"Left Eye" poem by Modou Lamin Age-Almusaf Sowe

Even when Rihanna sang “everything to the left,”
I’m still eating with my right hand.
I understand The Gambia still couldn’t find the right man.
But break, broke, broken—
Let it break.
The broken pencil still writes.
Let the donkeys brake.
Let the pastor and imam preach;
There is still sex on the beach.

So you still don’t know I see both Satan and the Anti-Christ?
The reason why every dog barks at me in The Gambia
Is because I ain’t part of the movement that derails Christ
And praises Jesus Christ.
But hallelujah to this screaming;
Amen to this healing.

Welcome to the New Age.
In the Book of Enoch—
Chapter One, Page One,
Paragraph Six of 2026—
Let’s turn a new page gently.
The sun has already risen from the East;
War in the Middle East;
The NBA headed to the East;
Gog and Magog arrived with ease—
Enough of the East!

Listen!
Expect Abraham Ibn Ashram.
Next is the continent of Africa.
Who are you people still voting for?
Let the rest rest in peace,
And the dead find peace in pieces.
“She knows, she knows,
And I know she knows,
Alright.”
The real rapper defended his thesis;
It is sad to read such speeches.
Such things don’t only happen in music.
I wrote a letter to Satan;
The next morning my image was tarnished.

We’ve successfully burned the Qur’an and the Bible without burning them.
Have we not had enough agendas at the UN?
What else is my mission?
In our religion,
When you eat beef,
Don’t ask how many cows are in a steak.
We’re so accommodating—like a housing estate.
So, let’s ask, how many cows in a steak?
Allow intellectuals to continue seeing their menstruation
Until Achebe resurfaces.

Listen—
An era of natural disasters strikes.
The planet is ours.
But before 2030,
Don’t use my name in vain.
See how I turned your intellectuals into prostitutes,
Your teachers into agents of the devil,
Your parents into my enablers.
And then, I turned you and your child into the New Age.

I am the reason you worship your phone and false prophets;
The reason why every young person is tryna sell a soul.
We’re all sinners in disguise,
But I made you addicted to pornography.
Forced you to use condoms,
Drink contraceptives,
And now you’re a whore.
Well done!
I’m ISIS in capital letters
And abortion in small letters.

Listen!
I’m the devil’s Bible and the sinners’ Qur’an.
I ran marathons in your mind.
Do you see how I’m controlling the world?
I’m a religious crisis.
By my grace, I am the final prophet.
I influenced a generation of mobile addiction—
Sex and dating,
Kissing and immorality,
Flirting and hating.
Admit that I’m hateful,
Enraged, and ungrateful.

See how I’ve successfully made you learn foolishness in school,
Yet you claim to be knowledgeable?
Stupid!
Hi hater—yes, I heard you talking.
Bravo, but that shit was boring.
Am I not the one who invented social media?
Who is discrediting your profile?
Who really is the Savior of Planet Earth?
I turned your value into likes and followers,
Made your presence online,
And reduced you to a mouse—
With a click on the internet.

Listen—
I inspired a generation of boobs and big buttocks,
Alcoholism and drugs,
Dancing and shaking of asses,
Wealth and more money.
C’mon, honey.
What y’all bitches masturbating for?
You dress indecently but don’t want to be called a prostitute.
Bitch, what’s your name?
My style of writing is too harsh;
I don’t decorate the truth on pavement.
Who really is the King of Saudi?
Just too supernatural to comprehend.
But when schooling kids in kindergarten,
Teach them A-B-C.
Every gardener needs a crop,
But I am the apple of your eyes—
And your Spotify children.

Should I still tell you I am the left eye?
It’s funny—I’m the writer
Every writer is tryna beat now,
Even underground writers with a big mouth.

Explanation of the poem titled "Left-Eye" written by Modou Lamin Age-Almusaf Sowe.

The poem is a "sarcastic lyrical poem" written as a protestant vilification that foretells the coming of age in contemporary African and global poetry, indecisively.

It both revealed and predicted the future plans of the "Illuminati" in the coming years, and happenings across the globe. Referencing from the holy books; it exonerated the arrival of the Anti-Christ and Gog and Maggot. 

The poet, using euphemism, sarcasm, rhythmicity, innuendo and paradoxical iambic pentameter, provocatively insinuates his revolting against the secret society personally and socially.

Linking music and poetry to lyrically and intellectually disintegrate societal values, the poet begins with opening verses from a song by Rihanna, "Everything to the Left", noting that the song was evil because it praises Dajjal, the left-eye (one-eye).

The poet teaches that a certain group of people in society becomes famous, powerful, rich, and influential because of their affiliation with the Illuminati.

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You Never Loved Me - Poem by Modou Lamin Age-Almusaf Sowe

I am full. 

Of me. 

Blessed. 

Free. 

And.

Grateful. 

Free calls

With Africell 

Customer care

On flight mode 

Up in the air 

Do I care?

Some days,

I forget who I am

I can’t see the light 

I am lost from within 

I look around

It’s dark and vast 

Everyone is gone 

Nothing lasts 

My loving eyes,

My soft touches,

My strong, solid anchor,

Once outsourced. . .

I am left with nothing but rancor

Toss and cheers to alcohol 

I understand now that I'm misunderstood 

You don't understand me

So let me explain: 

I thought that in time what was bad would turn good

I love you from the centre of my heart 

From where the blood gurgles in its search for oxygen 

I breathe you into my soul for healing each time my heart threatens to hurt.

Aware of my victim hood

Forged in childhood

Perfected in adulthood 

Into nationhood 

I am in the hood 

For the chicken, poddles, and noddles 

Miscommunication 

Retaliation 

Resignation 

Obligation

But to what,

Sensation?

I trusted love 

I dated lies 

I kissed romance 

And hated you

Followed my course 

Leaned in

Reached out

Got back on that wench

Sit on the bench 

And drove a Benz 

Now I falter

Confused 

I refused 

The news 

Don’t know where I’m

What’s been the purpose?

What was the lesson in that?

Heartbreak 

Lies

Cheating 

Sex

And romance.

Is that all?

Every truth I believed that this world had to offer 

I question entirely 

I’ve filled up my pockets 

With theory and rationale 

Gleaned from my process

It’s dissolved into nothing, 

I’m empty.

You never loved me.

You love the money,

The fame,

And the cars.

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Man with No Friends

In the silence of the night, I weep

For a life that seems so steep

No friends to call my own

Just enemies disguised in a friendly tone

This is probably the most me I've ever been,

I'd been to places you've never been,

I've got plenty enemies among jinns and human beings,

I don't fear the sting of bees,

I'm an 'A' student and never got Bs,

I've departed:

I'm, I, was, are, were, been.

Bingo, Bissou to Binko,

Being,

Just let me be.

I'm a man with no friends

A compound with no fence

A dollar with no pence

A verb with no tense.

My success breeds jealousy and hate

As others plot to seal my fate

People pretend to help, but behind my back

They whisper words that attack

Every young person dreams to be

Just like me, so carefree

But little do they know

The weight of success, the price to show

Alone in my journey, no one by my side

As I watch my dreams slowly slide

Away from my grasp, my heart so heavy

A soul so pure, yet so unsteady

No love to warm my lonely nights

No joy to fill my empty sights

Just the sound of my own thoughts

Echoing in the silence I fought

I, a man of intelligence and grace

Struggling to find my rightful place

In a world that's cruel and unkind

Leaving me shattered, lost in my mind

But despite the pain, the loneliness and strife

I continue to fight for my life

For I know deep down inside

That my spirit will never subside

So as the tears fall from my weary eyes,

I lift my head up to the skies

And vow to keep pushing on

Until the light in my heart shines strong.

My special wishes to you! To schedule or book me for public lectures/ book launches/ conferences/ readings/ scriptwriting/ keynote/motivational speaking events, please email:

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Honeymoon (Poem by Modou Lamin Age-Almusaf Sowe)

We met immediately the rain stopped beating,
Pompously across the Bertil Harding Highway,
And the stagnant waters gathered on the road
To confidently discuss national problems...

I became your problem
When I splashed a colorful of lovely
Waters on you accidentally;
My heart stopped beating in my chest.

I apologized to you in Spanish,
Ashamed and nervous;
You looked at me twice,
And I looked away in hesitation.

I feel like putting a knife in my throat
And slicing myself into pieces for you.
I regretted my actions and inactions,
And I displayed my shame on MBC Action.

Dressed in African-Gambian
Purple bazin riz,
Glittering in your natural beauty,
Without makeup,
Waiting for a car to pick you up,
That evening, the Ramadan departed for Jerusalem
To pay homage to the Jews.

Just like a thief escaping from stealing,
Your shoelaces fit my shoes.
Hot body, everything looks perfect like a painting.
You mute my emotions.

My instincts told me to apologize in Chinese,
But destiny told me to speak of humanity,
When weakness became my language.
I sighed away from eye contact,
And I gave you my contact.

Looking at your toes
When I said sorry regretfully,
Biting my nails and shaking in my trembles,
My nervousness donating me blood
For my heart failures.

Friendship grew between us;
With time, we set the pace.
On the phone and in space,
It took me so long to write this poem.

Walking down the beach,
With our heads bowed down;
I can't look at what you can't look at in me.
Our hands are observing social distancing.
Even a car could fit between us.
I sweated a gallon of smiles,
Wanting to tell you
How I feel.

When the keys to the door of your singleness opened,
The padlocks broken,
The shops of Serrekunda Market wide open,
Proposing to you in broad daylight,
Sighing from the afternoon,
Little do you know,
The date lied on the calendar.

The day I put a ring on your finger,
The sky tasted ginger.
Kneeling before you,
Humbling myself on my knees,
Angels announcing our marriage up in the skies.
I couldn't sleep that night.
I cut myself but couldn't bleed.
The sexual healing...
That feeling
When the pastor said,
"You may now kiss the bride."
I kissed all the bridesmaids
When we locked lips.

Waking up in Dubai,
Making your breakfast,
Touring the Palm Hotel,
And naming our kids Paul, George,
And George-Paul.
I woke up in New York City,
Looked at myself in bed,
And realized it was a dream.

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Blood of a Virgin: A Poem by Modou Lamin Age-Almusaf Sowe

Photo credit: Suri   man of Ethiopia drinking  blood

Cheers for the cup of blood we tossed

Together with Satan.

The night before we killed a prophet

And separated a man from his wife;

It was the evening before we told nations

To write the "age of 18" in their constitutions.

The morning a president sacrificed his own son,

Bitten by an unknown dog to die in our kingdom

For his rule without wisdom,

Weighing his sins on the wings

Of a demon

From the Manding Empire to the Vatican:

He looked into the eyes of death

And took off his mask,

Exchanging lips with the daughter of the Antichrist;

Sucking her nipples

Like a physiotherapist

Assigned to an all-important job,

Marinating the blood of a virgin

With salt and margarine

To acquire more money,

More power and fame...

Learning dangerous lines from the devil,

Receiving remedial classes from Lucifer

To destroy the Bible and the Quran;

The eyes of men in lust and love

For presidents who respect us,

Countries that obey our leaders,

We declare them winners.

I play with violence.

You play with me; you're nosier than silence.

Children, I can't wait to kill them.

I'm more haram than Boko Haram.

I smuggled cocaine in kilograms...

I've been in the dope business

Since Africa didn't sell,

The poets were children,

And Aristotle wasn't taught by Horace.

What is this nonsense you speak?

I recognize every member of the Illuminati.

I am destined for greatness and chill with the hatred.

I support God like Adam and Eve combined.

I have been watching you from afar,

Looking for virgins like some crude oil,

But I strongly believe in Allah,

And I don't need your wealth and fame!

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You Again? (Lyrical Poem) by Modou Lamin Age-Almusaf Sowe

You again?

It's you again,

The lion knows nothing but to kill and eat.

You're too short; I can't see the person I battle with.

If you like, become a battery in a touch.

I'll bring you down like a shit in a toilet.

When I am done with you, your name will turn into Desmond.

I am Jesus, and you can only be my disciple.

You want to battle your father; don't you fear God?

I am not at your level from Banjul to Turntable.

Your eyes look like a local gangster.

You'll not blow even if they sign you for five stars.

Dip Doundu Giss is a demi-god.

What are you, if not a dumpster?

 

You again?

If pride is your name, be humble like a condom.

From Sodom to Gomorrah,

Competing with you is a competition abuse

Because all your family projects fell under my shoes

You look stranded like a borrower of Africell credits.

Press 1 if I am not the digit.

Don't you still reach your limit?

Objection, objection, objection overruled --

How can I compete with a human that resembles a balloon?

Let me turn your destiny into my headrest.

Your career is my bedsheet, and the bed I rest

I am at home without an address.

Writing is my empress.

DHL Direct Express

You're too playful.

and too useless

Your brain is like a POS. Everyone pressed

 

Writing is not for everybody.

Your communication needs deliverance to help you rest in peace.

Celebrate my name at the coronation.

I conquered your conversation.

Am a life-giver.

An imperfect sinner

The best I've ever been

Nobody is ahead of me.

Don't act like you've never heard of me.

Your favorite scientist is scared of death; I let him hang on in the news.

I've got nothing to lose.

 

Time is money, and I am spending it every day.

I can't die for nothing.

I've got to live the life of a legend.

Die on cloud nine

Higher than a president in the skies

All these zeros I want to see should be in my bank account.

My ATM card and my bank account

My bank account is low.

But I drive in the same lane as rich men on the road.

In a way I am living, extra-death broke.

My book got the smile of a queen.

Am in airplane mode.

And I am about to touch down.

Say amen to the lord of Gambian literature.

Because he is the one writing these lines.

Nine days to kiss a prophet on his forehead

Aliens called me a hedgehog.

Teenage boys

Nothing shakes the strength of a black man.

Blood of my forefathers

A natural resource, uranium

I am my own criterion.

Do you want to know my origin?

I am from a place where your ministers and presidents want to be.

All these young writers want to be me.

Born of a woman, a black queen from the South East

A black king also came from the West.

If you wanna know the rest, you can check my family crest.

I represent the black color, people of color, and black indigenous peoples.

Unfortunately, your pastor smokes cannabis.

To help your leaders put up the wrong candidates.

Thanks a bunch for reading. Please follow me on Instagram and TikTok.

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I Wish You Knew - Sad Love Poem by Modou Lamin Age-Almusaf Sowe

I wish you knew how your marriage has affected me.

I wish you knew I can't love another woman as much as you,

I want you to know I'm healing from the pain of heartbreak day by day.

I wish you knew I need you more than anything on earth.

I met many women, but none is like you.
I hurt many girls because of you.
I have forgiven you, but I can't forget our love.

I wish you knew I need you one more time.

I could have married anyone.
But what's marriage without true love?

I wish you knew how hurt the ladies feel whenever I mention your name.

I wish you knew it was your own family that separated us.

You held me in the palm of your hands;

Our love was more than Romeo and Juliet.

My love for you is here to stay.
I can't get you out of my head.

I wish you knew those who separated us
I am the only one you ever truly love.
I wish you knew how black magic affected our love

I wish you knew I am your husband, and you are my wife.

I wish you only knew God can judge us.

I wish you knew we have sworn by the Holy Qur'an to be together forever.
I wish you knew I am only your admirer and lover.
I am not your enemy and cannot be one.

I wish you knew you were the only true love I once had.
I wish you knew how I am dying inside without you

I wish you knew what the future holds for us

I wish you knew the cure for the lonely nights I spent alone
I wish you know you are the only remedy for my heartache.

How I wish, how I wish you knew!

 

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I Do Not Worship The God You Worship (Poem by Modou Lamin Age-Almusaf Sowe)

What does the God you serve do for you?

Is he not the God of poverty

The carrier of sicknesses

The doer of evil who easily kills than he can cause life

Is he not the God, they say, owns the moon?

That God, they say, is all-seeing; the all-seeing eye

Is he not himself the God of destruction?

I speak with the word and voice of God

Vox Populi, Vox Dei

Hit you with my cock and dick

In Jola, I shout the word  'Leh-gaga leh cock'

Hating on me, I do not just give a fuck

I am not married because I cannot marry the blood of Satan

My blood is so pure to unite Muslims.

I do not worship the God you worship.

You painted my image in black and white

With fraud and sexual harassment allegations

Just because I refused to join your religion

You can't defame my fame

I do not burn in the flame

But yet, took the blame

To cover up for your shame, I did earn the hate and hatred.

I know everything about the Secret Society

Perhaps, that's why most of you hate me

Gambian literature,

I do not worship the God you worship.

I dearly know the prophet called Haddy Ceesay

He stammers and has one-eye

The doyen praise singer and guardian of the book of Satan

I knew him as the god of the national museum

I met all his family in the spirit world

I killed his twin and intertwined his dream

I do not write because I want to

Angels who betrayed God

Satanail and Azazel

I recognized you all in the realm of the occult

I've been redeemed to operate in the world of the supernatural

I do not worship the God you worship.

I do not sell my soul to be Achebe or Shakespeare

To be famous and make noise at trade fairs

But you all know I am the custodian of Gambian literature

Managers show me manners when they see me behind the cameras

If you cannot worship my God, respect the G.O.A.T in me

I see more than the eyes of the Anti-Christ

I derail Christ and praise Jesus Christ

When I die, bury me in Mecca or Madina

I know why you killed Sadam Hussein, Gaddafi, and Sankara

We don't die we multiply and then we come and divide you.

I do not worship the God you worship.

I cannot be an Ahmadiyya 

Because Ghulam Ahmad is not better than me

Go and ask Satan if he doesn't know the Mahdi

Find out why I am Almusaf 

My name is the name of the Quran

I am a qur'anic verse

If death, I fuck

If knowledge, I made it.

I do not go to school to have wisdom

I read the Book of Enoch

My life is a mystery

I know the location of hell

Even if I die and go to hell,

I will end up going to heaven.

I do not worship the God you worship.

I am the book of the New Testament

I don't need trophies to wear gold

My God is sufficient for me

Am a beast, am an alien, am ahead of my class

I am not a human

I burned the Church of Christ

Because if there is God, why won't Jesus be one

I do not write this poem

The devil did

You destroy the Quran and the Bible without burning them

I do not worship the God you worship.

I already exchanged my blood

Rehearsed for my death

Swam in the human waters of bravery

I am holy and horny

Sex doesn't make me drunk

God did.

If you won't allow LGBT

Change your gender

Men and women are not toys

Boys for men and girls for women

I met Satan twice in my life

If there is heaven on earth,

I take Islam as my sacrifice

I made incantations

Bath in the blood of lies

I am nothing but only a poor slave of Allah.

I do not worship the God you worship.

 

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Decolonizing The Heart (A Poem) by Modou Lamin Age-Almusaf Sowe

Hey Miss Tonto,
You running to my mama, I want you to please tell her, I say that I say something.

Miss Tonto, I started to believe in such things like heaven's trumpet;
After it is over, is this is it done?
If there is heaven, make it speak to your son-- exaggerated a little bit--
Trying to make a point to make you understand why you should quit smoking.

Miss Tonto, you see my moma tell her am lost
Living in a world without a mother when life is tough,
Falling in love is not love.
But before my funeral is arranged,
Before the sky is damaged,
The rivers are folded like a carpet,
Your kings will be our slaves;
We will assemble every man from his grave:
From the incense of intelligence,
To the hospital of thoughts;
We taught your teachers what you never read in books.
If insanity is the drug of misery,
What is the cure for death?

Miss Tonto, my sins always light the cigarettes and people talk when I cough,
I started back up again; twenty years later, I got famous throughout the world:
Can buy food for myself when is life soft.

Miss Tonto, you see my mama, whisper her this:
The real reason why I go to church on Sundays to confess my sins,
Passing my Bible studies and Satan helping me with my homeworks--
I saw spirits spitting and eating the flesh of so on and so on--
And until this day, Gambians do not know I write for them.
From Ghana to Alabama,
Read my speeches like Barrack Obama.
God sent down prophets and books,
But you swallowed the pages,
Painted the law of divinity,
Declared yourselves prophets;
Steal, rub, and drink--
Constitutionalized lies--
Monetized the law--
and normalized evil.

Miss Tonto, you see my father, please ask him why he married my mother, was he happy inside?
Because it takes dignity to carry my mother's name with him.
Am sure I did it in spite of my decision at birth to be a Nigerian:
I'm a genius inside battling with Satan and all angels running arts and culture.
We're like two young people with different views whether a penis is actually a toy.
I die from heart conditions caused by the divorce I did to The Gambia.
What's the need of decolonizing the mind if the heart is still enslaved?
When prophets and kings sold their souls,
Lies on the lips of a president,
Writers write for Satan,
The pastor preaches good but drinks from the bottle of sin,
Money is god;
Winning is vital;
School teaches immorality;
Education doesn't benefit Ph.D. holders;
Technology controls your minds;
But we control your hearts.
Decolonizing the mind, for who, to whom?
Who lied to you?

Delicious My Sugar Sauce ( Love Poem )

                                                  

Disclaimer: Modou Lamin Age-Almusaf Sowe was paid by a client to write this love poem for her. The name of this person is withheld for personal reasons. Therefore, the picture is only used with the permission of the person herein for the purpose of this poem.

Excuse me, did you say something?

Was you talking to me?

It all started when I started seeing your face on my examination papers

You became my DP

My wallpaper

My screensaver and the saver of my screen

I saw you and wanted to shout, but I yelled and screamed

Afraid of your body cream

Intending to fetch water from your stream

It was all a dream.

Was it?

Your image started blocking my sight My nose loss its sense of smell Your looks blocked my incoming words My ears felt shy of you I trembled and trampled Gazing at you gives me a heart attack Like Attack without Jizzle, I attacked your shadows Printing my lips at Shadow Print Walking from Old Yundum to Bambo I mistakingly drank a bottle of shampoo.

Excuse me, did you say something?

Was you talking to me?

Loving you is giving me pimples

Your smiles give me dimples

Your hips make wise men foolish and foolish men very foolish

I started using tissues in public

Laughing at vans and gele geles I hate watching TV, and television started chasing me You got me on the left And you got me on the right I love you, is that alright?

Excuse me, was you talking to me?

Did you say something?

I write as the writer in me With tears in my heart Fears in my eyes Blood in my hands And discomfort in my brain To shout out to you The word "I LOVE YOU" in tick capital letters I think this might be worth your attention, don't you? Empathy became my God And your love is my religion School taught me nothing if not sitting on chairs Everybody wants to be the lion in your jungle I became the lion who eats both the lion and the jungle Bottle of perfumes started meaning nothing to me I burned like a wasted petrol I got lost like a needle in the middle of the sea Through the windows of my mind, it is you I see I couldn't stand seeing you with other guys I started hiding my feelings for you But this feeling I'm feeling is killing me It is kneeling me and dissing me willingly.

Excuse me, was you talking to me?

Did you say something?

My love for you is whiter than a bride's dress on her wedding I made you fall asleep in my heart To wake up in my dreams You are the pillow that brings me closer to God When I was heartbroken You fixed in me what was broken What ancestors did you summon to the summit? My heart was broken at the AU Summit To give me what I needed

What you need to take from me.

I like the caesura you deliberately make in contextuality of my dramatic irony I like the brevity in your sensation

Your love is burning my heart, daily I burn Are you not yourself an angel from the above? I speak in tongues for the love in me is big enough to hide you in my world. The first day I saw you, I feel like going live on QTV telling everybody it is me Assistant Jesus The way you walk nearly made me Start throwing stones at the gate of the Statehouse Women like you deserved to be told At least 72 times in a day that you are beautiful Lips like the gospel of Mathew and hair like Surah- An-Nisa Hips like ranha bisap I like how you kick my mind like a football Playing ball with bullets Oily like chui boullet. My distinguished queen, Here is your crown to wear. You deserve to be treated like a queen and loved like a mother; I love my eyes when you look into them When you smile everybody got to look aside My heart is pumping deoxygenated blood into my head For being so hungry to eat your lips. I read the devil's love bible Verses to rhymes all speak about you The way I love you cannot be a lie Because even if I sit up straight, I cannot lie.

My special wishes to you! To schedule or book me for public lectures/ book launches/ conferences/ readings/ scriptwriting/ keynote/motivational speaking events, please email: modoulaminsowe1@hotmail.com 

 © All Rights Reserved! Thank you for reading and following my blog. Should you wish to use any of my articles for research, lectures, personal use, etc.,.. kindly address your message to: modoulaminsowe1@hotmail.com. Copying any of my articles without written permission is an infringement of Copyright.

If I Wasn't Me ( A Poem)

If I wasn't me 

I wouldn't be born a Gambian writer on 7 January 1990 

In Bakau Newtown, The Gambia, West Africa

In a religious family of multiple scribes and Islamic scholars

My blood is from Prophet Isa ( Jesus) 

And the Prophet Muhammad (S.A. W).

If I wasn't me, I wouldn't have cried nights full of me on a faithful Friday

Waking up on Saturday morning

Hearing my mother talking to my dad Thinking about the name I was going to be given.

But most people don't want to be part of the process, they just want to be part of the outcome. 

But the process is where you figure out who's worth being part of the outcome. 

Seven days before my birth, I saw all the humans and inhumans who were going to be my enemies. 

I seen days of insanity 

Seeing enemies I recognize inside my mother's womb

Sweeping the hardest parts of my struggles; 

From hatred to accusations, 

All the food I ate served as my tears 

Even gold couldn't convert my fears.

 

If I wasn't me, I wouldn't drink blood inside my mother's womb 

From avengers to revengers amongst mankind and the jinns

Congregating to pay every debt of self-defeat they had lost to my grandfather

Everyone knows bout my greatness from kismet to dissipation 

But their hatred gives me constant constipation

I know Christians without beads and Muslims who don't read the Qur'an,

I read the devil's bible

And I'm off the rifle 

Bcos when I was two years old,

I met the antichrist at the age of 14

I recognized him and know he is a world leader 

A ruler who is glorified in the West;

A handsome public speaker and a former president.

If I wasn't me, I wouldn't have rejected my nationality of being Gambian to

Speaking to reporters in India,

But nothing is perfect that's why I made the difference.

Bring back Jesus, I'm the prove

Like a food in a stove, 

I planted myself a great destiny from my hard work

Like a newly wedded bride caught cheating with a gateman, 

I rejected my namesake's name for my name instead 

I'm not my namesake because I renamed myself 

Classified my ISBN and put me in a shelve

I'm Modou not Momodou 

I was born to carry the whole of mankind up there in the sky

At the age of 7, living a life that is so hard...

I recognized all the snakes and reptiles present at my naming ceremony 

I got aunties from the marine kingdom and uncles from the evil world 

But my grandmother never fed on evil.

If blood, I drink it,

If money, I make it

I don't care it is clean or not, I just take it. 

I'm not a wizard, I'm a jinn. 

I feel like I'm half human and half inhuman for us humans 

The daytime is my night and the night is my daytime 

I'm usually dark in the light and light in the dark

I'm darker than the Kaaba at Mecca

And harder than the pyramid in Egypt.

 

If I wasn't me,  I wouldn't see two witches eating my flesh at night 

Addicted to writing and hate love without marriage 

Hesitation made me feel like a lie in the middle of a gossip 

I knew the Quran at heart and became the heart of the truth

The bible is inscribed on my chest;

 If we'll fight, let's fight,

I've been waiting for death for so long 

With great aplomb.

I'm born to identify the Dajjal 

To become a disciple to Jesus and a viceroy to God.

If God has three letters, why not man?

From canterbury, nativity, and credulity,

I'm captivated by my innermost being.

Let me sell you mirages from the sun

Let's say Jesus will soon come.

I knew I was going to be called Modou Lamin Age-Almusaf Sowe 

Bcos Almosaf is the guardian of the qur'an and a religious reformer. 

My name attracted so many liars with some and informers 

From the olding generations to the newcomers,

I'm enslaved in England and remarried the queen.

If I wasn't me, I wouldn't see the antichrist since I was young bcos 

Not all cars are taxis' 

I ain't gotta to tell you Chinua Achebe didn't just rose to fame like that

If you want to be great, you have to worship the spirits

If you ain't part of the secret, they say, "don't trespass the Secret Society"

Every letter entering into the statehouse must bear the writing "His Excellency"

I don't need cameras to appear on TV

Everything I touch turn to gold

Ask a golddigger 

My wife is so cool like a cold dinner

The truth doesn't have to smell sugar and salt to be accepted 

I'm better than your favourite author 

Don't make me urine on you

I'm addicted to doing evil

I'm a photo lamp in a photograph 

Even if I were to sell my soul, nobody can buy it.

Put my picture in your magazine 

I did so many good things but every Gambian hates me like Yahya Jammeh.

Let's play with ambers of fireballs 

From Wordsworth to Shakespeare, I'm read everywhere, what y'all talking bout?

Go drink ibuprofen 

Add me to the dictionary 

Or add the words I invented;

I can vividly remember meeting Satan.

My special wishes to you! To schedule or book me for public lectures/ book launches/ conferences/ readings/ scriptwriting/ keynote/motivational speaking events, please email: modoulaminsowe1@hotmail.com © All Rights Reserved! Thank you for reading and following my blog. Should you wish to use any of my articles for research, lectures, personal use, etc.,.. kindly address your message to: modoulaminsowe1@hotmail.com. Copying any of my articles without written permission is an infringement of Copyright.

How To Borrow From God

 

 

Imagine living in a world where money is God, winning is vital, and people must keep the title, and perhaps, with a global president called Michael. If money, they say, is the god of women, what is the god of men? The most expensive bank in the world is not Barclays or the Industrial & Commercial Bank of China Limited, but it is the bank of poverty of imagination locked in actual self-doubt and prejudice. The reason why we could not still overcome the global financial crisis -- is not because there is not much money in the world-- or there are not enough papers to print enough money to feed every country-- but is it the belief of power and position as merchants of superiority.

 

The belief is that war, nuclear weapons, and ammunition are means of governance in a world where everyone can borrow money from God. Too powerful -- too economic-- too brave, and just too wealthy to be too much belittled. In tandem with this unacceptable fact, our suffering is preceded by a corrosive lack of global unity in terms of financial differences to remedy the crisis. In the words of  American rapper, Tupac Shakur, ''Instead of war on poverty, we gotta war on drugs and the police can't bother me.''

 

One of the problems confronting the world is the gradual but steady religious erosion that can be noted from one continent to another. People becoming rather too nonreligious to belong to the religion of money. Climate change is not the changing of the climate, but it is the changing of people to learn not to unlearn what they must not resist. People cause climate change and the change is constant. Religion has become less religious as economic hardship hits the globe persistently. Poverty has been understood as a man-made illness that has a cure -- money. Poverty is not poor--but poor people are poor. The language of humanity is human. Do you know the sounds and letters of humanity to be able to borrow money from God?

 

How to borrow money from God? Let's assume that the year is 2065 and the world no longer uses i-phones but people are using mind-phones. Technology has advanced so much that people use TV cell phones and no longer have time for flat TV sets and watching TVs. Robots are actively roaming the world with aliens accompanying them. Money is gathering all evil people up there in the skies by giving them positions to govern alibi. Let's say that the best way to borrow money from God is not to borrow money from Satan. But in 2065, nobody will be poor unless you want to.

                                                                                                                    

As a librarian, let me quickly tell you that the advancement of technology is also the decline of African culture and civilization. In the year aforementioned, Africans will need an app on their phone that reminds them how to perform ablution in Islam or how to fast regularly in Christianity. In Africa, a child which is not wild is not from his father's lineage, but how about not knowing his heritage? That too has a price.

 

African traditions and values are gradually becoming a thing of the past as there are several influences from other cultures to adopt what is referred to as a more ‘open-minded’ culture of freedom without restrictions. Just one word -- money. One of the ingredients that perhaps act as a catalyst is the prevailing cultural stereotype where some cultures are viewed through the lenses of negativity and inferiority. This leads to the abandonment of those cultures by the newer generation who are supposed to ensure its longevity. Since the start of the 21st century, humanity has faced at least three global crises. The first crisis pertains to the 9/11 terror attacks in the US that facilitated the US-led war on terrorism, which in turn, facilitated the expansion of state surveillance systems, widespread extrajudicial killings, and the prevalent use of torture and other abusive state actions.

 

The second crisis, meanwhile, refers to the 2007–2008 global financial crisis that was considered at the time the worst economic crisis since the Great Depression in the 1930s.

 

At present, we fight for survival against the threat posed by the COVID-19 global pandemic. This third crisis forced governments to impose forms of lockdown and quarantine, shutting down schools, universities, restaurants, cultural centers, and other organizations to slow down the viral infection rate. But of course, according to the English language, the invasion of Iraq, Afghanistan, Libya, Syria, Iran, Palestine, Israel, the Ethiopian crisis, the Rwanda Genocide, and even the current Ukraine crisis are not crises.  Truth be told-- even slavery is not considered a humanitarian crisis. What happens when the rich fight with the rich? The prices of commodities rise, not so? The poor get poorer-- and the rich becomes worried.

 

Confronted by these challenges, I am still asking how to borrow money from God? As alluded to by my colleague, the famous Nigerian author, Anthony Onugba, cultural erosion is dependent on cultural stereotypes.  Therefore, one way to borrow money from God is to borrow a chapter from the scriptures because even the devil reads the Bible. Should the world expect assistant Jesus just in case?

 

I would like to conclude with the Swahili saying that goes, “ukiona mwenzio ananyolewa zako tia maji”. Difficult to understand but it means, “if you see your neighbor's house on fire standby with water to put yours out in case it spreads.''

 

As a child and an adult, most of my life has been spent in Africa, and for nearly a decade, much of my literary production has focused on my interaction with the environment. Drawing on long-term ethnographic research and intellectual honesty, I would like to provide you with a critical analysis of peoples' ability to be able to borrow money from God. Yes, it does exist. Nelson Mandela said, and I quote ‘’ if a nation wants development, the youths must be educated.’’ The wealth of every nation is the youth. A country is only poor without a youthful population.

 

Permit me to borrow a quote from Albert Einstein who said "those who have the privilege to know, have the duty to act. To you, my readers, it is now your sacred duty to do the rest, either to succeed or fail, to benefit society or benefit oneself. Alan Saporta said, and I quote “the best way to escape from a problem is to solve it." Let me say any national problem which is not solved, is still a problem for its people. Freedom is so very nice and can even turn mice into a goat, but let us remember a quote from Martin Luther King, Jr, which reads "let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup." The only key to freedom is money. If money was the vehicle during the slave trade, humanity will legalize slavery.

 

Let me put it in the French adjectival and adverbial funnel of interpretation to defile the youth of your happiness for yet imagining the goal of my meditation. ‘Qui- who, Quand-when, and Comment--how and when do you borrow money from God? I would like to end with some words from Bessie Head, a South African writer who lived most of her life in Botswana. When she was asked the question WHY DO YOU WRITE? Her response was this: ''I am building a stairway to the stars. I have the authority to take the whole of mankind up there with me. That is why I write.''

 

Something tells me that a generation of new ideas and talent is about to change the world.

 

My special wishes to you! To schedule or book me for public lectures/ book launches/ conferences/ readings/ script-writing/ keynote/motivational speaking events, please email: 

modoulaminsowe1@hotmail.com

© MODOU LAMIN AGE-ALMUSAF 2022 All Rights Reserved! 

Thank you for reading and following my blog. Should you wish to use any of my articles for research, lectures, personal use, etc., kindly address your message to: modoulaminsowe1@hotmail.com. Copying any of my articles without written permission is an infringement of Copyright.

Should We Fall In Love? (Poem)

PS. This picture is subjected to copyright.

Should we fall in love?

Or should we just laugh like, lol?

The very first day I came into existence

Your love was planted in me

And I grew up searching for you;

I met many ladies without having babies

Names like Stacey, Whiskey and Tracy; all did break my heart and made me crazy.

It was you I didn’t meet...

 

Isound of your voice,

Down to your smile and laughter,

Gives me great joy beyond any imagination.

The first time you texted me, I knew it was you.

But yet, we are still in limbo, afraid of what we feel.

I n.  what you felt, like an undiscovered Celt, I melt. I am melting for you. 

It's your food I want to belch.

I want to put words into your mouth:

Should fall in love this month?

Why do I feel so strange after reading that text?

Your laughter is contagious and warms every corner of my soul.

Why do I feel so connected after looking at your pictures?

I try and shake it, but you already have a hold on my heart.

It is magical and soothing transporting me to a place I have never been.

I don't dare like you, I'm a dare for you.

Fresh off the bed, sharper than Gillette

The shower still wet, so pass it like 'Chui Boulet'

We sip side of text messages, we call it cuddle and pet,

You are my chosen bride to beset,

My only honey to cuddle and pet,

I'm hotter than the end of August;

I'm awesome, repeat it to your grandma, and uncles

Or friends, ML is a husband.

The sight of you

Holding your hands

Walking beside you — oh Lord

I can’t even put into words how it makes me feel

I heard people talk about love at first sight

Some saying it romantically for a guy or lady

Others for their spouses

And very few for their acquaintances

But I was so sure I found love in your sight

My senses of sight, smell, touch & hearing

Are all yours.

The wide smile on your face when I giggle

Oh Lord — praise be to God, amen, hallelujah.

I will trade everything and anything for

Being held by you became my priority

As the energy that radiates from you to me

To learn how to love like you should love me

And express the love I hold within me like you do.

How can I ever see love in someone else

Lost in a gaze pure to our soul

And your warmth wrapping me in your safety

I can make you the daughter your mom never hear from

Because your love can make me throw stones at the Statehouse

Should we fall in love?

My special wishes to you! To schedule or book me for public lectures/ book launches/ conferences/ readings/ scriptwriting/ keynote/motivational speaking events, please email: modoulaminsowe1@hotmail.com 

 © All Rights Reserved! Thank you for reading and following my blog. Should you wish to use any of my articles for research, lectures, personal use, etc.,.. kindly address your message to: modoulaminsowe1@hotmail.com. 

Copying any of my articles without written permission is an infringement of Copyright.