As humankind shivered
it cut down trees,
it overcame nature.

So we were sheltered

As humankind hungered
it hunted its prey,
it took control.

So we were fed

As humankind worried
it overcame nature.
it took control.

So we will with tyrants

Under dictators

it is unpredictable --


what the past will be.

Cruel potentates

establish 'peace', simply by --


creating wastelands.

if words are rounds, then I̲'m gonna send
a bullet storm on sordid dictators
being, along with ro[ɑ]tten regimes
of theirs, a bunch of derm inflammations
on the body of the world; disgruntled & mean
I'm your personal Gray Hunt
[Grayson "Gray" Hunt who's a playable protagonist of the "Bulletstorm" game]
I'ma, like someO̲ne who was in—
—volved in spetsnaz & forcibly breaks ones
imprisoned for co[ɑ]nscience from clinks
one-two-three, then the bloodshed begins
[prisoners of conscience; "one to free"]
having heard "no smoking", harsh P—ayne
turned & smack—t Wayne with a "hopeless" ash-tray
["smoking" in the sense of "killing"; Max Payne & Bruce Wayne]
[Batman's "no killing" rule, which is hopeless, as well as Max's existence]
["ane" (one), "twain" (two), "trey" (three)]
————————————————————————————————
it would be nothing short of mendacious
to say I don't wish y'all misfortunate states of
affairs, like divorces & break-ups (crack!)
yeah, all the worst to dictators
hopefully, y'all ****** jerks will be faced with
infernal damnation
for every singular person paraded
civilly through streets in support of good changes
and been delivered brute force in repayment
people in jails & clinks mauled
and denied of med help, disinfo
unjustified wars, liquidations
of those subverting a heinous sociopol. course undertaken
of course, fabrications when it's time fO̲r legal cases
(and elections, of course)
and nowadays, you've got Y̲O̲U̲r pesky agents
working on breaking
the web like Bourne which is Jason (Webb, David)
here come my warm salutations
to that stupid web regulator
that serves the dang Craymlin (got it?)
like your walking shyotka tualetnaya, take a
["toilet brush" in Russian]
[another sobriquet fitting the rhyme scheme: "toilet predator"]
hike; Y̲O̲U̲r limitations
hitting media insubmissive ta
the sick regI̲me which y'all sustain by dint of digital
censorship, to individuals with a set of principles
and views akin/sim. to mine, are like pork to unwave[—]ring
[the word's supposed to be read/pronounced as "unwayvring"]
Muslims; in other words, we evade 'em
(what are you gonna do about it?)
as you were told, better block Y̲O̲U̲r **** BHs
you subservient A-licks
["buttholes"; "a##-lickers"]
————————————————————————————————
now, let's revert to the arch black hats
when you get a just backlash
or, like drinks allowed for thO̲se under eighteen
minor shots, y'all schmucks get sore, 'kin to nates
["shots for minors"]
of someone earned a good lacing
fO̲r misbehaving (just like y'all)
get yourself some butthurt-mitigative
stuff, you scO̲rn-ridden vain ******
you're worthless like an ****** absorbed medication
to you procured a gunshot gorge perforation
but first you'd get your arms
and legs shot in its hinge joint parts
[that is, elbows & knees]
that's some mean **** marks—
—manship; as you may've gathered
like a workforce undertaken
reaping, you depraved dastards
with your regimes are something I'm sU̲re not okay with
minus them paid guarders
with shoulder marks worn & you're Swayze
for when your brainwa[ɑ]shers
and other order-maintaining
tools no longer make masses
conform to the mainstream
acts of force are your last resort
like a semi-island-based palace
[sounds familiar]
housing some gorgeous gals craving
to have some unchaste practice
["lust resort"]
some of those going po[ɑ]liticians or power-wielders
are by then already sordid? like forgery traders
not the type to think so
that's humankind's horrible nature
evolved to a high degree, though
still animals, thus Earth's, in a way, a
jumbo jungle; got a shade sidetracked
like a train, my bad; I'ma explain, like that
Malaysian Boeing Ukraine skies'd had (ex-plane)
[had had]
before it got razed 'kin/sim.
to the outrage of folks storming a place which
a c#cks#cking usurper is based in
["raised"]
the earlier stated
"BFWID"; once you are no more animated
like a cartoon paused, the verdict is plain 'kin/sim.
to a suit that is mourning-related
a torrid vacation, metaphorically saying
yet no point in packing Y̲O̲U̲r freaking raiment
since Y̲O̲U̲r destination's nothing short of pure Hades (if there is)
["sins"]
in fact, unlike some of you, I'm irreligious, but
it doesn't mean I'm cold to medieval stuff
like a hedonistic brush with a chick replete with lust
in this realm, there may be a wicked **[ɑ]t
time for you; akin/sim. to witches stuck
to those stakes, you may end up lit as f#ck
like after a cig. with **** you are
in the garden of the post-en—lightenment time going
["thyme"]
which, in fact, is the reason I
["reason I" is supposed to be read/pronounced as "reasoner"]
and others with opinions similar
to mine think Earth's in need of getting rid of ya
————————————————————————————————
chief authoritarian crooks worldwide
and all those contributing to their rule of vice
you know what have just come tO̲ my mind?
look, douchewads, why
don't y'all take a tiled-rooftop hike?

Napoleon stayed in Elba,
Pulling his bone apart;
Lenin was in Siberia,
So deep, none heard him ****.
Adolph passed his time in Landsburg,
Hardening his heart;
And Don's in Mar-a-Lago
Perfecting his Con art.
He's no Monte Cristo,
Righting perceived wrongs;
He'll fleece all his believers,
In stealth, like Viet Cong.

Mirror
by Kajal Ahmad, a Kurdish poet
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

My era’s obscuring mirror          
shattered
because it magnified the small
and made the great seem insignificant.
Dictators and monsters filled its contours.            
Now when I breathe
its jagged shards pierce my heart
and instead of sweat
I exude glass.

Keywords/Tags: Kajal Ahmad, Kurd, Kurdish, translation, mirror, shattered, magnified, dictators, monsters, jagged, shards, sweat, perspire, leak, bleed, extrude, protrude, glass



The Lonely Earth
by Kajal Ahmad
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

The pale celestial bodies
never bid her "Good morning! "
nor do the creative stars
kiss her.
Earth, where so many tender persuasions and roses lie interred,
might expire for the lack of a glance, or an odor.
She's a lonely dusty orb,
so very lonely! , as she observes the moon's patchwork attire
knowing the sun's an imposter
who sears with rays he has stolen for himself
and who looks down on the moon and earth like lodgers.



Kurds are Birds
by Kajal Ahmad
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Per the latest scientific classification, Kurds
now belong to a species of bird!
This is why,
traveling across the torn, fraying pages of history,
they are nomads recognized by their caravans.
Yes, Kurds are birds! And,
even worse, when
there's nowhere left to nest, no refuge from their pain,
they turn to the illusion of traveling again
between the warm and arctic sectors of their homeland.
So I don't think it strange Kurds can fly but not land.
They wander from region to region
never realizing their dreams
of settling,
of forming a colony, of nesting.
No, they never settle down long enough
to visit Rumi and inquire about his health,
or to bow down deeply in the gust-
stirred dust,
like Nali.



Bi Havre (“Together”)
possibly the oldest Kurdish poem
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

I want us to be together:
we would eat together,

climb the mountain together,
sing songs together, songs of love,

songs from the heart, sung from above.
I want us to have one heart, together.

Many words in this ancient poem are in doubt, so I have excerpted what I grok to be the central meaning.



And because Kajal mentioned Rumi, here are my translations of Rumi:

Raise your words, not their volume.
Rain grows flowers, not thunder.
—Rumi, loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Birdsong
by Rumi
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Birdsong relieves
my deepest griefs:
now I'm just as ecstatic as they,
but with nothing to say!
Please universe,
rehearse
your poetry
through me!

Are you a human being?
Or are you an agent of Satan?
Do you value human life?
Or do you consider it disposable?
Do you understand love?
Do you understand kindness?
Do you understand empathy?
If not, are you fit to run a company?
Are you fit to be a boss?
Are you fit to be an HR?
Are you fit to work at all?

You have been blinded
By your fanatical zeal for results
By your overpowering greed for money
By your insatiable lust for power
For you, employees are robots
Tailor-made for your animalistic needs
Which cannot be satisfied
By any sane human being
For the sake of your whims and fancies
Which change at the speed of light
Several innocent lives are being ruined
Today, it is the employees who are doomed
Tomorrow, it could be your husband
The day after, it may even be your daughter
And this vicious cycle will go on and on
With no end in sight
Therefore, for the sake of humanity
It is only just
That you are banished from Earth
Down to the all-consuming darkness of Hell
Where you will rot, for eternity
And the world shall be happier for it