Glancing Back

I glance back, to glance at
My past, and victorious combats,
But some wouldn’t believe,
What I have achieved, through grieve,
So please, ask me not about me,
But who I learned to become,
And I’ll try to sum,
Between the violin and drums,
conveying my sadness,
You can hear my voice trembling, while I confess
in tears and words, I combine,
Hand in hand, they define and
draw the lines, of me and they
Only to find, that ‘they’
Are left ___ behind.

I blindly, glance back,
to glance at
My past, and
victorious combats.
(humming)

In Silence, I Spoke

Today, I spoke in silence,
Uttered my pain, and spat my past
Only to be heard by my enemy
Who stood and gazed,
Wrapped his thoughts around me,
And made love to my vision,
Trying to figure out my weakness,
Surrendered hopelessly, but I beg not.
Silence is golden, but I’m poor
Deprived from my rich elements,
Robbed from me,
Is my valuable self,
That only I dreamt about, often
He touches my soul, whispers in my ears
I, quiver,
He, continues,
“tell me more, my future”
I nod no, but do otherwise,
Unable, to help myself from speaking,
Speaking, in silence.

The Rhythm Of Rhyme

One two,
One two, mic check,
(coughs)
I introduce the beat to my ears, swear it sounds so sweet,
I check my microphone, while I tap my feet to the beat,
I then greet, those who understand the lyrics of the street,
"Salaam World, please go ahead and take a seat,"
I put my head down, and I get ready to be discreet,
I beg you with my eyes, to open your earlobe, and listen
Cause my words are borrowed from those who don't glisten,
...the poor and the unfortunate, and I swear I feel sickened,
So I rhyme from the heart, to make you feel what I'm spitting,
and my spit is heavy, it might feel like the rainy season,
I'm tired of asking for a reason, so I bare their treasons,
I don't bother speaking --I carry signs of words with me,
I figured they read more then they listen to my apathy,
I swear I sense the agony, those held in political detainee,
I replay the verses of Bob Marley in my head, and I feel it innerly,
I want to fight for the their rights, but I'm too angry,
and mom said, coldest fight is being friendly to your enemy,
So I share a laughter or two, while I deceit them happily,
Pregnant with worries of my countrymen, feeling so heavily,
Unconsciously, I persistently write songs about my country,
So please excuse me, if you can't relate to me ...
To be continued ...

I Ran, Away I Ran

I conceal my true feelings
denying the existence of love, by
burying the sun beneath the clouds,
And the moon from lighting my soul,
I run
Run
Away, I run
To a place I can heal,
Patch up the wound, caused by your smile,
Cure my heart, from the words not spoken,
Your face, converted into a day dream,
Only dreamt at night. Sleepless I am,
I bang my head on the wall, aching to escape,
Escape from the echoes of your "Hi's" and "Goodbyes"
And the words that haven't been formed yet,
Seventy-two hours, and twenty four minutes ago,
Alone we sat. Stood. Stared, in Silence,
While we hummed melodies made from amity,
Trying to ferret out of this taciturnity,
As your eyes gleamed,
My lips suffocate the words,
Speechless, yet full of lyrics to sing,
*Whistles of an unknown tune*
I ran
Ran,
Away I ran,
To a place of remorse,
Where the roads never end,
And love is far behind,
I ran with embryonic thoughts,
Fragments of your reflection,
On the day of our greeting,
Your beauty, your being
Bouncing in my brain,
I have believed once, that I can deny
To rebuff feelings that is far in distance,
But truth has arrived, alone,
Sitting still, sadly on a Sunday noon,
I sat, an spat my plea,
With my eyes closed,
I ran, away I ran. Free

I’d breathe less,
Sleep in conscious,
Form thoughts
of my new address,
I’d walk alone, in darkness,
Speak to God, and express,
Confess, hoping He’d hear me
and sense my word stress,
I’d embrace my mother,
Kiss my sister,
Hug my brother,
And eagerly await for my father,
Only wishing to meet him after,
And then my Love,
I only dwell in the conscience
Of regretting not to love him, sooner,
So I’d write him a goodbye letter,
No, better, yet
See you later.

Jealousy Got The Best Of Me ...

A year later you`ve received a call,
From an ex girl-friend, whom now you call a pall
You tell me the story in excitement and I listen uncomplaining,
But feeling uncomfortable with the situation and what you`re saying,
Thinking of the impossible and having this fear,
You ask me babes are you there?
Oxygen fades away and I`m breathless,
Don`t know what to say, and I`m speechless,
Imagination lopes wild like a little child,
She used to cross miles to make you smile,
I say Yes honey I`m still present.
So you continue the tell me the story,
--bout you and her having history, but it really concerns me,
Cause I really don`t believe in having an Ex as a Homie,
I recall the session of us trying to solve the situation,
And having one on one conversation,
If I`m okay with you and your ex having an amity?
You see

Okay I`ll say, but not if she is calling you everyday,
I can`t grasp having nightmares of her taking you away,
Call me psychosomatic for feeling so static,
But it`s chaotic how I predict like a psychic,

Maybe I whisper, if she remains like a sister,
And there is no cross-over and you can`t call her,
And she is not permitted to cross the border and that is an order!

No I mumble, while with the thought I struggle,
Why do you have to bundle if she`s already a couple?
Okay, hmmm give me a minute or two,
What if she is still in love with you?
What am I supposed to do?

Questions got the best of me,
I`ve never felt this jealousy,
But this is a challenge to be against my own sanity!
(So Qalbi bare with me)

El, Ow .v.

El,
Ow
.v.

Like the bay tree,
Lying with passion
Hearing the waves passing
Shifting from side to side
Sifting from wrong to right
Unlike, the liquid of rain and rivers
Bored with tasteless drifters.
Watching the sun, set
Observing the secret,
On how the stars imitate the tales of
El,
Ow
.v.
Like the Messengers of God,
Loving the uneven --and odd,
See love, had
Depicted pigments to show hurt
Love had unspoken words
An action showed, by the widow birds
Whistling songs of pain
Soaked with tears of bitter rain,
Blues
Tunes, of their blood fuse,
Everlasting bruise, like
The engraved tat’toos,
El
Ow
.v.
We undervalue
by I, and you
Ending with I, and who?
Lies is confound with the truth,
And now the truth, can be lies too,
See, love was good,
Before it was Ms. Under. stood,
Before she satisfied, your manhood,
And before he, could but
El
Ow
.v.
See, it was those days,
Before the deceptive phase,
Where dreams would chase,
And dreams would embrace,
The modest and grace,
Love knew its partner,
And it would hunt her,
And the clouds would cover
Like the womb of a mother,
While she hover

El
Ow
.v.
Knows me
And I know him,
Cause I was his victim
When my life was dim,
I was captured by sin,
Tortured to sin, and sin
Was his only way to grin,
But I persisted to grim,
Insisted to be virgin,
For Heaven spoke to me
And I was supposed to be,
Supposedly, with
Mary,
Facing Mecca,
Conversing,
Observing, the sinful,
An act of evil,
Because
El
Ow
.v.
Is a counterfeit of
L.o.v.e.

There Will Be a Day

There will be a day,
where I
Will only hear the fading
of my existence,
A day where my being
Will linger through
my poetry,
Where recognition
Is the ignition of my past,
And the past will be
The lone thing that will last,
My name will only
Be declared by
The pen
I used to embrace,
The paper
I used to stroke,
Love will forget me,
And those before
Who spoke in vain
Will now speak in
Pain
My goods
Will be buried
Beneath the soil,
Where I will meet
The unknown,
And the unknown
Will greet
And welcome me to a home
Assembled by the
Contingent of my moral,
There will be a day,
Sure will be the day
Where my existence will fade
But my words will endure
You will hear my name,
In the intone of scripts
Written by age,
The meaning is less
In my time of being,
But it shall increase
After my passing.
My end,
Shall be your
New beginning,
And that day,
You will remember
Me.
That day,
Will be the day
I am history!
You’ll flip through the text books,
Pages 1 2 and 3
And I will be in between
Black
Woman,
And Islamic Mystery
You will find my face
Grinning on those chapters,
And you will study my misery
My struggle, and pain
The blood I rained,
The life I have gained
You will learn that
my life was in fact
Always intact
With my roots,
And that my people,
Where the people,
That chanted, and hummed
In the land of poetry
Far in the East of
Africa,
Where my mother gave
Birth to a daughter
And named her,
Me.
There will be a day
You will read
Her story,
Your
history!

My Precious Portrait

I cried for confinement
In my mothers' womb,
To be unseen
And untouched
By the enemy of God,
I lingered to shut my eyelids,
Until
I heard the humming of my mother,
She embraced me with a pleasant scent
That can only be created
By love,
And care.
She held onto me, every night with affection
As I cried
Craving for her attention,
Yearning for her touch,
And longing to be nourished.
We cherished one and another
Through cries
And sleepless hours of darkness.
I'd smile
With gleaming eyes
As I hear
Her footsteps
Coming to safe me
From unfamiliar world.
She was my teacher,
And coach
In life,
She gave me strength
When I was weak
To live endlessly
In a finite world,
She'd wiped my tears,
And gave me confidence.
She made me,
Strong and brave,
Through her story,
Struggle for survival,
Only to survive
For me,
She dodged death,
And escaped
Mysterious enemies,
Forever indebted,
After God it is she I live to serve.

Ghastly Streets of Mogadishu

I overheard a sad song, sang in my mother’s tongue,

Theatre of war, in the streets of loneliness! She said
Where death is the only comrade for the sad,
Where smiles are the shadows and frowns lead,
Where knowledge is grasped through hate, and greed

In these streets, devotion is far ahead,
We tried to pull along side, but failed! She said
And now, we whistle our anthem
As the words are forgotten,

In these dusky streets,
Spirits are abducted, by the devil,
Captured and tortured until they spill,
Now enraged and ill
With animosity, that can only kill,

In these painful streets,
Bits of rocks are stained with blood,
Happy dreams are left to rot,
Bullets are praised, instead of God,
New born, were born for hopes and future
But in these streets, they’re forgot,

See these streets, have death as their mark,
Nothing like Hollywood blvd, where they spark,
Pavements are painted with sad veneer,
Blood as their only ink, brushing the frontier,

In these cruel streets,
Neighbors walk with frowns
As they hold their head down,
While they hear the “Bang Bang” sound,
The only tune, played by this town,”

In these streets,
Mothers are left alone
Children wondering on their own,
While fathers decay in the combat zone,
Out here, cause of death is mostly unknown,
But death is our only homegrown.

*To Be Continued*

Hi Hater

Why persist to hate, I wonder,
Cause everywhere I go, I see a hater,
Flashing his words, like it matters,
Opening her mouth, and splatters –negativity,
As if hating is a social activity, for those that lack creativity,
We ought to face the reality,
And delete “haters” from the human society,
Murder every hater you see,
Don’t matter what age they’d be,
Cause lately,
*Mumbles* Even old people, be hating on me,
I swear, it’s too much energy,
To be hating on a certain degree,
But truly, I hate haters that hate,
How will you see the heaven’s gate?
When all you do is hate?
You need to migrate,
And come to the loving state,
A place where all you do is appreciate,
It’s never too late,
So come and cross the road,
Smile, as you cross, and change the mode,
In the “Loving State” you have to consign an oath,
Cause we have “never hating” policy code,
We sing Kumbaya and hold hands,
Something you never did in the Hater lands,
So ladies and gents lets come together,
And let us avoid being a hater.

Mother Africa

Dearest mother,
It has always been hard for me to write you a poem,
I’d burst into tears, due to my absence of home,
I wrote you millions of letters, conveying my heart,
Letters couldn’t express my feelings, it couldn’t impart,
I’m shaking as I’m writing this, wish you were here,
I can smell your presents, and the thought is sincere,
I ponder about our alone times, and embrace the notion,
Never saw you after the catastrophe, after the commotion,
Never understood the reason, but the memory couldn’t inter --

Oh mother,
I can only wonder
And imagine you, closer,
I thought I’d come back for you, when the hate was over,
But it only got worse, to an extend your children dispersed,
And I know you’re disturbed to see your children diverse
Into the white-mans land,
A land, you and I, can never understand,

Oh mother,
I love you, like my mother,
But you left me as an orphan, with fading ink,
Reeling to find you, but I only sink,
I hoped and wished for a new life, but couldn’t stop the blink,
Now I sleep with open eyes, because I can’t stop to think
If you’re still alive, or if death has come to arrive,
If so, will you return back for those that survived,
I know our faith has been torn,
As if we were cursed, before we were born,
But I shall no more mourn, and grieve in tears,
For I have sunk in pain, in the past years,
I’ve been in the nadir of despair,
I embraced a gloomy air, in hope to see you here,
But I only see orphans, just like myself,
Speaking in the language of hate, in need for help,
But I continue to
blindly steer this journey of mine,
In hope to --find you in time,
But linger to be a victim of a hopeless crime,

Mother,
Will I ever
See you, ever,
Or will I never
See you smiling broadly,
Laugh loudly,
Make you proud --of me,
Or will I remain an orphan
With no land,
Will I tell the tales on how my life began
With no happy end?

...a sister who is not proud

Have you looked in my eyes, recently?
Without your thought, mulling over your sexuality,
Fearing, your temptations will erupt in front of me,
Have you glanced at my history?
By looking at my curvy hips, and glossy lips?
Reversed your glancing trip, so your mind gets to grips?
Have you taken semi-concealed look?
Before the pages close, in your manly book,
Have you stolen words, from a cheap crook?
Scripted with “I, (maybe, never), will, marry you”
Have I satisfied you, with no giving clues?
Can you predict my past, by looking at my eyes?
Truly, tell me, can you tell me, without lies?
All the suffering I have been through and the cries?
All the love I’ve given and the passion in your lives?
All the questions asked, and the provided whys?
Have I not given birth, to a warrior, and you?
…Have you sung the blues, without sad tunes?
Have you run tracks, in the divided dunes?
Lost and hopeless, in the month of June,
Is the breath I breathe, the heat your mind consumes?
Are you attuned to my figure, and the steady picture?
Is your mind intoxicated with the simulated liquor?
Have you followed a path, with unwritten direction?
Have you bared lust, in a scripted affection?
Have you jumped on a wagon, with body full of rejections?
Have you build ambitions, without a chosen perfection?
Truly, tell me, can you tell me, without lies?
Without the need to improvise in your old guise,
Would you have looked at me, if my body was disguised?
Would you have devised your words into diluted lies?
What is it that my body has informed your mind?
That left you undefined and blind, combined,
That made you walk undermined and immodest, entwined,
I stand firm, in the past of my fathers,
…Those men that stood still against time,
Fought with pen, and strengthened rhyme,
…Those that rose up only to climb higher,
Full of ambitions and fulfilling desire,
I question your thoughts, for I have doubts,
Before you gazed, and stood as a frisky scout,
Have you not thought speaking of a unique route?
For I am familiar in this road of deformed crowd,
I have past the devil, for I gave him a clout,
I reached this stance, because I am devout
You are a man, whose pity must come out,
And I am a woman, a mother, and sister who is not proud.

Death

I met him,
Through my despair,
Of my unwilling conscious,
We had a dynamic dialogue,
In the darkness of night,
He rapt me in his arms
Embracing my life, firmly,
We were both in a mission,
To be completed in time,
He was urgent, and I was naïve,
Not grasping the end of mine,
I linger in a life, designed for evil,
Oh, how I am out of reach for my soul,
I cried in my formation, questioning why!
Now, reckoning with the answer granted,
I didn’t have time to think of you, Oh death,
But now that I met you, I wish I had,
It’s not your look that I fear, but the thought
The thought of you and I –being in a room,
In a night that is impotent to resume,
I grin with fear –accepting the notion,
I know you’re in a hurry,
But can we chat before I leave,
I have questions to ask, and perhaps
Help me gain knowledge,
Of why I exist,
Why I persist to breathe,
Explain the yearning of my life,
The sweet tasting life,
Oh life,
Must I leave you, now?
Torn asunder, body into soil,
Assigned to fit collectively,
Perfection, made by God,
Plan to destroy, by death,
I can smell your haste,
The restless of your stick,
Imperatively in need,
To end of my life –
Oh God, let this be,
My last tears,
Let me wake up, in bliss
In the garden of heaven,
Sitting with my past,
Embracing my future,
In this, infinite life!
Revulsion of self,
Depicted by moral,
Shadow reality,
Imprisoned in a womb,
Then I am freed, but still
Shackled in a dream,
Running loose, like bats,
I am blind, not deaf
I can hear the calling,
Craving for lies,
Until this moment,
I can see, clearly
But unable to hear,
I can finally

see death,
And death,
Can at last

hear

me

Oh, How I Wish To Be Her

She was young and beautiful,
The type to embrace the innocent,
Blue eyes, blond hair,
Steady like a model figure,
A coke bottle picture,
The sort you’d capture
somewhere up on the freeway,
The brand that would twist your neck
craving like an addict,
Wishing it was you, in that mini skirt
Envy, and she easily stimulates your senses,
A look of her, makes you imagine
and dream about the impossible,
She’d give you hope, and reasons to cope
with life and its fucked up obstacles,
The way she walks and talks, like a rock star,
She seems to understand your mind
when everyone gave up on you,
She makes you see the light
In a room, full of gloom and absence,
Oh, how I wish to be her,
Sinful but yet an angel in presence of me,
Criminal but yet innocently proven guilty,
Deceitful but yet exquisitely a true liar,
Beautiful, but yet repulsive in fire,
Oh, how she resembles the devil,
Oh, how I wish to be her.

[I want the readers to be aware of the precise stance of this poem. Some poems are abstract or nonfigurative; in this circumstance I’m wishing to be the devil, but there is a major message behind this specific concept. At times, you’re drawn to become something that your conscious is far from wanting to be; I’m not saying that you wish to be the devil, but at times you surely wish to be what he appears to be, and he misleads the innocent into becoming EVIL, by displaying EVIL to be cool and accepted.]

To sustain your own quality, you’d have to endure and tolerate your own value, and believes. Don’t let that be misled.

Wanting To Meet Love

Love;
Yeah, I wonder what joy it brings,
Or how it clings to pain and things,
How it swings in between –the life ring,
Is it safe –shall I be brave and go in blind,
Or stay behind, from the rest of mankind,
Can love make up one’s mind, and assign a new life?
Can it build a house and give comfort to a new wife?
Can it safe a relationship, without the need to strive?
I wonder, if love is magic,
If it brings joy and entertainment, as well as tragic,
Provide angels wings, and befall the devils’ walking stick,
I wonder, if love is bitter,
The charm of glitter, raining in a hot weather,
Or the flame of fire, embracing the snowy winter,
I still wonder, if love is bending
Like a sad movie, with happy ending,
Or crying with tears, with joy mending
I appeal to feel this surreal dream,
I want to reveal what I persist to deem,
Love I hear, like a surround sound,
Love I feel, like an earthquake underground,
It keeps me wondering under suspense,
I want to meet love, and have lovely experience.

Dreams of Me

She was lost in the path of darkness,
Looking for me,
She embraced evil in her chest,
Hoping to feel me,
She cried, tears of pain and agony,
Only to see me,
She spoke with fear,
Wanting to kiss me,
She carried herself with lack of respect,
To draw attention to me,
She felt hopeless --not knowing what hope is,
Yearning for me,
She tore her heart apart and bled,
To be numb from me,
She wanted to be back home,
Alone with me,
She was anxious to be alone,
Incomplete without me,
Dreams of me,
Kept her awake constantly,
She wanted to be free,
But I wouldn’t let her be,
Who am I, and who is she?
I am her, and she is me.

Dear God

Dear Allah, I sit here trembling with fear,
Knowing that the End of Days is drawing to us near,
All the scripted signs continue to appear each year,
With ignorance we ignore, while it seems so clear,
Forgive me Allah, for you have been sincere,
Gave me all that I needed, gave me the right gear,
Warned me with signs, and the words of the Holy book,
Gave me happiness, and showed me death but I still overlook,
Forgive my stupidity, for ignorance is never accepted,
Tactlessly I fell in a trap --I shouldn’t have adapted,
…the westerns’ boldness,
It’s a progress that needs your bless, so I can clean this mess,
Please Allah, accept my request-- for I am a slave put into test,
Let me win this battle, let me digress away with success,
Put me into heavenly rest until the day You assess,
…the day You behest, the day all the living confess,
…the day the Angels attest, the day we ask for another chance,
…but chance was giving to us in advance, in our careless stance,
The devil put us in trance --hypnotized us to glance so we trans
…from the truth, to lies and shake hands to become good friends,
But let this be a day, where Satan and I become enemies,
…become rivalry in this life of me, to discover his hidden keys,
To unlock the hidden disease, and release the pain along with the rest of the abductees,
Let me please, become a true Muslim while living in ease --see
I want to feel the breeze, I want to feel the peace
…while I increase praising
Al^Azeez, The Defeater --who can never be defeated,
Al^Jabaar, The Compeller --who His compels is completed,
Al^Khaaliq, the Creator -- who made us from clay and perfected
…perfected my appearance, and gave me self-esteem,
…I thank You -- Al’Raheem

Suicide Letter

Please don’t cry –as I explain the reasons why,
It was life I couldn’t led and live –
It was time for me to get out and give,
I know mother, you will get mad for what I’ve done,
But hopefully this letter will explain why I had to run,
Please mother understand –this life I couldn’t stand,
The angel of death had me taken my life with my own hand,
It wasn’t painful I have to say –
Prayed Maqrib before I took my life away,
But I’ll admit –it was murder crime I committed,
And I know these sort of things aren’t permitted,
But I’m tired of running circles in the same track
So please God forgive me –as I give my life back,
I know I might face nothing like grace,
Questions in my grave awaits as my body is put in place,
I will hear the woe, so mother don’t you cry,
And if they ask “why I committed suicide?” this is why!

Poetry Addict

I need pen to write my inner thoughts
Articulate the struggle my people fought,
The motive that brought my distraught,
I persist to be overwrought,
I need paper to leak on,
Pen to breath on,
And words to keep on--expressing,
Repressing my freedom while recessing violence,
Distressing warlords with equal social defense,
So we can give happiness a chance,
I feed people the truth through poetry,
And poetry feeds me the clear glossary,
The distinction to what’s close to me,
Close to be free, from insanity,
We can make change, as we look back in our history,
Spot the things we miss to see, that left us in mystery,
I shall not plea guilty, but set my people free from misery,
Stand up for liberty, and trade vanity for empathy for my country,
…I continue to demand, to live under the white man,
…thinking it’s a clear stand, standing under his right hand,
Not noting his invisible command, that continues to expand,
Yes we can,
Indeed we can have peace, whenever we please,
Breathe and inhale while you feel the breeze,
Be grateful when you seize the moments of ease,
Understand the keys of life to a certain degrees,
My mental stage intends to freeze when-I’m without my pen,
I’m addicted to poetry, which kills me once again.