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“Even the streets leading up to its outer barriers were roamed by gorilla-faced guards in black uniforms, armed with jointed truncheons.”
                                                    ­ George Orwell, 1984* (published in 1949)

Which brings us, of course, to the subject of torture since 1949.
Come with me to the Casbah, Babaloo.
We begin in the 1950s with the French in North Africa,
****** baguettes in Algeria,
Couilles frits, anyone?
Electrodes wired to Mustapha’s *****.
And "Bigeard's Shrimps,” as the bodies were called,
Dumped over the Mediterranean from aircraft,
All things considered a je ne sais quoi,
Though Camus and Sartre gave it a whack.

Then the 1960s: the CIA dabbling in mind-control and LSD.
Later, a Phoenix Program,
Very secretive, sympathies with the Cong required,
Various elders selected,
The village disinfected,
**, **, ** and a bowl of Pho.

Apartheid anyone?
Thirty years of South African terror & torture.
Torment in the townships,
Shaka Zulu gold and diamonds,
De Beers in Swaziland swing.

1971: riots at Attica,
Prisoners abused and tortured,
Rockefeller’s overcrowded slammer,
An upstate New York katzenjammer,
Nelson’s finger on the trigger,
39 dead and counting,
But who’s counting?

The CIA, back in the news in 1973,
Torture chambers under Chilean soccer stadiums,
And the Khmer Rouge:
Those Wacky Cambodians with skull racks.  
And let us not forget the British,
With centuries of colonial experience behind them,
Occupy six counties in Northern Ireland.
Finally codify the imperial process,
The Five Techniques:
Sounds like a Motown group,
Satin smooth colored boys,
But more method than music:
(1) Wall-standing,
(2) Hooding,
(3) Subjection to noise,
(4) Sleep deprivation,
(5) No food and drink.

And there’s a bunch of horrible ****,
We still don’t know about the Argentine ***** War,
And other Mai Lai-like,
****-fest massacres in Vietnam.

How about torture since 1984?
Abu Ghraib and Guantanamo,
Come quickly,
(www.prematureejaculatorsanonymous.com)
To mind,
As do US-sponsored rendition facilities,
Spread throughout the NATO alliance.
And closer to home, it’s never a dull moment in the 5 Boroughs:
Brooklyn, Queens, Staten Island, The Bronx and Manhattan.
Take your pick from Giuliani’s Greatest Hits,
Rudy Kazootie’s campaign of law and order,
Not necessarily in that order.
More awful than lawful,
A bathroom plunger rammed up,
The Haitian voodoo ****** of Abner Louima,
While he be handcuffed at a Brooklyn station house.
Or, the NYPD partying like it was 1999.
When in fact, it was1999,
And a curious death it was for Amadou Diallo,
Would-be American citizen from The Republic of Guinea,
(No connection to Italy or Italians),
Abner & Amadou: a pair of cautionary tales,
Either/or reflecting standard procedure for the Po-Po,
Time and time again from coast to coast.
Either/or: poor Abner, no Haitian Papa Doc.
Poor Amadou, on his way home from night school,
When police squeeze off 41 rounds,
Most of them in his direction,
Hitting him 19 times.
Just the facts, ma’am:
Diallo had reached into his jacket.
A trigger-happy police officer yells “Gun.”
A jungle warfare quartet springs into action:
Shenzi, Banzai, Ed & Zazu,
Four equally trigger-happy colleagues,
Empty their weapons.
No gun was found on Diallo,
Only the wallet he tried to pull out,
Containing his Green Card,
4 U.S. dollar bills;
And a laminated,
Credit card-sized copy of the U.S. Bill of Rights.
(I just didn’t know when to quit, did I?
The wallet was there with Green Card and the bucks,
But I made up the part about the Bill of Rights,
Trying to add poetry to tragedy, as usual.)

I don’t have to say much about Rodney King (RIP).
You watched it on TV a hundred times,
And a picture’s worth a thousand words.
Or ten thousand or a million, I suppose.
“Can’t we all just get along?” asked Rodney Glen King.

Last but not least there’s Kelly Thomas (RIP),
Another incidence of police insanity,
It was July of 2011 in Fullerton, California.
Thomas, a 37-year-old homeless man,
Schizophrenic, but unarmed,
Beaten to death at a bus depot,
During an altercation with six Fullerton police officers.
Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2019225/Kelly-Thomas-Poli­­ce-beat-taser-gentle-mentally-ill-homeless-man­-death.html#ixzz1e­3­4QnHtr

Mervyn Lazarus | Attorney | (www.mervlazarus.com) Police Brutality, Excessive Force and Jail Injury cases | California . . . Albuquerque

Jackie Chiles perfect attorney -YouTube, (www.youtube.com/watch?v=jpcEietIoxk) Nov 17, 2010 - 13 min - Uploaded by Kroeger22 All the scenes with Jackie Chiles from Seinfeld."Chiles is a parody of famed attorney Johnnie Cochran; both ... www.seinfeld.com

Perhaps the greatest torture of all,
Is that which artists subject us to.
Let us examine the case of Roberto Bolaño:
Roberto Bolaño, the great Chilean writer,
Tells a fabulous World War II story,
About a Spaniard--an Andalusian--
Fighting for the Germans against the Russians.
Captured by the Russians,
He is tortured for information.
The Spaniard speaks no Russian,
He knows only four words of German.
The Russian interrogators strap him into a chair,
Attach electrodes to his *****,
Attach pincers to his tongue.
The pain makes his eyes water.
He said--or rather shouts--the word coño.
It is Spanish for ****.
The pincers in his mouth,
Distort the expletive,
Which in his howling voice comes out as KUNST.
The Russian who knows German looks at him in puzzlement.
The Andalusian was yelling KUNST,
Yelling KUNST and crying in pain.
KUNST in German means art,
And that was what the bilingual Russian heard, KUNST.
“This ******* must be an artist or something.”
The torturers remove the pincers,
Along with a little piece of tongue,
And wait, momentarily hypnotized by the revelation:
The word ART had soothed the savage beasts.
So soothed, the savage beasts take a breather,
Waiting for some kind of signal.
Meanwhile, the Andalusian bleeds from the mouth,
Swallows his blood liberally mixed with saliva, and chokes.
The word coño,
Transformed into the word *KUNST,

Had saved his life.
It was dusk when he came out of the building.
Light stabbed at his eyes like midday sun.

So, it’s a fact that I love,
Truly love the simple blunt Anglo-Saxon expletive ****,
****: I pray that while I am being tortured some day,
I have the dignity to scream the word out loud.
And if I am screaming **** at the very end,
When my nervous system finally fails,
When I **** my pants,
When my pulmonic heart and lungs collapse,
Is that so bad?
Is that so wrong?

Do you realize that 1984 came--
Came and went, without any significant cultural hoopla?
The networks ignored it.
As did the cable pundits.
No significant comparative analysis between,
Orwell’s book 1984 and the year 1984,
Was broadcast electronically or publicized in print.
Steve Jobs got it, but as usual no one else did.
Mr. Jobs (RIP) did his best,
To mainstream its profound cultural relevance,
But ultimately failed,
Despite the $1.5 million he paid one of the networks,
To air a one minute nation-wide commercial,
During the 3rd Quarter,
Of Super Bowl XVIII,
January 22, 1984.
Despite Ridley Scott’s astonishing spell-binder,
His 60-second spot for The Macintosh 128K--
Still considered a watershed event,
And an advertising industry masterpiece,
…YouTube it and watch it.  (www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z8ji0B98IMo).
See the hammer throwing athlete chick,
See her fling the sledge,
That huge sledgehammer,
Smash into Big Brother’s flat screen face.
Despite Jobs’ global presence,
Despite Steverino’s unfettered microphone access,
Whenever he felt an oraculation coming on,
Despite everything,
He was unable to move the powers that be,
To either hype the book or the prophecy come true.

So, what’s my point? I have two.
First, in April 1984 the estate of George Orwell,
And the television rights holder to the novel 1984,
Considered the edgy Jobs/Scott commercial to be,
A flagrant copyright infringement,
Sending a cease-and-desist letter to Apple Inc.
And the advertising agency that produced the spot: Chiat/Day Inc.
The commercial was never televised as a commercial after that.  
Score: Lawyers 1, Artists 0.

My second point is that in November 2011,
The U.S. government argued before the U. S. Supreme Court,
That it wants to continue utilizing GPS tracking of individuals,
Without first seeking a warrant.
In response, Justice Stephen Breyer (one of the sane ones),
Questioned what this means for a democratic society.
Referencing Nineteen Eighty-Four, Justice Breyer asked:
"If you win this case, then there is nothing,
To prevent the police or the government from monitoring 24/7,
The public movement of every citizen of the United States.
So if you win, you suddenly produce what sounds like 1984 . . .”*

My third point,
(Yeah, I know I said two, but *******.)
My third point is that I’m just so ******* angry,
All the time, late and soon like Wordsworth,
(Was anyone more aptly named?)
I am angry about so many different things,
And every day that goes by I relate more and more,
To the thousands of Americans that occupied,
Zuccotti Park and Oakland,
And countless other venues,
Out into the streets.
Across the country.
Around the world.  
I am humbled by their courage and perseverance.
Yet, I am afraid for them.
I am made paranoid by the scope and power,
Of the government,
Of the ruling class that controls it,
And the technology they allow us to embrace,
Technology’s sinister potential,
Now that more and more knowledge and information,
Has been digitized,
Existing only in cyberspace.                                                      ­                                                 
What frightens most is the realization,
That anyone with a word processor,
And access to the database could rewrite,
Any historical or legal document,
To fit the needs of a current agenda.
The scary part is—
Repeating myself for emphasis—
That anyone with a word processor
And access to the database could rewrite,
Any historical or legal document,
To fit the needs of a current agenda.

Does anyone out there give a ****?
Does anyone out there share my nightmare?
Do it to Julia.
Do it to Julia.
el Mar 2020
i used to have
some smiles
7 of them in fact
7 pretty little smiles
one for each day of the week
each brighter than the other
we had monday, she was patient and honest
but we had to give her away because
we saw a passer by who
needed to borrow her for a day
and so we gave her away
the stranger replaced her with a frown
but that’s okay because
we still have tuesday with us

tuesday who is kind and innocent
oh, wait
no
we don’t
because along came a friend who
had a broken heart and
tuesday didn’t understand why but
she wanted to sacrifice herself anyway
before she went she said
it’s okay, you’ve still got wednesday and the others

oh, wednesday
the tough softie
he fought for them when needed
he was loyal, he was brave. a soldier
and i guess that’s why when
my best friend lost her brother
wednesday felt like he had to be there for her
so i let her have him because
at least i could see her smile on wednesday
and before he went wednesday smiled at me and
he said
hey, you’ve still got thursday and the others

then thursday and wednesday bid farewell
two supposedly inseparable soulmates
thursday, sweet and gentle to match
wednesday’s toughness
wednesday was his hero
i guess that’s why
when my sister was in pain
thursday wanted to help
just like the others

thursday hugged me goodbye and
wiped away my tears as he reminded me
it was all for a good cause.
he kissed friday goodbye and asked her to be good to me
and friday promised she would
but she left too
she left while we were asleep
she picked up and went
we don’t know where but
she was always the loud and reckless one
we miss her though
and i think the loss of the others finally
made her
snap.
i don’t blame any of them.
it’s for a good cause.

that morning we woke up
saturday, sunday and i
all staring at one another
i took them in,
the polar opposite twins
saturday with her cheerfulness and wildness, her free spirit
and sunday with his sturdy consciousness and his good morals.
they looked at each other and looked back at me
and what they said broke me
completely
“we’re moving out. we’ve got a promotion and a house. we’ll still visit from time to time, but... we got a job where we can help the others .. it’s for a good cause”
and i feel my shoulders slump as pain ebbs through me
and i say
“okay, i understand”
and we say goodbye

see, i once had 7 pretty little smiles
one for each day of the week
but one by one they left me
they went on to do something great
and here i am now
with my straight mouth and dull eyes
please don’t ask me for a smile
because i don’t have any left within me
©️Elissar Mustapha
15.01.2020
el Apr 2020
what is love?
is it small
or is it big?
is it red
or is it yellow?
is it daily life
or the dying stars
at night?
is it pure joy
is it a hallucination?
something our minds form
something that doesn't
exist?
is it something we
have to pay for?
something so ****
overrated
that when it comes along
everyone is disappointed
isn't it just
a heartbreak when
you least expect it?
is it actually pain?
love is overrated
love is underrated
depends on how
your life's been going
it gives you
life and death
take your pick
which is worse?
Copyright. Elissar Mustapha
12.11.2018
"is it just a heartbreak when you least expect it" is probably, til this day, my favourite line i have ever come up with.
Norman Crane Oct 2021
what's left when wonders fade
amusements end
and the games have all been played
could we even comprehend
such life without distraction
a life of focus:
a life of action
el Mar 2020
i dare you
go on
tell me not to eat that
tell me i can't wear that
tell me i look fat
tell me i can't run
i can't party
tell me i can't move,
tell me i can't accomplish
tell me i should starve
tell me i should do something about this weight
this look
tell me i should run and not eat
no more than one leaf of lettuce a day
tell me i should only drink water
tell me no one will love me
no one will want me
tell me i'm ugly
tell me i'm not worth it
tell me my flabs are just a waste of space, and
that i take up too much oxygen when i breathe, because

i'm fat.
i'm fat.
i'm fat.
I'M FAT
my head screams as i look into the mirror
do you think your friends aren't embarrassed to be seen with you?
honey, do you think you're pretty?
oH, do you think you can afford to go out
grab some dinner with your 'friends'?
can you afford that weight?
are you even pretty enough?
oH, do you think
really really think
you deserve to be happy today?
ha ha
that's funny
b'tch
look at your belly and go back to bed
go cry
worthless
worthless
worthless
you'll never be great
well, size is the exception.
you're a waste of space
stop
breathing.
honey, i don't think they make coffins your size..
it's okay,
you can feed the fish
:)
(C) Elissar Mustapha
27.03.2020
every time somebody comments on my weight it takes a massive toll on my mental health and makes me self destructive. first stanza is others and second stanza is in my head. words hurt. words cut deep. even if she's not ideal, remember, nobody is and she is more than the outside.
Be you black
Be you white
We are all one

Be you pink
Be you  brown
We are all one

Man is man
No matter his colour
No matter his tongue

(C) Kamarudeen Mustapha
I shift the papers
I shuffle the bundles
Online and offline
Looking for you
Through cyber nooks and crannies
Where you hide your many faces
In different moods
Scented smiles
Winsome eyes
Jubilant cheeks
Ivory strong teeth
Whiter than egret's wings
Coying dimples
Two curve amber rainbows
Black river of hair
Flowing forever
From Cairo to Congo
Half of the continent enriched
Send more of you
In papers and screens
The thousands here
Are appetizers alone!
The hunger could only be assuaged
Holding you face to face
Breath to breath
Kiss to kiss
And life to life


(C) Kamarudeen Mustapha
Michael Stefan Mar 2020
Hey everyone! This is not a poem, I just wanted to share that I published my 100th Poem on HE, "White Winds".  I have been slowly copying, editing, and posting all of my poetry to include about 10 recently written poems.  I just wanted to take a second to thank this loving, supportive, and responsive community.  You guys rock and I specifically want to thank Carlo, Mustapha, Autumn, Mark, Traveler, and Diana for all of the feedback.  And thanks to everyone else who has taken the time to like, love, and repost my poetry.  I don't intend to get a lot of likes or followers, I just love reading and sharing poetry.  I am always looking for honest feedback and I still got about 60 more to edit and upload.  YOU GUYS ARE AMAZING!  Thank you all so much and keep writing!!!  Nothing but love!!!

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