Today I have followed the strange Damselfly,
Down to all ponds on my father’s marshland,
Not to live the blissful Waldensianism like Thoreau,
But to come down unto discovery of wonders
Readily displayed in the ****** manners of the damselfly
Sub-dragonfly that was conveniently called damselfly,

It is dark and white in pearly texture,
Like the Palmyrene Queen dear Zenobia,
Damselfly move as a pair on every time
A female and a male like a musical duet,
The Female has a lock on the ******
As the males does; tight lock on the sheath,
Keeping safe its ***** away from robbers,
The female damselfly has key to unlock
The cryptic lock system on the ***** sheath
Of the garlanded male damsel fly,
The male damselfly too has the key
That can only unlock the cryptic lock system,
On the ****** of the female damselfly,
Their lock and key functions within,
The specific species of the damselflies,
All this evolved to block out the thieves
The predating dragonflies of other species,
Intending to steal *** with the damselfly
With no other reason but to darwinize the damselfly,
Willie Topaz Mcgonall is the damselfly with Male lock
Billie Burroughs ghost is a dragonfly minus any key
African poetry is the damselflies with female poetic lock
Both have keys on each other’s custody of culture.

Build in a very humble way
Its architecture redolent of Europe,
Plain and honest in structure,
The vestibule at the entrance
Replete with old hardbound books
Dust covering the jackets
In their agony of human oblivion,
Every section has shelves under lock
Only to be open on permitted access.

Located in the desert like an oases,
But the desert of readers not waters,
But like any other oasis, it is useful,
At most to the genuine users.

There are books and books all over,
Windows only open after adjustment,
You start at the door step with classics,
Indian, European, American and global classics,
I pumped into Leo Tolstoy at the first glance,
Finely juxtaposed; Anne Karenina after War and peace.

I opened war and peace and I chanced on Napoleon
Then thrill of intellect and bliss of art
Began flowing into my guts like a river
I kept on wandering why Leo Tolstoy
Never became a Christian sub religion,
To be added to the two testaments,
For it to begat the post-modern holy Bible.

My physical peregrination of the hand
Led me to a vase of rosy wine
Its intellectual whiff surpassing all,
The psalms of David and songs of songs
This was nothing but precious discovery;
A thousand Rubiyats of Omar Khayyam
The shoulder of wisdom and love of God
The hero of Sufism and demystifier of heaven,
When in fact I came unto his 69th Rubiyat;
I have heard people say
that those who love wine are ******.
That can't be true, that clearly is a lie.
For if lovers of wine and love are bound for hell,
heaven would be quite empty!

I chewed and chewed fortune out of Rubiyats,
I went through all the thousand Rubiyats,
Only hot Sun and desert sand storms of Lodwar
Are my witnesses among the myriads of bystanders
As life of a reader is similar to the life a writer,
They both derive energy from solitude’s power.

I moved on again to Alfred Jarren
The son of France, the father of mystery;
Pataphysics the science of fantasy
It has the realm beyond metaphysics,
His survey of pataphorical world
Has remained witchcraft
Beyond my simple soul’s grasp.

Paradox is one other worldwide wonder
As I look at an illiterate Turkana Man,
Guarding the library, club in his hand,
His ever week from stubborn hunger,
His sires never go to school, perhaps culture
I looked at him often in my pause for muse,
Why guard knowledge that you can’t use?

I again came upon the Quran
I read it voraciously over and again,
In expectation of great knowledge
Always making Muslims to be noisy,
I have found nothing great in the Quran,
Only regular subversions of Biblical grammar,
Let Muslims sober up to respect Jesus Christ,
His sermon on the Mountain is perfectly enough
as an impeachment to crazed pataphoricals
That Muslims often dare the world with.

I read the Bible again in repetition
Of what I had did ten years ago,
I read psalms, Job and Isaiah,
Gospels and epistles are more nice,
Chronicles and Habakkuk are so dull,
Lamentations are somber poems,
Revelations are esoteric lies,
Kings and Samuel full of chauvinism,
Proverbs and Ecclesiastes are mere clichés
My idea is; mankind can fear God
Minus Jewish intervention.

Now I chanced upon The synagogue of Satan,
A book written by one other crazy American,
His name is Andrew Hitchcock Crichton,
The book is long and spellbinding,
Having historical facts from early centuries,
Chronicling mysterious growth of Jewish empire,
Arranging facts one after another
Dismissing Bush’s anger against Arabs,
Over the bombing of the twin towers
When they are the Jews who Bombed America
As a decoy to induce American wrath,
Thus twin towers bombing was Jewish war ploy
To put Arabs into a rat’s corner.

I came across one funny book
Written by a Indian sage
Its title was Secrets of ***
From male perspective,
I don’t liked the book
For its prurient content,
But to my sad chagrin it was the most read
Its leaves were dog eared and use worn
I spied into the rumour about its tearing,
T it was a hot cake among nuns and priests
Presently living at Lodwar cathedral.

You could also wonder my dear brother
Why a Christian library has works of Marx?
This was my muse as I read Karl Marx,
I mean everything written by Karl Marx,
From Das Kapita to Germany Philosophy,
Selected works to Poverty of philosophy,
18th Brumaire to Integral calculus,
The Manifesto to the letters,
I read Karl Marx as if I was in Russia,
I wondered why Catholics are Liberal
They fear not those who contradict them.

The Holy Grail is visibly placed
In fact at right hand corner,
At the far end on your entrance
I chose to read it
Because of its voluminousity,
The book is about ****** life
Of Jesus Christ and Mary Magdalene,
This book shares out that;
One time Jesus was found hiding,
Kissing Mary Magdalene, the Grail
In the most affectionate manner ever.

The catholic Library at Lodwar is bad news
It swallowed me like waters of Indian Ocean,
It is located at place called Lokiriama,
It was established by Bishop Mahoni
One other man deserving my respect
He was humble and catholically wise,
Very intelligent and consciously bookish,
His mission was to make the Turkana people
A modern community, but he failed,
He was so disappointed to his hilt
He transferred to the Archdioceses of New-York
Where he began facing problems of the law
On allegations of him being a *******,
I curse the devil for such temptations.

I did meet Yan Martel in this dome of books
His famous book; Life of Mr. Pi
It was my eye opener?
It transformed me from a village bumpkin
To a modern reader of global literature,
I read this book amid my fear of Tigre
But I was thrilled, to my bone marrow
When the main character drunk the blood,
Warm salty blood of the sea turtle.

I got another book with folded pages,
At its mid was the red book marker
Baring the name of the respected priest,
The book was entitled; How to excel as
A ****-******, chapter one focused on gays
Chapter two  focused on lesbians,
But the rest of the book was all homosexuality,
In nothing else, but rosiest terms.

On such encounters I once again went back,
To re-read 89th Rubiyat of Omar Khayyam
It has the following quatrain to echo;
Looking for peace on earth? Foolishness.
Believing in eternal calm? Foolishness.
Once dead your sleep will be short. You may
be reborn as a clump of weeds that will be
trodden underfoot, or as a flower that
will wither in the sun's heat.

African writers were stuffed on one shelve
Labeled African books of English expressions,
But on my request to the project manager,
His name was Peter Kebo, he was Flamboyant
And physically indifferent to Turkana poverty,
We agreed with him to rename the shelves
As; African literature in English Language,
Nobel Laureates are in this section;
Soyinka, Lessing, Coatze and Gordimer
Not forgetting the Egyptian literary tiger
In the name of Mahfouz or Maguiz
I clearly don’t know,
Sembene Ousmane is also here
I read him again for the fourth time,
It’s when I found out the simple truth,
That God’s bits of wood, translates as;
The wretched of the earth,
I read Lessing’s Grass is singing,
She likes ***,
I read Gordimer’s July’s people,
She likes menstrual blood,
I read everything here
As published by James Currey
In his Africa writes back,
I also read the White African Nobelite
Joshua Maxwell Coetzee
He is a wizard of Narrative literature,
I read his life of Mr. K.
I found amusing plots and amusing themes,
I also read Ngugi’s Wizard of the Crow
It is nice; Ngugi is still fighting dictatorship,
Not physically but in a metaphysical manner.

I was again lucky enough
To chance on Caribbean literature,
Is when I read Vitian S Naipaul
The humourist Marxist of Marxists,
I read his Mr. Biswas’s house,
With avidness of an aphrodisiac cur,
His characters like taking a long time
In the toilets, Naipaul is good,
I again chanced on George Flamming
In the Castle of my skin
Caribbean literature stinks of slavery
And counter-slavery.

My landing to the shelve of Latin America,
Was a total blessing; Gabriel Garcia Marquez
Stood out like tor of literature among others,
I began with his Big Maria’s Funeral,
Then I moved on to Love in Times of Cholera,
And then You Can’t Write to the Colonel,
As I spiced my intellect with Melancholic *****,
Then finally I revisited his Stories from Africa
And the Hundred Years of Solitude,
The following morning when I came back,
I read in the newspaper that;
Gabriel Garcia Marquez is dead!
It was sad and poor of me, I mourned him
With long essays and somber poetry,
Then I fell in love with the literatures
of Spanish origin in language sense,
I read Octavio Paz and Pablo Neruda
From Octavio I enjoyed coda,
Between Coming and Going and so on,
Neruda thrilled me with his sense of Marx
Especially his poem; on burying the dog.

European classics section arrested me
I never easily moved out of there,
I chanced on ****** and annals of Goebbels,
Reading Russians like Tolstoy,Chenkov,
Gorky, Gogol and Shelynetsyn was lively,
Chewing Shakespeare from cover to cover
Not spearing Pushkin nor Homer,
Victor Hugo was a relish. Emile Zola
And Maugham, I too enjoyed…

Then my holiday in Lodwar was finally over,
But I am soon going back for my Xmas,
I will directly go back to the European section,
I also remember having come by;
The Satanic Verses of Salman Rushdie,
I will have to  re-read it with passion,
It is my prayer that this time comes
For I to resume my holy duty
In the Catholic Library at Lokiriama
In Lodwar Dioceses of Turkana County
In the Savannah desert in North West
Regions of my country Kenya.

God has enabled you to live long
Up to the rare  age of ninety years
Not as a blessing to you whatsoever
But as a curse of Knowledge,
For you to realize the evils you did
During your reign of terror,
when you were Kenya's  president .

You misruled Kenya for twenty four years
Clinging to power like **** on lion *****,
You plunged the country into abyss of poverty,
You established torture chambers
And gave priority to prisons,
Special branch police and detention  camps,
You planted tribalism with passion
Favouring your Kalenjin tribes,
Inspiring them with the spirit of sadism,
That fuelled assassination and public fear,
Daniel Moi your ninety years are birthdays,
Of nothing else but tyranny and dictatorship.

You walked with government money in your bag,
You used tax payers money to cement corruption
You often behaved as a duffer, but a rigging expert,
You suffocated all government organs,
For you to remain a strong man of power
Your  horsemen were villains of villains,
To make you think that one tribe is special enough,
To enjoy political favour in their maximum stupidity,
You condemned Kenya to linger amid despair and mire
With your useless Nyayo philosophy,
That was self-suspicious and derisive to reason,
Making Universities submissive to KANU,
Your Political part that was a mere terror wing,
Chaired by Ezekiel Barangetuny the illiterate,
Who called Karl Marx as Karo Mariko,
He thought that presidential dialogue is food,
Expensive food sold by Kikuyus in Nairobi Hotel,
Your chief aim was to suffocate education,
Campaigning for villages polytechnics,
While you are  a heavyweight torturer of Dons
You; Moi , your name is a curse and public earache.

Daniel Branch of Warwick bemoans you dearly,
in his oeuvre of Hope and Despair for Kenyan people,
He often cites;You shot Robert Ouko the first Bullet,
In the head before you plugged out his eyes,
You ignored his cry for forgiveness and mercy,
Then you dumped his cadaver in the Ahero forest,
For it to be eaten by hyenas, black ants and scorpions

It is epical knowledge  among Kenyans,
But at most the people of Trans Nzoia and Bungoma
That when Masinde Muliro died in the plane
The King's Horseman was around, in the plane
Wielding ammonium gun in his pocket.

Charles Rubia and Matiba Kenneth were unlucky,
They both went mad while in the torture chamber,
Koigi wa Wamwere aged while in Kamiti  prison,
Raila Odinga lost his daer testicles while detained,
You punctured his left eye, he always mobs dears,
Every minute and second, and i am sure you Moi
You can't regret and feel for him, if he was your son?
Your horsemen thoroughly flogged Wangare Mathai
the Nobel Laureate,she won the Prize for nothing,
Other than her successful staving of  the pains
From the ferocious whips by your Kalenjin police,
You jailed and jailed people in Kamiti and Manyan
As if your were possessed by the devil of imprisoning
Or may  be you were possessed, were you ?

You fuelled the tribal clashes in Molo,
You motivated Sabaoits to **** the Bukusu,
You chased teachers of Kisii,Luhyia and Luo tribes
From your village of Baringo,where people starve
for no other reason that was genuine and patriotic
But out of your urge of ethnic sadism.

you made us to sing lame poems;
Jogoo !  Nyayo!Jogoo !  Nyayo!
Jogoo !  Nyayo!Jogoo !  Nyayo!
Jogoo !  Nyayo!Jogoo !  Nyayo!
think about , what were we saying?

You owe apology to the people of Kenya
and all others in the diaspora,
For  the stark misrule and reign of tyranny
You perpetrated on them for two decades,
Your ninety years of life are not a blessing,
But God's timing for you to contrite
To repent and repent  your heinous sins,
I personally wish you not  happy birth day
But humanity wants you  to apologize ,
To those  unhappy families and communities
That you detained and killed their kins.

It is not a confused whirr,
nor dumbish  agitprop poetry,
nor ramblings of a jumbuck
in guest for freedom to peddle
the awry science of antisemitism,
it is a poetic license of word-power
for him to  said what must only be said.

to sing cautionary verses and lyrics
against the flow of atomic warheads
from the America ,or whatsoever
on the western and Germany submarines
to the land of Israel, where Netanyau reigns
in terror and racist tyranny con Palestine,
or to versify a caution of this atomic arming
of Israel but not her neighbors like Persia
the cradle of Omar Khayyam the Rubiyatist,
or else to disarm the Arab world, as Israel terribly
arms her sons and daughters with nuclear and  Atomic drones
along with  hatred of the neighbours in mad avarice for land,
is not at all a crime of poetry but Gunter's artistic  morality.

Nobel reward cannot be a seal on your beak,
you Gunter, the brave son of  Bundeslander,
we cannot be lulled to sleepish silence
with blissful feelings of Nobel Laureatry,
cosmetic dignity , nonchalance or standoffishness,
when terror is reigning in the  Middle East
Israelis committing crimes against humanity
****** women, mauling children and shooting civilian Arabs,
that would be heinously wrong , punished even not
in the Hague of Holland but in the hottest place in hell
which John F. Kennedy saw Dante Alighieri creating,
for those who stand aloof , when evil is committed in the world.

Your communion in the Waffen schustafel or the Hitlerite SS,
is not impeachment on your moral history,nor reason for shame,
the poltergeist of Europe in the days of your youth was pure SS ,
in nature ,fibre and DNA,every European dreamed of a colony,
Britain and France cahorted to own Africa as their handkerchief,
****** bench marked to own France in 1943,  a colonial vintage,
******'s ***** was genuine government in Germany,
democratically ratified by the voters in Germany,
Your service to ****** was service to your country,
it was your turn of patriotism and love of fatherland,
like your contemporaries in other parts of the world
who prospered as the FBI,CIA,Mossadist,Kosmosols,
Gendarmes,Kanu youth wingers,or Colonial police
in Britain's Gulag in the name of African Archipelago.

i don't know what they mean,
when they call you Gunter the anti-Semite,
rebuking Israelis  terrible killing  of  Arabs
is not reason not even an emotion enough,
anywhere, whether on earth or in the ethereal,
to call Gunter an  anti-Semite or an  immoral poet.

wasn't colonialism a warped racial conscience,
was it not anti-negroism or anti-africanism,
persistent torture of black slaves in America,
doesn't it call for social phenomenology?
isn't it Anti-blackism or it is only  justifiable slavery?

Let Gunter Grass say what must be said,
let him sing what must be chanted,
Like Lenin and Gogol of Russia
let him do what must be done
let him fear what must be feared,
let him not fear the loss of Nobelite dignity,
Jean Paul Sartre won the Nobel Prize ,
but his clear socialist consciousness
made him decline to pick the cash,
in true service to his ideals,
he still glowed like a bush fire
in the Harmmattan wind
he never waned in glory whatsoever
even in his current realm of abode
among the living dead of the world
he still shines as a  center piece
when time for chance to voice of  reason
is called for, for humanity's sake,
Let Gunter Grass say what must be said.

It is in the nature of clouds to hang high in the sky,
To cover the face of the sun with arrogance so stubborn,
To twist hope and fortune of man with its power on rain,
To enter with a stampede in thunderous claps to humanity,
Cooling the spheres with its Sun fettering power,
Clouds come forcefully as if they will wane not,
They catapult the times into a frenzy of no measure,
Cloud of Omar Khayyam in the skies of Nishpaur
Showered town tremors in the arts of Arabia
Rubiyats and Rubiyats to a thousand fold,
Paving way for others in the English azure;
Shakespeare William the thievish bard of John
He stole the political papyrus of King Lear
From indolent European in the English Shires,
******* lyrics and Pindarics in **** of Lucrece,
Until the times came to its unbelievable exit
From the stage reigned only by culturally mighty
At the glorious hamlet of Stratford-upon-Avon,
Just has his master cloud solemnly disappeared,
Into the Arabic death gardens of Omar Khayyam,
It is indeed the true nature of all clouds
To appear with flamboyant spirit of tyranny
But only to disappear later like tail of snake.

Some times tremors of foolish wise thoughts,
pass man's mind like waves of earth quakes
across the muscles of unsuspecting earth,
to day one of the type has visited my brain,
i ask myself why John F Kennedy committed suicide,
with all the resources and riches in America of Kennedy's time,
The FBI, CIA, NATO and the shrewd Mozart, the security masters
of the world's vogue all guarding the Kennedy the president,
how came that the public imbecile had claim on his life,
money overflowing like the waters of River Congo,
into insatiable Atlantic basin is the simplest measure
of American riches that Kennedy headed at his time of demise,
full backed with intellect matchless muscle from study of history,
eloquent like the weaver birds of Uganda in the city of Mbale,
sending all packing in the likes of Nehru, Nyerere and Nkrumah,
perhaps subdueable in single phase to the mighty of Castro,
how comes that a madman killed Kennedy in the fullness of the day,
was it the invisible hand of the Ku klux ****, Synagogue of Satan or Freemason,
the death of Kennedy is none other than beautiful suicide
or the active curse of fate, misfortune and violent death.

Why Nkrumah died out of power was political suicide,
his knowledge of the world set African pace,
towering mentally above all else in the chronicles of consciesism,
he stood like a tor on the African mountains against Senghor
Why Colonel Afrifa putsched Nkrumah is none else
other that suicidal politics played at helm of power.
why Tom Mboya died is suicide of suicides
to believe that reason can overwhelm ethnic sentiments
in a tribal consciousness of country like Kenya
in time of Kenyatta,
to foolishly conceive that Kikuyu can assassinate a Kikuyu
was Luo foolishness of that particular century,
it is Mboya who bought the gun that shot him dead,
it is Mboya who bankrolled his own assassin
he brought to the world political suicide of the century.

Tribes matter more than research,
jobs dished on ethnic network,
as academics are left to die
at the thrones of sadism
and selfish megalomania,
proffessors more illiterate
as reading culture succumbed to death,
to pave way for money culture,
harvested from parallel programmes,
that takes the beautiful
and the academically incompetent,
to the university at  mercy of their wallets,
where the proffessors renew their sinews,
on the french chicken by parralleley style
on the tops of the female parallel students,
as they inspire them with new culture,
of laziness,twiterature and cyborature,
face-booking for unique *** partners,
as books are left to be dust ridden
on the miserable shelves
of ramshackle libraries.

Tanya Rosenblit is a young TV producer,
the daughter of Russian immigrants
but  now a lawfull citizen of Israeli,
in spite of race,gender and faith,
she  lives in the coastal town of Ashdod,
punitively remote areas of Israel
reserved for immigrants ,  sub-human Gentiles,
in the  fresh past within the scope of digital error
she harmlessly  caught a bus to Jerusalem,
the city were God is supposed to reign from,
  she  too had a medical appointment in it
She made an effort to dress modestly o! No; Godly,
as her doctor was in an ultra-Orthodox area of the city
the doctor fears outer anatomy of  human being,
women anatomy in the area of legs at most.

The ultra-Orthodox are Jewish chauvinists
who have a justified world of anti-humanity,
they believe in sub-humanity of women and foreigners,
these  they extremely hold with  religious  dint,
they  are  theologically rigid Jews, who yell terror
on their prey,they wear black like the Tarzans,
men have long side curls, giving them impish look,
as  every aspect of their lives  in Jerusalem and yonder,
is  apparatchik  of racial prejudice,
beautifully coded in the Old Testament.

Rosenblit was the first passenger to board
Just as Rosa Parks the black American,
She sat in the front of the bus , humbled as usual
so the driver could  guide her, given her sub humanity,
when she reached her stop, lest chimpanzee in her,
Lulls her into lawless extension beyond the quarantine.

Then they came
Ultra-Orthodox men
to  board the bus
after her
they were overtaken by discomfiture
when they saw her on the front chair,
Then  of them insisted the bus is messy
he would not travel , imagine his business,
unless Tanya moved to the back of the bus
where immigrants and sometimes women belong.

imaginary laws evolved there and then,
that  buses which go to ultra-Orthodox areas
must have men and women seated  separately,
to sing a lyric to  their believes about modesty
It's an unwritten rule, repugnant  and arsolian,
but the Ultra-Orthodox men  love it with passion,
  they enforcing it with paranoia.

They ordered her to vamoose
of course to the back seat
the back seat that is not there
she balked and refused
inviting them to chance of reason,
they went hysterical
shouting like maniacs , 'Jews, Jews, protest, protest!'
then Jewish  men assembled outside the bus,
panting like an antelope,
that has escaped wrath of the lion,
They were all wearing black, gnomish
Tanya  was just sitting there frozen,
in full spirit of Russia, the cradle of revolution,
not panicking , calm and herself.

Jewish  policeman arrived and spoke in Jewish dialect,
to the driver with air of self-marginalization,
then  to the Jewish  complainant and to Tanya Rosenblit,
He  also ordered her to move to the back seat
as  show of respect, to elders in black,
Once again, she refused, on basis of one reason;
respecting others is not humiliating myself.

It has now gone an epical song
like the fables of Homer and Ramayana,
or else a national anthem like the poem of Tagore,
in India and lesbian song of Brenda Fasie in south Africa,
that six million Jews were killed in the  world war II ,
that they were killed at Dachau,that it was holocaust,
That the Jewish Holocaust  was  protege of ******.

As if  the war was between the Jews and the world,
as if the Jews alone died in the war,but none else,
as if Africans' death  is not death,but ethics of war,
as if more than six million Africans who died are not news,
as if humongous compensation with state of Israeli to the Jews,
means nothing  until what we know not must happen.

African deaths in the second world war  lacks statistics,
given the sub-human conditions of the Africans  by then,
before thrones of colonial psychology of white civilization,
they were more than six million black men  and women,
conscripted by white man's force in kings African Rivals,
They were fronted  without training to shoot and take cover,
they were placed as front guard,white soldiers the rear guard,
then they became shield and human barricade to ward-off,
volley of bullets lest the white soldiers get wounded.

Black men  and women rarely came back alive,
once taken into war that was death as a must
those who survived the war in Panama or wherever,
were never taken back home, they were left there,
to walk on foot thousands of miles back home ,
without food ,clothes,arms or  map to guide,
some were even shot by the their own  fellow white soldiers
on the grounds of the race, because the war was over,
Black men as such died of hunger,thirst,exhaustion and Malaria,
they were eaten by wild animals in the bush,their cadaver went to dogs,
Millions of black men  never got home for ceremonial burial
and this was not Black holocaust, only the Jews had a holocaust.

Black men had no stake in the second world war whatsoever,
they had no interest , they were not in any colonial scramble
they were not in any  arms race nor imperialism of any sort,
Jews had what they wanted; land or money whatever it was,
but where can you get land and money without the cost ?
loss of lives or personal heritage can be the cost,Pyrrhic or Byronic,
Jews are obviously truth bound to accept this virtues of history,
to accept their lot as a swallowed misfortune
from the universal holocaust but not Jewish holocaust.

The Japanese in Nagasaki and Hiroshima will say what,
was not the atomic bombing of their land
occasioning mass death of the Shintos
and sons of Japan the owners of the Sun
immense enough to be a Japanese Holocaust ?
Nagasaki and Hiroshima is not an anthem in Japan,
but  blurred number of Jewish death in Dachau
is a universal anthem as the Six Million Jewish Holocaust,
what a selfish motivation to commit collective lies?

Jews who died were not six million,
Germany by  then was not such populated,
Germany had less than ten million people,
Kwani, were the Jews more than the native Germans ?
if then war is the game of numbers ,
couldn't the Jews  defend themselves from less Aryans?
Jews died, yes like any other race and community,
like the French,Britons,Germans,Russians and Indians,
Just like more than six million black  Africans who died,
But Africans have forgotten and forgiven their  conscriptors
they have never made the Black Holocaust  their epical anthem,

Black men were compensated nothing for their wounds in war,
Ask Richard Wright the Native son of America in the realm of ancestors,
he has a story in the black boy , he will tell you ,We black men ,
We swallowed  the most  bitter bill of  global history,
were toyed between the extremities of cruel historicities;
from slavery to  colonial terror to world war back to colonial terror,
The Jews were given Israel as a compensation for their wounds,
The  UNO wanted to Give the  country of Uganda to the Jews,
As  saucer compensation in addition to state of  Israel,
imagine brutality that Black man harvests ,
from his relation with the white  world.

How  many Arabs have the Israelis killed since 1948,
the year when Jews had Palestine's Atlas get shrugged
in the American  efforts to pamper the Zionist  Israelis,
are they not  more than six million Arabs , or they are less,
Arabs are not ****** who told the Jews to take a shower,
A lethal shower of ammonium gas at Dachau chambers,
Arabs are not Joseph Goebbels who ployed death of  the Jews,
But Jews have amassed all type of menacing weapons,
they have killed men,women and children of Arab nation,
in the past six decades, Jews have killed violently and brutally,
more than six million Arabs, is this  not an Arab Holocaust,
or no a Palestine Holocaust or no the Gentiles' Holocaust ?

the events of second world war were universal in dint
they never befall a single race,community or faith,
every community lost its people through death,
But Africa had the worst experience of all the cases,
absence of statics cannot make this sham claim,
Jews must stop lies and make genuine claims,
Jewish Holocaust is a misnomer for war event,
we all suffered and agonized in equal measure
why again formulate lies to justify avarice.