"darfur" poems
Although I haven't witnessed
Darfur's eyes run red.
Rivers full of skeletons,
and bodies torn and bled.
I've read about the pigment
of fearful hearts so lost.
A dreaded world within a world;
there are no lines to cross.
Money paid for power.
Power, bodies, bills.
The Janjaweed at noon,
are cleansing for their drills.
Washing down stern orders
with blood on unclean hands.
Babies and their mothers
decomposing in sand.
Weapons worn like diamonds.
Lust and **** colliding.
Torture becomes normalcy.
Living only hiding.
So long as Omar al-Bashir
sees families as roaches,
death is understated.
In greed, he people-poaches.
Pity is for damsels
parading in a tide
of much needed attention
with ego on the side.
To you, my friend
who listens, but fails to comprehend:
Those who live for nothing
are nothing in the end,
I ask you, pray for Sudanese
fed horrors for their lunch,
their bones becoming rubble,
under tires they will crunch.
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 1:49 PM UTC
Is it?
Is it really too much
To ask
That we have a world of peace
A world without violence
No guns
No bombs
No soulless military machine
Grinding ever on
Leaving only desolation in its wake
A world without war
A world not driven by the cruel whims
And made desires
Of politicians and generals and tyrants
A world where people can simply coexist
Where love and understanding
Can flower
A place where children can be safe
And grow up without fear
No more genocide
No more tragedies like Darfur, Rwanda or Palestine
No more refugee camps
No more walls
When will people wake up
And realize our shared humanity
Binds us in ways more numerous and profound
Than ever our differences could be
When will enough be enough
When will we rise in a mass satyagraha
For peace
To end war for all time
We can do it
We must do it
Is it really too much to ask?
Nov 23, 2010
Nov 23, 2010 at 7:03 AM UTC
Never Say its over,
Never say its done,
You don't want to be the one,
That has to go the parents and tell
Them that it was their children who were hit and fell.
Never Forget,
The past is never just behind us
History is never just history, thus
Why do we have tragedies
That saying is a Flacie
Rwanda. Congo, Tibet, all cracks,
Proof, that we must always look back.
Never Say it just happened then.
Even now in a world that contains,
Many marvelous wonders it remains,
In places like Syria, and Darfur.
There are always people slaughtering the poor
It persists even today,
We must never stray,
In memory to those who fell in the millions
To those who **** innocent civilians.
Never Say, its over.
Never say we’ve won
There is never a time it is actually done.
Perhaps there will be a day.
When love will emerge from the frey.
Jan 1, 2013
Jan 1, 2013 at 9:52 PM UTC
Our footsteps echo through ancient halls,
where here is everywhere
and every time is now.
Caesar’s twin-edged conquests are our own
as is Brutus’s fickle knife
and Marc Anthony’s cunning speech.
Plague steals across our Europe
like a remorseless highwayman -
rosies all ringed and falling down.
We wait in Wien's Kärntnertor theater
for Schiller’s An die Freude
to shine anew in Beethoven’s score
and are ushered in at Menlo Park
where Edison's tungsten faintly glows.
Tomorrow will bring sun to the night.
There's Jonas Salk at his microscope.
One more test will crack the code
to banish polio's scourge.
But nature’s caprice strews logs on our roads.
We are dashed by a Tsunami’s rage.
Katrina’s torrents have swallowed our homes.
Prides of warriors wade rivers of blood
and Darfur bullets tear into our chests.
Nuclear Toys ‘R Us shelves are fully stocked.
We are the heirs of each triumph and treachery.
We grasp the keys to tomorrow.
What have we done? What must we do?
Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 5:35 AM UTC
He told me it was a protest
against the evils
in Somalia--
Darfur--
the bailouts--
the tea party intolerance--
I questioned the intelligence behind this plan.
How does silence bring about change?
What if a King or a Lennon stayed silent?
Silent marches tend to draw little attention
I think he merely wants the temporary attention
and faux-righteous sympathy
from others.
Silence makes for great introspection,
but a lousy outcry.
Aug 14, 2011
Aug 14, 2011 at 3:36 PM UTC
Take a look at all of you down there
So sure of yourselves
So full of the hustle-bustle of life itself
Never stopping to see what could be
Potentially the greatest things of your lives
Jutting through the stream like hot knives
No all simply let life pass them by
Not seeing all the things
Looking you in the eye
And will watch even when you lie asleep
For the final time
You all think you’re hot ****
All hit and no miss
No questions
All answers
Obsess with self worth
Convinced that you’re dust with a value
Just because a god you’re not even sure exists told you so
When the urge to **** is gone
What’s the difference between you and the dirt you walk on
You all rise and fall like the waves in the oceans
Like a glissando of smoker coughs
New ideas are thrown against the scoffs and scrutiny
Of those obstinate practitioners of organized ignorance
You are the only one who should impose sanction on your life
Not some pretty news anchor
Who nods at the teleprompter with total belief
You all chase after superficiality like a poor animal
At the snap of some fat fingers
Call yourselves Pavlov’s pet
You fattened the hand that feeds you yourselves
Have you met the total of life’s offer
Have you looked at yourself in the mirror
And not seen cheap narcissism winking back
Self-imposed limits are acceptable to live by
A moratorium of thought is not
You have free speech
Now learn free thought
Explain the intricacies of a fast food drive through
To the children of Darfur
Explain how you didn’t want to learn how to finish your schoolwork
To the little girl who can’t afford to buy pencils for hers
She will tell you with chagrin how she aspires to be a writer and a poet
But can’t afford the books to help her help herself
You express yourself by exerting as little effort
While she isn’t able to put in the effort to express herself
It’s the ultimate irony
Religion ceased to be the ****** of the masses
When it got it reached one-million views
You all can ask where do I get off
And I will only smile and tell you how I am just like you
I watch the same TV
Eat the same food
Wear the same clothes
The only difference is you can be different
And by simply choosing to do so or not is a step in the right direction
You are your own Atlas
Carry your own world
Anyone else is just liable to drop it
Nov 20, 2010
Nov 20, 2010 at 11:38 PM UTC
I keep running, running, running
A young girl trying to find her place in the world
A grown woman trying to be respected for who she really is
I look back at the past and
Down on the present
And hope to God that the future gives me something to look up to
Family curses trink’ling trails of hate in my blood
Reminders of loved ones who were hurt by ones they loved once
Inspirations inspiring me to keep chasing my dreams but reality is …reality
I wake up and wonder what proactive thing I can do today
But reality is reality.
And reality smacks me down and says “nothing”
I’m not a pessimist but I bear a weight with the wield of the world as its stamp
Its not on my back but its on my sisters’ back. It not in my home but its in my brothers’ home
Reverberating in my mind the terrible wonders of the world
Feeling ignorant, not knowing how to help
I read the world news to find out what to do
And lo’and behold a “disabled puppy can only walk in circles”
WHAT?!
Darfur must be a myth and I guess AIDS isn’t “in” anymore
I keep thinking..wait till I’m established
Wait till I’m out of this rut
My life will be holy and pure and intelligent. giving and tithing and..happy and busy…and.. **** and rich?
Cause that’s how it should be right?
Confusing
Why cant I be a soul sistah with locs that likes to listen to rock and give spoken word wearing knit hats and demanding answers? Then go home and maybe watch some anime.
I’m conflicted
I’m disdainful
I’m selfish
I’m vehemently out to get what I want because my forefathers died trying to get it for me
And you know what? I’m gonna get it, because while all this crap goes on in my brain and in my heart , in my family and in the world. Its going to stay at my heels because I keep running, running, running
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 10:32 PM UTC
As the intimately familiar screech
of an emergency alert is issued, a displaced
plastic bottle streams along the flooded sidewalk.
Sudan still does not have sustainable water.
The mouths of widowed women and bludgeoned children
run dry. Darfur is a skeleton.
The death of the last male northern white rhino,
named Sudan, receives more coverage than the genocide.
In 2016, a photographer
received award from the World Press contest
for capturing seven-year-old Adam Abdel’s extensive burns
After his own government bombed his village,
Adam received displacement.
Jul 23, 2019
Jul 23, 2019 at 12:22 AM UTC
I write so I can be heard. Because actions speak louder but without words, Actions get mislead by failed revolutionary attempts.
I write to put my Mind at ease. So I wont be misread.
If only understood by the front and the back of my college ruled notebook
That contains literary works that no top notch professor could profess
And proclaim and teach with the flow that flows through my pen
And onto the streets to bring ease to a world lost in war,
Oblivious to the hell in Darfur
because the victims lack the power of words.
They are left breathless. Silenced by metal and powder.
Surrendering to the Man with the Gun
because Fire Power replaced Flower Power and Peace.
I write to bring hope. I write to cope.
To eliminate my fears if only for a moment.
I believe in my words. They can save lives.
My words can substitute victims with survivors.
Through my strength to move on, I stride to survive
And bring up all the people who cry every night for their prayers to be heard. To be saved by an Angel.
For someone out there to give a **** about their people.
I write to be that light.
The comfort through the storm.
I write to provide gateways for poets yet to be born.
Because WE have the power to move mountains and hills
And bring chills down the backs of our enemies at will.
I write to as a drug to enhance my performance, rock the cradle and the coffin. Stir up enough voice and bring life to the oval office.
And bring change to the land of the free and the home of the brave
Who take bribes from the trusts,
Becoming corporate slaves.
They **** the American dream with each cent they intake.
Contradicting the words our forefathers have laid
While ignoring the fights all around that resemble our fight against the Crown.
A citizen can lose trust with the **** that goes down.
I write to remain sane.
To keep my head above ground.
To watch My back and My front from the
"In God We Trust".
Dec 31, 2009
Dec 31, 2009 at 6:35 AM UTC
My first word was “scared”
Not because it was taught to me
But because it was all
I knew
I was taught the word
“Emaciated”
But I wasn’t told what it meant
I just knew
Because it was all
I was
I learned to count
By counting the ribs through
My starved skin
While they were counting guns
Ammunition…
This world is frightening
And I’ve been thrown in
And no one cares
All they can do
Is run headlines of poor Darfur
On TVs of people who don’t watch…
After I finished counting my ribs
I counted each relative who died
I couldn’t count high enough
And I lost track
And then when I finally died
All they did was post my picture
On the internet
While the ones who killed me run free
Counting their ammunition
But never the targets they hit
Nov 27, 2010
Nov 27, 2010 at 4:21 PM UTC
Though we look the same,
we are torn
by miles of ocean,
more of pain.
In a rare respite from terror,
my dreams escape
this squalor,
this harsh reality,
and I ...
become you,
clean, clothed, cool;
shampooed head asleep
on plush cotton pillows;
charcoal skin caressed
by pajamas silky smooth.
Come dawn…
‘Which suit to wear?'
becomes my worst worry;
‘Being late for work,'
my worst fear.
O, to be free!
Perhaps someday
you'll think of me,
or send me a note
to spark a smile of hope
on my pubescent face,
two decades aged by hunger and disease.
Though we look the same,
we are torn
by miles of ocean,
more of pain.
~ P
Jul 20, 2013
Jul 20, 2013 at 3:11 PM UTC