More than half these poems were written in prison. This came about because the Islamic Movement in Sudan took power by a military coup, on 30th June 1989, and began their dictatorship; returning the country to the dark ages. Most Sudanese are without choice, without democracy, but are being oppressed in their own country by Islamic ideology; a country like Sudan, which has its local African traditional worship, Christianity and atheism. During the ten years between" 1990-2000"; I was arrested as a prisoner of conscience; twenty four times. This took place in many different towns, in Sudan. In October of 2000, during my 23rd arrest; I was taken from my home at Elhasahisa, after midnight; as usual; and driven to Wad Medani, the capital of the province of middle Sudan. I was put into a small dirty cell; before this, I was placed in "Reception Meal" in other words, the place for beating and plastic hose assaults on victims. In the morning of the second day in this cell; I noticed the wall. This wall was covered in writing from previous prisoners from my secret party, Communist Party of Sudan. I knew most of them. Some slogans were in blood; other were carved out of the wall; painstakingly. The clearest one I could see was written in blood saying "Vive for the struggle of Sudanese People". This writing was written there by my friend and comrade "Abdelmnaim Rahma", who died as a result of torture by the security police of the Islamic Sudanese government. Like this great man, many Sudanese brave souls were martyred in this way. When I saw this slogan written in blood, my spirit rose within me, and strengthened me to keep on struggling for my people. I also begin to write; in my mind; a poem to honour this martyr. As paper was not allowed in the prison; nothing in fact; I began to compose in my mind, many poems which gave me much spiritual healing. The cell became secondary. My spirit became afire with a need to express the pain in my heart, my body and in my soul, and grew beyond the cell. My spirit in this way joined my comrades in the world. Even so. I was becoming weaker because bad food was given to me; some time only once a day. I was taken out and stood in the sun for hours-Interrogations were long and usually conducted by 3- 4 men. Questions; aimed to break me down. I was suffering with malaria before arrest, but was not permitted access to medication. This added to my weakness- Before arrests, I learned to hide a very small pencil in the band of my trousers. After a while I was allowed to visit ablutions. During that time, I secreted paper scraps from soap covers. I would hide them to write on, bringing great relief, because my mind was bursting with poems! After three weeks of detention, news of me was circulating on the other side of the wall, in Sudan and other countries, where Sudanese exiled resistance fighters were campaigning for human rights; both internationally and in other Arabic countries. They petitioned the Islamic government on my behalf. The only way lives could be saved was by protests from human rights fighters inside and outside my country. As a result, my close relatives were allowed to visit me. I gave my mother my poems to take away. I felt that my poems were free like a bird; this prison has not been able to contain me or isolate me from my goals. The jailer is no longer effective. I got, after that, two sheet of white paper. In the whole of my life; since; there has not been a greater gift. I made the two sheets of paper into a small booklet of 16 pages, by using small writing and use of every millimeter; I composed half of "Bet of the Argil". The other half of this work was composed between many different cities i.e. "Alhasahisa, Khartoum, Cairo, Alexandria, Sophia, Berlin"; before and after prison; 1990-2002. Having said all that, my dear wish is that the reader will view my poems from their own heart and minds, and not from my perspective.