Eyes I saw full of me,
Blue, or brown, these now pass by me,
The lore of Love thus defined
Remains unspoken, though refined:
‘To where is he gone,’ she in muttering tone asks;
We’ve left so much for the WASPS;
Now, retreated for Allah’s sake,
Where can I, for her, make the bake?
Nor for love, where to rest and reign–
To escape all of pain? Ya. RABBI, hello, and Your
saints,
Yes, we’re your guests–
Should we have to pay for our souls,
So exploited within these walls?
Born in Mogadishu, Somalia, the poet was raised in a politically prominent family; yet in his early teens, the poet and his family emigrated to the United States, where the poet lived for nearly two decades. Kassim started writing and publishing poetry at a relatively young age while still in junior college, and almost spontaneously fell-in with poets and poems, and has so been ever since; particularly the Romantic poets–William Wordsworth, George Gordon, Lord Byron, John Keats and Percy Shelley–drew his attention and engaged hìs intellect, so much so that, to this day, they represent more or less ‘the epitome’ of what Poesy means to him.The poet now lives in his land of birth and works as a freelance journalist and writer. Kassim is currently preparing manuscript of what he hopes to be his first book of poetry; the poet feels a particular attachment to John Keats and Percy Shelley for their vehement opposition to the inhumane effects on ordinary people such as the consequences of industrial development in their lifetimes–and reminds us that technological progress today does the same: ‘Weep, for the world is wrong!’ (emphasis supplied) (Percy Shelley, “Dirge”)