Posts Tagged ‘ revolution ’

Poem on Syria: Putrefaction

of late

I’ve had this thought

that this country

has gone backwards

4 or 5 decades

and that all the

social advancement

the good feeling of

person toward

person

has been washed

away

and replaced by the same

old

bigotries

 

We have more than ever

the selfish wants of power

the disregard for the weak

the old

the impoverished

the helpless.

 

We are replacing want with war

salvation with slavery

we have wasted the gains

we have become rapidly

less

 

we have our Bomb

it is our fear

our damnation

and our

shame

 

now

something so sad

has hold of us

that

the breath

leaves

and we can’t even

cry

 

— Charles Bukowski, who rarely capitalized words.

For Syria

Listen to: Goldmund – Threnody

I weep the beloved country, for it celebrates martyrs that have gone too soon. It lets out a scream and although we all hear it, see it, and witness it, we cannot feel its loudness through exile. The boy who cried revolution lays untouched beneath ashes of his own home. Now, he is warm and wrapped in the embrace of heavens above. He looks down upon us in hope, while we look up in tears and pray.

It has been a year and I swear, I cannot fathom how for everyday throughout these 365 days a soul has left us due to injustice. Every asylum I seek for emotional comfort is closed for repairs. My country is dying. My people are starving. I am losing my sanity, one body at a time, one cry of help at a time.

Bless their souls, be they forgotten beneath rubble, or buried amidst gunshots. They are dead, but never gone. Their chants echo across a blind universe that is bound to wake up soon. And when it does, I will nurse you to sleep my fallen kingdom of hopes. I will shelter you within my dreams and I will save you for myself, all to me, because I am selfish when it comes to you. I am your child and you are my land, my holy red land that died while resting on my lap. I will bury you, just as I buried your different flags, your martyrs and my tears. Within my forsaken silence.. I will bury you.

I let my guard down and have failed you, my beloved country. I have failed your weeping children; I have failed your widowed wives and husbands; I have failed your unborn children that never saw the light of day and died in their mother’s womb. I have failed you. I am at loss of words, for silence has taken the best of me.

Nothingness; numbness; blank. Statistics; rivers of blood; cloudy skies; obscure future; Syria; the unknown. وهل للوطن بديل؟

Zombie nation: The revolution of silence.

Listen to: Dustin O’Halloran – Open Letters.

She sways to the moon in steady motion. Its gravity pulls her towards the skies, and pushes her away – gently. Her eyes speak a thousand words between every blink and the other. The repetition of nightmares has been keeping her sleepless for days. She craves sleep like a lover’s first kiss. Her raw emotion walks her miles and miles to the sea as her thirst grows more and more.

At times – she sat on the edges of eternity and imagined the moon could speak. What wonders will it say; she wonders. The temptation to hear a heaving moon’s cry persists to return whenever lurid nightmares waken her with fright. Tree branches knock timidly on her window, as the music of birds chirping stable her heartbeat.

The sins we commit sometimes take the best of us. We assume we know best, when in fact, we do not. As we attempt to forgive ourselves, we overlook minuet details that help in the self-destruction route we unintentionally take. Our behavior affects those near us most. If only one would take the time to consider, appreciate, and understand – the world might be in peace, or at least, peace would not be a myth heard through mosque pulpits on Friday prayers, or from a church choir on a Sunday evening.

Perhaps if we assume that we do not actually live in a world where the mythological ‘peace’ exists then we would at least realize the sins we’ve committed in quest of it. Or maybe we could at least stop pretending that we believe in this peace puppet show we are lead to believe by propaganda and government ‘not’ owned media.

When the industrial revolution begun, everyone was rushing to educate themselves, to read, to learn about enslavement, tyranny, to fight back – now, we are at a seemingly similar situation, trying to liberate ourselves from the iron fist clutched at the throat of the Middle East, we turn on the television, rest on our potato couches and ask to be fed lies after lies. Then, when we can barely keep our eyes open, we walk as zombies to sleep as others are detained and murdered for demanding their rights.

After all, politicians do what they do best: lie. It is not new, but our ignorance, our profanity in silence and submission has reached new lows. We are not as helpless as they make us believe. Alas, we are to blame for our own stupidity.

We fear fear itself, not detention, not death, but fear. How weak we have become sickens me at times, more than I can tolerate. I wonder at times if screaming out the window of a car, or painting a bold ‘wake up’ statement on a state building in some fancy city would feed anything but my artistic needs. We are but in denial of our own stupidity and refuse to believe how costly our silence truly is. And I wonder – If our silence was that loud, how would our voices be when united?

She wakes up from yet another nightmare. The moon has not yet spoken, the trees no longer knock on her window, and the birds have gone silent at dawn. How ironic it is to see everything clearly amidst complete darkness, when blind in presence of brightest of lights.