-The best way to fight the fear of terrorism
is by turning off your TV screens.-

TV Terrorist.

Ladies hide your burkas!
the 1st amendment ain’t gonna protect ya
because for as little as an ignorant comment...

-YOU can be a TV Terrorist too!

Racist slurs, misinformation and greed
are 1/2 the price of what they used to be
ACT NOW so they can see!

-YOU can be a TV Terrorist too!

Don’t let the sirens of the fashion police disturb ya
we’ll wiretap your mosque from the city to suburbia
just grow that beard Osama style!

-And YOU can be a TV Terrorist too!

After your Morning Joe just head over to CNN
they’re about to have some Baklawa at Fox & Friends
let’s keep feeding more hate speech to the talking heads.

-So YOU can be a TV Terrorist too!


Replace your Quran with the National Enquirer
so you can be as American as they are
Muhammed is not a match for Uncle Sam.

-Just wear that robe the way Jesus did
and YOU can be TV Terrorist too!

You see, turban rhymes with Taliban
therefore you’re all the same so pump our gas
brown skin clashes with the red, white & blue of our flag.

-Just make sure to look angry!
And YOU can be a TV Terrorist too!

Sensationalism in the media is worth more than your beliefs
your good morals and spirituality is not for us to say
as long as that red dot across your forehead turns into an infrared.

-Look up Hassan! And YOU can be a TV Terrorist too!

From the cities of Iraq to the caves Afghanistan
ride your camel and dignity right through an EZ Pass
watch the drones drop and the ratings soar!

-And YOU can be a TV Terrorist too!

Have I told you about my wife?
Middle aged
Muslim woman
She uh
She uh
She a
Shiite
Catholic
No
Not quite
Not on Fridays
Only eat fish
On Fridays
Unless
Unless you forget
Unless you're next to lake Michigan
Have I told you about my African History professor?
Osumaka
Osumaka Likaka
Cotton
Cotton in Colonial Zaire
Not for the weak of heart
If he sees your ankles
He might mistake it as a personal attack
Or invitation
Too much rumble
Tummy tumble
Eat some shellfish
Eat some pork
God didn’t forget
But we did
Whoops
If God saw you break your fast
when you were *******
What does that say about God?
And if God saw you being intimate with Osumaka
What would upset him more?
The fact that you broke your fast again with the *******?
Or the fact that you weren’t wearing your burka?
You just wore the hood?
Good
Thank God for swine
Thank God for shellfish
And most of all, thank God for burkas
Because you are one ugly *****.

The burkas surrounded her,
the western shopper
down at the bazaar,
did some hollering,
a bit of pushing & shoving,
then they slit her purse,
stole all her money.
Welcome to Kabul.

Surfs Up
In distant lands
From Kuwait Bay
To Afghanistan
Arabia
To Pakistan
We all high five
As we hang ten
The ladies there
With burkas on
Will grab their boards
And surf along
The Taliban
With weapons raised
Are now into
The surfing craze
The Saudi king
Is wondering
With his wives
What they're missing
So he goes and buys
Daytona Beach
And has it shipped
To the Middle East
Where there is no more
Need to fight
As they sing Beach Boy tunes
By beach fire light
They're all hanging loose
In the Middle East
Even the Palestinians
And the Israelis
Who knew surfing would
Bring so much peace
To the troubled times
In the Middle East

The lights did not go out
The walls did not shake and tumble
There were no clarion horns or cymbals
Streets were not awash with blood
But nevertheless blood did run cold.
Promises wrapped in glints of hope
Made screeching sounds as they were broken
And shattered bits of progress
Littered streets and pathways everywhere.
The rumble of the coming doom
Arrived on Humvees made in China
For the use of United Nations troops.
Everybody saw it coming
In vast Tsunamis of dread and fear
But there were simply not enough
Little Dutch Boys in blue hats
To poke their fingers in the dikes
That shuddered as they slid away
And buried ordinary people in the deluge
There was no way to win that war
The Russians tried, so did the French.
You can’t turn oranges into apples
But the women, oh the women
And their pretty little girls
Having had a taste of freedom
In forms that were once denied
They will now be forced by brutes
To give back everything they gained
And become in sad defeat
Merely property of men
swallowed up in flowing burkas
Black as the intentions of their rulers
             ljm

The Red Sea! It lay like a distressed soul, unsettled, deserted and restless;
On its tile-paved shore, I leant against a lamp post, in the desert land;
Women in burkas busied themselves with their kids and picnic baskets;
While cats searched voraciously, among the rubble, for the left over bones.

On my left lay Sanaa, the once upon a time city of Shem, first-born of Noah,  
Whence Queen Sheba embarked in all majesty with gifts for King Solomon.    
And far, beyond the saltiest swelling Red, lay the darkly exploited continent.
Now, a warm gust of wind slogged its way into my lone distraught self.    

Tides heaved, flickered their wet tongues across the rubble, and licked me,
Then withdrew themselves tired, but again and again returned half-heartedly
With much salty tears and sweats of ******* and sufferings of bygone ages:  
The assorted agonies of the Mediterranean, the Indian and the Pacific deeps.

Through the dull splashes, waded to me, Moses and Aron and the Pharaoh;
They said: “Visitor, listen to the voices of the depths!” And I heard well
The abysmal rattle of chariots, wheels and bones, uncarbontestably ancient.
And in the splash of the Red, I scarily tasted the tears and blood of torments.

Then they cautioned me: “Beware of the pseudo-democrats and pseudo-reds:
The gunpowder brokers!” and quoted: “In this world, you’ll have troubles.”
And now, the Sea sounded: “Sorry my dear son, I’m here to bear all these.”
I sighed in pain, but the Sea, through the burning lamp posts, smiled at me.

The Red Sea! It lay like a distressed soul, unsettled, deserted and restless;
On its tile-paved shore, I leant against a lamp post, in the desert land;
Women in burkas busied themselves with their kids and picnic baskets;
While cats searched voraciously, among the rubble, for the left over bones.

On my left lay Sanaa, the once upon a time city of Shem, first-born of Noah,  
Whence Queen Sheba embarked in all majesty with gifts for King Solomon.    
And far, beyond the saltiest swelling Red, lay the darkly exploited continent.
Now, a warm gust of wind slogged its way into my lone distraught self.    

Tides heaved, flickered their wet tongues across the rubble, and licked me,
Then withdrew themselves tired, but again and again returned half-heartedly
With much salty tears and sweats of ******* and sufferings of bygone ages:  
The assorted agonies of the Mediterranean, the Indian and the Pacific deeps.

Through the dull splashes, waded to me, Moses and Aron and the Pharaoh;
They said: “Visitor, listen to the voices of the depths!” And I heard well
The abysmal rattle of chariots, wheels and bones, uncarbontestably ancient.
And in the splash of the Red, I scarily tasted the tears and blood of torments.

Then they cautioned me: “Beware of the pseudo-democrats and pseudo-reds:
The gunpowder brokers!” and quoted: “In this world, you’ll have troubles.”
And now, the Sea sounded: “Sorry my dear son, I’m here to bear all these.”
I sighed in pain, but the Sea, through the burning lamp posts, smiled at me.

Ever since that afternoon, artichokes,
To me, are creatures of the sea.
They’re a chosen species, daylily stars
With softened points, salt-lipped,
Afloat in olive oil, something
So Mediterranean about them,
Aqua-spirals, flat wings of green-white light,
As if their closed leaves could tie up
Landlocked clouds. Egg-shaped, heart-shaped,
Protective layers overlapping, they speak
In wet kisses, gently caressing the tongue
With a blizzard of soft flavours.
They embrace all wines, distract all meats,
Flirt with bread, politely invite dessert –
Sweetheart vegetables willing to be dressed
In bikinis or burkas, soft-centred lovables,
The most delicate of palettes seduced
By their siren song.

i was recently told that i'm no poet,
that my words don't evoke art or understanding,
that i haven't grown much, so i took that and chewed it
until it fed my insides and turned my eyes outward on
a world that i haven't dug into at all with words left
jumbling around in a brain used for other means,
i've been forcing my hands and heart to mold this world into a better place,
but without my words what capture will i leave behind, what legacy?

i marched with womxn last month, alone and surrounded by 140,000
others who gabbed and growled about a man with tiny
hands who employs those who want to take control of our reproductive rights,
and wants to throw some of us out of the country, and **** us in the streets,
but the white ladies behind me were more concerned with their clever signs
than the native's plight for their land and the black lady's murdered babies and the burkas being ripped off of women trying to buy skirts in a walmart

i guess i have a hard time finding my america in all of this mess -
i'm a white woman, but i didn't vote for trump
does that make me different? does that make me woke?
i want to join arms and resist with everyone who's ever felt
like they're less than because of something they were born being,
but i'm still not quite sure how to shine solidarity without seeking recognition

i think we all desire ego to be stroked, but how can i want for that
when some people just wish to live? i look long and hard at myself everyday
after too many hours reading about the chaos and sadness so readily
accessed at keyboards stroked by too quick fingertips, the tears they
come and the heart lays heavy, but what do i do? i rally other white folks
to march, i try to change their hearts, i explain what being an ally looks like,
i work in the communities that need it most, i love the children who feel alone,
but i wonder how much of this is for me and how much of it is true love

i'm learning, growing, changing always, but fear holds me in a place between
truly giving and giving just to fill my own cup, the world has changed and the
little girl who stood up to bullies still sits inside of my heart, but the bullies are
corporations, and the president, and coworkers, and family members, and
friends at a super bowl party, so i've got to find a way to be strong with my
solidarity no matter who, what, where, why, when, because this matters and i don't
want to be that person standing up only to put it on instagram, no i want to
affect real change, to be a part of history, to truly love all of my fellow human kind

i want to give from a place of caring without condition, a place that sees color, sees faith, sees gender identity, sees ****** orientation, sees *** work, sees disabled folk,
and doesn't pretend that their story is one that i understand and echo because
i have ovaries and know what it feels like to be frightened, no, i can't put my ******
on a pedestal and use it as a badge of courage anymore, it's time to open my heart
and ears and truly be humbled in the honorary process of letting myself learn

just because i've felt real fear, doesn't mean i know anyone else's fear, and the only
way that i will come to be a true empath, a true ally, a true warrior is if i learn to quiet
the voice within my head and listen when others speak from their darkest depths,
i must build my strength, my bonds, my heart, my mind so i can lift those up, serve as a megaphone for the voices quieted by men in uniform and suits, pound the pavement as a truly intersectional, solidarity-filled sister of every man, woman, child, they/them, that has ever felt alone, that has ever wanted for more, that has ever been denied
the privilege that i benefit from just by living, as a white woman in this world

Hijab and Burkas are
banned in France, but
ski masks/coronavirus
face coverings are not.

Liberty Egalite Racism.

Social - distancing is why
we have borders apartheid
burkas and discrimination.

Perimeter fences, canyons, pale's
hell, heaven, limbo, purgatory
all separated by our sinning.

Walls of wisdom erected by
God are mountains and rivers
are moats without drawbridges.

We are naturally racists it's in our
genetic make up or why else are
our governments reminding us?




              Lest We Forget.