More on Poetry

While I’m on the subject of poetry, let me share a few leftwing poems of mine.


Tears stream down her cheek,
the Tigris and Euphrates flood her face.
The anguish burns her soul
as her heart drowns in emotion.
Her son has died,
his body recovered,
but she cannot see it.
The cops, nay vigilantes
hunted him down.
He was wanted.
This man had his cause
to protect his neighbors.
So many suffered,
so many were slaughtered.
The soldiers blinded by grief for their fallen comrade
slaughtered a village.
Blindly, he too slaughtered
fooled by grief.
She still sees her innocent child
scarred by his first memories
of oppression.
She still loves her child,
she is proud.
Across the ocean they celebrate
while she mourns.
They do not see
his beauty,
his love.
Even those who have done horrors
have that angel inside;
that innocent spark of childhood innocence.
She is blind to his errs
and they are blind to his virtues.
They do not think of her tears
or the tears of so many mothers
for they are tears of the enemy.

Nudist Manifesto

Nationality, religion, race, class:
the clothing of the world.
Are you wearing the right clothes,
designer jeans, fancy shoes, and the perfect shirt?
Some will haze you for the wrong style,
others will want you dead.
You need the proper dress to get in exclusive clubs.
To do this is wrong, evil, and vile
but to ignore the naked body underneath,
the true essence,
the soul…
When it comes to love
it is not only evil
it is foolish.

Al-Zarqawis Cryptmates

The stench of flesh baking as it rots in the sun.
The sound of flies swarming
and maggots cracking through skin.
The Earth tastes the salty blood, both sweet and bitter.
God sees the sight of cowardly and indiscriminate slaughter
and I feel the pain of the innocents.
Zarqawi did not see the difference
between innocent and guilty.
The bombs did not see the difference
between innocent and guilty.
Hundreds of thousands of innocents dead
in exchange for three thousand.
A subway tragedy in Spain
for Americas sin.
A spiritual advisor, man of God.
A woman’s corpse birthing the baby flies.
A child who had not the opportunity to do wrong.
The military is supposed to stand for honor:
the few, the proud,
those too cowardly to get in close and use discretion.
From each innocents ashes
arise three phoenixs of vengeance.
Shall the cycle continue until there is nothing
to rise from ashes?

Moral Dillema

Is one American soldier
worth a hundred foreign civilians?
Is a man from Mexico
worth more than one in China?
Are all men not created equal?
Is a dead woman in Palestine
justified by a prisoner of war?
Does ravishing poverty overseas
really make you feel safer?
The answer is blowing in the wind.
The wind is made of air.
The air represents intellect.
The intellect is guided by the heart.
Are you worthy of Heaven?

Seeds upon Rocks

The van rolls through the trailer park
and I question why I came along.
Shit is about to go down
and I am only observing
waiting for the more acceptable part of the night.
young and old,
white trash,
pour from the trailers with make-shift weapons in hand.
I am disgusted
but impressed.
The forces of evil, racism, hatred
wield such an impressive showing;
a passion that consumes to any end.
The skinheads that run aside the van
at first I look down on them
I despise them
I fear for their victims.
But then I see the promise,
the alchemical seed of justice within their demonic hearts.
It is reassuring to think that in the face of tyranny
the seeds of justice could be brushed off the rocks
upon the fertile dirt
and the blades of grass which grow
would be blades of justice
doing battle for good instead of evil
by pulling out racism’s weeds
and using some quality grassroots gardening.

Nazism is a Contagious Disease

Beasts wild with hunger the borders cross
enforcing a foreign policy of preemption and agression.
As the Luftwaffe forces submission upon the capital city
with dragon’s breath
indiscriminate and destructive,
the SS patrols the motherland
massacring the occupied opposition
partisans in arms.
A race unwelcome in the land
is walled in
in apartheid from the “master” race,
God’s “chosen” people.
Prisoners are blindfolded,
hands tied behind their backs
as if they wielded power before,
their individuality and souls replaced with a number
placed upon their bound hands.
The world sits back and wtaches genocide
and ruthless aggression against the nazis’ neighbors;
an attempt to restore a God-sanctioned and glorious past
so vital to the fascist’s myth.
They claim that neighbors hold ancient holdings captive
so their conquests are right and just.
Seeing history repeat itself
a small girl looks upon the horror that once claimed her life.
Israeli bulldozers demolish a house in the night
claiming the lives of a family
and Anne Frank’s tears wash over a young Palestinian girl
claimed in the avalanche by the grim scythe
and her tears pour over the land
streaming from the river into the sea
washing away the opressor’s illusion.
The tributaries to her river of tears
are formed by a Halocaust surviver weepoing on the Knesset floor;
flashback brought on by the seige of Ramallah.
Albert Einstein stares at the Ark of the Covenant with grief
as it lies shattered and tattered upon King Solomon’s floor.
He asks if his decision not to rule in 1948
ordained by prophecy
if he had said “yes”
could that have saved the covenant?
A Welsh rabbi watches the BBC footage of Beirut burning
and wonders if reclaiming Israel
without the moshiach ’s rule
denied the people of Einstein’s justice.
Israel perfected Germany’s strategies
and God looks down in disgust,
the ark in shreds,
ready to destroy their world in the fire
of the dragon’s breath and nuclear mushrooms.
THe opressed fearfully await Ramallah
transformed into Auschwitz.
Syria and Iran
star in the roles of France and England
but will the United States play itself?
Will the diaspora rematerialize
or will Hitler’s second coming find success
with a new master race?

One Response to “More on Poetry”

  1. Richard Says:

    whoa now, don’t surfeit me with socialism! :)

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