**** is not a bad word.
****** is no longer a burden.
Refuse to be ashamed of your anatomy.
We are beautiful and powerful womym.
The source of our power,
Is our *****.
That which we've been told to hide,
To protect,
Never to speak of.
That which we grow from,
And develop.
Where we bear children,
And shed our wombs by the moon.
That which we are made to fear;
To worry about;
To shave or not?
Does it smell?
Is it weird?
Does it look right?
From our beginning,
Our ***** are mysterious.
It is we who must reclaim them.
Gain control over them,
Learn to love,
Rather than shy away from.
****
****
Our ***** will be our saviours.

Kashmir Delirium

Oh People Of Earth! Thankful are we,
For each act of benevolence shown to us.
Your gilded sweet words describing,
The beauty of Kasmir, land and people.

Mention in books and talks of it's riches,
Naming it the Sweet Paradise Of Earth.
The Lord has been bountiful to Kashmir,
Treasure of resources in every sphere.

To elevate each aspect, our wish for life,
As every acre of this land is worth millions.
Full of treasures and recreational value,
Forestry with grandeur and silvery rivers.

The outside world's view is so limited,
Simple folks living in the lap of rich bounty.
Mentioned in world forums and organizations,
But what of the goal of giving us freedom?

What has The UN established in our name?
To measure the pain and anguish we bear,
At the hands, of our supposed benefactors.
The saviours who has us fractured.

But in reality they train their enforcers,
In the art of creating oceans of tears.
The red blood now hidden in camouflage,
The spent shells now gathered and hidden.

The leaders we are told to elect in electoral shams,
Run publicity kiosks and swell friend lists.
Joint conferences to address personal interests
Dialogues that never address the root issues.

Just the formalities and no sympathy,
For the ones burnt in cruel sadistic reprisals.
The hypocrisy continues deliriously unabated,
More augmentation of the security forces.

For a first hand view of deep hypocrisy,
Walk this land, you know as beautiful.
Religious leaders will teach you  political artistry,
Sermons full of ambiguity and guile.

Waywardness and narrow mindedness on display,
Political apologists give great lessons.
Religion and religious ethnicity are tools,
That keep minds and bodies in total check.

Gamesmanship by leaders is the rule of thumb,
As promises are forgotten once office is obtained.
When writing of this succulent beautiful land,
Write of the air, pregnant with sadistic practices.

This land is being stripped of worldly treasures,
And the greatest treasure is mistreated daily.
The best of nation is the inhabitants,
Ignored are the real gems of this beautiful paradise.

THE STORY OF SARA

CHAPTER 5: THE PARTY IS DESTROYED




The meeting ended and I walked out not knowing my fate.  
  I felt scared for the first time.
  Surely, Omar's people would be coming after me?
  And what about those others whom Omar had just expelled? They will be after my blood too!
  My God, I began to think all over again at his last speech. He demanded the expulsion of twenty five per cent of party members – and God knows what would happen to them, whilst I, Sara, was the chief of the Purification Programme.
Obviously, as the 'leader' of the programme and being 'found' to be a 'traitor', then I would meet the most brutal end?
  Maybe, I was being too paranoid.
  Maybe all this talk about killing was just idle threat used by Omar to intimidate us?
  But I was still scared and I needed to escape.
  I decided to leave my house; but where could I go?
  I knew that that there was no one better than Sanji, but since I did cut him off, where does that leave me?
  Will he accept me back?
  I went to his house and rang the bell.
  The sad fact as that I did not have one single 'friend' that I could depend on!


  Sure enough, there was Sanji.
  "Hi" I said shyly.
  "You're in trouble I assume?"
  As usual, he was right.
He motioned me with a pleasant smile to come inside.
  "I mean, what did you expect from Omar?" Sanji asked me; "Sara you knew perfectly well what Omar stood for: dictatorship and ******. So who's to blame here?"
    "I do?" I replied sarcastically.
  "With respect to Omar, are you seriously going to tell me that no one knew that he was a murderer?"
  I sat quiet.
  I didn't know what to say.
  "Well?" Sanji asked. "You knew Sara; you knew and yet there you were with him, and there you were carrying out his orders. So, who's pretending now Sara?"
  Again, I sat still.
  What could I say?
  To be honest, I didn't feel guilty about what I had done, rather, I was embarrassed because Sanji was right, and I couldn't admit it!
  "Look Sanji," I finally managed to paste some words together, "will you allow me to stay with you?"
  "Of course," the soft spoken Sanji replied. "My God, I know the dogs are out to get you, and I'm not going to leave you on the streets. You didn't have to ask."
  I was so utterly relieved, I broke all the rules, and now I was finding safety, and I couldn't help but hugging the somewhat startled Sanji!



With the declaration by Omar of 'Unrestricted Warfare', the government suddenly, under a newly elected leader, decided to go on the offensive against not only Omar's party but against any so-called 'illegal' party.
  The new Prime Minister was the most serious, straight-forward man that I had ever seen.
  He was determined to remove all the leftist parties and individual leaders based on the law, because, for him, the country had had enough of our ‘disruptions, illegal activities and chaotic actions.
He declared in a speech on the day of assuming office that a new era will now begin in our country.
  "No more of these shadowy, secretive, cult-like so-called 'political' parties, for we shall chase them out and put the guilty ones straight into jail, which is their real homes. I pledge to you, as I did, many times, during my campaign, that we shall not be meek in the face of these disruptive and criminal characters; force will be met with force, and by ‘force’, I mean the law. I solemnly declare to you, the law shall not be undermined by these dangerous, subversive elements within our society. The law shall be preserved, and more to the point, the law will go into action, because, if we do not seriously act, then the very edifice of our entire political and legal establishment will be at risk."
  So, the Pigs were now going to destroy all our parties – and all because Omar brought so much disrepute and disgrace to us. I felt scared from our new Prime Minister, just as I was scared from the gangs of Omar.
  And, yet, strangely enough, I couldn’t help but admire this new Prime Minister!
  How odd and paradoxical of me!
  I knew what attracted me to his character: his force of personality. He was a solemn, self assured man, who simply decided that our country needed bold, swift, decisive action against what he regarded as ‘irresponsible’ elements in our society.
  In that sense, he was completely different from the other Prime Ministers, who treated us, as nothing more than clowns and jesters.
  But, this Prime Minister was really right, when he ran his election campaign, based on his promise that he would get rid of us – and the people enthusiastically approved of his sincerity and seriousness in his determination, if elected, to wipe us out!


  The Prime Minister, continued:
  "And so, I say to you tonight that we too, shall initiate our legally based police action against these criminal gangs – yes, I deliberately call them ‘criminals’, because they are no different from any other gangs, such as, for example, narcotic gangs. For far too long, this nation has been far too patient in putting up with so-called 'freedom of expression' that these so-called parties espouse. Yes, but 'freedom of expression' does not mean inciting violence and destroying public property and randomly killing innocent men and women! I say, and thanks to you, the public, who voted for us to handle and solve this crises, I say to you all, that we shall no longer tolerate this state of utter chaos in our land," and his audience thunderously began to applaud and cheer, "we shall not stand one more minute for this sorry state of affairs. These so-called 'revolutionary' parties have only one principle and that is to create disturbances, mass chaos and ultimately violence. They are nothing but murderous thugs and clearly no civilized society and no self-respecting civilisation on this planet can possibly accept the existence of such criminal gangs and that is precisely why we shall use every legal method to completely eliminate these people.”
  It was obvious to me, that we were no longer ‘popular’ with the masses.
  Otherwise, how did this bold Prime Minister get elected by such an overwhelming majority of the voters?
  No, I had to face the new reality, and that was our movement, was no longer acceptable to the majority of our people.
  And, it was completely our fault, because we began to behave with unrestrained lunacy, by hurting and endlessly insulting, using the most derogatory words against practically every segment of society, and by raging against every type of worker, from the ******* collectors to the managers of factories, and to the owners of any business; by randomly damaging and destroying public and private property, especially what people most cared for, such as their homes, their cars and their businesses; by our endless chaotic riots and marches, that would disrupt and paralyze the business and every other activity – such as hospitals, for example - of an entire city.  And then there were the random murders of innocent people, that we somehow decided were not ‘pure’ enough for us – that really offended our society, as well.


  Then, I noticed, the Prime Minister was still speaking:
“And so, tonight, I appeal to you, the members of these ridiculous, criminal so-called parties. I calmly ask each and everyone one of you, men and women, to quietly leave your respective illegal parties, so as to save yourselves from further prosecution by our noble courts. I am giving you nothing less than twenty four hours to exit from these gangster parties. This will be your last chance to rehabilitate yourself back to decency and respectability. Now, this is my first day in office, and I am proud to be solemnly fulfilling my pledge, that I gave to my people, if elected - and I have been duly elected, and so to my pledge, I remain as faithful as ever. So, let this be my first and last warning to you members of these so-called 'parties': leave within 24 hours or else face the full might of our law, because, soon, all too soon, you shall soon see yourselves, and no doubt, your other comrades, in prison, and you will thereby be assigned to the dustbins of history. I tell you this much, and listen, for those of you who have ears: Your time is up! The murderous chaos that you have perpetrated is over! Resign or be bludgeoned by the forces of decency and morality; no more fear for all our law abiding men and women, who have been for far too long intimidated by the likes of you! Your insane, sick era is over, and I say to you members of these murderous gangsters, and to all you decent, law abiding citizens, goodnight; for, tomorrow you shall see a revitalized nation that is finally safe from fear! Tomorrow, you shall all see a country that abides by proper laws and not a country that seemed to be going down the path of mafia rule!"
  Well, what a speech indeed.
  The time for our chaotic mischief was over.
  
  Obviously, I wasn't a fool; I fully realized that this was the first Pig government that was going to deal with us in a deadly serious manner.  
  Or maybe I'm wrong.
  Maybe this Prime Minister is talking ******* – like all the other politicians.
  Once they get in office, they betray every word they said during the election campaign.
  Well, actually, who knows?
  I felt depressed.
  Was this really the end of our great movement?
  Was it really 'true' the masses no longer 'liked' us?
  And if so, then why would they turn against us?
  After all wasn't our entire epic struggle for the masses? Why would they betray us; we were and are their only saviours and their only salvation, so why would they vote for this avowedly hard line politician and put him in office?
  I was completely confused; what was going to happen to our great struggle?
  Wasn’t our great war for the liberation of the masses from the claws of the Pigs?
  Could it possibly be that all our sacrifices shall now be in vain?
  My God, didn’t the masses, the people realize that we were fighting for them?!
  We sacrificed our entire lives for them, and now they were going to betray us?
  What does that say about Humanity?

      

  Within a few days of the Prime Ministers' speech, it became quite evident that he meant exactly what he intended to do.
  Soon, the police were out in force, arresting anyone involved in the numerous anti-Pig parties.
  All over the country, the police came after every known party member; they were arrested and sent to the police station, to await court.
  The same went for individual known leaders of the party.
  The courts were, themselves, very swift in deciding the verdict, since, I can only assume, it wasn’t that difficult to see if a particular party member had committed a crime or not.
  Presumably, the police had kept numerous files on all of us and on all our individual activities?
  And, I must admit, that I was surprised at how lenient the courts were for the majority of those prosecuted were released as innocent from any crimes.
  Most were acquitted, but for those who participated in acts of public and private property damage, they were given a few months in jail.
  As for those who gave inflammatory, pro-violence, hate filled speeches, like Tony, were given up to one year in jail.

  However, Omar was in no mood to be conciliatory, which also surprised me.
  He went into hiding, rather than surrendering himself.
  He appeared in a televised appearance in front of about twenty of his followers.
  How different the scene was!
  For, hadn't we been used to seeing Omar in front of hundreds of thousands of screaming fans before?
  And now, he was speaking to a mere twenty or so of his followers!
  "Members of our party. Greetings to you all, ladies and gentlemen. Yes, I know that the people who are listening and watching, will be asking why I am not in front of thousand of our party members. You see, I'm aware of what you out there are thinking."
  My God, the leader is happily telling us that his 'knowledge' told him as to what we are thinking, as concerns why his audience is so small.
  And, he looked as if that was a great insight on his part!
  What *******!
  Any fool, would be thinking that!
  "Well, my followers, my true, faithful followers I shall speak the truth. Following our great, revolutionary self-cleansing programme, we discovered, as I, of course, had always predicted, that regrettably, amidst our own so-called 'party members', there existed a huge malignant and spreading cancer. A lethal type of cancer. It was there right in the hearts and minds of quite of few of our so-called 'members'. Once our doctors discovered this fact, which I knew about, I decided to act immediately, ruthlessly and without hesitation. I had to amputate every cancerous form within the party and, I can tell you it was done superbly and with absolute surgical precision! Yes, we removed the cancer successfully, and today, our party members are completely free from any Pig attributes!"
  The small crowd applauded and tried to scream their pleasure, but it was a far cry from his previous speeches when the roar of the audience was deafening.
  Of course, my question was, what was point in what he was saying?
  The fact was that his movement and his followers were now no more!
  Omar was finished; his party was dead, and he’s happily telling us about ‘removing the cancer’?!
  I then noticed, that Omar was still talking:
  "Having cleansed the party, I, Omar, ordered a new type of warfare against the criminal leaders that rule our nation. Of course, these criminals are ruling our nation to its death. That is why we must wage this great, humanistic and eternally just war. I ordered a new phase: the Unrestricted Warfare principle and that meant, in effect, that we shall use whatever means it was necessary to gain the supreme victory. The new government of Satanical vipers now decided to fight us with a new ferocity that was thus far unheard of. In other words, no Prime Minister, has so far used such savage methods in the war.”
  What ‘savagery was he talking about?!
  The Prime minister simply used the police forces to arrest party members, and they then had to face the courts.
  Where was this most unusually ‘savage’ form of warfare?


  I snapped out of my thoughts:
“But do not worry, because we soldiers are used to the most unimaginable viciousness on the part of the enemy, and their sick methods will not repulse us; on the contrary, these inhuman methods of war, will only strengthen our resolve, will and determination to exterminate this enemy no matter what it costs in blood and tears.”
  Again, he was just repeating the same, old slogans, that were completely empty of any worthy content.
  “And so, you ask me, tonight, where are we in this war? Who's winning? I am happy to report to you: that our pure soldiers have moved from battle to battle, from victory to victory; and, all this is thanks to the purity within their hearts and souls.”
  What was he talking about!?
  I felt like screaming and laughing at the same time; for the sheer incomparable idiocy of Omar’s words, made him sound like an absolute professional maniac!
  “You see, only the 'good' can succeed against evil. You cannot beat evil when you yourselves have an army of evil, impure people. No, you see, that is why we are winning the war. Goo

Bright windy November
with the slap of cold sun sending frowns
and the absent rain not beating down
choleric substitutes of alcohol withdrawal
and spatial omissions of home fires stoking
empty remembrances of faded potential and
misplaced amorous regret
Haunted by the lingering smell of the souls of
last night's GUINNESS intake staying swell in
the nostrils which is in reality the gulf breeze blowing
gullshit down the river Liffey giver of life.

...And here I am Dublin pillaged and funded
en route to the hour-rate slog
shiny white commerce bleaching out of
windowsills distracting from rooftop
Chiaroscuro  serenading a sky
which old ****** forgotten Sons and Daughters
will die under.

Boots tapping mock-goosestep to the ground
past a girl who speaks on her IPHONE to someone
who presumably not only wants to be seen speaking
to someone on their IPHONE but who also cares enough
to listen as the girl announces to all-and-sundry
human dodging on Bachelors Walk this fateful morn
that "I realised what my problem is Now! People
think i'm saying N when I'm really saying M!"

.....quite an existential crisis you got there, EH DOC?

("This girl's SITUATION belongs in a scenario in the TV show GIRLS which young
Woman Europe-wide have embraced as their spiritual saviour in an era of Consumer
impulse control. By placing the mundane generalities and perceived social failings
interpreted by young American female comediennes as instead representing a means of
self-forgiveness and attempted new-wave soft-core feminist self-celebration young American
actresses are inspiring a new generation of young woman to speak openly in a more in-depth level about everything that usually happens to themselves or some girl they know"-From "The Post-New Male Gaze: Interpreting Critiques of Stereotypically Feminized Pop Culture in Westley Barnes's "Notes on a Rant: The "Took Me Up To Dublin Where It's Famous" Notebook
:2013)

This is the new white noise.

White Irish Male Critiques perceived socially-announced problems of White Irish Female over White Technology on a white morning in a grey city.

A grey city which subliminally stinks of shame and left-over guilt and of spending too much money on tecno-toys and new-improved nullifying debauchery and even rent during a significantly rough stretch of fiscal years. After a lot of years of white nonsense, really.

But this is where I took myself, and this is what happens once you take yourself here and this is where its famous for it.
Dublin,
Once Monto-based FUNDERLAND for the rich and royal turned over-waxie infested tenement slum district and second city of an industrialised economy waiting for the rest of the world to pay its way.
Dublin,
capital of green and squeaky saviours of the third-world who made some money and forgot about everyone else they used to know back home. Mr Poverty, Mr Humbleness, Mr Sense of Catholic Shame.
Until the rents got too high and they had to move home again.
Dublin,
no matters what it achieves, always putting itself down.

But I can adapt.
I've lived in Rathmines and Portobello before living in either was a
really hip decision to make.
I can find somewhere else before its gets gentrified
(after I find some job that's not worth complaining about
or I eventually leap into becoming to middle-class
to complain about it.)
enough that its a headache living there, too many men wearing the same winter
jackets. Too many packed restaurants and your local actually preparing the tables
in the run-up to the Rugby game on Saturday.
The less of all that, the better for me.

I used to day dream about all of the above, honestly, but I
somehow managed to regain my innocence by living through it.

As for the girl who discovered self-realisation on her (through her?) IPHONE?
She'll be alright. If that's how she starts wading through the floodwaters of relating
herself to the world, misunderstood syllables, name-fails and all, this time in twenty
years, she'll be laughing. Don't worry yourselves, she'll adapt with the times.
Sure, Dublin's famous for it.

The flames branching upwards in a spire
It's cruel twists never seem to tire
A dark soul comes from the fire
It's Sam, a kid they all admire
Fables try to claim thee
Through stories of a tree
Branching upwards in a plea

A widow stares at a stain, left by the rain
Constructs a local fane, all in her saviours name
Caught between the fear and guilt
Of living off someone's fame
Knowing the day it all stops, she'll be engulfed by a flame

Abaddon is calling, Ezekiel is balling
Babylon returns
Mathias saw the world, while Belial just watched it burn
With immense follow through
The path becomes true
As he watches triple 7's disciple scamming for a buck or two

Out on a past due lease
The Man Of Peace

I do NOT write "poetry".
I do write words.
I cannot write "poetry".
I do write words.
I do not want to write "poetry".
I do write words.
Ive never "seen" myself as a "poet".
I spend my time avoiding the mediocracy of **** licking criticism
unlike every so-called "poet" I ever met.
I watch as "poets"wallow in the slough of narcissicism.
Ive never want to be called a "poet".
I do not want to be immersed in the depth of narcissicism
where "poets" spend their lives.
What an insult to be compared to a "poet".
any "poet" even Josef Stalin or Mao Tse Tung or the Dali Lama who all wrote 'poetry'..
"poets" make their homes in  the heights of false humility.
Edward Lear would be the height of unanimity
in his approval of my nonsensical behaviour.
I should throw all of my words out my window
for all the good they'll do.
I have no name or identity.
I have no name or identity.
Names only exist in official documents.
I know who I am.
I am the individual Isness.
Which is a small but equal,individual,independent,nameless,
formless,genderless and non physical Isness formed from the Isness of the Universe and incarnated in this human body.
Reborn lifetime after lifetime after lifetime until I let go, permanently,
of Mind and Conditioned Identity and become Isness realised
which is the true goal in life for all humans.
I have no mind or conditioned identity.
There are words that are a call sign to the ears in this body.
Words that are not uttered by the mind driven liars
on these threads,with their asinine cries
for their conditional love and the possessiveness it engenders.
This is but my latest in a string of bodies
since I left the Isness of the Universe at the very beginning of existence .
Bodies that have been the vehicle for me,the individual Isness,
to be incarnated in since existence began
before the dawn of time or space or .
Ive read my words out aloud in Edingburgh.
Ive read out aloud my words in Formentera and Ibiza and Tanger
and Paris and Amsterdam and Delhi and Calcutta and Bangkok and lots more cities of EVIL and repression.
Ive read out aloud my words in Better Books in London.
I stood next to Bart Huges with Lee Bridges,
one night in  1967 reading words from a blank page--
with Jimi playing round the corner.
I stood in the square of Saviours in the north and
shouted my non-violent words
at the crowd of violent supporters of the Oligarchy.
I am definitely NOT a "poet".
Oh no!.
Wouldn't want to be a "poet".
Oh no!.
I don't write "poetry".
Not ****** likely.
Oh no!.
I only write strings of meaningful associated words.
Or write strings of meaningful dissasociated words.
Or write just words--supply your own unjust meanings.
Wouldn't want to write "poetry".
Sooner write how I adore the flowing lines a curvaceous ****,
or a dragon fly hovering over a Marguerite--irridescant,
or licking a sweet smelling dripping ****--licky lips,
or a cloud floating by serene and bubbly,
or having a stiff **** in my mouth dribbling precum,
or a night sleeping on the banks of the Ganges
alone with humanity as my bed companion,
emptying the warm fresh contents of the attached *****
into my eager mouth,
or the soft grip of a baby monkeys fingers around mine,
or slipping a length of my hot flesh into the **** or **** of the beloved,
or the sublimity of a crunchy salad with balsamic dressing.
"poetry" is so boring compared with these verses and chapters
of experiential knowingness.
"poetry" is used as a beard by"religions" with their vain and bloodthirsty "gods" and "goddesses" and untrustworthy mendacious corrupt but pleasant priests.
"poetry" is used by Monarchs and other assorted Tyrants to proclaim
the " phoney kinship" they have with these vain and bloodthirsty
"gods"and "goddesses" as they enrich themselves with the gold teeth of their willing victims.
"poetry" is used by cruel dictators to proclaim their phoney kinship with the uneducated uncultured and unwashed  masses
as they lead them to the pits of mental slavery and destruction.
All these narcissistic scribblers proclaiming themselves
to be this or that or the other--when all they actually are
is a bag of nothing but cold air--that turns into just-ice..
Insecure and vain destroyers of ancient trees,
filling pages with their deranged and strangled but beautiful syntax. .
Inane tossers of epithets murdering prose with tongues
stored in the knife drawer and sharpened daily
on dead peoples bones...
fake humility abounds among "poets".
Arrogant professors of greeting card messages.
Throw your scribbles to the winds.
Let nature rot them in the garbage can of history or her story.
Fozzywhockered.
Fozzywhockered.
Fozzywhockered.

www.thefo­urnobletruthsrevised.co.uk

NO OFFENCE MEANT TO ANYONE.
JUST WORD PLAY.

Many thoughts of saviours.
Different deities.
Varied idols.
Doctrines unique,
Sometimes similar.
Holy books.
Different sects, yes I said sects.
Buddhists, Mormons, Muslims too,
Hindus, Jews and Rastafarians.
Pass the spliff, that one miffs me.
Too name but only one or two.
Garlands or flowers.
Holy cows.
Churches and temples.
Mosques and mystic synagogues.
Or even halls perpetuating to the Kingdom.
Gis' us a pint of blood or not.
Definitely not vampires,oops I forgot.
"Cup of tea, love?"
Welcome to the Mormons.
Latter day saints?
Jesus Christ, what a choice.
My explanation, I'm agnostic.
But, never on a Sunday.
I don't want converting.
(C) LIVVI

In the name of democracy
An entire state is terrorized
Decade after decade
Freedoms are curbed
Protests are brutally suppressed
People are brutally oppressed
Education is diluted

In the name of democracy
The Army turns from protector to oppressor
Every soldier marching past
With his head held high
Sounds the death knell
For every man, woman and child
In the name of democracy
Soldiers break into houses
Wielding their massive rifles
As if it is their birthright
As the peace and harmony within
Is replaced by abject terror
In the name of democracy
All morals are flung out of the window
As the women are *****
The men who challenge this unspeakable atrocity
Are swiftly silenced with bullets
As the children begin screaming in terror
They are molested, one by one
Until the trauma overcomes them
Such that, they lose their voices
They lose their minds
They lose their hearts
Meanwhile, the soldiers slip away quietly
Having completed a good day of work
In the name of democracy

In the name of democracy
India and Pakistan, warring for decades
Use Kashmir as a bait
As a means to satisfy
Their unquenchable thirst for power
As the potion simmers on
Fuelled by hate on both sides
Curfews and lockdowns follow with alarming regularity
Schools and colleges are shut down
Political organizations are banned
The Internet is crippled
Mobiles and landlines are killed
Even the most feeble of all protests
Is brutally quelled with bullets and grenades

In the name of democracy
Consent is dead and buried
As nationalism takes centre stage
The world watches on silently
Allowing India, the oppressors-in-chief
To reclaim the moral high ground
And suddenly proclaim themselves as saviours
Leaving the beleaguered Kashmiris no choice
But to bow to their captors
Their dreams of self-determination
Shattered ruthlessly in the course of a mad, mad day
In the name of democracy

WHO WILL SAVE ‘HUMANITY’ FROM ITSELF?



Ayad Gharbawi



Come down, and celebrate with us all
The beginning of a senseless
******
Where children sat awaiting
Trying to
Understand
The necessity
That you humans found in yourselves
Was so necessary to enact
Against the innocently impaled victim

I guess, that no one
Can ever
Accept truths
That for me and for you
Were so different
And yes, the medieval priest
Did laugh gutturally
In his drunken paradise

Yes, that man you loved
Was very sickening
In his punishing self-imposed bleeding dictums
And he can no longer talk
Through his burning tongue
That has been mercifully stabbed
Just far too
Many times..

Eternal laughter
That tries to memorize the renaissance poetry
Is a silly game
That gets you somewhere
Endless rows of frowning fools
I tell you
What did you learn from
All those poetry you did memorize?
I tell you
We must all decide
To stand
Somewhere of relevance and depths
Here in our personal hour
That God
Has dictated for us

Sing, then, the songs of deathness
Wherein the lonely dance
Hundreds and acres more
Of corpses have been recently
Unearthed
Rotting statues
And you can no more bear it
I know
Just as the world
Drowns her dulled eyes
Flying fast and far
Away from your memories

And now all the clowns disguised as priests
Have told me to die
So soon
I guess, they want me to say
“Goodnight”
But I will try to breathe
One more breath
One more escape
From this imprisonment
You classified as ‘life’
You see, I wasn’t really sure
If they weren’t in truth
Priests disguised as clowns

Come tonight and throw your
Second-hand flowers
In that grave for
The princess that has been assassinated tonight
Murdered deeply
In this Paris night
And tomorrow we’ll all laugh idiotically
In astonishment, once again
And the bewildered children will, once more, sit not understanding
The murderous nature of you human beings
And yes, I myself, once more
Do not understand what is impelling you all
To ****, ****** and butcher again and again

Come ye saviours!
Save us, ye saviours!
The crucified darlings
Tearful you stand
I pray for you to rise up and do revenge
Against these sadistic monstrosities
In my increasingly disorientating brain
Christ!
I did try so hard to reach out to you
For you to save us
And my doubts are brimming now
As you wither ever more
Decomposing on that wooden cross

on windy plains
flattened panels beneath tight-pressed scarves, they stand
on the edge of the highway
seeking the last streaks of eve's sun
bodies on windy plains where, in the lap of poverty, kids play and listen
the ***** little words mothers spill
a hapless world in flats steep, laundry billows on higher
than most dreams can possibly reach


1.
song to be sung, yet youth's golden mouth swift-ripped away
by hungry-crones topped in white hats and over-spiffed lines
poor boy couldn't hold it together, they fell apart
scatter the crowd in fold-up chairs to make it look less empty
spread the tea-garden in the hall, circulate those tiny packets
so much **** noise, is that all we waited for?

revolutions were built on disparity's hand ****** in the face of the poor
pity the drug of current day keeps all so well glued to the system
somebody wise once said that royalty awards knighthood
                                                *exactly for the same reason
to keep gentry where they are seen fit to belong: below
                                                           ­                   the swirl of understanding
so, there won't be enough cake for everyone.



2.
when saviours ring in the new, for a short while
and new heads bring down the old names
and gut the bastions of the past
surely, when we destroy the ugly parts of history, we conceal truth
with pompous new plaques and road names for petty achievers
even bad press is held up as recognition these days
and too many are numbed, hopelessly foiled by the feed
peck, peck.. nice, little chikken
                         (mind stuffed with trash, mouthpiece occupied)

some content to catch a few crumbs on the way down
while others tread lightly on their way out the back exit
the more we so blindly buy into the whole mess
the less we see the big pic
                           (the real one)
nebulous covers the screen so well: away from organic life
life on a farm, growing your own stuff
       needing less of plug-in
       more of play
I steadily tire of the filthy streams we're led to wade in
thick and viscous with the stench of decay
and no way out but the meeting with barbed-wire walls

oh, for days of simple pleasures.. walking in the park
                                                      swingi­­ng high into the blue sky
with eyes on the rim of the planet
a ten-cents pineapple-popsicle
and no fear of the unknown
       but beautiful discoveries, good and not-so-good

now, a man will die in the hands of a stranger's care
at the mercy of their kin's timetable
busy, busy, busy.. loved ones moving on
ah, no time to enjoy a tot, some oenomel.


3.
say, God.. you got a moment? I'd like to address a grievance or two
are we forgetting what you told us?
what was it again -- on the day, we tried to understand your identity
                                    in a tongue this world's memory suffered lapse
there was a time we understood your meaning
today, I hear your voice in the rustle out my meadow
right here
in the green leaves

I think I can hear you right
loving your remembrances.



*silent anger brews in the streets, common folk took enough
tired of threats and crumbs left by chunks others gorged on
retaliatory mountains grow, a surge in march
a touch too late to retract some acts.. for haste & judgment hurt
where many struggle to breathe, so hatred cements its template
slowly, time may crumble them to stones, then dust
            or hope build a rope from heart's twine
            or love blow breezes of care on this fiery circle
faraway, where queens live on ginger cakes and ale
on windy plains.

All the bones at the bottoms of the rivers

Piling up under the bridges

All of the grief and lonely shivers

Washing out from the land to the seas



All of the mothers and sons in their caskets

For father’s ammo and daughter’s lies

All the babies placed in rivers in baskets

With hopes for their futures and tears in their eyes



The suffering fools can’t be accountable

Their fates stand on the edge of a knife

The suffering fools won’t be available

They don’t last long in the world of lies

I suffer the fools not gladly, but solemnly

It breaks my heart that I’m not on their side

I’m suffering fools and I can’t be responsible

I’ve had to suffer fools all of my life



From the desert of the mediocre, aggressive and arrogant

An oasis of sincerity is what I have sought

All this time I’ve put up with ignorance

to deny my merely rational thoughts



Each of the myths that was meant to save us

A foundation of sorrow and hopeless consent

What can be done with satyrs and saviours

By now no one knows what they really meant



The suffering fools can’t be accountable

Refusing to give, but eager to take

The suffering fools won’t be available

And decline to shift even for their own sake

I suffer the fools not gladly, but shamefully

It breaks my heart to know what’s at stake

I’m suffering fools and I know it’s disgraceful

        But I’ve suffered all the fools that I can take

They were Dante's doors I saw
and they were opened wide.
Devil dogs and demons too
all stepped in to outside of hell.
The mission bell was rung as the Pastor slowly hung to death
the fiery breath of Satan baked upon his face.
Hail Mary full of grace
take my sins and put them in the ******* bins
and I will sin no more.
Dante's door has done for me
and I can see the error of my ways.
Praise the Lord and all of that religion stuff
just get me far enough away
so Satan cannot call to say
'you belong to me'
I've repented can't you see?
and though it was a quick decision it doesn't need any revision
I will be good and read the holy book.
Please don't let that demon f*ck with me..oops.
well I expect you've heard much worse
Have you ever heard my verse?
I rehearse you know
please don't let the Devil know
where I am.