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"hezbollah" poems
Social chaos metered out through tiers of population stung By indiscriminate battle wrought lifeblood, incessantly, is wrung. Why so the need for Assad’s torch, your Syria so needlessly debauched ? Nameless causes fuel the fire, Shiite, Sunni intervention. Hezbollah and al Qaeda spew Vindictiveness to streets of rubble, Toxic, killing vapours stew. Misery to gasping children, horror in the dying eyes…. Condemnation points it’s staff to you, Assad, where vile blame now lies. Why so the need for cities torched, Damascus needlessly debauched ? Inevitably the missiles cometh, raining incandescent death and blast, International righteousness throws intervention’s unknowns vast. Why so this need for man debauched, Your Syria, once so beautiful, now scorched ? Marshalg Pukehana 7 September 2013
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Sep 6, 2013
Sep 6, 2013 at 4:47 PM UTC
Why so, Syria ?
Gauge Symmetry It was an eminent arrival: to awake in a definite location in time and space, involving the single ***** with more zeal than the rest. But where am I really? Staring at these thorny lines engraved in my palm during an hour I should be asleep. I can’t help but think that the love of a life should have spared me. A caption below the photograph in the times reads It’s an illustration of a tactic employed by Hezbollah and Hamas to use their own civilians as human shields. And somewhere else laying on rubble, once road, a blood smeared newspaper ruffles in the breeze, then violently unfolds from a burst of wind, never to be read, a stray dog licking a wound pauses and perks it’s ear. Earlier, in the library I walked the spiral staircase and traced my fingers down a dusty spine: “How we became Post-Human”. It must have been an artificial insemination. My skull throbs from an inoperable legion of fractal thoughts which I developed upon listening to the sounding tremble in Pathetique, too immature to know the power of what it heard like that time I foolishly laid my eyes on a carnivorous tulip, it spat me out alive. Moon is no comfort, only an aperture. The day is overexposed and my eyelids clasp down like a shutter, I try to fall asleep to remember where I really am and where I've always been.
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Jul 14, 2011
Jul 14, 2011 at 7:56 AM UTC
Gauge Symmetry
A year out a year away I yearn for freedom far away Far away far beyond to the place where cars go bomb I would have joined the boys at the bar But instead I’m off to join Hezbollah When I arrived I jumped the cue The bulletproof Jeep was waiting for me to The rifles round the waist the men at the door I had funny feeling telling me I had gone to far Did I really just leave home to come this place To join Hezbollah and their CIA mates? Its all happening so fast I said after my first fast What’s with the black robes and the cotton face masks? Can I not just watch do I have to do? Who are these mercenaries we have here to? I hope you got my message amongst the blah de blah In the letter I sent you from Hezbollah I was lost but now I’m found mum, Iv been shown around On the back of an armour plated Volkswagen I was driven around I saw the desert slums, the graveyard pits But the road was greasy from oil slicks I was told iv grown up I was that I’m a star I think I might stay here for a while with Hezbollah It was goats knee that was fed to my face Three days before I was to leave this place Because I was chosen and I’m a star White upper-class turned Hezbollah Chosen amongst many to do what few will do if any It was an open invitation on a Facebook group conversation So to this night I say goodnight, till tomorrow and the good fight I will not die in vain my pain shall be relieved with fame I’l see you soon my ma and pa thanks to my savour Hezbollah
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Apr 3, 2015
Apr 3, 2015 at 8:25 PM UTC
Affluent Recruitment Ltd
A year out a year away I yearn for freedom far away Far away far beyond to the place where cars go bomb I would have joined the boys at the bar But instead I’m off to join Hezbollah When I arrived I jumped the cue The bulletproof Jeep was waiting for me to The rifles round the waist the men at the door I had funny feeling telling me I had gone to far Did I really just leave home to come this place To join Hezbollah and their CIA mates? Its all happening so fast I said after my first fast What’s with the black robes and the cotton face masks? Can I not just watch do I have to do? Who are these mercenaries we have here to? I hope you got my message amongst the blah de blah In the letter I sent you from Hezbollah I was lost but now I’m found mum, Iv been shown around On the back of an armour plated Volkswagen I was driven around I saw the desert slums, the graveyard pits But the road was greasy from oil slicks I was told iv grown up I was that I’m a star I think I might stay here for a while with Hezbollah It was goats knee that was fed to my face Three days before I was to leave this place Because I was chosen and I’m a star White upper-class turned Hezbollah Chosen amongst many to do what few will do if any It was an open invitation on a Facebook group conversation So to this night I say goodnight, till tomorrow and the good fight I will not die in vain my pain shall be relieved with fame I’l see you soon my ma and pa thanks to my savour Hezbollah
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Ireland is beginning to look like India, we are just as ***** filthier in fact, when one considers the population ratio, not to mention our so called affluence and no military navy or airforce to **** from the nations coffers. The Irish Republican Army funded themselves, yet the government proscribed them. The only efficient organisation in the country, our Hezbollah. Now they are anti democracy, trying to do to The Brexiters what they complained of here for centuries, not recognised. Ireland is beginning to look like India, our flags are similar, so is our Prime Minister, perhaps he doesn't notice the litter, that's it, Plastic Popadoms, recyclable.
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Mar 31, 2019
Mar 31, 2019 at 2:47 PM UTC
Recyclable.