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We tied a knot in heaven
and left it there
suspended in the air
unaware of the care that lent there
we stare, bare of emotions
for those we sent there
prematurely
surely it was god’s plan
between that ISIS and
the American man’s man
but wait
I don’t rate the
Wests lack of responsibility
they attest not to the culpability
and without an ounce of timidity
suggest that their
interactions are near
the vicinity of humility
when really Iraq
was left gutted like a
listless fish
to be added to the list
of countries
America and Britain not great
Felt the need to mend
not with gentle hands
but with the bayonets hate.

left without infrastructure
a poor suture on
a shambling wreck
Iraq limped on
to suppurate into civil war
which we condemn and abhor

but somehow haven’t the
nous to implore that we have been here before
The imperialist shadow looms like
a hound, as we espouse civility;
Irony abound.
(Hate Isis for what they’ve done; palmyra particularly hits home, but we should have sorted iraq out properly before leaving.)
Hanna Kelley Sep 2015
My plan is to graduate, go to college in some state
To take my friend to Canada before it's too late

I want to be a teacher or a councillor, something nice
I want to travel around the world, no matter the price

To go see China and learn the language and their ways
To go to Africa and watch how they live for days

I want to travel to India and visit some friends
I want to spend my life in Italy and hope it never ends

Germany, France, Mexico, Spain
Romania, Greece, Iraq, Ukraine

I really need to go to "the land of the green"
Meet up with friends and do everything in between

I know that I won't travel that far or do all of those things
But I have to be honest, it's a wonderful dream
I really want to travel to places all around the world, but that won't happen because I haven't even been outside the U.S.
Alan M Taylor Jun 2015
There's blood on my hands, that I can't erase.
There's a piece of me missing, don't you see it on my face?
Oh why did we have to die?
Night after night, I lie awake.
Fighting my demons, keeping them at bay.
Oh why can't I sleep tonight?

Left, right, left, the battle rages on.
Still haven't slept, what happened to my home?
Left, right, left, I know I'm not alone.
Least we forget, the battle rages on.

My wings have been broken, so I hit my knees
Pray that you will not see what this did to me.
No I can't take your eyes.
My pride has been jaded, by my own hands.
I'm alive tho I'm shaken, but I can still stand...
Oh I refuse to die!
Nikita May 2015
I don't see why we can't replace bombs with confetti.
War is sick and disgusting. Killing others is plain wrong no matter the circumstances and greed is the main reason.

**** it.
Give away the food and money you don't need
Be kind and welcoming to anyone who walks your way
Skendong Apr 2015
Open the gate and let us enter,
Or we’ll wrench the lock and kick down the door.
If it doesn’t drop, we’ll sledgehammer through
Forcing our way into your homes.
And bring up the dead to eat the living –
And the dead will outnumber the living.

We demand the precious ring عيسى بن مريم
Now show us the secret place:
We bomb the fiery doors of Hell –
Our slain disturbed they rise again.
Sleepers awoken from their beds.
They sing for the dust gave up it’s dead.

The whipping spur of mercenaries greed,
Roaming, ******, take souls for the cause –
Casually pledge for the Leader’s sake
Whole heart and mind was taken –
They stroked, caressed and kissed her.
Marked men turned into wolves.

Now woe to whom you honoured!
The fickle god paid you back cruelly.
Passing you by as a cheating lover,
As if fairy tales can be heard.
He guided you from above the sky?
It’s fallen in and you pay dearly

Enslaved by things of worldly nature,
Your vigour was lost, vision unsightly,
Now history’s gone, snared –
The traps you fell into laid,
Manufactured by slick rulers,
Your nobles are now lying down.

Sandy graves have been prepared,
Rows of seven, Jannah, Heaven,
For proud in battle we never falter,
Whips flashing and blades to the ready
Hear AK-47s shooting idly
And dare you not squeal:

“My brother, do not let me perish!”
For this day the vocals of our song
Smother the kaffirs weeping
Women lamenting sacrificed children,
Slapping their faces because
The dead will rise and inhale the stench.

Are you sleeping paupers of the globe;
Rich folk feast yet you are fasting.
Who is there to help on these wretched streets?
There is no relief. The wound is incurable.
Some around the world hear and rejoice,
For this evil is transmitted continually.

Open the gate and let us enter,
Or we’ll wrench the lock and kick down the door,
If it doesn’t drop, we sledgehammer through
Forcing our way into your homes.
And bring up the dead to eat the living –
And the dead will outnumber the living.
Matt Feb 2015
The Sunni minority were marginalized

Sectarian killings were commonplace
In 2012 alone,
There were more than 1,600 deaths

The interviewer talked to a motorcycle gang
They said they wanted freedom

But some said they missed the way things were
Under Saddam Hussein
Some would trade the freedom they had
For the stability of Hussein's regime

The Shiah cleric
Says there is an assault on Iraq
Exemplified by the copying of corrupt Western culture.

The cleric wanted to eliminate American influence
Of any kind

Checkpoints make getting
Around the city a hassle

Subcultures in Iraq are under attack
Rap, metal, emo, and classical
All are looked down on

Gays are persecuted

The military uses a faulty device
That is supposed to detect bombs
But has been proven not at all effective

The city exists between extremes
There is the religious extreme
And people who want to be westernized
Without understanding what that is

The infrastructure was ruined by the war
Hopefully life will get better
As they continue to rebuild the infrastructuree
www.youtube.com/watch?v=zhnNIhV4EsU
Nathan Box Feb 2015
Backwards hat displaying his favorite team.
Camouflage blowing in the breeze.
Desert wind whipping stars and stripes into a fury.
Tortured holidays spent away from home.
A ration of turkey will have to do.
X tattoo on his upper arm.
A shaky faith in God.
A devil who feels more real.
Babies born thousands of miles away.
Time through an hourglass like sand.
Plenty to go around.
A mission.
Another deployment.
Very few questions asked.
Because the country asked.
StarlightReborn Dec 2014
Lines marked the echos of a time long ago
Our steps aligned, and hands entwined
lingering down across the battlefield.
Whispered thoughts, that escaped
your pain there etched on your face,
letting out the secrets too hard to bear.

Remember, fort Griswold?
Where we surrendered for a moment
Arms open wide, as I kissed you one last time
admitting to a care that was growing,
in spite of it all.

There on that knoll you made your strength known
picking me up when I fell letting your hands carry me.
Broken soldier.

I remember you.
Do you remember me?

I'd been so sure I knew it all
until we were there,
and words were spoken and I saw
what you did hide there.

Upon the battlefield where blood was shed
Not one of them surrendered, and wound up dead
years ago, and I knew it well
You'd seen your own fort griswold.

Out there in the desert, and the war a muck
grenades, and the sound of machine fire too much.
Death, and dying every which way.

If I'd never been there, and you'd never said
t'would be easier to forget you, but it's not that.
And I wonder of Griswold, and the destruction
of time.
Once you were a blazing fire,

Undoused by fear or favour,

Fuelled by ideals which our priests decried,

But one day History would savour,


You burnt your way ,through the backwoods of death,

Where the smoky memories, remind us with every breath,

That you were the slayer, of the darkness that came,

But your brightness blinded, our future just the same.


You abandoned us without a trail,

Let your legacy grow beyond stale,

And as the world crumbled without sight,

The blind bickered about the light.


Yet , real is our love to claim,

But fickle is our spark,

Don’t let us be a gamble of cosmic proportions,

In your battle against the dark.
Written in light of the United States Intervention in Iraq , from an Iraqi Perspective.
Jenn Nix Dec 2014
Hail Mary
Grace that was yours
Grace of soul, of spirit
Stalled suddenly by stray bullet.

Hail Mary…
One more bead
Drawn and centered
You the center
Always the center
Center of it all.

Hail Mary,
beads slip through fingers,
You slipped through our hands
Through the sands,
Into the sand and into the hands of
Our Father, who art in heaven

Glory be thy name
Hallowed ground
Hollowed dirt
Honor exchanged for hope
Graceless bargain,
Thy will be done.
(Written for my co-workers only son, who was killed in Iraq two months ago.)
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