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Along the river bank
on a sweltering day
there she was, shining in radiant beauty
lariviere quenched her thirst
her timid smile, gentle touch
personified kindness in tranquility
the desire of many men over time
for she was not one woman
she was a piece of history
re-incarnated many times over
you may have known her as Hind Al-Husseini
who cared for the children of the Nakba
passionate for the plight of all women
her history and roots she proudly expressed
with a museum of folklore, all impressed
Then there was Hind Shoufani
who learnt love from burnt villages
we are all tired, always though in the hearts
love falasteen

re-incarnated yet again
as Hind Rajab
an innocent child
like Jesus feared by evil
and those with power
shot this child over 300 times
sixty bullets for every year of her life
a gentle life stolen by the star of David
of course there was Rostom of the Nile
whose sensual moves so captured the eye
she remained a mystery to most
the humble and shy often do
passant hind at the rivers edge
red hair blowing in the breeze
sadness of the world, a suffocating heat
on the other side of the river
was it my imagination?
or did I see a small smile?
HIND RAJAB
She was born in 2018, she was almost 6 years old when she was staying with her uncle, an evacuation order forced them to leave west Gaza early in January 2024, and it was hard to do that with Zionists Troops all round, there were 6 of them in the car when they were attacked by a Zionist tank, four were killed when her cousin called the Red Crescent begging for help and during the call the tank fired at them and the call was ended, Red Crescent tried to call them again but this time Hind answered cuz her 15 years old cousin was dead, she begged for someone to rescue her, she begged the Red Crescent operator to stay with her on the phone and never hangs up, they stayed like this for hours as they were trying to get a permission from the Zionists Army to send an ambulance to save Hind, the Palestine authority gave them the green light and when the ambulance finally arrived and while they were in touch with the head office and Hind, the tank fired at them and all calls were Lost, after 2 weeks the damaged car and ambulance were found, all were dead .. The Zionists denied having any troops around that area, as they always lie, but the evidence is clear, the car was hit by more than 300 bullets, and the satellites imagery by an independent investigator group from the UK proved that the tank was so close to the car, as Hind said, and it was clear they knew what they were doing but for more than a year, the US ex department kept backing the Zionists with their fake investigation and of course the current one will never even care about it, but we should be rest assured cuz the ones who committed this war crime are the ones investigating it, I think we owe an apology for all serial killers which never had the chance to investigate their own crimes, but what we've been witnessing in the last few months is enough to tell us the true face of the western world and the lies we believed since the 1940s, there's nothing worse than a dictatorship in disguise..


Hind Shoufani is a Palestinian film maker, poet and writer and has lived and worked in many big cities in the Middle East as a writer, producer, film director and editor. She is a founder of the Poeticians poets‘ collective in Beirut and Dubai, in which poets, men and women, from all different backgrounds and origins meet regularly to present their work to each other.

Hind al-Husseini (Arabic: April 1916 – 13 September 1994) was a Palestinian woman notable for rescuing 55 orphaned survivors of the Deir Yassin massacre, after they were dropped off in Jerusalem and left to fend for themselves. She later converted her grandfather Salim al-Husayni's mansion into an orphanage, Dar al-Tifl al-Arabi [it], to house them, which became a school providing education to orphans and other children from Palestinian towns and villages.

Hind Hussain Mohammed, more commonly known by her stage name Hind Rostom, was an Egyptian actress and is considered one of the icons in the Egyptian cinema, as she was mainly known for her sensual roles. Her physical appearance earned her the name Marilyn Monroe of the east
jewel 5d
we gather here today,
of not one, but five,
bodies, ours, still embers
drinking our last sip of strife
drunk on blood

one by one
we are the soft streetlamps
flickering in ink
we pierce the sky
soaked in karma &
rugged earth.

so as we partake today,
take your heart, the membrane;
part with your flesh and
the soft of your leg.
bring the yolk of your brain
and

lay yourself upon the plate
we call being human;
come feast upon
the rawness of our own
contents.
copyrighted, poemsbyjewel (2025).
Many flames set asunder,
Each lighting the bark.
Many flames get its owns thunder,
Cracking the infinite dark.

It reshapes what is,
It annihilates what’s his.
God brought the light,
Men sought its might.

Each words carry meaning,
Each word burns the same.
Smoke riles thy beseeching tongue,
Sparking their ignorant flames.

They get crazy,
The crazy man.
It can said it talks,
But they never listen,
Stifling humanity’s walk.

They burn knowledge,
The very light they ate.
God punished not action,
But the poison apple, devils bait.

For now, no innocence sets entropy,
For stupidly of ignorant fools flame society,
Killing humanity’s last flame.

And now, darkness breaches realm,
As embers churn in rage, rage,
Against the dying of the  light.
The last of humanity, the last blight.
Gods wrath, now late, seeks no sight.

I rest here,
Could hope reset my dead ember?
I know not of eternity.
But I know it can be.
I had inspirations of knowledge, and the ever fight against ignorance that put the very flame of power in our hands. I got inspiration to use part of Dylan Thomas’s poem, “Do not go gentle in that good night,” as the fight is ever present today, as it must so. “The Crazy Man” also fits here, too.
The profit of greed
Is the only thing they need.
Man want more,
For the seeds they sow.

I profit more,
Till I start to pour.
I take others lives,
To feed my fearful lies.

I take what’s free,
To monopolize and fee.
Oh, you think you’re free?
I lock, no key.

What further more,
Shall suffer need.
I take before,
Your life, I feed.

They do this more,
The plagues saturate the poor.
All I need is myself alone,
To finally destroy humanities stone.
This is where unchecked capitalism and greed can satiate the need of more over human rights. There are many examples of this, including today, such as big pharmaceutical and other industries that we need further consumer protection from under the restrictions of basic human needs. Such as the needs of profits over basic rights we presume today, and the stagnation of innovation from the manipulation of patents and lobbyists that do not have the interest of humanity in mind.
The universe, in all its mystery, throws us together.

We look at lives of pain and suffering. We share the joy of beauty and caring.

There is no doubt we all come from one blood, above and beyond and through life's journey.

Blood flow is the life, the soul, the very being and the core of who we truly are.

The embrace of kindred and kind takes us deeper, and our pulse is regulated to the heartbeat of life.

When the earth shakes in temper and the bruisers come we are thrown for a moment by the brutal thunder.

After the lightning strikes and the rain comes to wash away tears, its coolness is like a balm.

Remember to exhale and listen, and fall into the heartbeat of kind, empowered by the lifeblood love
A friend having a difficult time, said to me that are the same blood group in relation to how we see and experience the world. I like the metaphor of blood in relation to the spectrum of himan diversity and facing the challenges of being.
Humanity is a cracked mirror,
a thousand faces, none of them whole.
It smiles with blood in its teeth,
shakes hands with one fist clenched.

It builds towers, writes books,
paints skies with its brilliance—
then sets it all on fire,
just to watch the glow.

It sings of love, of peace, of hope,
but only when the knives are dull.
Give it time—give it hunger—
and it will eat its own.

Yet still, we stare into the shards,
searching for something real,
pretending the fractures
were never there.
                                                          ­                                              -Salvatore
This is written by Salvatore, published by April. All credits to Salvatore.
Izan Almira Apr 3
We are so fragile.
We could break at any moment.
God could leave us scattered on the ground
like broken, old, used toys.

God is like a child:
Tsunamis his tantrums.
Humans his marionettes.
Humans    
      are          
             God’s
         voodoo
    dolls.

And he plays with us;
He stitches red needles into our bodies.

I think there is nothing left in mine.
No filling.
No nothing.
I am empty inside.
I'm sorry if you are religious, really.
There's a chance,
I was AI generated,
Not born to a human,
Or made by a god,
A grand example of proper machinery,
Possibly another fault of humanity,
Because I wasn't programed with humility,
Maybe computer based artwork is so good,
Even I couldn't tell my mind is a mother board.
Not hinting at anything, just wanted to use this theme.
rhenee rose Apr 1
Myths used to portray how
Eve possessed the original sin
Along with her overripe
Pain, passed down to all of kin
Confess, tell me now
Is this the reason why
Women get born with shame
Stamped on our skin, shame
Buried within, shame
Dragged for decades
Like that tree in Eden
This shame shall never die
Banished, barely forgiven
As soon as you leave
Your mother’s ribs
You are subjected to laws
Of your father’s rage
The world where men
Decides on who I am
Should have been
Left as a myth
A poem about Eve’s original sin.
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