Rabu, Mac 15, 2017



Reading Fallujah

The smell of bullets floats
Darkens the clean air
And rustling of mortars pollutes
the solitary in Fallujah

When the dust and smoke become one
Thousands of animals stomped on the city’s soil

They rush looking for mosques and domes
To be destroyed
Or every bodies with beard and
Covered in robe
Are victims to be skinned
And they cheers
Looking at the blood and corpses

They have been poisoned with nightmares
Of a deceiver
And at a blink of the eyes
Allows their souls smeared with faeces

At a blink of the eyes Fallujah changed
Into a filthy wasteland
And from the well of their eyes and souls there is no water left
To be dropped

While the women and their children
From the cracks of stone and the city’s ruins

Now Fallujah becomes witness once again
To every lies by human
With ruthless heart and greed in their souls

November 25, 2004

In The Personal State

who grew
the isolated lands
in every personal state
if it’s not for the darkened heart
and the greedy hands
scrapers of the white soul

hey you shadow chasers
and black figures
the forest you sow
is breeding thorns and willows
you spread the fire of dispute
behind the masks

in whose eyes the thorn pierced
and the arrow stuck?

there are millions of sighs and moans
in silence
watching the white personal lands
and the river that twines the hill
now lying dead
in its darkening floor

for whom is this enmity for
and the fence that we build?

where is the greet now thrown
and the friendliness that now bruised?

is it behind the arrogance
or realization sets,
because in personal land we own
isolated land grew
and foul-smelling breeze proposes?

August 5, 1993

Tiada ulasan: