Concerned with measuring fame While the poor is consoled by pain My land and my lost name For 12 years my people haven’t gained The masses move in hordes insane A few words to the brave We will get out of this whole this cave We must fight in ways they can’t understand Because this white man is but a man Somalia stirs my heart It’s my passion my poison my true pain You have to be a nomad to comprehend That my land of warriors produces true friends None are as proud or as blind None smarter with such twisted mind Each and everyone of them a sultan Each a king to his clan But Somalia you must change You must see the value of compromise You must respect and listen to the wise

Utopian life you never get Unless you’re a pretender Uruguay I have always liked U can’t ask me why? Under 6feet is a certainty Unclassified is none of your business University is a place for thinkers Uranus is a celestial body Unhappy is the opposite of a smile Uncle Sam has gone senile Upper classes are stuck up Underground is a means of travel Umbrella you cover yourself in Urgent is now not later Usama is he a holly warrior USA is plain old trouble Use of power buildings turn to rubble Unless you change the rules Under no way can we lose

Rahman is Allah name Rahim is his other description Rasul-Allah is the prophet (PBUH) Riotousness fills the heart Ramadan the holly month Ritual is not what we do Respect of the way of Islam Resign from these worlds’ desires Residue of sin is cleansed Removed are the demons within Rested in chains evil is held R is a letter after Q Romance is what they do Rewards is what is given Recovery period is needed Raving mad people get Retarded is a medical condition Rhapsody can mean many things Rhodesia was Zimbabwe Rotating rings of Saturn Recluse is a man who had enough Rescue is a way to get out

Gangster a later day Somali leader Guns are the tools of their trade Grief is what they made Grandpa’s shirt bloody stains Guts, severed limbs all that remains Get the news Gedo is in flames General what’s his name is to blame Games and peoples life are the same Ground zero and fake heroes Greatness is a downed black hawk Garad’s are elders who speak Ghandi is what Somalia seeks Gifted and the wise is what we need Gravity is what holds your feet Game-shows keep you in your seat Gossip is the Somali news Germs are out on the streets Girls are the key to life Gay is the damned forever in strife Greenwich is the millennium dome Grave is the final home Glory is what one must aim for Goals are added as the final score Government is what they claim Generations have died of shame Give us some hope lord Give us an aim

A is written on a slate Aids is death in disguise Adam is the father of man Anger is a weakness understand Angola is an impoverished land Alkaline is blue while Acid is red Antarctica can be cold Africa undoubtedly the land of gold Amen is said after a prayer Al-Gore was he a mayor? Ariel Sharon is a butcher Arabs have lost the big picture Alj-azeera is the truth A typical western name is Ruth Absence of reason is terror Australians have felt a tremor Acton is in west Abdi hangs around with the rest Arsenal are the best Ask anyone April is after March A rapper is a modern day slave A pill is taken in a rave Anakin is Darth Vader An archaeologist is a tomb raider Asylum seekers are to blame A gangster and a refugee is one and the same ………………………….. This short rhyme was inspired the late Somali Poet Carays Cise Karshe

A is written on a slate Aids is death in disguise Adam is the father of man Anger is a weakness understand Angola is an impoverished land Alkaline is blue while Acid is red Antarctica can be cold Africa undoubtedly the land of gold Amen is said after a prayer Al-Gore was he a mayor? Ariel Sharon is a butcher Arabs have lost the big picture Alj-azeera is the truth A typical western name is Ruth Absence of reason is terror Australians have felt a tremor Acton is in west Abdi hangs around with the rest Arsenal are the best Ask anyone April is after March A rapper is a modern day slave A pill is taken in a rave Anakin is Darth Vader An archaeologist is a tomb raider Asylum seekers are to blame A gangster and a refugee is one and the same ………………………….. This short rhyme was inspired the late Somali Poet ....Carays Cise Karshe ..........

Being honest how many women would marry outside their clans in todays Somali society? Why has it become fashionable today to marry within the subclan I mean second cousin and arrange marrieges are becoming the norm in todays Somali society. What is your opinion on this? and I mean to start no clanish fuss ok. .......................................... My opinion is marriege should not be forced on a couple and it should not be refused due to the issue of clan. If poeple intermarried freely it would sove alot of issues back home.

Jamal Mr 11 how u doing bro? I hope everything cool and things are working out for you. I like the song but whats with the R&B rush ppl? Try to put a song with lyrics that mean something, I like Joe and LL put their words are some times 2 simple. Dantay See Tracy Chapman thats lyrics Or Bob Marley Or Marvin Or Stevie ...............................

To remember a time when I was free To reminisce that time when I was free I could run I could do and I could be I had what men strive for I had what men fight for Without struggle I gained my freedom I could soar I could roam I was equal to all below none I had the blessings of my elders The love of my siblings The respect of my comrades I was chosen blessed for I was free Freedom didn’t bring prosperity I thought I had something yet I learned nothing Time went I grew arrogant I took it for granted and forgot the lord Now hollow words I speak for I am not I am saddened for I have lost I am no longer in my home I am no longer able to hide away and be alone I am old sad heart broken My sight is distant, around me whispers are spoken No longer in control Family aren’t around me to console Why they feel sorry for me I want none their sympathy or compassion I was free once and I have my memories

Is it genetic to be so poetic? The words they spin The creativity is it hereditary? Can a poet explain pain? Can he fathom the logic of the insane? Hoping is a poet’s desire Rationing the irrational is his fire Words his ammunition A poet contemplates no competition Visions are what poets see The days the night s and what’s in between Is a poet romantic or is that getting too dramatic? Now a poet must be a lover To his loved one there is no other A poet is a possibility of the arts So rare are poems it’s hard to start Now its time for a new poet ......................................... Dedicated to Blossom Burhan Warsame (Dantay)

Is it genetic to be so poetic? The words they spin The creativity is it hereditary? Can a poet explain pain? Can he fathom the logic of the insane? Hoping is a poet’s desire Rationing the irrational is his fire Words his ammunition A poet contemplates no competition Visions are what poets see The days the night s and what’s in between Is a poet romantic or is that getting too dramatic? Now a poet must be a lover To his loved one there is no other A poet is a possibility of the arts So rare are poems it’s hard to start Now its time for a new poet ................................................ Dedicated to Blossom Burhan Warsame (Danty)

Great poem Mandeeq, i really enjoyed every line of it.

Lady its been time since Since I touched your face with With those blessed hands of mine its Its cruel that time has kept us a part in In this never ending dream that That has made me a stranger to To the one that I miss the The most magical individual to To have had the profoundest effect on On this lonely and sad individual who Who has forever been longing to To touch your beautiful face again

If I was poet ......................................................... If I was poet I would write a thousand lines Explain the intersection of time In simplicity I would resolve the issue of the day If I was poet I would be revolutionary like the SAYED I would be as cool as KHALIF A peace maker and resolve this never ending grief I would try and convey the majesty of the word In one line one great rhyme If I was a poet fruitful debates would endure I would strive for no acclaim and hope for no reward If I was a poet these words would touch your heart , Give hope to those who struggle To them a guiding light in the dark ,Remind them that truth has no equal and love has no sequel If I was a poet I would compose that endless verse It would have no hate and contain no curse If I was a poet every Somali would be heroic Our women beautiful and they would know it My words would transcend region and clan They would be pure and you would understand If I was a poet I would endear love and make people see ,this is our time you and me Dantay 6/august 2002

Jamal11, thanks for the kind words and for keeping this poem section going. You and others have been an inspiration to writte these simple words.............

The idea is there now we need to think of the mechanism the system, It should be taken seriously no part time work. The organisation should be transparent and should be open to scrutiny. It should set aside projects within the Somali community in the diaspora, in North America, cells should be created in all the major Somali centres. Also in the large Somali community in the UK, this project should focus on providing training and education, mentoring programms for the young. We need to get the youths out of the jails (in the UK) and those who have been forunat enough to have had an education should help educate those who are on the way up. We need to have offices and centres that directly help the youth and single families. The aim should be to unite the community through the realistic observation of the everyday problems we face. poverty, drugs and AIDS. Projects could include. Trips for the youths to theme parks A soccer, basketbal leagues managed by the organisations. Tuition centres that teach after school hours to help our bright kids get into prestigous universities. Volunteer work and paid jobs to teach or help Schools and institutions back home. Send youth workers to Somali regions in order to help with development issues. .................................................. The key is simple the young educated and resourceful Somali's should stand up and be counted. We need to take back our youth, our community and our name back. When the Somali's in the west are doing well then the next phase should be to help the motherland.

Africa does not need Ghadafi or Mbeki or this rhetoric of the African Union, it needs actions to fight the mounting problems of the continent. Somali's need to move away from this union because who are we to join a union of Africa when we have no union of the Somali. Somalia first then Africa and the Arabs second, we sort our house out, then we can join, influance, develop a new Africa. Thats my point, No Egad, OAU, Arab league or any club created for the sake of......... We need REAL Political decesions made....Not an oil despots daydreams DANTAY

Somali’s and self hate 10 million with a country as large as Western Europe (slight exaggeration) , who seems destined to cause as much self-harm as possible. We have destroyed our environment yet all we do is care about the well being of our clan, of our region and of ourselves. If the sea is looted of its resources, if the trees are cut, if the cities are not managed, if the child starves and we don’t care because he/she is not our clan then what hope have we got? What hope when in the UK a foreign land we are struggling we are poor and the pressure is left with our ladies? When in these cold streets our young are lost, bitter with failure resentful of the parents who dropped them, when Kasser Osman and others die and there is no outcry. What hope when there are ever increasing number of AIDS and we don’t even know the numbers, as long as they are not my brothers or sisters. The chewing of the qad has made the men ugly, physically and mentally; they spend more time with a so-called friends than with their women folk, what hope have we if the fathers don’t raise the young properly? “Somali’s cant do this, they are not good enough” this and similar statements comes out of the Somali mouths on a regular basis. What hope have we if we don’t believe in our people and ourselves? We call ourselves Muslims yet we kill and support evil schemes; we only respect the scripture on Ramadan. What hope have we when we don’t respect the religious leaders? We spend on a wedding day; we save and struggle so we can prove to our friends and relatives that even I can rent a limousine. Even I can live it up in a Hilton hotel. For once I can forget that I am poor, that my people are poor and that tonight I can forget to be Somali. What of marriage if it is not done according to the law? If the couple don’t plan for the future, what hope have we when even the sacred union is taken for granted? Somalia awaits the return of its sons and daughters. Those, who have and still struggled in the Diaspora, Somalia will get better and united when those who are most bitter unite with each other and try to strive for a better life here in the cold west. …………………………………………………………………………………….. Now I can’t remember the reason for all this waffle, but it seemed a good idea at the time

Many tribes Many surnames Many faces of shame Hate fills the air Few can breathe let alone think Where are the wise? The harbinger of destruction Has been on the rise Failure on our part Has sealed the fate A future uncertain While they grow strong We look behind Forever pointing at each other Why dear mother must you suffer so Windswept land Destruction of trees Charcoal is the only plan Land of plenty yet the children stare Gleeful at the UN ration Warlords and fake presidents The average amnesia afflicted Asking forever what is my name Where is my residence? ...................................... Burhan Warsame (Dantay 19/7/02)

I Love you its simple I love you more than I love my self More than this earth, this wealth I love you like yesterday When I smiled and in thanks to the lord I preyed I love you like my moms like my pops like the oxygen from above It might be corny but I love you dearly I love you like the sunshine that’s right For you I would struggle I would fight Forfeit my dreams and forfeit my life From the past through the future One thing is constant you The ever beautiful picture You the absolute sum the truth Words are simple But I love you Burhan Warsame, Dantay 19/07/02

Tough in every way, beauty and power in a toxic mix Envy none ambitious to a point Now everything is clear I can sense it’s getting near Our reflection situated in a mirrored dimension Where I can see the graceful Somali Sultans from a past age Dreaming of revenge with controlled rage Heaven help the disciple who has strayed Testament to the confusion of the time Worshipers to a currency that’s not mine Guns are the language of the times Simple words masked as poetic rhymes Enraged by the despair Heaven is for the weak When will we find our voice? When will we speak? Irresponsible men hypocritical women Youth with no direction Forever lost in Europe’s cross roads London is mistaken for Hargaysa Minneapolis is no Mogadishu Dead bodies and crimes committed The bereaved are offered prayers The living dirty tissues Murders back home are taken lightly Suffering abroad is ignored Now we are in the zero hour But we will be What we are Burhan Warsame (Dantay 19/7/2002)

Tough in every way, beauty and power in a toxic mix Envy none ambitious to a point Now everything is clear I can sense it’s getting near Our reflection situated in a mirrored dimension Where I can see the graceful Somali Sultans from a past age Dreaming of revenge with controlled rage Heaven help the disciple who has strayed Testament to the confusion of the time Worshipers to a currency that’s not mine Guns are the language of the times Simple words masked as poetic rhymes Enraged by the despair Heaven is for the weak When will we find our voice? When will we speak? Irresponsible men hypocritical women Youth with no direction Forever lost in Europe’s cross roads London is mistaken for Hargaysa Minneapolis is no Mogadishu Dead bodies and crimes committed The bereaved are offered prayers The living dirty tissues Murders back home are taken lightly Suffering abroad is ignored Now we are in the zero hour But we will be What we are