Category Archives: Poetry
Let’s talk Kumbaya
–Peace is bought and sold–
Then slaughtered.
–Re-packaged and marketed again–
Then slaughtered.
….Advocating for peace
Without advocating for justice,
Only serves the oppressor.
‘Twas the whip that spoke
The beasts are very wise,
Their mouths are clean of lies,
They talk one to the other,
Bullock to bullock’s brother
Resting after their labours,
Each in stall with his neighbours.
But man with goad and whip,
Breaks up their fellowship,
Shouts in their silky ears
Filling their soul with fears.
When he has ploughed the land,
He says: “They understand.”
But the beasts in stall together,
Freed from the yoke and tether,
Say as the torn flanks smoke:
“Nay, ’twas the whip that spoke.”
–Rudyad Kipling
Wild and Free
Our backs are free
Of your shackles,
Weight and whips.
Our feet are free
Of your “lucky”
Horse-shoes.
Wilderness is our
Home.
Your pens and fences
…A testament
To your own
Caged existance.
Sufi
minaret moon
winks at sun
dervish clouds
swirl
Question why
All the king’s horses
And all the king’s men,
Can’t put scorched earth
Back together again.
His Zionist masters’ make
Obama take the blame,
Before him it was Bush…
Tell me, is the master
Responsible
Or the attack-dog?
What used to be
The last tree
Was chopped down
To make a billboard.
Seeing through the haze
Helping hand
Show me kindness,
So that I will
See Love.
♥
All are Brothers
♪ ♪ ♪ young boys play ♪ ♪ ♪
♪ ♪ ♪ ode to joy ♪ ♪ ♪
Your Eyes
Come to me wherever you are
Whatever you have become
And return colour to my cheeks
And meaning to my being
Return and take me into your eyes
Take an olive branch
Take a verse of my tragedy
A toy
Take a stone from our house
So that our descendants
Will remember their way home.
– Palestinian Poet, Mahmoud Darwish
.
Light
From a higher window,
The light of truth shines
…Exposing reality as it is.
Tin-pot tyrant-israel, builds apartheid
Walls to secure its despotic,
Ethnically cleansed, pilfered land;
Not aware, of the transparency.
Free Palestine
The caged dove sings
Songs of Freedom for Palestine.
The 65 year Nakba,
Has not defeated her angelic wings.
Aglow
blossoms’ catch
sunshine
mountain pours
cherry wine
Indigo
true
royal
blue,
feasts
You raise me up
“To me, fair friend, you never can be old
For as you were when first your eye I eyed,
Such seems your beauty still.”
In the ditches of exhaustion,
Your love lifts me.
Magic
