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 Jul 2014 dreadfulmind
ln
For Gaza
 Jul 2014 dreadfulmind
ln
You're sitting here on the internet,
Scrolling past timelines and getting into cyber wars.
But in some part of the world,
A child is losing her parents.
A nephew is losing his aunt.
A granddaughter is losing her grandmother
A boy is losing his cousin.
A woman is losing her husband.

A boy is being gunned down,
A girl is being forced to starve,
A boy is being forced to watch his parents die,
A girl is being forced into believing her grandmother is asleep.

Blood runs down like streams,
Peacefulness is completely being snatched,
They are treated like trash in their own country,
And everything is being taken away.

Don't you dare say you can't do anything about it,
Because everything makes a difference.

A word,
A phrase,
A thought,
*Just a sense of concern.
The screaming
children of Gaza
torment the sleep
of a troubled world,
and remain a real-time
unending nightmare;
anointing The Levant’s
fevered brow
with a diadem of
incessant grief.

Gaza is a burning
ankh that sears the
madness of sorrow
upon Egypt’s skull.

Gaza,
an unblinking
third eye
of shame,
peers into
Lower Egypt’s
closed window
ever reproaching
it’s turbulent
conscience;
chiding fellow
Muslims with
the ugly memory
of abject affliction,
the endless images
of a living Guernica
suspended in the hell
of indefinite imprisonment
all Palestinians are forced
to suffer.

As Zionists ***** the
steep walls of Apartheid to
extend its occupation
of Palestine, it
condemns the youth
of Gaza to a life of
incarceration with no
possibility of parole;
hardening the hearts
and steeling the resolve
of a new generation of
militants to demolish the
walls and the wardens
that imprison them.

The Zionist jailers
bestow upon
Ishmael’s Children
phylacteries of shame,
wearing the rolled
prayers of wailing pain
scribed with bits of
dust from the
the broken walls of
demolished buildings
and desolate homes
beyond habitation,
now housing grief
of trampled souls,
forcing recitations
of deliverance
to Allah while
davening an
incessant drone
of anguish at
the Wailing Wall
of Resentment;
decrying the
blood lust of
undying acrimony,
victimization and
the slaughter of
innocents, carried on
with the imperial license
of state sanctioned impunity.


Father Ibrahim's
feuding children may
share a sacred paternity
but remain the
divided brothers
of different mothers;
stoking a sibling rivalry
more bitter then
Cain and Abel.

Our anguish
never dissipates,
the gnawing
impulse of empathy
to assist the distressed
of Gaza is dashed
by omnipotent
powers recusing
the ability to act.

Sympathy is
embargoed
in the black
obfuscation
of religious
partisanship
while timely
assistance
to aid the
distressed
lie netted in
blockades of
realpolitik
affinities.

Gaza, where
Hashim is granted
his eternal rest,
restlessly inhabits
his unknown grave
from the destitution of
his profaned homeland.

Ghazzat,  “the stronghold”
countlessly conquered,
falling to Roman Emperors,
Lionhearted Crusaders
Ottoman Caliphates,
and British Mandates;
slipping from Egypt’s
geopolitical grasp as
as a casualty of
The Six Day War.

Gaza is now a stronghold of
resent and desperation for a
desperate conquered people.

Ghazzat, the prized city of
the western Mediterranean,
a four star Phoenician port of
caravansaries now unable
to trade with any partners
due to ungodly blockades.

Gaza, has grown wholly
dependent on the largess
of UN aid and meager
subsistence portions
doled out by well
meaning NGO’s.

Gaza, the foot stool of
the Levant and surely
the pathway Father
Ibrahim, Jacob,
Joseph and Jeremiah
traveled to escape
Canaan's famine;
finding at the close
of their sojourn
a table set with the
plenteous bounty
the Blue Nile
unconditionally offered;
the veritable feast
of abundance,
the generous yields
of the blessed delta
that sustained the
Prophets of Judah
and a thousand
generations of the
Nile’s Children.

Gaza, the Achilles
heal of Middle East
peace, land of the
Canaanites, Philistines
and Old Testament
heroes.

Gaza, a fortress for
Philistines who
imprisoned the storied
Sampson, revered for
breaking the chains of
imprisonment and righteously
destroying a pagan temple
in a suicidal act of heroism.

Gaza, where the myths and
legends of rapacious
holy crusaders captured
the western imagination
with the chivalrous gallantry
of religious warfare and
valiant last stands of
Templar Knights employing
the tactical imperatives
of terrorism in service to their
higher God.

Gaza, an oasis
by the sea now
lies dry and brittle
as the precious Hebron
waters of Wadi Ghazza
are diverted to serve
the agriculture of
Judah; condemning
a dehydrated Gaza
panting of thirst
to an imposed drought
and a war of
self preservation
to remove
the dammed rivers
of justice controlled
by intractable powers
laying upstream beyond
Gaza’s mean borders.

The Qassams
lunched by Hamas
are desperate
expressions of
exasperated people,
eager to call
world attention
to the growing
insufferable plight
of a people living
in a perpetual
state of siege.

Its a modern day
David slinging rocks
against an armor
clad Goliath.

Each Katusha
serves as
a justification
for Zionist
intransigence
and condemns
any possibility
for peaceful
coexistence
of a Two State
Solution.

The pointless attacks
invite massive
disproportionate
retaliation and succeed
in prolonging and
increasing the
measure of Gaza’s
agony.

The mystic grace,
the divine power
of satyagraha
-a non-violent
response to the
cruel enforcement of
Apartheid- is Allah’s
way to secure the
moral high-ground
and the surest way
for Palestinians to
expose it’s unholy
adversaries innate
contempt for civil rights
and a refusal to
recognized the
shared humanity of
all of Father Ibrahim’s
wayward progeny and
recalcitrant prodigal sons.

Mubarak’s fall
has allowed the
Rafah Gate
to swing open again.

The concertina
wire that separates
Gaza and Egypt
has been removed.

The prisoners
of Gaza have
an open portal
of freedom.

It is a Day of
Jubilee, a day
of pardon for
for the inmates
of prisons built
for victims.  

It is a day of
possibility for peace.  

It is a day to declare an
Exodus from the land
of bitterness.

Humanity is
offered the hope
of escape from
the prisons of
acrimony, to
freely move across
the staid borders
of intractability
and exclusion.

The hearts and
minds of Palestinians
and Egyptians
are free to connect
and unite once again.

Liberation is
possible only
when we uphold
and honor the
affirmation
of all humanity.

Music Video:

Silk Road
We Will Not Go Down

Oakland
2/9/12
jbm
a poem from the epilogue section of Tahrir Square Voices
 Jul 2014 dreadfulmind
e
Let Me Be.
 Jul 2014 dreadfulmind
e
If you would be my own
I would be your escape
and if you should ever need me,
you'll find me in the space
between your shoulder blades
your wings
at your command, waiting for unfurl.
 Jul 2014 dreadfulmind
Ryan Jakes
Why so sad my morning angel
did the darkness clip your wings
pull your heart down here from heaven
to settle where the reaper sings.

Why so sad my pretty blossom,
see your weakened petals fall
once you ruled the wildflower hillside
with hope and wonder for us all.

Please lift your heart and sing a lovesong
sing of aching burning need,
sing of limbs entwined and stirring
hidden places, planted seed.

Won't you lift your song to heaven
spread your wings and count to ten
'cause lingering deep within your passion
is where I found my soul again.
I even tried to be a bit classical (hate that) Oh and I nicked a few bits, hope you don't mind.....feel better soon x
This emptiness
fills my being like blood,
running through my veins.

This loneliness
holds me
like no one ever could.

This poison
infects my brain
like a deadly virus
slowing killing me
without anyone knowing.

I feel trapped
and I'm scared of what might happen,
I'm scared of what I might do,
but most of all--
I'm scared of my thoughts.

Because I'm a hostage of my own mind
and the worst part is;
no one can hear me scream.
 Jul 2014 dreadfulmind
Kida Price
Impossible to think
But it's all that I can do
A life in me
Came from the love of you
Tell you first
Of what could be
Expecting fear
A hesitant scene
Thinking too much of good
Can eventually lead to too much of a bad thing
The sick feeling
The smile on your face
The google search of symptoms and a trace
Of hope
Win win
Lose lose
It's hardly a dream I'd wait to choose
Talking of moments
If it all came out true
Timing is bad
But when is it not?
When it comes to us
We tend to move through those spots
Faster than we have time to think
Letting our words settle
And allowing our love to sink
Into me
Growing
Holding
What could be an image of our family.
The one we crave so desperately
Taking part what was once you and me
And creating a third
Both of us fitting into one small person
So perfectly
Asking if I'm scared or excited
Knowing you'll be there
Regardless of what's decided
This little thought left my brain ignited
Into fractures of images that can't be forgotten.
I see the way your eyes light up when you hear her name
Lucy in the sky with diamonds
That song has right to have fame
Taken from stars
And giving a name
This non existent child
Who has your humor
And my small frame.
My eyes
Your smile
Some pigtails
And dimples
A personality of innocent wonder
And perhaps a little brother.
Made by us and no others.
What if this is who we're meant to be?
Not just lovers to each other
But guardians of these children with me.
What if our hopes don't just exist in our dreams?
If we can touch them
If they are as perfect as we see
Tangability
Right at our finger tips
We could always do what we feel is right
Or instead we can do this.
Cause being upstanding isn't as great as it seems
We've both tried it and we drove ourselves crazy
Unless it's the insanity that we create.
So let's make some more
They'll be better at it without debate
Cracking us up
And holding us down
Driving us nuts
When they make that suspicious silent sound.
Hearing their staggered steps around
When they learn to walk on the ground.
What if this is who we're meant to be, sweetheart?
For each other
But more for them to be apart
Of their lives that we constantly talk about.
there's no way that anybody else in world feels the way I do. I love you more than anyone could possibly love anyone else. our love is special and original and better than anyone else's. we're so in love and it's so magical and this is our world. everyone else is just living in it
I know that insecurity isn't pretty,
*which is how I also know that I'm not beautiful
I don't even know. I saw a poem on how a lot of girls fake insecurity to ask for attention and I agree that it's wrong; but then I thought what about the girls who are actually insecure? So...yeah. Am I explaining myself right? No? Oh well, I almost never do.
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