Zionist father's "lamentation; his sons burial."
The family of an IDF soldier was gathered for his funeral from Rapha rubble. All that was left of him was a small box of his ash remains. Words began to pass over his grave.
"I remember how handsome he looked in uniform," said his mother, "with his matching Helmet  & Pampers." "I remember how brave he was," said his father, "he once neutralized a neonatal intensive care unit without hesitating for a second." "I remember how loving he was," said his daughter, "he once demolished a school for me on my birthday." "I remember how strong he was," said his wife, "every child he faced fell before his might." "I remember him being bigger," said his son, "What happened to him?". "Apparently," stated his mother,

"He triggered a *****-trap while plundering a house in Gaza."

"Well, I guess he died as Israel lives" stated his father.
"And how is that?"

Asked the others?
"By burglarizing someone else's home after proudly murdering all palestinian family members "

Oh! Said his grandmother

"Every muslim Palestinian, any non zionist jewish birth poses an existential threat to his new and future born children, thats why

"this IDF soldier's remains are buried among genocidal war criminal hereos in Izrahell."
~~~~~
Izrael:August 2024.
~~~~

Here I had thought
Generally, each of our governments
Loved to issue & execute warrants-
Or is that merely applicable
To the poor, those with no status
Who carry no political weight
Besides their life of work?

Verdicts down on from
Supposedly the highest body
In the arbitration for justice

It's seeds of gunpowder,
To produce a foul fruit
Which kills the vine.
Bunch of psychos,
And the thoughts are dark
Because it's an empty mind.

I dreamed my way here
I’ve had my cringe moments
I feel pressure, I lose perspective
I’ve wholeheartedly failed
I misspeak, underthink, overreact
I try to do the right thing
the right thing isn’t always clear
I’ve tried to hold on
I’ve let go with grace
I’ve charged ahead
I’ve stepped aside
I self-sabotage, then try to do better
I’ve self-consciously retreated
I’ve stood up for others
I’ve backed down and apologized
I’ve rinsed and repeated
I’m a chameleon, but I’ve never been perfect
I’ve under-reacted to challenges
I’ve overreacted to the ordinary
I devalue likeability
I indulge the language of play
I share my human experience
I don’t know what else to say.

It’s both a bitter funeral for freedom
and the birth of new crime.

This world...our world , got it's differences..
It held a beautiful statistics..a brilliant geometry of lives..

People sketched, the unnecessary graphs..
in the name of castes , colour , gender , nationality and what not!!
Hence created the ugliest line of division..
about ,who can be the numerator and be above the community line..
and who can be the denominator and live under the poverty line..

Some crafted wealthiest names..while others had to hide their tears under unfinished roofs..
Some  chased for their own rise...while others have to eat the only rotten rice..

Multiplied the division deliberately..
Added up the differences wanting-ly..

We should evaporate the boundaries ,  we drew in our life's charts....
should redefine our lives ,  to decrease the death rates...

Let's choose humanity over cruelty..
Helping over hindering..
Love over hate..

Remember ,we all are alike..
'cause every being has to make their first cry after birth..
'cause every being has it's last breath..
every being has to breathe till death..
every being have to bleed when cut..

I know that in some other dimension
—perhaps beneath a crease in the warp of time
They like to rip flesh off bits of bones
of lovers and friends
dress it up in spices and sauces for feasts—
And their kings do it, and they do
Children are taught, and
house-wives prepare them for special guests
Humans, wrapped in sacks, are sold
in markets— or traded like rice

I know some take pride in the love-kisses
their whips leave on flushed skins
And tallest of corpses are chopped like logs
—carried like crops; cleaned and
beautified— like porcelain; somewhere,
screams are sung on weddings and
Lyre strings talk about mothers’ pleas
Where gatherings of men and women and wealth
are served with their own roasted limbs

Where molestations await invitations
which are not scarce—
I know some like to beautify battlefields
and scattered fingers and ribs and feet and—
I know that tulips are planted in blasted skulls
And children leave paper-boats in warm, rosy puddles
— stars are extinguished for their
unbearable lights and moons are
exploded on festival nights—

I know you look at me and wonder
if I admire canvases gigantic
with stories loud and heroes bewildering
I know you ask of my role on this street,
at this moon, with you of all planets
—and plants, but I only
know of the canvases they burn

—and canvases they tear and
canvases used as shrouds and— canvases
that wipe away clogged ruby tears
I only know of the flowers I painted—
Colours I yelled at
for they were not bright
And the painting I buried under coats of white
for it was not pretty—
The memory I killed over and over and over and over and—
Watched the cadaver walk right through
its death

I know I was not called, nor welcomed
And I know there are worse wars to be ceased
but I only see the bruises on
this child’s dusty face, and bones—
bones and how they push at his ragged flesh
I know not of the demon that lurks within his shadow
Or what tales you carry under your glamorous suit
or what told him to try running with your coins—

And I know there are worse wars to be ceased
—I know there are worse wars to be ceased
and I know— but please for the sake
of dawn’s first ray, of sea’s first breath
don’t hurt him—