"assassination" poems
The Story
by Kamal Nasser
translation by Michael R. Burch
I will tell you a story ...
a story that lived in the dreams of my people,
a story that comes from the world of tents.
It is a story inspired by hunger and embellished by dark nights of terror.
It is the story of my country, a handful of refugees.
Every twenty of them have a pound of flour between them
and a few promises of relief ... gifts and parcels.
It is the story of the suffering ones
who stood waiting in line ten years,
in hunger,
in tears and agony,
in hardship and yearning.
It is a story of a people who were misled,
who were thrown into the mazes of the years.
And yet they stood defiant,
disrobed yet united
as they trudged from the light to their tents:
the revolution of return
into the world of darkness.
Kamal Nasser was a much-admired Palestinian poet and Palestinian Christian, who due to his renowned integrity was known as "The Conscience." He was a member of Jordan's parliament in 1956. He was murdered in 1973 by an Israeli death squad whose most notorious member was future Israeli Prime Minister Ehud Barak. Barak (born Ehud Brog) later ruled as Israel’s tenth Prime Minister from 1999 to 2001. His adopted Hebrew name Barak means "lightning." As a younger man, Brog/Barak was a member of a secret assassination unit that liquidated Palestinians in Lebanon and the occupied territories. In the 1973 covert mission Operation Spring of Youth in Beirut, which was part of the larger Operation Wrath of God, he disguised himself as a woman in order to assassinate Palestinians. The raid resulted in the deaths of two women, one of them an elderly Italian. Two Lebanese policemen were also killed, along with the poet Kamal Nasser.
Nasser was the PLO's most prominent Christian and he enjoyed "great appeal" in Lebanon, Syria, and Iraq "both as a distinguished poet and likeable personality." He was the “conscience of the Palestinian revolution,” according to Nazih Abul-Nidal, who worked with him on the magazine Filastin al-Thawra. Nasser “had the most democratic outlook of all Palestinian leaders at the time,” he recalls. He respected opposing views, admired the commitment of young people, and was a major recruitment asset for the Palestinian revolution. “That is why he was put high on the hit-list.” The previous year, the Israelis had murdered another renowned Palestinian writer and activist in Beirut, Ghassan Kanafani, by booby-trapping his car. Nasser’s successor, Majed Abu Sharar, was also assassinated by Israelis, in Rome in 1981 while attending a conference in solidarity with the Palestinian people.
Keywords/Tags: Kamal Nasser, Palestinian, Palestine, PLO, Conscience, Ramallah, Christian, religion, poet, Arab, Arabic, Arab Spring, betrayal, conflict, courage, devotion
Dec 9, 2021
Dec 9, 2021 at 7:55 AM UTC
We marched to the words of "We Shall Overcome"
courting justice to walk at our side,
seared into memory with the heat of sun
brothers and sisters, arms linked one to one
beneath that day star's unblinking eye,
we marched to the words, "We Shall Overcome."
We swore an oath to forego the gun,
to carry only freedom's cry
beneath the impassive afternoon sun,
through bludgeon and cudgel one by one,
each truncheon summoning others to rise,
to join in the words "We Shall Overcome."
As we embraced, the marching done,
a crosshairs trained a sniper’s eye
to wrench malice from the indifferent sun
to hew a path in blood and bone,
to rend flesh
and a rasping
fatal sigh . . .
in the fading caress of the afternoon sun.
Beneath the eternal arc of the sun,
again we will muster side by side,
a sanctified chorus, whose song will be sung,
let our marching echo...
"We Shall Overcome.”
Copyright © 2018 Gary Brocks
Conceived after visiting the LORRAINE HOTEL (Memphis, Tennessee), the site of the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Thursday, 4 April 1968.
In 1991 the NATIONAL CIVIL RIGHTS MUSEUM at the LORRAINE HOTEL was opened to the public.
"We Shall Overcome”, an anthem, title and refrain, of the American Civil Rights Movement of the mid 20th century.
Aug 26, 2018
Aug 26, 2018 at 4:18 AM UTC
There once was a black man... Old at heart, he fought verbally and accordingly with bold words, which abbreviated and arbitrated great art! He spoke of activism. Not just racial, and economic racism. He fought against demonic injustices for you, yes, made me see. He stood for principles of non-violence. Acknowledged corrupt government
mileage, European knowledge and college. A philosopher, teacher
and preacher as well as a civil rights leader. When he spoke his words of fire indeed chiseled and inspired. Causing some to conspire and also perspire! Born January 15th 1929 in Atlanta, Georgia. Named in honor of the German protestant Martin Luther. Bachelor of Arts
degree in sociology. Making a mark in doctoral studies, systematic theology. June 5th 1955 This King married Corretta Scott in Heiberger,
Alabama for many to see. Proceeding with four children: Yolanda, Martin Luther the 3rd to be! Dexter Scott and Bernice to increase the peace. Despite the European police, the movements and stressed
protests, the silence, ****** and racial violence. The segregation and interrogations in force, instead of integration of course. Black mishaps, lack of differences in relapse perhaps! Plagiarized and slandered, demised by some of the wise. Accused of communistic ties. Blinded
by others’ eyes and of our world’s twisted lies. Montgomery, Georgia
bus boycott, 1955 was the year. However, forever in disguise, our fear of tears was apparently adhered. From here to near, also all those dear. Mere letters he wrote, from Birmingham jail I quote! From the slums, some of sums, hail and prevail! A creation prevailing into a deriving and thriving nation. Mr. King’s vision of a dream, mission,
opposition, optimism and truism, on our wars, welfare and more. I suppose this sounds honest and fair. Mr. King’s theories and worries in emotionalism, evangelism, humanitarianism, racism and socialism. Nobel Peace Prize won in 1964. Regretfully, you may have heard of this before. Government conspiracies and indecencies. Assassination
and discrimination, allegedly, by James Earl Ray. On April 4th, I
almost choke, because for him, his blood did soak. Some thought this **** was a thrill or forced by will. Others still procrastinate in hate! However, forever Martin Luther King was and still is one of the late greats.
Mar 26, 2012
Mar 26, 2012 at 12:53 PM UTC
Please forgive my hesitation
at instigation of flirtation.
Did I ensure my elimination?
My romantic assassination?
I'll gladly partake in any placation,
for any chance of indoctrination
to the centralization of your concentration.
An operation of admiration.
A correlation of inflammation.
Your gravitation brings animation,
exclamation and elongation.
My specialization is duration.
Not to hint at a connotation,
but I feel a certain **********
by an obligation to a certain destination
where your presentation gives me restoration.
Petrification?
Total mind evacuation?
Would clarification bring fascination?
Stimulation!
Salivation!
Gratification!
Insinuation of fornication?
A simple salutation to syncopation.
Would a single bright carnation
be enough of a motivation,
for a two way relocation?
Would poetic recitation
be sufficient lubrication
for collaboration?
A consolidation?
Or an exacerbation of isolation?
Please hold no reservation,
I've only got one aspiration.
To achieve a higher elevation;
by means of inhalation,
or a certain recreation
involving a bit of perspiration
along with physical communication.
Does this seem such a bad situation?
Or are you ready for pure elation?
Feb 18, 2010
Feb 18, 2010 at 12:56 PM UTC
I don't know what you could call this exactly,
I was at a musical concert in one of the states
And a school filled with children of less than 13 years of age
Presented a song which I could call a petition.
They were praying earnestly for God to save Nigeria
From lawless people, bloodshed, assassination and a list of other wreckless things
It touched me that finally, it has gotten to this! When children start to file a petition to God against our leaders saying for their sake God should save the nation
It's a bit disturbing that even the kids know that there is a problem with this nation.
Do we have to ridicule ourselves forever? The children who were in the ***** and groins some years back have come to understand the situation and are crying out.
The educational standard is falling to pieces and the threads would have to be carefully woven together if we wanna make something out of it again.
It's embarrassing to know that there are so many sectors that has failed, absolutely nothing is working.
Our leaders still apportion blame. Roads are not good and then you get to hear one is a federal road one is state owned. Does it matter who owns the road if it is in their country?
Why aren't everyone looking beyond their noses and see what's wrong. Our youths have resolved to fraud when hard work and talents aren't appreciated.
Universities have been shut down for months now in the name of strike and the government officials could afford to eat and carry on their daily activities!
Aren't they meant to be in the hospital, complaining of one illness or the other as a result of the unrest the matter has caused? Disheartening! Even the hospitals go on strike and innocent people are left to die as a result of no medical attention.
I was moved to tears when these children sang. The nation's unrest and matters have become prayer points in all places of worship. God should indeed look down from His throne, have mercy on us and save Nigeria!
Oct 26, 2013
Oct 26, 2013 at 9:28 AM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
Fed up and in a bad place,
These aren't just emotions of anger and regret for
The situation at hand and the problems
That they are trying to reflect on america to start
Something we could not come back from,
Race wars,
Afraid to ride my bike down the street
Because of racism,
Afraid to date Caucasian girls because of racism,
Afraid to be black but proud,
Because of racism and these crooked white cops
That hide behind badges like cowards and pick away piece by piece at
The people that hasn't started any war since the assassination of
Martin Luther,
Any rule you abide by in law,
They'll still shoot ya,
And make it seem like you struggled or make it seem like
You tried to grab the gun from the holster and fight your way out,
"I'm not resisting ,.,... Stop shoving me , stop punching me , you
******* *****
Naughty by nature , but my mannerism's heaven sent,
When will these cops (pigs),
Stop killing our people and making families moarn,
We're all created by God , so why do y'all just leave people
Torn,
America Peace with love and prayers to my brown skin angels,
It's bad enough with black on black crime at every angle,
Y'all ******* up!!!
Protest , peace treaties , Misunderstood riots,
Using this against us ------> " You Have The Right To Remain Silent",
**** That!!!!!
Yelling to the world that the Justice system is biased,
What's drakest must come to light , well the future's at its brightest,
I love all races , I have white friends,
I wonder would Jesus come When the world ends,
But can't end it with a race war,
I'm ready to spread the word if you are,
Doing it for the kids and the poor.
Jul 10, 2016
Jul 10, 2016 at 6:58 AM UTC
Krypton didn’t fit with anyone,
as it was the unfriendly one,
it never went beyond it’s limits
even if others did loose their limits.
It was from a forlorn world,
nobody cared to say a word,
to this enigma of another world;
no one wanted to share a word.
The nobles were always preoccupied
with their occupied shells,
they never hung out with the occupied,
nor the unoccupied.
Krypton was mistaken for kryptonite.
It wondered every night,
Why they accused it for the assassination?
it didn’t have the power of absorption.
Krypton had very few of it’s kind,
it didn’t know where they were aligned.
He held the hope of being able to be lined,
with the rest of it’s kind.
Poor Krypton, he was on the farthest
arena of the periodic table
it wished if it could turn the table,
so that it can at least act a bit feeble.
Experience taught this novice,
it calculated the calculations,
to traverse the long distance,
fear hindered the transmissions.
Krypton used to think without links
he was one of the stable nobles,
he wasn’t the one that wobbles
and, one of the table’s baubles.
Dec 17, 2016
Dec 17, 2016 at 4:36 AM UTC
There's that word
for girls like me:
the ones who
didn't see the point
of princesses.
The active ones who
run and jump and slide
and can't be bothered
to stand around the
playground sidelines,
whispering and trading
in spots of character assassination
or information.
"Tomboys" they call
those girls
and maybe later
"butch" or
"masculine of center."
I notice how
there's never
"feminine of center."
But really,
I've always felt impatient with that word
"Tomboys."
Why should a girl who wore
dangling earrings
but liked the things they label
"boys things"
want a word that suggests she's
something other than what she's not?
An aspirational boy?
A girl who grew up into
a closeted girl
with short hair, no make-up and a love of
jewelry.
Whose first girlfriend post-coming out,
took one look and said "But you're a femme!"
Please, please, understand.
In my heart I am a pirate king,
of the eighteenth-century variety:
big sword, big earrings, big weapons.
On the threshold of middle age,
somewhere on the spectrum of gender,
What word describes me?
Jul 2, 2017
Jul 2, 2017 at 9:00 PM UTC
You hide in plain sight as does day when engulfed by night
For darkness is simply…. The absence of light
You claim to have special enlightenment
And that your knowledge is for the better good of the people
Pledge your allegiance and your success will be imminent
Break your pledge and your death will be discrete
So why would you become part of something so “elite”?
With only one thing in mind; to see the human race in defeat.
An interminable amount of subliminal messages
Hinting at events that are destructive, demoralizing, and deceptive.
9/11… was it really an act of terrorism?
Or was it just an evil plot… something you guys expected?
Al-quaeda and the Taliban… roaming around in the lands of Iran
But on the land I walk some say it’s a misperception
Just a façade in our brain so the government secrets are protected.
Michael Jackson… and the Kennedy assassination
Were they both untimely events in American history?
Ghandi, The King, Malcolm X, Princess Diana, Shakur,
Paul, Marley, the Kennedys’, Lennon, Fredinand, Lincoln!!
All of whom were either at your feet or tried to make your secret secrete
These deaths… from assassination to suicide… were all… “unfortunate” to the human eye?
Or were they “fortunate” for the Eye of the Beholder?
But why go to such great extent to have these powerful and influential people wiped from the human race?
To keep a secret that has been soooo well kept for hundreds of years?
A secret society that is not so discrete… anymore
Hidden in plain sight and away from the human eye…..
Trying to keep a disguise that will lead to our eventual demise
You aren’t doing the world any favors
By keeping an explicitly intricate order in store
You’re favoring your own world under one order
By intricately deceiving the minds of innocent citizens
So, you hide in plain sight, the light of the earth
A light you hope one day becomes permanently dark
Cause once again, darkness is only the absence of light.
With no light, we will be forced at the feet of your might
Despite a fight, with no light and your might, we’re all just mites stuck on your flight of new world order.
Well let me just end on this… **** THE ILLUMINATI!
Oct 24, 2012
Oct 24, 2012 at 12:52 PM UTC
On chain they did put me,
tied up to the burglary protector,
handcuffed and battered.
Tortured and meant to be broken.
Poisoned but survived.
Marked for assassination,
and shot twice,
bullets flying around,
resilient and unflinching,
was ready to confront them.
Dead or alive I must choose one.
Must find a way out of this mess,
to escape was on my mind,
but how do I get out of here without
jeopardizing the lives of my family.
Courage summoned I revert to plan B,
the art of fighting without fighting.
Intelligence and wisdom must come into play.
Must outwit them to survive.
Cunning and craftiness must be used,
the uncanny ways of the spirit is amazing.
Become like water,
be flexible,
Yielding but still immovable.
Stealth in action but remain like the firefly.
Understanding their intent
and misdirected anger,
their aggression towards me was contained.
Tranquilized and overpowered,
their capture became imminent for
i am more than a conquerer,
for the greater one lives in me.
Today I stand here to testify of that victory against
the intruders and assassins with a grateful heart.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 7:26 AM UTC
For it is written to grant forgiveness
No matter difference or malfeasance
To never speak ill of one another
Or deny each other our subsistence
All men are created equal parchment
Holding these truths to be self-evident
The oppression of the Kings colony
Patriotic revolutionary
Migrating minds irrational to sane
Reserved safe harbor but to others pain
Land of self-righteousness and victory
Exceptionalism and destiny
Ships billowing with holds of chattel slaves
Fractional human beings ordained graves
Until brother killed brother for freedom
Assassination emancipation
Forty acres and a mule recompense
Jim Crow separate but equal pretense
Lynch mob street justice terrorism rope
Vietnam veteran unable to cope
James Earl Ray bullet Memphis balcony
Bull Connor another dead Kennedy
Black power fist raised Mexico City
Malcolm X panther Muhammed Ali
White supremacy freedom riders dead
Mississippi white cross on fire dread
Rodney King can’t we just get along plea
Is skin color all we will ever see?
Should they get over their Mockingbird past
Should they burn the city or should they fast?
Oh Lord should we turn a cheek in silence
Or fight with Kings dream of non-violence?
Nov 25, 2014
Nov 25, 2014 at 10:39 PM UTC
Playing a solo game of frustration, I embrace cowardice as I constantly back away from confrontation, rage simmering in the alienation, mars attacks, scars attach and no manipulation can stop their compression of my circulation,
Heart stops and my brains on a feeding frenzy from starvation, out of blood so I'm out for blood, count on assassination no resuscitation
Try to reassess the situtuation but the deliberate deliberation just seems like procrastination, open to stipulation , stitch it up and look at my creation, a Frank-enstein abomination and there's no time for negotiation
I'm on trial and the tribulation
Leaves me heading to an unknown destination...
**A Destination Unknown
Though this Hate was Home grown**
Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 1:44 PM UTC
play either gong's flying teapot,
or greenskespers' pleetch at a party,
esp. the song lotion from the latter's
a night prior to your assassination,
and you'll freak people out, for sure.
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 7:09 PM UTC
It is another one of those early mornings when hatred spews out of my body and aims for itself, I never miss. I have always been good at reaching targets, even better when I myself am bullseye.
I shoot directly for the mirror. Into my thighs, my chest, this mountain range of a body. I send my angry in a direct path towards my folds, my stomach, my skin, in all that is human. I launch bombs on my own territory like it's what I've been sent to do, like I was made to destroy what I have spent my whole life building.
I ask why it so easy to rip apart the things I've put together myself. I ask why it feels so normal to want to break down the rafters of the only shelter I will ever be able to use for protection.
I blame everything else before I blame me. I blame the girls with bodies like sunsets, that contrast my mid-day average sky of a figure. I blame the dresses that I cannot fit into, the way they **** the life out of me every time I can't stretch them past my hips. I blame genetics with absolutely no knowledge of science behind me.
I want to blame society for the hate that has been multiplying inside of me but at the end of the day I am still the one who does the math. It is still me who pours self-deprecation over my head to shower in all of the things I cannot wash out. It is still me who incites hurricane upon every part of myself that is impossible to change by nature. I am the one who detonates my disappointments like the explosion will somehow change the way I look, like the aftermath of destruction will leave me with anything but empty and wreckage.
I often forget that it is me who spoon feeds myself memories of failure at every meal. It is me who hands over guilt every time I reach for the snooze button to fall back asleep. I even shove myself in fault to depression, cover myself in darkness and then wonder why there is no light to be seen. I am the culprit in it all.
In the mornings when my mind is still circling to figure out where it left off, I point it in the direction of negative. I take all of the crooked and pile it up to remind myself of the mismatch. When I take aim at my reflection, I never miss.
I direct the ****** of my mistakes, vulnerability and insecurity directly towards my image. I have become the hitman of my own assassination. My fall into disaster is wholeheartedly my own doing. I am the best of the best when it comes to this form of damage. I never miss.
Jan 9, 2015
Jan 9, 2015 at 3:05 PM UTC
"The global bull market has continued its seemingly relentless advance, unchanged by geopolitical concerns…….."
• The Israeli-Hamas conflict now blazing in Gaza, Palestine, two military forces locked in a deadly struggle to the end, killing and maiming thousands of ordinary citizens.
• Malaysia Airlines flight 17 blasted out of a clear blue Ukraine sky by the Bus surface to air missile
unleashed by the Pro-Russian Separatists killing 298 unsuspecting, innocent, international travellers.
Culpability denied by all.
• Anwar Al Awlaki, the American born Cleric, directing clandestine terror attacks and assassination by Al Qaeda beyond the Middle east into Asia and Europe.
• Deposed President, Mohammed Morsi’s Muslim Brotherhood, responsible for terrorist activities including multiple car bombings throughout Egypt.
• President Bashar Assad of the Alawite minority, an offshoot of Syria’s Shiite religion, waging religious genocide against his own nations people
and now in open conflict with the Muslim uprising Sunni forces of the new Isis Caliphate.
• The beheadings, slaughter and terror unleashed by the Sunni, Isis Caliphate uprising rampaging through Iraq.
• Russia’s sudden invasion and forceful annexation of the Crimea.
• Russia’s brutal pressure on the sovereignty of the Ukraine through its clandestine weaponry supply and sponsorship of the Pro-Russian Separatist Forces occupying the nations East.
The Middle East is now…an Apocalypse.
This epoch of cruel waste
Where man kills man
For God and gold,
For power’s lust.
Where the Sword of Calamity
Wields destruction and death
On those who can least afford it
By they who should never impose it.
**In the face of all this …..an unbelievable prioritization with this headline quote from today’s NZ Herald….
“There are financial risks to be endlessly jumping at shadows…to overreact to market noise!"**
UNBELIEVABLE!!!!
M.
Auckland,
NEW ZEALAND
31 July 2014
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 4:59 PM UTC
*What the hell is up with the assassination attempts towards LGBTQ+ community? what did they even do? I mean, why hate someone for being different, why try and **** someone for being gay, or, bi, or transgender? or whatever they associate themselves as? like it just baffles me how much hate and animosity this world has, if someone is different, let them be different, because we all have differences and that what makes us the same, we're human beings and should be treating each other as such, I have friends that are gay, and bi, and I'm a straight guy myself, but you don't see me treating them any different, I respect them and they respect me, at the end of the day, it's all about love, respect and character, when did we turn a blind eye towards those values and morals? it's just crazy the amount of hatred and violence this society will stoop to....*
Jun 12, 2016
Jun 12, 2016 at 6:12 PM UTC
Dearest jewels of my crown motherhood
Go to the nearest FBI office
Accuse all you call friends of a hate crime drugging you without you knowing to make you feel **** and think you are nuts hallucinogens and methamphetamine s do that
Do not go to psychiatrist they will trash you
your Mom and remove your parental rights forever a Susan and Arthur and Elizabeth already bought you from Haralsmbios a human trafficking psychopath sadist torturer like kiriaki and many more in Greece
Those you trust here in USA hide Crimes they are a team of murderers and thieves since 1980
They assimilated Jeff and John through drugs
Free yourselves.
They all are your deadly enemies they document all lies half truths use assassination of character and fear of your Mom to hide their crimes
They are who lie divide you and plan to ****** your Mom too for financial gain.
They made credit cards with your name in it to finance murders for hire ..
And tell you it's Mom buying thousands of dollars in clothes that's a lie from Satan
They are black mailing you.
to extort money to **** Mom.
~~
Remove your blind folds fight for your freedom take your children run to FBI office use me as a living witness I am on your side.
I love you all my children.
~~
~My Story poem.~
The greatest deception is calling everyone
a friend
Today I admit that from ancient times
am blessed to have had his intimate
piece of heart
thus my life was worth while.
I declare that even here
I was blessed with this
Outer Limits De-Javus;
~~
I am forever a grateful Mom,
granted to sacrifice my
love, my life along with everyone
I ever loved the most.
There's still justice to be granted; triumph waived
with defeat acknowledged.
Not only have I waived and yielded to every misfortune
but was trashed to the eleven winds as my evil enemy
lied to divide me among my dearly beloved offspring
planning as in above the law to profit from my demise.
~~~
By: Karijinbba
All Rights Reserved.
Jun 10, 2023
Jun 10, 2023 at 1:32 AM UTC
We add speeches. Then nod our heads. We swim as if shipwrecked, but I wish we could be forgotten. I never have had you as much as I'd like, but I dream about your hands touching my face. We are like fish in prohibition, caged harmonies unbalanced by fake friends. I know your lullaby, I can't sleep it's ringing in my ears. Trust me and let us tie our legs together. You filled in my lines and have left me for deaf. I can't hear the words you've learned to lie together, you are intensifying and need attention. I can give you your spirit animal and sanctuary. Put your skin against my soft lips, your head pressed against my mouth, can you make a seashell out of your tongue, or wrestle an argument to the ground with the touch of your palm.
There aren't enough points for me to keep playing these games that I already beat you at. If I was half the dancer you keep telling me I am, then where do you keep your high heels, I've never seen you in high heels. Every time I see you push bangs from out of your face, or toss the strands from off your nape, I want to give you a crown that doesn't fear the pronouns that spells us two teas and our laptops sitting across from each other in the 1980s pour-over palace we remark on often. I collect stickers and old homework assignments. We both grew up with dolls, Playdoh, and Legos. You might only have one sister, but we both live in small houses filled with huge ideas. Homes of wit and sarcasm. I've cut ounces from your meat and I still can't sleep well.
I will steal your blanket, bedspread, and your pillows. Given the chance I will touch your ears, your face, and the lengths of your legs. But before we have our first to last kiss. Let me talk to Paul with this once in a lifetime opportunity. If he wants a life line he'll take this opportunity, and seemingly uncircumstantial; you recollect yourself in a Margherita and an advance that lands you to sway your ground.
Dec 26, 2014
Dec 26, 2014 at 4:54 AM UTC
when i heard about it,
when i heard of “free art:”
i thought of free bread and wine,
and celtic sirens,
i laughed though... you made the earth
so ******* boring we all wanted to become astronauts.
when art became free we tried to moralise
drinking wine (as a portent of richness)
and eating bread (as a portent of the russian revulsion),
i bought my art.. and waited for the ones who
discouraged it complaining buying their bread “well fed.”
the celtic sirens hung on though, singing softer and softer
but more prone to the acid tongues dragging the democrats into
a hope of kings and village kindred elders,
but i still didn’t hope for free artistry that was akin to circus,
caged the gypsy have i?
i have, but i did not warrant free food or free aquas of variation,
i simplified freeing the demands with the demands freed into excess,
well... if i were kingly i’d still have provided free bread and wine
rather than music and the curbing the excesses of lyricists;
making music free just discouraged all originality, all creativity,
it just became a realism of a struggled acting -
i feel cheated having missed the antics of britannia in
the 1960's and '70's like it was greek and roman without
the epileptics of watching a documentary on trans-sexualisation
of brazilians and ******** disco to gag on an excess of flashy lights
just to sell lipstick... and have these quasi-epileptic shivers
without having an opposing opinion to counter the freely stated & fluxed.
i guess my convulsions were due to the fact that the men
didn’t call it either homosexuality nor trans-sexuality,
and that i was actually looking at two dodos talking, meaning
i was seeing the extinction of the human race through the ****
meaning i was watching the knights templar idol, baphomet,
realised 2000 years after the crucifixion in that crown of thorn dreams,
perfected in thailand... of all places;
that actually beats the identification of ibn saud as the dajjal,
moving further east of mecca than riyadh and
the assassination attempt within the framework of muhammad’s hadith of ‘no entry’ into mecca by the dajjal.
Oct 12, 2015
Oct 12, 2015 at 11:17 PM UTC
Fifty years ago this week
Sgt. Pepper he began to speak
Hidden deep just like a motley fool
Inside four boys from Liverpool
It took four lads as inspiration
to bring hope to a crying nation
After November's assassination
They grabbed us...we held on
John, Paul, George and Ringo
on Ed's Sunday Show
We sat back and watched them go
They grabbed us...we held on
They came and held the hand
Of a still in mourning land
A little skiffle band
They grabbed us...we held on
We were brought back from the dark side
We were on a rock and roll ride
With four young lads from Mersey Side
They grabbed us...we held on
They grabbed our hearts and souls
They expanded musics goals
They all had different roles
they grabbed us...we held on
In times...things were changing
The band was re-arranging
No more tours were staging
They grabbed us...we held on
Soon, they all went on their way
McCartney sang "Another Day"
John, he had a lot to say
George and Ringo...just played on
John was shot at decades start
It shocked the world and broke apart
Those who held him in our heart
The Beatles were no more
George died too, all things must pass
He always had a silent class
The parts aren't greater than the mass
The Beatles were no more
Is there anyone out in the land
Who will come and take us by the hand
I hope that you will understand
They grabbed us...we held on
Feb 1, 2014
Feb 1, 2014 at 8:47 PM UTC
In this world
Weeds are worshiped as beautiful
Roses are cast to compost as a vulgarity
In this world
Worms matter the most
consuming roses
one of their favorite past times
one of their favorite foods
The greater the weed’s ability
to choke the rose
the greater the weed’s glory
In this world
Roses are hated
especially their thorns.
©Christopher F. Brown 2015
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 5:30 PM UTC
A wizard of words,
he created from nowhere,
a wonderful space;
the novelist made
his characters play out his wishes,
through every little action, he penned
felt euphoric beyond words.
When one among them
clearly his blue eyed girl
on whom he showered a lot,
his thoughts, writer's craft
and much much more,
to make her
well shaped, a cynosure,
unexpectedly
turned cheeky and crossed limits,
the novelist got terribly annoyed.
*In the dead of night,
during a rendezvous with her paramour
the character had a
horrifying end.
She fell prey
to an assassination plot,
hatched by the patriarchal novelist*
Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 11:19 PM UTC
Crème brulee, a careless mind,
singeing, burning albeit caramelized
like a politician never normalized,
crawfish should never be apologetic
there's an avaricious food chain
in there somewhere,
gun shot without hardly knowing
right from wrong
conceal that powder trail
dig down to Bayou.
Dec 15, 2012
Dec 15, 2012 at 12:34 PM UTC
As the sun reaches it zenith & the moon becomes full,
Soldiers are deployed at various point,
Allowing their thought to wander away into ephemeral violence,
Well armed,
Red pointers at human sight,
killing in the pretence of liberation,
Defenceless civilians murdered in sight,
I don't have the adequate vocabulary to constructively & emotionally create that atmosphere,
As a poet they don't mind if I make a sound
But it's a real problem
if I ever get too loud,
It enrages me,
I'm bitterly miffed,
Imagine the agony, stress, depression & tension they are
going through,
Let's be factual,
Their based desire & legitimate purpose is to associate ,affiliate & standardize us as terrorist,
They come in front of our tv & give us speech our forefathers have never heard of,
Humanity in it eternity have been blindfolded & deviated from the truth,
They have become the fixed & Luminous center around which innumerable lifestyle revolves,
Civilization will not lead mankind to insanity,
It feels good to be in power ,
But a day will come when they will ponder, reflect & introspect,
but their reflection will be to no avail,
Reflect over what I say,
In silence & tranquillity,
We may be on a Long arduous journey,
But victory is to the oppressed,
Categorically & selectively speaking ,
It will become a practical reality,
Innocent souls are been lost everyday,
In pakistan,Syria,Iraq,Iran
Yet the conference continues,
Killings intensifies,
Women are murdered,
Fathers are slaughtered,
Kids are held captive some rigorously excluded,
Without them labouring humanity searching for peace will perish,
It's a sad time we live in,
Educated leaders with no heart of human sympathy,
Acting upon their based desires & ego,
You may call this character assassination,
I call it supreme words of justice
Only time will tell who is the true terrorist
Aug 4, 2013
Aug 4, 2013 at 5:41 PM UTC