Boy, oh boy
Will boys be boys
And oh boy, that’s gross to say,

I at least get that,
I mean I try to but here’s to trying

Kind of like trying to speak for women
Or anyone that isn’t you,
you should just not do that…

There’s a difference in defense for the good of all
And then, there’s what we were talking about 50 ******* years ago

Oh, excuse me 30 ******* years ago,
Last ******* year…
2 ******* days ago…
OK RIGHT THE **** NOW…

But I really want to go back to 69
Oh, The Summer of love…
Or the summer of forcing a woman to go to court over the ability to receive an abortion only to be decided by a group of old men if she has any rights over her body to receive a safe medical procedure, all while  the media doing no one any favors guiding a blind division nationally between people and God fearing busy bodies, calling her names and questioning her character as a responsible person, in a not very god-fearing tone, all while forcing Ms. McCorvey again, to get burned more for prolonging an unwanted pregnancy due to waiting on a decision that is determined in court by that aforementioned group of men, which is like the sportsman’s equivalent of just killing the clock to win a game but it isn’t a ******* game it’s a woman’s body, which clearly they didn’t care anything about just as long as they get that **** baby in the next 6 months or so, but as stated above it is indeed unwanted, so really who is going to take care of the ******* baby because we know how much people just love adopting ******* children?
Let’s ask 25 republicans!

But some people talk of 69 differently,

Some remember the Beatles.
Some recall Charles Manson.

Kind of like today
Some say we are putting god back in our government
And The rest of us in 1972 to 2019 are wondering who the **** invited god?
I never knew God and every white person’s, “one uncle” has the same opinion.
Amazing!
But Uncle Alabama shouldn’t speak for God.
Wait until he finds out she’s a woman.
That’d be a kick to the unregulated nuts we can just spew anywhere, like a natural ******* disaster.

That’s what the name of this ******* poem should be,
but it’s not.

Sincere, *******.
That’s what I call this one,
That’s what I call the last 2 and half years too.
And this poem.

And telling women what to do with their bodies.

Some people would think differently.
But I don’t think some people think.

Sit right down in your seat, please
        Raise your hand to speak, please
        Get a pass to leave, please
I need all attention on me, please
                Revolution is over, please,
        Obedience is key, please
                There’s nothing wrong anymore, see
                Look at these 3rd world countries, see
                Be proud of where you were born, see
                We are perfectly free, see
Be silent and listen to me, free
                Migration will be to be stopped, free
                The leader can pardon himself, free
                Women in positions of power, free
                Hate is perfectly legal, free
        You can protest as well, free
        You have the power of speech, free
Don’t talk over the teacher, please
Don’t talk over the teacher, please
         I know better than you, see
        We control your life, see
        We are building the future, see
        We are the best in the world, see
Be silent and listen to me, please

As long as you’re rich and white,  
free.

What is the point of human rights if we don't acknowledge the fact that people have them?
As soon as you're born, you have them. Simply because you're human.
But acting human is a whole different thing.
Humans aren't machines.
We shouldn't be controlled.
People cannot tell us whether we deserve those rights or not, even if we don't.
In the end, we still have them.
But what's the point if we're not respected for having them?
Maybe it depends on an individual person.
We may think that someone doesn't deserve any rights, but they think that they do.
They may think that we don't deserve them, but we think that we do.
But when you think about it, our 'worth' is what decides if we 'deserve' to have rights or not.
It's almost like an unspoken rule;
Popularity triumphs all.
And though there are exceptions, that 'rule' still exists.
Popularity, money, fame.
Things that can vanish within a matter of time.
Our lives?
Not the same.
We all have the right to be human.
We can't choose not to be human,
But we can choose to be a good or bad one.
People violate human rights day-to-day, right in front of us.
And we just sit and watch.
We're bystanders.
And, honestly?
That's worse than being the violator.

if heart cells have formed
you take away our rights
you take control of our bodies
though what’s inside
is smaller than a grain of rice

neglected by the ones
who claim they’re pro life
they must be mistaken
there’s no sympathy in sight

to hell with the poor
and those seeking asylum
to hell with healthcare
that’s not a god given right
and to the lives taken
at the hands of a gun
thoughts and prayers to you
i’ll continue to have my fun

why don’t you say it to our face
we mean nothing to you
you simply love control
but that, we already knew

It is a rainy night,
with the dark clouds covering the moon.
The stars fall,
so do the rest of the unknown lights in the sky.
Rings of the distant churches’ bells heard.
Owls, bats, black vultures sound,
so do the hungry wolves around the lightless downtown.

A barefoot little girl,
with unironed clothes for weeks,
beside a bakery, sits.
Her long hair untied and wetted from rain.
She awaits for the dawn,
flipping through her simple wishes like a book,
under the lightening and the thunders.
But it needs hours and hours to arrive.

Families leave the theatre in front of her,
happy and smiling.
They just finished watching a humanitarian film.
Their cars’ lights reflect in her eyes full of tears,
which are not dried yet until the dawn appears.

Stores closed all around her.
Passersby look at her and deny.
Kids looking through the car windows,
ask their parents about her.
They, too, deny so their kids do not have nightmares while asleep.

The girl just awaits the dawn,
having few dreams, hopes and some pain.
She awaits the dawn,
hopefully, her dead parents appear, again!

Mohammed Arafat
06-04-2019