White –
Protruding out of burnt flesh,
the broken bones of their young & old.
Spirals in their Skies,
the trails of predator drones.
Innocence of the children,
murdered in a symphony of sirens.
Red –
Blood on the pavement,
the fruits of violence.
Blood on Israel’s hands,
the reaper of vengeance.
Blood on our history,
for allowing inhumanity.
Green –
Soldiers in uniform,
clutching guns, in-waiting.
Military tanks,
tracing the borders, in-waiting.
American dollar bills,
funding the Israeli army.
Black –
Future of Gaza
teetering at oblivion’s door.
Apathy of the world
silently spectating.
Gaping holes
in Palestinian souls.
Thursday, November 22, 2012
Saturday, November 17, 2012
Gaza
A piece of this world left-out
like a morsel of flesh diseased, cut out
when really what is poisoned
is the entirety of the carcass.
like a morsel of flesh diseased, cut out
when really what is poisoned
is the entirety of the carcass.
_____________________________________________________________________
Note: The 'flesh', the land, the Gaza strip, perceived as the 'disease', the people (Palestinians) by the Israelis, who set to banish these people from their homes, to 'cut' them 'out'. The rest of the world, the 'entirety', just watching, 'poisoned' as we are by trivialities. Indulgent and ignorant, as the 'carcass' of Humanity rottens.
If it were our country's plight won't we want help?
If it were our country's plight won't we want help?
#Gazaunderattack
#prayforGaza
Sunday, November 11, 2012
Nonpareil
The hour is nigh
the silence after your leaving
has seeped into my bones
and now, I am fading.
None is waiting in the vestibule,
the silence has now aged
so much so that it has perfumed.
This is not godless penury,
I am past that.
Nothing but a drawn out valediction
fashioned with masochistic zeal
by my anima to whom,
you shall remain, stand-alone.
the silence after your leaving
has seeped into my bones
and now, I am fading.
None is waiting in the vestibule,
the silence has now aged
so much so that it has perfumed.
This is not godless penury,
I am past that.
Nothing but a drawn out valediction
fashioned with masochistic zeal
by my anima to whom,
you shall remain, stand-alone.
Friday, November 2, 2012
Dear Star III
How do I begin my November?
With kisses for the young leaves
and curtsies for the flowers.
To the gallant wind I throw my woes
To my heavy sighs I bid goodbyes
To the Star whom I loved from afar,
I greet you too
— as I always do.
With kisses for the young leaves
and curtsies for the flowers.
To the gallant wind I throw my woes
To my heavy sighs I bid goodbyes
To the Star whom I loved from afar,
I greet you too
— as I always do.
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