silent murmur of the night breeze in Ogadeen

Whisper secrets to a shell on the shores of Banadiir

Aimlessly roamed the streets of Xamaair

Then,

sway like a fall branch to an Isaaqs sweet sung melody,

Embrace morning with Grandmas sweeties and blessings,

and when spring came,

she could spring until she feels a breeze,

discover a grassy hill lit by fireflies near the trees

But her beautiful dream is interrupted by the brutal reality:

Dreams are illegal in Dadaab

….her name is Asho

She lives two doors below hell,

where smell of gun powder and feces greets you,

acacia and brittle thorn trees

Stand guard

Emaciated figures,

once proud farmers

–slump by the road trying to sell

charcoal to passers by that

never come.

….she lives where the died are envied

Naima Mohamed

Why It Will Never Last...

2012-02-01T17:43:00.001-08:00

Because he will say

That you are beautiful.

And you will believe him

And your heart will pump

That little faster

And your face will flush

Because you have never been told that before.

Because he knows

How much you need to hear it

And maybe-

In that moment he means it.

But tomorrow

You will argue

And he will say awful things

And your heart will pump that little faster

And your face will flush

Because you have never been spoken to like that before.

Because he doesn’t know

How to love you

And you do not know

What you are worth

And you both think

You can carry on like this

forever.

Farah Gabdon

Poem ONE of 30-day poetry challenge (Why I Write)

2012-02-01T17:42:00.001-08:00

You see it would be the first time, that I would be sharing my work

I let them into my mind, what will they think of my worth.. gives you a key to my turf,

the shit I bury inside, my word revealing the dirt.

but I gotta let these people know my lips they speak with a curse,

and I gotta let this spoken poem make people feel it in words,

want him to hear it and smirk, need her to hear it and hurt,

and I want the room to then applaud because they feel it in words

see I understand baby, it's ok... things lookin rough, had a LONG day,

and he who shares the pain aint there, he caused the pain then went away.

some problems big many so small, we start to think, things start to fall

and human nature turns small big so now we think we gottem all.

but i understand baby, its ok... things lookin rough, had a LONG day.

mind says to free it with words so we can feel it in words.

for those who get me, worries hefty, thoughts are messy, let it go

some know the power of the word and if you feel it let it flow

write it in ink, read it in type, don`t matter how you let it show

there`s something healthy when i write, see cuz my words can set the tone

if i got words i'm not alone, and if my poems could speak to those who are, my word you'd feel at home

dry cry...

promise the first time i heard the those lyrics i said, now Sizzla that's how i cry

and if in two words he brought meanin to it then what im feelins old news

there's others out here that hurt too, and if the magic in two words can tell it, Sizzla the power rest in you

express opinions state ur views, they add a beat call it a tune

could be a story or a song, the spoken word, or a haiku

I swear I'll listen,

don't hold it in, your eyes they glisten

and I understand baby it's ok, things lookin rough had a long day

but everybody needs to be heard

The lord he blessed us with a gift , language he taught us how to learn

now words i yearn

free it and let the pages burn, spit it and make their stomachs turn

i get you better when you write

send me a text about our fight and i'll apologise tomorrow

i didn't know you felt that way

when we were yellin at eachother sweety thats all you had to say

but when u write it play by play...i get to creep inside your mind and read your insight for the day

you enlighten me

and i see the beauty in these word, swear your intelligence it frightens me

now watch the fire it ignites in me

to share these words it took some might in me..

this year i'm tryna find the light in me

mind says to free with words, so you can feel me in words.

Ismahan Ahmed

Poem ONE of 30-day poetry challenge (Why I Write)

2012-02-01T17:41:00.001-08:00

write for me

Not to please an audience

or for the applause or snaps

I write to make sense of things

and put myself at ease

I write for those women

who carry the world's burden

on their shoulders

Who's backs solid enough

to hold all of my worries

I write for those beaten

black and blue, who

with every wound

tell an untold story of

Success

Not abuse

If victory isn't getting back up

after being pushed down

i don't know what is

I confess in ink

what my vocal cords couldn't

I glue together with thin strings of prose

In hopes of echoing the cries

of a hungry child

or to reach deep down in the dark dungeon

of my conscious

If Freud was right in saying,

that we never forget anything,

only repress it

Then,

I write to forget

Because it 's the only thing I've been left with

Other than pieces of a broken heart

and empty tissue boxes

I don't write to please

But to make sense of things

To tell this narrative of a girl,

once lost and broken,

Wore her heart on her sleeve,

always afraid to breath too loud.

Only interrupted to agree,

Made sure to never bump into you,

Didn't want to be perfect just beautiful,

Not to find a pocketful of sunshine,

But I heart full of happiness, and pride

I write for that women i met in japan.

Who even with hands fresh

from sprinkling the ashes of her died daughter

Smiled and said:

"I am grateful"

I never understood how that was possible

What is the line between strength and insanity?

to me that was insanely strong

I don't write about first world problems!

I am sorry that Jimmy broke up with you,

And that Stacy stole your food

But there is more to life

than a shattered ego or a frozen pizza

I write for my mother.

And all the Somali mothers

Who stood hours and hours in immigration lines

so we wouldn't have to

I write for those who are grateful.

Not the ones that sag their pants

And turn their hats

yelling:

"Hey shawtie you workn with some ass"

But the Abdis and Ahmeds who remember

that heaven is under their moms feet"

Who know that their ancestors weren't

in shackles and chains

And have no business saying words like ne--

Grow up and be men

make us have faith in our country.

I don't write

for those Guled's and Sharmarkes

who build ramparts in every girl’s heart

who play with the devil and expect to win

Get too high for their own good and

Stood too close to danger,

becoming immune to it

i don't write for the “Us” and “Them”

I write for “We”!

The Aminos and Fadumos touting a degree

The beautiful women

who give great hugs and advice

I don't write for

Laylas and Halimos who stopped

being themselves for others

But the ones who do as they please

I write for the guy

I have a kindergarten crush on

who sits next to me

who's breath smells like hard work and coffee

His chocolate skin makes a early

Morning run to the library worth it

His name is ___________

I am pretty sure he has a girlfriend

I write for me

Not to please an audience

or for the applause or snaps

I write to make sense of things

Or to put myself at ease

I write this for me...

Naima Mohamed

Mother's Lap

2011-12-14T10:20:00.002-08:00

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

HUMAN

2011-12-14T10:20:00.000-08:00

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

A Sign from God

2011-12-14T10:19:00.002-08:00

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

Have I Ever

2011-12-14T10:19:00.000-08:00

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.

Erosion.

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

Man's godly perception

2011-12-14T10:18:00.003-08:00

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

...so 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

You

2011-12-14T10:18:00.001-08:00

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

Problems

2011-12-14T10:17:00.001-08:00

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

Preach Sister Preach...

2011-11-27T20:06:00.001-08:00

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

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

Women

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

Child Soldier

2011-11-27T20:05:00.000-08:00

Ahmed Knowmadic @ I'm Just Sayin'

2011-11-27T19:43:00.000-08:00

Drain

2011-11-27T19:39:00.003-08:00

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

Memories of War

2011-11-27T19:39:00.001-08:00

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

Were the winds blow

2011-11-27T19:38:00.002-08:00

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

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

2011-11-27T19:38:00.000-08:00

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

Flying Without Wings

2011-11-27T19:36:00.003-08:00

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

The Privileged

2011-11-27T19:36:00.001-08:00

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

................now 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

Mamma Africa

2011-11-27T19:35:00.002-08:00

Mamma Africa each time the sun hits on my toes, that is when my spirit swings around the scent of your sweet mangoes

Mamma Africa when my forage turned gray headed and tribes pledged to behead, the articulation of my feelings felt like a tambourine shake in underground ears

Every part of me felt undressed as my heritage became a monumental piece ones guarded

Mamma Africa I remember how the wind swayed with my hair revealing my bead bones underneath

I envisioned today the turquoise stones layered beside the sea and far beyond

I saw the paintings of the tropical rain forest draining down in to the dust and then into the river

I visualized the tears of the young ones were raindrops that felt upon them and would soon be dreaded

Where is the time when we stood up and proudly presented the line of our descent

Why do we find ourselves in a crumbling oasis and our voice undetected

Mamma Africa where are the lions that roared though our ears and drew the line of our pride territory

Where are the pantheras,the survivors of our kingdom?

Ohh Africa where we the ones that evolved the world?

Was it not our senses that formed waves?

Our thoughts that captured the future

Mamma Africa you have been thrown

Your territory missgrown

Mamma Africa there you stand

Penned down in bottomland

Mamma Africa the Nile river still upholds it strength

The thirsty lips of the Sahara Dessert still upholds it prisoners

Mamma Africa Mount Kilimanjaro stands proudly on it highest peak and declares our diversity

The Pharaohs still uphold it title, the historians of our nations

Mamma Africa, the horn of Africa stands proudly on its heels and will someday stand on the frontline for the world to see us shine

Sareda Hussein

The Wrong Tribe

2011-11-27T19:35:00.000-08:00

My mother only nursed me twice

and after that, it was a goodbye

on her way to muqdisho shop

few men with weapons asked her to stop

they wanted to know which tribe she was from

when she told them, they said you can go now

the men looked at each other with an evil smile

and my poor mom, felt helpless and cried

she said dont kill me, I got a new born child.

but they said, sorry but your tribe must die

they killed her by shotting her on the chest 3times

I lost my mother, because she was from the "wrong" tribe.

Najax Cabdulahi Sarsarey

Dear father

2011-11-27T19:34:00.001-08:00

I don’t know how to seek you out from inside me

the child that I am lost you

to foreign blood

where pulsating veins

and assembled parts

ignite beneath nomadic skin

genetics is where we really bonded

I never felt you close enough to touch

or embraced your scent for memories

of innocence you once neglected

I never once could salvage your existence

From deep-rooted scars

Filled with the absence of you

Or call you forth

With my incessant invocations

that often left me broken

and vacant

In all the years I have known life

I never really knew who I am

Or who you are

And still I search

through the aching love

of men who come from no fathers

Suad Halane

My Orphans

2011-11-27T19:33:00.001-08:00

I want to hold them

Console them

Protect them

Free them

But who's them?

Them represents the orphans of the world

The forgotten innocent souls

The collateral damage to each war

The invisible human beings

The lost youth

The supposed leaders and innovators of tomorrow

But I only hope they make it to sunset

I want to hold them

Cherish them

Revive them

These are victims of the harsh weather and engulfing waters

Diseases and selfish leaders

Arrogance of every organisation and corruptions

But all I want to do is

Hold them

Hold every dying orphan

Boy or Girl

From Bosnia to Somalia

In my bended scarred arms

I want to wrap them

In the warmth of my treacherous arms

And make the sun jealous

I want to hold them tight

So I can drown them in my tears

And smother them with my love

To a sweet, painless death

I want my ignorant bloody lips to kiss their shallow cheeks

Something like a dark tunnel

Marked by streaks of salty residue

To make my pressure rise

And wake my sleeping heart

I want to give away every drop of blood from my free body

To save a hopeless life

To make a baby's heart pump and hear its holy cry

I would give away my big brown eyes

To an elderly blind man

So he can see

The corruption and deadly casualties

But I only pray

For them, the orphans of the world

To live another day.

Mabsud A