Hassan/Hussein

 

 

 

My uncle who is

Hussien in Shiraz in

the "derelicht" synogue

in Shiraz, my sister Khalija

my Somali brother Zyed

and my younger brother Abdi

 

My Uncle Ahmed was shot point black

for a coup against Jalle Ziad Barre

my Father, Abby, grand father, Caabi

paid for constitional stoppage of the

English, in secret diplomatic negotiations

I heard my father beat my mother

twice real hard, once right at the right

ear, real hard, and another time 

he beat my mom, my mom's whole body, leaving my mom almost for dead

 

My mothers affairs, forced by my Father

by his friends, African Americans and Caucasian

white Americans, his Lebanese backers friends, and my Father's Khaliji friends:

Kings of the Gulf

 

My Father's Somali friends, cousins,

 working class relative and poor relative admired his class

and his education, never knowing his Harvard

schooling

 

My Sister Ashly threw my mom's beer, Heineken, out of the

roof, our roof, in the Gulf, our home

 

My father broke all the glass, four or five of my mom's

good crystals, I woke up early, called, my brother, sister

cleaned, the soil of the plants, on the carpet

of our beautiful home in the Khalij

 

My Father's friend Michael, mike, betrayed my dad

one night, I was hiding in the dark to watch what he was

doing, the next days I told my dad what he did

 

Hassan, Hussein, Ali showed up on 12, 2012 

killed me, why, why, why do you kill me?

what do you say, they asked, I heard the Americans

say, it is a gimmick with pleasure in their voices

 

Malik: my friend name is Hussein, I play football with him

and other somali boys, oh, Hussein, I asked, yes

he said as I looked into Malik's eyes I saw Hussein

strong, the man who killed me

 

The twelve Iman showed up, and asked for my

music money, the rounders came and asked me about the prices

of my clothes

 

This house, home is being renovated said the Twelve Imams

and My Father in Law: Jonathan said: this house is not renovated

 

I told my mom today that our house is not renovated

I cried: the cracks on the walls are the Twelve Imams threatning me:

You do not recognise Hussein or Ali, You recognize Mohamed

I said Our Prophet, is the muslim Umma, the Muslim Uma. SAWS. May Peace Be Upon him

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This poem is decicated to the Sufi Poet, Rumi, the Sufi Irani Poets, the Shia'a Poets, and all Irani Poets. This poem is copy righted. See "Fair Use" rules on www.wikipedia.org in relation to copy right laws of the United States of America.

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