We had Gumby
and Pokey,
And Sanford & Son.
We had Mark Spitz,
And Monty Python.
We had Lenny Bruce,
And Chips.
We had the Sex Pistols,
And A Ballroom Blitz.
We had Martin Scorsese,
And Happy Days.
We had the
Stepford Wives,
And Roe VS Wade.
We had What's up Doc,
and the Rockford files.
We had Gay Pride Parade,
and I can see for miles.
We had Women's Lib,
And Emergency.
We had One Flew Over
The Cuckoo's Nest,
And Mohamed Ali.
We had A Star is Born,
And little Chinatown.
We had Jesus
Christ Superstar,
And Foxy Brown.
We had the VCR
And Adam-12.
We had White Lightning,
and Josey Wales.
We had the Gay
Rights movement,
And Dragnet.
We had the Deer Hunter,
and Stanley Kubrick.
We had the Iran hostage crisis,
and a Six-million-dollar man.
We had Carnal Knowledge,
And The Stand.
We had the
Mississippi Queen
And Tony Orlando.
We had Abba singing
about Fernando.
We had Mick Jagger,
And John Wayne.
We had Rare Earth,
And Fire and Rain.
Turbo1904 ?
Mommy got pregnancy in hard,
Wait for me in proud,
Says I am child of Mohamed.
When heard that I cry,
I said, I am Husna Johari,
Name of mommy,
Not daddy.
All they shock and suprise,
Came to me and advice,
But they end by being worse.
Now daddy speak in force,
Sees mommy like a source,
But mommy stays with no choice.
I speak without feeeling shy,
Mommy has support like a sky,
Although daddy has big try.
When I said, he become hungry,
Leave the family in hurry,
Without giving us salary.
How sad the prophets must be
Songs, talks and wars about the mystery
While sitting quietly meditating on the Bodhi Tree
Or walking on the ancient waters of Galilee
And Gabriel finding Mohamed leaving God's messages daily
Prophets all — like spirits in apogee perigee
Circling the earth all ways similar in harmony
If only mankind were able to see
The ardent kindness on which they all agree
There would be no us or them no thou or thee
But all would live with the prophets eternally
And the earth would live forever free
Joining together giving to all in need
Forever together in this upcoming century
If only.
An orphan of her own doing, she frequents the nightclub scene
Completely her own person, possibly pumped up on heroin.
I try to make conversation but she doesn’t know me
She is speaking with her angels, needs no people at all
Smiles condescendingly at me, and I fade off
Understanding she is not sharing her pain
Keeping it safe, hidden under a smile I barely recognize.
She is goth-like in appearance, black make up decorates her eyes,
not wanting to stand out or be noticed;
I am unsure why she is here at all.
I see her talking to her spirit guides; and I admire her.
She is her own person, needing none of us.
If we disappeared it would not be noticed.
She is an orphan of her own making.
Keeping her pain hidden under that hesitant smile.
Her superstitious nature wears a rabbit foot in her pocket.
A plethora of various religious symbols around her neck.
I wonder if her angels are from Egyptian mythology?
Are they Christian, Buddha or Mohamed-led?
I approach her but dare not ask.
Her smile stops me.
I am dead to her.
We all are.
An orphan by choice.
LANDING
Big Brother's eye
beyond the sky
Saw it not sneak nigh,
round valley and hill,
gripping necks at will;
No Global Hawk, Predator,
Brigadier, Mirador,
nor fortress and tower high
Could site it here or there,
abridging lives to spare.
And as providers
keep a busy head
on their insecure daily bread,
even as they watch
in dread for the toll
on the new day's scroll;
And as the white angels contend,
with the Reaper's octopus hand,
And as old earth has to brace
For the Reaper's hasty pace,
Behold the mighty potentates
Of every creed,
of all Palace and House,
of every rank and race
Now kneel before Great Leveller Covid
and, on their clayey knees, plead
with him to spare their crown or mace.
Mohamed Mansouri
Tunis (Tunisia), on 14 April 2020
The strides wide with determination,
Through ups and downs of the day’s admiration,
A life of bliss and diss with undefined procrastination,
Gone wide and wild with the days’ words of deception,
Of emancipation from defined virtues of misconception.
There is you that walks and seems to like not,
The strides and steps aside, in determination,
The full-on health with skins tendered in motion,
Indescribable beauty that sees not the perfection,
There is you with the origins of declining lot,
Smiling with pride in the thickest of days’ guilt
The unlucky in all; in the redemption of the world,
Undeniably determined but sees not the imperfections.
Happiness is in the undocumented form of emotions,
Purest in the forms bred and nurtured in creations,
The you that perceives to see the good in all,
Is not the you that sees the good in all,
By Hudhaifah Siyad Mohamed
3rd Sept 2019
What are the remnants of today’s despair?
The unbearable sadness wickedly with intent,
The without pivoting to the realness of in it the context.
Seeming not what is envisioned to be the dispatched,
Developments of self – suckling on to be the for all.
What is of the uniqueness in support,
Through twos and threes and anchored in untested,
The appointments pivoting to the promises blanketed,
Stringing all along for the satisfaction and thrill of self-boost,
In riches and in ego from the to be for all.
What is of the realizations from the day’s count,
The rehabilitation of promises designed to lure through attention,
The today in half term that we still be non-committal and undeterred,
The blockbusting through town classed and egoed,
For them twos and threes inked in greed.
What is the word for tomorrow’s count,
Ghosting through all for the non-assertion of terms following,
The rejections of appointments through creeds and cultures.
For this level of leverage and compensation,
In brotherhood to parties different,
Haha’d by two and threes,
For same woes,
Bad leaders.
Poem by Hudhaifah Siyad Mohamed
Someone there is at it,
That likes the very bit,
Scorning all for flattery
Or as is at, for some treat,
To the very end of the initial start.
Something there is that shows,
Outgrown and visible on no hearts,
Flattery like, mouthing out for bites,
Or as it be, for same reasons as hers,
To the very start of the initial end.
Reflections of all are mirrored in self,
And disregards made of things alike,
The deception of being one rejected,
Or as is at, the colossal blunder.
Of lies told, to the scatter.
Truthful be to the trust of time,
Truest be to the trust of one,
In expressions and in tone.
Poem by Hudhaifah Siyad Mohamed
24th Nov. 2019
We have to the end of life tipped on toes,
Edged loose to a pit of posed depth.
Goes us that of fear froze to death,
Knowing not that is left of those,
Edged back on plains of glows.
Goes us that leapt but survived on throws,
On undefined found in depth of hopes,
And knowing not that is besides of,
Them fallen, deeper into lower of.
Posed on the remains of them gone,
Lowered to levels from all hidden,
The nastiest of us dancing pairs,
Realize not the leaps taken,
From there edges broken.
We are to the beginning of life for a cycle,
Glued tighter to a look at them high above,
Waits for falls of all posed on edges gone,
Knowing not that us fallen is us on wait,
The fallen, earlier into lower of them.
4th April 2020
By Hudhaifah Siyad Mohamed
I like to start my day with a hot cup of coffee
I pound down the coffee
First thing I do every day
as the dawning sun
Lights up my lonesome room
Yeah, but not just a simple cup of java Joe, but a God damn snarling sarcastic smarmy cup of coffee
I mean, - we are talking about an alcoholic, all speed ahead, always hot, always fresh, always there when I need it, angry, attitude talk to the hand Ztude, bad, bad assed, beats breaking, beatnik, bluesy, bitter, y, bombs away, capitalistic, caffeinated up the ass, cinematic, communistic, Colombian grown, Costa Rican inspired, Cowabunga to the max, crazy assed, devilishly angelic, divine, divinely inspired, dyslexic, epic, extreme vetting, evil eye, expensive, erotic vision inducing, Ethiopian coffee house brewed, euphoric, freaky, freazoid, foxy, Frenched kissed, French brewed, funkified, foxy lady, graphic, GOD in my coffee, with Allah, Ganesh, Jesus, Kali, Buddha, Christians, Durga, Hindus, Mohamed, Jesus and Mo and their friend, the cosmic bar maid, Sai Babai, Shiva, Taoists,
Mohamed and Khaled
The best butcher shop in town
In the deception of silence
they butcher those with sound
Voices against their Kingdom
they fear and do not like
Raping their women with modern views
while butchering a protesting man
Both Prince, King and pork herder
Vehement denials throughout the land
Yes the color of red, proof of blood in their sand
In the shoes of Aysha, these cowards cant even stand
Intoxicated Salman, butchered an innocent man
as Trump applauds, the free press in a grave
situation... Tyrants kissing and holding hands
A thousand lashes, to the butchers of Riyadh
Prince Mohamed be damned
Silk Road
S Syncretic in nature Mohamed ties silken faith
I Into punk rock's impetus and shouts from the mountain
L Leaves opulence behind and returns to the basics
K Kaleidoscope in hand he rejects the mockery of un-reflected belief
R Razor blades adorn his face from ear to listening ear
O Overcome the chasm of splits and dogmatic restraint
A Allude and exult in cleansing incision
D Doomed no more by vicarious mainstream he sounds out the road
03rd September 2018
They sent Jamal to detention
for saying "********"
yet he saw a billboard of the "KKK
with the president"
Maria cried when Emily told her
"If you say "f*** again, we won’t be friends"
but Maria heard that "they’re building a wall on CNN"
When Mohamed told Jenny, you have a "big a**"
She practiced her jujitsu and punched him in the face
While eating halal meat for dinner he heard,
"We’re banning people of the Muslim faith"
Danielle sat on the sidelines during the soccer finals
She was red-carded for saying "you’re sh**" to their rivals
but in Time Magazine she read,
"In Mississippi they’re refusing service to homosexuals"
Ahusaka was in his room today
tweeting to his followers about the super bowl
He didn’t go snowboarding
He called John a "mofo"
Ding, a notification on Ahusaka’s phone
from the Chicago Tribune
"The new administration is pushing through,
the pipeline under Standing Rock Sioux"
Jamal, Maria, Mohamed, Danielle and Ahusaka
paid their dues
but who's held accountable for "the silen* cur** wor** of the mighty few"
So many of us grew up with the Christ.
Were painting eggs and bunny came by.
The fewer have opened heart to the others:
The Buddha, Mohamed and far Dalai Lama.
The smarter we get - the more we do know.
The wiser we get - the more we Don't know.
And only a few hear voice from above
What matters in life - if we share Love.
SUPER HEROES
I SPEAK of Micheal Jackson King of Pop
I SPEAK of INDIDANE King of Maskandi
I SPEAK of MOHAMED ALI KING OF THE RING
I SPEAK of Barrack Obama the US President
I SPEAK of Nelson Mandela South Africa's former President
You are the SUPER HEROES
You fight for our Happiness
You fight for our right
You were Role models amongst us
Unity, trust, Humanity
These are the subject you gave to us
You were born to lead us
You were born to suffer for us
Rest in Peace Micheal Jackson
Rest in peace Nelson Mandela
Rest in peace Ndidane
Rest in Peace MOHAMED ALI
Long Live Barrack Obama
God bless you our fallen heroes
Long live the spirit of our SUPER HEROES
We will always Love you
You will always live in our hearts
There is no better way to show our love
It hard to accept that you are gone
It was like a dream
It was like someone will say it a jock
Micheal Jackson who will Rock our world?
Mohamed Ali who will be the father of the Boxer?
Nelson Mandela Who will be the father of the Nation and peace?
Ndidane who will be the father of traditional music?
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