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Aya Mar 17
There is no ceasefire, not in Gaza, not in Lebanon, not in Sudan,
but only genocide...
aggression...
war...
blood...
slaughter, and pain.
The West Bank continues to be under siege... met by tanks, death,
threats...  
Families are met with bullets to their head.
The children are met with amputated limbs.
Children are left orphan... and forgotten.
Communities are met with too many martyrs to grieve...
Where is this ceasefire now?
There is bombardment in Yemen too, directed by the West like a true imperialist.
If one dare to rise up and resist, are met with an iron fist by the international colonizer community, given consent to **** with no impunity...
Dare the amputees speak....
Dare the bullet to the head speak...
Dare the orphan speak....
Dare the resistance speak of their own pain...
There is no ceasefire, but only genocide.  
Where is this so-called ceasefire now?
Nowhere in sight....
Where is the anti-war movement?
Nowhere in sight.....
What happened to the anti-war movement?
Nowhere in sight….
Safana Jul 2024
Demon and stration
Devil in the station
Deemed as action
Dew falls on its portion
So sign social interpretation.
To avoid war of faction
No matter what temptation,
do not cause discrimination.
Remember some diaspora
They played an opera
But we ever played biafara.
Some exiled to Accra
Without eating carbonara
Home is a home, just remember.
Its beauty looks like amber.
It's a steady stand like timber.
It's division divided like a chamber.
If stone throws from north,
the south will set forth.
And if it's from south,
the north will set forth.
Bring peace
Not to piece
But to prease
I asked you please
My fellow
Nigerian
Safana Apr 2024
Antonio guterres speech.
Palastine
Alek Mielnikow Jun 2020
A mother sits on the edge
of a hospital bed with her
baby daughter lying on her lap.

The air throughout the hospital
is suffocating, stifling with the
stench of filth and death.

The walls amplify and echo the
anguish of women and children,
and jets fly somewhere overhead.

But she tries to sing a lullaby
through her parched throat
beneath her grubby niqāb. The skin
and bones that make her frame
cannot sway the child for comfort.

She cannot feed her; even if her
******* could provide sustenance,
the child’s sickness would puke it
back up. She craves to cry for God
to spare her little one, but her
bloodshot, sunken eyes no longer
produce tears. All she can offer is
her lullaby, the same one she sang
to all her children. All that remains
of them and their father are fragments,
scattered throughout dirt and debris,
blown to bits a week ago by a blast
in her village. When the only one left
became sick, she started the trek to
the nearest hospital. The journey
greeted her with dust and unbearable
heat, with the agony of an empty
stomach, with a child in misery and
excreting white diarrhea. And when
she finally reached the hospital, the
doctors could not provide treatment.

The disease had progressed too far,
and they did not have the means to
save her daughter. So she sits on a
hospice bed, surrounded by other
sickly and starving bodies, singing a
lullaby. Soon the child closes her eyes
and stops breathing, a thick white
drool leaking down her cheek. Her
mother wipes it away.


-
by Aleksander Mielnikow (Alek the Poet)
This poem depicts a bit of the horrific circumstances that are taking place regularly in Yemen. According to the UN, Yemen is suffering the worst humanitarian crisis in the world, with 80% of its citizens requiring humanitarian aid. And it is only getting worse.

The Saudi-led intervention in Yemen, backed by rich allies such as the United States and the United Kingdom, is committing war crimes. They are targeting innocent civilians with missiles (including some that many countries have banned the use of), and though this includes destroying hospitals and schools, it also includes peaceful villages and the encampments of 3 million displaced persons, unrelated to the Civil War that is being waged. They are targeting infrastructure (for example, gas stations and bridges) that make basic functioning arduous, if not impossible. And they are using a blockade to deny the passage of food and aid into the country. This blockade has perpetuated one of the worst cholera outbreaks ever (which is the “illness” the baby in this poem has). And it has left 20 million people facing food insecurity, with half of them being acutely food insecure. (Some are comparing this deliberate military tactic of famine to The Holodomor, the Ukranian Genocide of 1932-33).

And on top of facing starvation, succumbing to disease, or getting blown to pieces, they are also facing Covid-19 drastically limited resource, which is spreading at an alarming rate.

I titled this poem Forgotten because multiple sources that I’ve read about this crisis point out how the situation in Yemen is being largely ignored. And this ignorance will lead to the unfortunate end of millions of innocent people.

I don’t want that to happen.

In order for us to aid the Yemeni people, the conflict that is occurring needs to end. This can happen a number of ways. I will focus my part in what I can do to get the US Government (where I live) to stop supplying arms to the Saudi-led intervention. I have little influence in the political sphere, and if there’s anyone reading this who could throw a more powerful swing at it, please do. But I will let my readers know if there’s anything they can help me with, such as signing a letter/petition.

But we cannot rely on the conflict resolving when it is such a complex situation with interweaving influences and leaders who are committing or are complicit in atrocities. As such, the other thing we need to do is offer as much aid as we can. In the bio of my Instagram account, @alekthepoet,  there’s a link to multiple non-profits trying to help, and each link takes you to a page that offers more information on Yemen’s situation. Please donate what you can. I cannot offer much, and yet I scrounged up some money and will donate what I can as well (I am donating to Save The Children). Each website also offers more ways in which you can help, so if you have the time please look into that and see if there’s more you can do.

Please do what you can to help the Yemen people. They don’t deserve to be forgotten by us. Please share this information and post to make sure it doesn’t happen.
Ahmed Ali Mar 2020
Hey give me a hand
Hey please give me a hand
Have mercy on me, at least
Give me something just to eat
I have been hungry for over a year
Don't you all have His fear
Don't you see I am all bones
The flesh eaten away by war & drones
There is no roof over my head
Only mother Earth my all time bed
The bullets & shells took away all
Until I couldn't stand the fall
I am feeble & can not move
This hunger has eaten even my torso
While the World watches me die
How will it face the Creator with its lie
For I will not forgive you on that day
When I will stand tall on the Judgement day.

(Khan, BA)
For those hungry orphans of Yemen and Syria
Zachary E Tenney Apr 2019
you know how brittle and thin
the bones of a fried chicken look
after you have bit them bare
and licked them clean
imagine bones like that
bulging beneath the skin
of a seven-year-old girl
who is only still alive because she
unlike forty of her brothers and sisters
was not on the school bus
destroyed the other day
by an expensive star-spangled bomb

her lips look like
they haven’t laughed in years
her skin lame as waxpaper
what might have glowed once
in the bright of Yemen’s sun
is left instead to sag in agony
from those sinless unfed bones

while she goes to sleep
for the final time
a tycoon somewhere
eats well and rests easy
on the dollars that bought
the bombs
not really knowing
the price that has been paid
Amal Hussein was a young child whose photograph was featured in a major New York Times story on the humanitarian crisis in Yemen. There were many horrific photos, but this one caught my eye and inspired this poem. I encourage all readers to seek out organizations to which you may donate in support of Yemen, and more generally to take a stand against the military-industrial complex that facilitates massive arms deals between Western nations and Saudi Arabia, the products of which the latter uses to wage this genocidal war (a war, it must be said, that the United States supports without ever having acquired congressional approval).
R Dickson Nov 2018
Guns are all now silent,
The killings all been done,
The boys are coming home,
The war’s ended, but not for some,

The war to end all wars ended,
One hundred years ago,
The killings started over again,
No poppies in the meadow,

Civil war in Yemen,
The Saudis and Iran,
Russia starts an arms race,
Trump’s wall building plan,

Caravan from Honduras,
Fleeing death and repulsion,
Troops at the Mexican border,
With guns and no discussion,

Mothers fears and lovers tears,
Of family they’ll never see again,
Shootings at schools and bars,
Talk of gun control all in vain.
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