The Somalidoggodafricanamericanstringblackdicktyingwomen.

The Beautiful Somali woman



My aunt: Hibo was in the air force

was in the police force

and her husband is from



"What's the happen"?

her son, suffers from

something like 

Narcissist, JLO

She is a Narcist

and her son Ahmed

homeless, in prison and

drinking in the the floor



I was watching television

and she called me: Hibo

I broke my back

my sister Fawsia

is a social worker


My son, the one married now to a Bosnian

and the other who has a good Job


Hinda and I talked when she in Beligium

and me in Holland, the Netherlands

and we talked about her chronic illness

Alocholism, and I told her, I will send her book

and I hung up the phone, by pressing the button

on the phone, Hinda called me back and I told 

her you have a chronic illness.


She is in England now and lives in a nice neighbourhood

and her sons are in the US, studying and working.

Their father " he's not a go getter" is in Ethopia


And Poole, is there now telling him what his

probelm is, and why Hindi did not love him

or any other man.


Poole told him many times that she does like

men who are Somali Christian

because they are not fun, do not drink, do not go to parties

and call women whores.


I told my spiritual partner that I am,

and I am, I am

and he was confused about my religion

and I told him I was Somali, and he was 



I told my husband now that, that he had to covert

and he didn't care


I have an aunt, she is funny, and nice

to talk to, my mom friend, she says she is illetrate

or my mom tells me that


She is Turkish and my mom does not know

and She is in Syria ans loves her friends


My aunt Hibo has her friends, Iraqis,

and she wants to have a beauty product Regina


Asha, my unlcle and her use to party together

and she use to go the beach with us

and she took us an illusionist


My aunt Hibo and her family are rich, are in the military and

they do not tell anyone.


My aunt, also wrote a book about circumcision

and my uncle is now looking into what is going on in the world

his brother, Case is also living in abundance and we are celebrating

a beautiful Eiid Al Adaha


Anaab, my aunt is really a nice person

and her sister is a spiritual person

and her son is my friend

and her daughters, 3

are really rich


My mom's sister, is broken

and only cares about money

and all these years has been in court

to take all the money from her husband

who died: his first etc. wife, she has been

in court with for over 30 years


My aunt, my Mother's sister, three

are in, in hell, and 1 of them victory

that what he is called, works

and maybe will win, and his mom

will give the money she has been fighting for all these



I just spoke to Saudi King, his Highness, Holiness

and I said to him, you will lose and the Wahaabi's will

win, have won. Eiid Muburaak!!!


Author's Notes/Comments: 

Please go to, for "fair use" rules. This poem is copy righted. 

Depression's Defeat

Soul Poetry


Its such a deep, murky pit,

that drags you on under,

From the sobbed teary rains,

and your own personal thunder.


I cling desperate, to the walls,

in my life's effort to get out

Fingernails digging in,

I climb the only known route.


Escape is most essential,

for this aching, inner struggle,

As both the depression,

and the sanity, I juggle.


Brought about by pains,

of both my body and mind-

Some the result of abuses,

others have mentally assigned.


But never will I break,

and never fully, will I fall.

As always before, I'll come back,

-much stronger then them all.


For up at the perimeter's lip,

God's Hand extends outward, to me.

And His Amzing Grace, like always,

Lifts me up...and sets me free.


How Long Will You Wait For Tomorrow to Come

How long will you wait for tomorrow to come?

And bring with't the beat of a harrowing drum

How long until all of the yes's are no's 

And gifts that you have start slowly to go


How many clouds will pass in the skies

Over nights with you curled up helpless, in lies

That tell you you're hopeless or useless or worse

That you're marred with a letter, some scar'let curse?


How long with you wait for tomorrow to come

And welcome you out into glistening sun

How many tears, disappointments, or fears

Will you invite into you over years And years and years


How long will you wait for tomorrow to come

All the while wasting tomorrows 




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King Over Death

Light and Dark

Colder growing

Skin is showing

Looks like snowing

Plot bewoeing

Life, I’m owing

Death bestowing

Mercy is glowing

Passing I’m knowing


But as death lays his cold hands on me

A stranger comes, who can it be

Is it Him I truly see?

Finally, see Him who died for me?


He comes like a groom

For who wears His ring

Death, where is thy vict’ry?

Now where is thy sting?

This is not an unusual thing

For everywhere, Christ Jesus is King!

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I sit here and think as I dream of eternity.
What it would be like.
To have you.
You will see one day when I'm not there about the fair.
About the love and pain that eats away your soul.
It will take you away to a place unfounded.
A place of despair.
You fed off me and my love that's no longer there.
I've became what you never thought.
I would wait that is no lie. I would wait forever.
So here we are now and I'm not waiting.
I reclaimed what was rightfully mine.
I will always be a memory to you.

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falling down

falling down

in the dark that hovered ‘round
she tried to find a way back home
but when her eyes could not guide her
she wandered through the night alone …

using hands to feel around her
walking closely to the wall
praying to someone she can’t see
to lead her so she doesn’t fall …

easing down onto the floor
to find a safer place to be
lead her through this maze of madness
to a place where she’d be free …

never one to be defeated
even when she’s on the edge
reaching for that fading lifeline
before she falls off of the ledge …

she could stay – and quickly fade
or she could stand and walk away
taking baby steps if needed
to get her through each trying day …

we choose our light, we choose our dark
lay down and die or stand and fight
curse the fates or give some thanks
that there are days when life is right.

a victor ~ though she still falls down.

© Debbie Finlay

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Get up

i am wide awake watching myself sleepwalking
playing possum so well it's like a spell i cannot break free from
shake me up push me,
tell me you see my eyes open
nothing works for it is all too detached
blessings slipping and sliding from who i used to be
before who i am can reach for and get there
stop that is not for you, but for me!!!
will i just lay there or wake and stand for me?

i stand fighting to open my eyes and see
not just peek and look in tiny glimpses
help me hold my hand until i am no longer whoosie
i can do this,
i will
get up!

Author's Notes/Comments: 

i am seeing all the things i had forgotten that mattered shaken ... such a reminder to live out loud!!!

Wear proud your poppy

Stand firm in the trenches of Flanders fields.
Ready the mortar and let it rain upon the enemy.
Send them our grenades and show them our might.
Shut out the cold and think of home.
Trudge on through the sucking, hungry mud.
No matter the risk as long as we win, trench fever is not so terrible a thing.
All that noise is common place... It's the quiet that seems strange.
Ready the rifles at the break of dawn, bayonets glinting in the sun.
It's time to rise to no mans land.
Onward men to our victory.
The ground is scarred and pitted but still we go on, the bullets race past, many hit targets.
Men fall but not in vein, they take enemies with them.
They have had their victory and made their country proud.
And still on they fight to defend us all.
They stood so proud, they stood so tall.
The thunder of the guns, the blasting of the bombs, the smoke obscures the way ahead, still they strive on despite the dread.
Untill the haunting silence grips all.
All clears, no smoke, no bullets fire.
And breifly do the opposing sides cease their war so that the brave lost men can be buried safe.
At last they can rest in the embrace of peace.
In spirit they are home once more.
Their sacrifices remembered forever more.
So wear proud your poppy of scarlet red, just like the spilt blood our hero's shed...
Upon the fields of Flanders.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

For remembrance. I hope I did well.

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American Galaxy [Book. Motion Picture, Theatrical and Television Dimensions]

American Galaxy

Celebrating the People and the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave   

Remembering the Union's Faith Foundation   

A Loving Higher Purpose for the People   

Copyright © Ugonna Wachuku