Exception's blog
My father's accent - Spoken word
Free to Speak - The Book
Salaams guys,
It's been a while since I've blogged here, I've almost drafted a blog to upload on numerous occasions but in recent times my life seems to get very crazy in the moment before I finally feel like I have time to sit down and write.
But I'm here to let you all know that I've recently self-published my first book, which is an anthology of 100 of my first poems called "Free to Speak" . Written from I guess when I started blogging here, up until a few months ago with some pieces removed and previously unpublished pieces added.
If anybody would be interested in buying a copy, all the proceeds will be going to a charity project in Gaza so you'll be supporting a great cause as well as getting to read my rambling.
Gaza- Your Battle is Mine.
As I write a child in Gaza knows he’s close to his death,
He shows us courage though he knows what is ahead,
A child was martyred with his father in the night,
His mothers tears bear witness to the fact that she will fight,
I tied myself to this struggle because these children are you and I,
Because I feel their fear anytime I close my eyes,
Our actions have failed them we denied them of their lives,
So as I write these words I am questioning why?
Are we still afraid of ourselves or do we fear those who are looking?
See we know what is coming yet we sit tight and do nothing,
You ask what can we do? Bow down to your Lord,
The faith of the Gazan’s is as strong as before,
Alongside our prayers our actions must show solidarity and support,
My Blood is the same as yours
Freedom is paid for with the blood of the oppressed,
Which pumps through their veins with every beat of their chests,
When a parent dies only children are left,
& when a child dies it’s so hard to accept,
The blood stained hands of the oppressor will never be forgiven,
As the legacy of his reign is forever living,
In the hearts & the souls of the mothers who were giving,
All they had to their child but now they’re not living,
Or they have a daughter with a bullet lodged in her brain,
& a son who was blinded by the weapons that were used to invade,
Our reality and theirs was never meant to be the same,
The term “3rd world” isn’t just politically correct it’s a part of the game,
To elevate the western world to a planet that is better than theirs,
I Cannot Be Ignorant When - Arab Revoloutions
I want my children to be raised not in a cage, nor on the street,
& when they’re fighting for their rights, they will be stable on their feet,
In the spirit of the Arabs who will not settle for defeat,
as the legacy of those who died before victory was achieved.
I feel the pain when my brothers are killed by the tyrants,
Cus if they are not free then I am not either,
And I still feel the pain when my sisters are silenced,
Cus out on the street, they are subject to violence,
I feel the pain when a father’s blood stains the face of his child.
& runs through the street, so they see red for many miles,
Others lie in the street with their fists in the sky,
The souls may leave but the spirit will never die,
When a man no longer fears death, he will fight,
They're bombing for peace. -Libya
Hear they go again; they are bombing for peace,
In Libya they were fighting to bring the regime to its knees,
They wanted Gaddafi weak so they could force him to leave,
So please remember their cries before you choose what you believe,
Is it a coincidence they invaded Iraq today in 2003,
Or that they claimed they would help its people be free,
Remember goverments don’t fight for the sake of humanity,
C’mon believing that would truly be a form of insanity,
Did thy not sell weapons to Gaddafi to enforce his regime?
Or is just me who see’s that they are switching teams,
They said Iraq was invaded to rid the people of Sadam,
& now they bomb Libya to free the people of a man,
8 years on and look at the state of Iraq,
Do the people on Libya need to be victim to that?
LadyLike
Why should I sit silent, showcasing manners,
It don’t make sense I’m demanding the answers,
Tell me why as a woman should I not be noticed,
It circled my mind as I sat down and wrote this,
Sisters and mothers still fighting oppression,
Through wars by tyrants who try to oppress them,
I stand by this mic & I stand to address them,
Their strength & dignity still fights to protect them,
A mother would never let harm come to her child,
A woman would fight, let passion’s go wild,
So empower yourselves; don’t let them dictate you,
Freed your own mind, don’t let it phase you.
Speak, together & loud show your intelligence.
Redefine meanings cus you don’t believe that they’re irrelevant.
Hariet Tubman made a sound with what she did underground,
Freedom is paid for with the blood of the oppressed
Freedom is paid for with the blood of the oppressed,
Which pumps through their veins with every beat of their chests,
When a parent dies only children are left,
& when a child dies it’s so hard to accept,
The blood stained hands of the oppressor will never be forgiven,
As the legacy of his reign is forever living,
In the hearts & the souls of the mothers who were giving,
All they had to their child but now they’re not living,
Or they have a daughter with a bullet lodged in her brain,
& a son who was blinded by the weapons that were used to invade,
Our reality and theirs was never meant to be the same,
The term “3rd world†isn’t just politically correct it’s a part of the game,
To elevate the western world to a planet that is better than theirs,
New Blog
Salaams guys,
I have a new blog, not meaning I won't be here anymore but that ones like my official page so take a look if you like.