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Abdul Musa Jul 2018
A committee of crooks
cuddled
cooking with cobble
coaxing countrymen
into combusting

With careless campaigns
unwary cattle clap
clowns for coins
the cautious clear minded
classed as cuckoo

crazy candidates incapable
of common sense collude
click-bait to the castle,
the crown, a colony,
a venue for a ****** of crows
Abdul Musa Jul 2018
Clearing clouds, color
blue breaking through
letting all my troubles
take a stroll
clearing my canvas clean
so that I can kick cans
of paint *** I can
paint pain or peace
or just let love colors
rain, create freedom
in my own bubble till it bursts
besieges bystanders
filling them full of care
common sense and community
we can all kick cans of paint of unity
Abdul Musa Jul 2018
Skinny dark and handsome,
Mucky-bright and troublesome,
Giddy, and full of fun,
Dusty foot, Desert child
Half naked, running wild.

Then, came the move
Tame the lion, city life
Schooling, for a better life.

Then horror,
with a volley and crackle
And thunder,
Tribal feud, tearing hearts asunder
Time to flee

Back of a Hilux jumping borders,
Refugees,
A childhood memory
Seen as mean by me
From foot to camel to truck to plane
Safety has been ascertained
Acclimatised and mingled into
This here foreign place.

Years have passed,
Life has changed,
Wounds have healed,
and I’m no longer mean,
I am me.
Abdul Musa Jun 2018
I must I must I must write
a poem for my gorgeous wife
in hardship and bliss, she's been
a rock for me, a queen indeed.

She found me wild and came to see
what I needed was TLC
and TLC she did give me
a rock for me, my queen indeed.

Accompanied me on my trots
supporting me to reach my goals
so selfless, my sweet you are
a rock for me, my queen indeed.
Son
Abdul Musa Jun 2018
Son
Son, your mother, your mother, your mother.

Son, never succumb to comforts
Lest you forget the less of.

Son, honesty is what makes men
And karma is kind to an honest man.

Son, true wealth is in giving
Charity is not an expense.

Son, your mother, your mother, your mother.

Heaven is under her feet.
A letter to my sons
Abdul Musa Jun 2018
It certainly is, it seems
This fine sunshine,
that triggers my senses
And brings to mind
A rush of feelings
Neither hot nor cold
Jus ever so pleasant
The aroma of summer
Does help me unwind

As I fill my lungs
With this sweet air
While my face is touched
by the queen’s goodness
As she smiles down on me
full-faced
The breeze wafts away
Her touch of my skin
And the shade is bliss
Topped with a heavenly kiss.

— The End —