Kataali Firdaus Tiyumli

Bring Back Our Gold Coast Good bye Gold coast I really owe you a toast Walking down your seacoast Of you I will forever boast I have missed you old friend Of my forefather "Lang lana" Will I see you before the end of your second life  Ghana She is all grown now Her breast well stocked in her dress Her beautiful shea buttered skin Win the hearts of kings The small pots in her back Compliments her mighty hips Like watermelons in a sack Which every man worships Now she has a broken moment at hand Memories you left are getting lost Her dreams flooded under the sand Just water remains in her eyelids She has been defiled a million times Still going through difficult times She is pregnant without a husband Taunted in her own land In the walls of my beating heart Are memories of your beauty I look at the stars all night With the hope of having you in sight To die is part of nature To dissappear will torture You can pang me and flee Just don'

Your adorable face glows like a morning grace I have seen pretty faces yours is  exquisite I see your face with my eyes closed and it gives me some solace every single day I see your name even in the darkness written with the flames of love's " madness " I hear your name when the wind is blowing Your beauty I can't blame for you are so amazing I hear your name from the whispers of the dumb And it is not a shame that I have to succumb From the chambers Of my dream land I hear your voice Echoing from afar A true daughter of this land You are my Disney star Last night in the dark I looked into the mirror All I could see your glittering face Smiling like a new bride Your voice So mellifluous Well modulated And irresistible In every music I hear your voice Singing in a fruity exotic And pleasing choice You are more than a treasure that I can't even measure You enhance my leisure You are my pleasure Written By: Moham

A WOMAN'S SOLEMN CRY The clouds has grown dark. Bending herself like an ark . Frawning her face to the cry of the fatherless in a try to endure and ensure that they fight and  cure the wounds of life's foul mar. It is in this ignominious place that we cherish opulence than our own blessed semen And our pregnant women Yet we claim to be "men" They toil in the sun While you have more than fun Our duties, we shun And take a  "temple run" They are left with pain Beaten by the rain In the company of loneliness And Sighing with bitterness That blessed semen kicks out With fear it cried out Asking questions in an alien language For he came without a luggage Into this old but strange planet With his golden tenet Being his formality Thrashed away by reality  And why won't this dreary World be Scary When men are now monkeys Jumping from tree to tree Making women donkeys The best we do is flee This is more than they bargain

I am your dreamland That one place you so much desire The place none has perceived The home of the righteous In me is pure delight Without pain or suffering You shall never grow old You shall live forever There shall be wealth in abundance Everything you can imagine The greatest fragrance Your soul could ever desire You shall eat and drink For what you have sent forth You shall be adorned With bracelets of gold You shall never blow your nose or spit You shall never fall ill or die All shall live eternally Enjoying the pleasures therein There will be no removes No evil or hurting comments No enmity therein All you'll do is glorify HIS name There shall be endless delight Of rivers of milk And the purest of  maidens Free from menstruation Whoever believes In Allah and his Apostle Offers prayers perfectly Fasts in the month of Ramadan Treat everybody fairly ... I shall be your reward Your final destination Your Jannatul Firdaus Writer : M

When all seem wrong When you feel you can't belong Just cry out and sing the song "Astagfirullah" will make you strong Indeed we love to sin . But HE loves to forgive when we din. In sin we spin Yet he is still closer to us than our skin . Even the arrogant is blessed with abundant health and it's blatant that his love is exorbitant Our faith in HIM decreases . HIS hopes in us increases . We get fooled by "shaitan". Still HE insists we are "AL-INSAN". HE gives when we ask Irrespective of our past We need to  unmask before HE gives a task How blessed can we be again For HE created us with brains And brings to us HIS rains So let's cry to him when in pains . By: Mohammed Saani Kataali Firdaus Tiyumli

I Want To Fly In the land of her majesty And the chambers of clumsy ironies The fireflies fly for fortune Yet cannot satisfy their greed And so I want to fly The voices of the west Like the Spartans in a battle field Chanting aggressively with their swords Singing songs of unknown melodies When all seem lost Makes me want to fly The vultures up above Hovering in the sky Hiding in the shades of love And eating the fruits of our sweat Makes me want to fly Even in the harmathan I grew thin like in the month of Ramadan Without warmth I struggle Breaking through this bottle Of lost hopes To fly into the clouds The benevolent pain Of our forefathers Will not go in vain So I grew strong feathers Stronger than that of a dove Just to fly from the fireflies Written by : Mohammed Saani Kataali Firdaus Tiyumli Aug. 2015.

LOST IDENTITY Is this our new Africa? Being a fake replica? What's wrong with our beautiful black skin? Every woman wants to be light skined. Is this our ideal lifestyle? Talking in a western slang? When did We forget our mother tongue? In the name of having fun. Are We true Africans? With our jeans on our thighs? Our ladies' skirts above their thighs? And all We speak is lies. Is this our culture? To let go our tradition? Losing focus of our future? And imitating those in our televisions. Is this How We were brought up? To fetch stones in our drinking cup? No one, but We Are our own enemies. We've not tried half of the colonies. Do We even know our root? Our mother tongue And traditional food? What happen to the storiees by the fire side? And the norms We use to abide. We toil in search of fame. The result is always shame. No one, but We Are our own enemies. We've not tried half of the colonies. We've abandoned the puberty rit

LOST IDENTITY Is this our new Africa? Being a fake replica? What's wrong with our beautiful black skin? Every woman wants to be light skined. Is this our ideal lifestyle? Talking in a western slang? When did We forget our mother tongue? In the name of having fun. Are We true Africans? With our jeans on our thighs? Our ladies' skirts above their thighs? And all We speak is lies. Is this our culture? To let go our tradition? Losing focus of our future? And imitating those in our televisions. Is this How We were brought up? To fetch stones in our drinking cup? No one, but We Are our own enemies. We've not tried half of the colonies. Do We even know our root? Our mother tongue And traditional food? What happen to the stories by the fire side? And the norms We use to abide. We toil in search of fame. The result is always shame. No one, but We Are our own enemies. We've not tried half of the colonies. We've abandoned the puberty rites.

WE ARE HUMANS We Are humans Yes We Are humans Hate us not if you can't love us Bully us not if you can't help us Think not about mishandling us if you can't handle us Don't condemn us if you can't console us Walk in our shoes for a minute And respect us for life We need your empathy, not your sympathy Matching on the road with our innocent eyes You need not a second thought to be kind And Nice We breath like you Sleep like you Talk like you And walk like you Yes We Are humans Just like you, we have blood running through our veins We have heads And in it is our brains We have hearts full of love, joy And pains Unlike you, We read using our Brailles We're not hopeless We're not cowards We're not animals in the zoo Please don't treat us like lunatics We Are humans Yes We humans... but visually impaired Mohammed Saani Firdaus Tiyumli 

this is a poem i wrote for my sick mom  (RABIATU BADAWIYYAH) . MY HER SOUL AND THAT OF OTHERS REST IN PARADISE. RABIATU BADAWIYYAH (Maiden Of Hearts ) The birds sing your name A beautiful maiden of Islam Generosity resulted to your fame Oh daughter of this land -Mother for all Heart of a baby This is not a fall Oh ladies' lady -Your beautiful Shea buttered skin Your beautiful tribal mark on your chin Your beautiful white teeth when you smile Wins the hearts of kings -The magic in your cooking pot Even in the absence of salt Beats the "gong gong" a lot And wins a home in every heart -The hearts you've lit the tears you've wiped The mouths you've fed Sings your name to "Baba" -A broken pot Needs to be replaced But an ill Badawiyyah Needs to be healed Praying: Oh lord of our forefathers Bestow on her your favours Touch Badawiyyah with your healing hands Add her another chance -Oh you ubiquitous (God) Heal the wou