Here’s a more structured version of the poem in English, maintaining its original intensity and flow: --- I am a dead man walking A mute man talking A blind man watching my brothers die And I’ve built our coffins far too often It gets so dark when mothers cry I know more than I want to But not nearly enough I thought I was writing for love But it just turned to lust And my trust in us was frail, unstable The reality is this- I am not who I was Nor who I will be But sometimes, I feel myself visiting And I fill myself With the scent of soul The flavor of feeling A rush of color that may kill me The pressure builds and spills me Into the language of the unseen The unthought, the undreamed And my heart begins to pump The thick, rich fluid of verse Searching for a simple word or phrase To fill the space between the wet nurse And the black hearse But I know sometimes my words lack worth Lack depth, lack girth Lack the distance to travel from heaven to earth Or from mind to brain Or from soul to flesh I hold my breath And hope that my hopes aren’t hollow It’s just a message in a bottle Or a genie in a bottle Or a child in a bottle The symphony of me is stuck Like a broken breakbeat Spinning in circles Last night, the DJ took my life And left the speakers empty And the speaker speechless But the dancer still dancing They don’t see our music As a movement or a message Just an amusement How could they know? In basement boots, we balance Between the soul and the flesh With the sigh of intellect We rock, wearing knowledge like a necklace Dropping jewels into gutters But they fooled our mothers Into thinking they could raise sons In the darkness of night But isn’t it always darkest Before the sun is raised? And when the sun is raised, doesn’t it make The black hot, the eyes squint, the breasts sweat The trees grow, and the children play? The sun makes the pavement shimmer With the mirage of the future But I know I’m a dead man walking A mute man talking A blind man watching my brothers die And I’ve built our coffins far too often Now I’m walking a thin line Between love and hate Between warriors who speak And beats that break There’s a thin line Between a bullet in the chamber And a bullet in the brain I’m a civilized man With a little savage in me But it’s not just a little savage It’s a lot of passion in me And sometimes, the soul rolls out of control With no glass to restrain me Some are fine being slaves As long as the master is friendly Others spit fire behind masks Till the clip runs empty You don’t need a semi To see the assassin in me But know that no soul is taken accidentally The Angel of Death has an itinerary And snatches you right out of your Bentley Right out of your Gucci jeans, Your Fendi shoes, your expensive life God has written His book And His pen’s ink won’t fade So why do we ignore what God knows? Why do we lie for what men think? We’re just boys in the backstreets Trying to commit sin But my balance is off My talent is lost I married barrenness, And I hear the voice of impending divorce So before I hear it grow cold, I may have to kill my dreams And bury the corpse I shed a tear for the loss Like I’m bearing a cross But my conception is far from immaculate We’re mostly just bastards, Our fathers gone, Trapped in chains, Because our lives were all wrong But resurrected like Lazarus Because our mothers were strong And our romance is harsh Like the kiss of the master But we’ve got to move on Even though our loss Is as painful as the master’s whip We’ve got to move on I wish I could sing for justice But I know no such song I know of martyrdom, the Quran Jihad and homemade bombs And sure, they’ll say I’m wrong For talking about homemade bombs But the "Free World" drops bombs With blood on their palms And they have the nerve to ask, “Why do they hate us?” When they sang songs of freedom and justice All bloody day long They claim they live right, But they’ve got to be dead wrong Maybe because I’m still young and strong I’m ready to run headlong into the fight They think we desire death But it’s the same blood that pulses through every test I come from a line of warriors Who shed iron vests Raise swords high, And dive into the heart of the mess So send me your best There’s only two outcomes: Either I’ll send them to rest, Or they’ll send me to my Lord I like the second one the best But I’ll fight, I’ll kill the killers And live, refusing to settle for less Because I’m already a dead man walking A mute man talking A blind man watching my brothers die But I won’t build more coffins And I won’t take part in that This is my heart and my skin And I’d rather die. --- This version of the poem organizes the raw emotions and powerful imagery into a more structured flow, while keeping the original intensity and themes intact.
15 years and we still go back to this video
Still one of the greatest poems I have ever heard. I was blessed enough to see this live.
12 years and we still come back to this video. God bless you for leaving this up on RUclips 🙏
This will always be my favorite poem of all time. Thank you Amir.
Been listening to this for a solid 10 years and its still gold
Same here!!! Never ever gets old
Absolutely, same here
I literally watch this twice a year. I love it.
I’ve had to come back to this video all the time
Stumbled upon this almost a decade ago and it still sends chills down my spine
Used this poem in speech and debate (poetry) competitions when I was in high school. Came in first place EVERYTIME
Every now and again this comes back to my RUclips feed. This guy is one of my greatest inspirations
Here’s a more structured version of the poem in English, maintaining its original intensity and flow:
---
I am a dead man walking
A mute man talking
A blind man watching my brothers die
And I’ve built our coffins far too often
It gets so dark when mothers cry
I know more than I want to
But not nearly enough
I thought I was writing for love
But it just turned to lust
And my trust in us was frail, unstable
The reality is this-
I am not who I was
Nor who I will be
But sometimes, I feel myself visiting
And I fill myself
With the scent of soul
The flavor of feeling
A rush of color that may kill me
The pressure builds and spills me
Into the language of the unseen
The unthought, the undreamed
And my heart begins to pump
The thick, rich fluid of verse
Searching for a simple word or phrase
To fill the space between the wet nurse
And the black hearse
But I know sometimes my words lack worth
Lack depth, lack girth
Lack the distance to travel from heaven to earth
Or from mind to brain
Or from soul to flesh
I hold my breath
And hope that my hopes aren’t hollow
It’s just a message in a bottle
Or a genie in a bottle
Or a child in a bottle
The symphony of me is stuck
Like a broken breakbeat
Spinning in circles
Last night, the DJ took my life
And left the speakers empty
And the speaker speechless
But the dancer still dancing
They don’t see our music
As a movement or a message
Just an amusement
How could they know?
In basement boots, we balance
Between the soul and the flesh
With the sigh of intellect
We rock, wearing knowledge like a necklace
Dropping jewels into gutters
But they fooled our mothers
Into thinking they could raise sons
In the darkness of night
But isn’t it always darkest
Before the sun is raised?
And when the sun is raised, doesn’t it make
The black hot, the eyes squint, the breasts sweat
The trees grow, and the children play?
The sun makes the pavement shimmer
With the mirage of the future
But I know I’m a dead man walking
A mute man talking
A blind man watching my brothers die
And I’ve built our coffins far too often
Now I’m walking a thin line
Between love and hate
Between warriors who speak
And beats that break
There’s a thin line
Between a bullet in the chamber
And a bullet in the brain
I’m a civilized man
With a little savage in me
But it’s not just a little savage
It’s a lot of passion in me
And sometimes, the soul rolls out of control
With no glass to restrain me
Some are fine being slaves
As long as the master is friendly
Others spit fire behind masks
Till the clip runs empty
You don’t need a semi
To see the assassin in me
But know that no soul is taken accidentally
The Angel of Death has an itinerary
And snatches you right out of your Bentley
Right out of your Gucci jeans,
Your Fendi shoes, your expensive life
God has written His book
And His pen’s ink won’t fade
So why do we ignore what God knows?
Why do we lie for what men think?
We’re just boys in the backstreets
Trying to commit sin
But my balance is off
My talent is lost
I married barrenness,
And I hear the voice of impending divorce
So before I hear it grow cold,
I may have to kill my dreams
And bury the corpse
I shed a tear for the loss
Like I’m bearing a cross
But my conception is far from immaculate
We’re mostly just bastards,
Our fathers gone,
Trapped in chains,
Because our lives were all wrong
But resurrected like Lazarus
Because our mothers were strong
And our romance is harsh
Like the kiss of the master
But we’ve got to move on
Even though our loss
Is as painful as the master’s whip
We’ve got to move on
I wish I could sing for justice
But I know no such song
I know of martyrdom, the Quran
Jihad and homemade bombs
And sure, they’ll say I’m wrong
For talking about homemade bombs
But the "Free World" drops bombs
With blood on their palms
And they have the nerve to ask,
“Why do they hate us?”
When they sang songs of freedom and justice
All bloody day long
They claim they live right,
But they’ve got to be dead wrong
Maybe because I’m still young and strong
I’m ready to run headlong into the fight
They think we desire death
But it’s the same blood that pulses through every test
I come from a line of warriors
Who shed iron vests
Raise swords high,
And dive into the heart of the mess
So send me your best
There’s only two outcomes:
Either I’ll send them to rest,
Or they’ll send me to my Lord
I like the second one the best
But I’ll fight, I’ll kill the killers
And live, refusing to settle for less
Because I’m already a dead man walking
A mute man talking
A blind man watching my brothers die
But I won’t build more coffins
And I won’t take part in that
This is my heart and my skin
And I’d rather die.
---
This version of the poem organizes the raw emotions and powerful imagery into a more structured flow, while keeping the original intensity and themes intact.
Beautifully performed, Amir Sulaiman thank you.
Some people don't mind being slaves as long as the masters friendly. Wow
So powerful and thought provoking.
“I’d rather die”💯💯💯💯💯💯
Dermot Kennedy brought me here
Same 💕
Powerful !!!!
I am still here!
In 2024 I'm still coming here for insight.
and our lives are about as painful as the masters whip but we have GOT to move on..
Demort Kennedy brought me here.👏
Life.
Dermot Kennedy sent me here
🇮🇪
Wow.
So Powerful 🤯
They have got to be dead wrong. I won’t let it go, I’d rather die.
Ma'shaa Allaah
It’s like we desire death. I just have the same blood that pumps through a lions chest. 🇵🇸
Free Palestine 🇵🇸
YOU must learn! We have got to move on !
WELCOME²DATAKEOVER.HOORA