Wednesday, 26 January 2011


that long awaited disdain 
which exchanged jealousy for pride
and cast off the unfortunate
persuasion of an anger
discarding the age old tradition
of its foremothers in an attempt
to outdo its betters
had arrived.
the urgency of the current
emergency was lost on it.
purging the florid joy of which 
the atmosphere boasted
was its main priority.
interiority is not to be found
therefore in this speech here.
sensing its own inferiority
in its effort to terminate
the bliss and delight in its wake
condensing the serenity
and requesting for support
that long awaited disdain
retreated disturbed by 
the probable possibility
of a putrid checkmate stalemate.
soon joined by an
unmistakeable misfortune
who held a rather fair disposition
and equally followed by a
constipated fear
whose countenance was disrupted
disdain felt its own sense
of discerning pleasure
which was in essence
disgusted discontent.
at the front, the derobed, devested
truth soothes the Bestiality
of all sides
into submission.
fury runs around looking
for someone to blame.
problems, real problems were 
ignorance had prospered.
it was too late to turn back
the flow of despair
tranquillity runs around looking
for someone to blame.
once acclaimed, twice shamed
that long awaited disdain.

by Comfort Fabian Nwabia, a poet, playwright and actress and part of the youth poetry collective Words Apart.


Tuesday, 25 January 2011

The Power of Words

I took the words. I loaded them. Took aim and FIRED! but there was no sound. I cocked back my pen, fixed the jam, took aim again and fired! but again nothing happened.

The words that were once my private passport to another world seemed empty. 
I once commanded the verbs, the nouns, the adjectives, the adverbs like my own private army completely loyal to me and willing to be strategically manipulated at any time - day OR night. 
Able to strike fear into an enemy's heart and nourish the soul in the same poem and all that was needed in the middle...was a full stop.

What I thought flowed from the soul, through the heart, took a right at the brain and exploded from my right arm onto the paper.

I didn't write to topic or to please an examiner and I didnt care who liked it! I wrote for ME and if someone happened to like it then the more the merrier.

The ideas of rhyme, form, pentuplets, sonnets were nice but rather like being told to pick certain sweets at a pick and mix...the final taste just wouldn't be what I really wanted.

The concepts that wordsmiths had struggled to define in rigid formats for millennia came easily to me.

Love wasn't love. 
Love was a demonstration of compassion that held A beauty so unique that only the beholder could perceive it.

Hate wasn't hate. 
Hate was a manifestation of the souls response to its own misgivings - to the moments that felt like a lifetime of torment - to everything wrong in the world.

I was one. Heart, body, mind, soul and pen. 
My own musical instrument. 
My loudspeaker. 
My comfort and my real voice. 
The "like"s, "blad"s, "bruv"s and "fam"s of everyday life replaced by words of infinite majesty and terms of blinding greatness all wrapped in a sheet of A4.

And yet here I sit, words on the paper, life displayed in the ink and the death of my poetry seeming evermore fictional.

Eddie O'Garro-priddie - poet and part of the Words Apart collective! 

Wednesday, 19 January 2011

The Quest to Peace

This poem was inspired by a book called: Purification of the Heart translated by Hamza Yusuf.  The book is based on a poem called purification of the hearts translated from Arabic by Imam Mawlud from Mauritania in West Africa.  

'If you want to change the world, do not begin by rectifying the outward, instead, change the condition of the inward.'  Hamza Yusuf

The Quest to Peace

On a quest to peace,
Wearing a superficial fleece screaming: ‘free my people!’
But who are my people again?

I’m trying to change the world before I change myself
I’m trying to change the world before I change myself
How’s that gonna work?

I told science I’ve seen a black hole
Bigotry is contaminating the soul
Arrogance and ignorance going
Hand in hand forming something called an ego, ready to expand

Socially conditioned like moths hitting the same flame,
Rust on our minds like a broken bike chain.
The path to truth will get me that peace

Fire missiles with wordplay I’m acting in self-defence
No sense, your two cents is not appreciated Regev
Trying to maim verbally a political Rumi
Leaking like a WikiLeak or a spiritual Sufi

He Put a knife to my throat and said ‘gimme your inner gold.’    I said I just have a blackberry, and its not even the bold

Trying to steal my soul and hold my heart hostage
Trying to steal my soul and hold my heart hostage

Language spoken in the dialect of hate not love
crimes of war and humanity influenced by envy, anger and greed
as politicians plant the neo-colonialist seed

Tyrants say its for your own good
they say: War is peace and slavery is freedom

They say: there is truth behind the lies and lies behind the truth,

They say: Shallowness is in, Modesty is a sin
 and burqa bans are soooooooo 2010

Now days justice starts with a conjunction and its ‘in’

In ‘justice’ like a sickly cough tickling our throat, and the medicine is in our hearts.
Before I find my mirror I need to find myself

I’m trying to change myself before I change this world,
Im trying to change myself before I change this world.


 By Mohamed-Zain Dada - Poet and Writer:

Twitter: @Zainthepoet!/Zainthepoet

Yemisi Blake - Poet and Playwright on Words Apart!

'The Words Apart Collective is a brilliant example of how, with a little passion and a lot of effort, poetry can bring together young people to express and inspire others at the same time. Their achievements should be celebrated and supported to carry on succeeding'.

Yemisi Blake - co-organizer of Poetry International at the South Bank Centre, poet and playwright