As we wander through the dunes rhythm,
The blistering sun jaunts across,
Exhibiting the elegance of the sanguine sands,
A ravishing roots of colours,
Whirling on the Sahara,
The beautiful blue skies,
Their true reflection,

With delight we trail from audaghust to the inlands,
In a waddling gait,
The heavy luggages on humps,
Are the loads of luxury bade by kumbi saleh,
The camels and jockeys pride themselves in it flamboyant environs,
And our thobes and keffiyeh makes merry,
In the breeze of sacred grove trees,
Mesmerizing the aesthetics of Arab architecture,

Treking through the routes of Tjilmasa to Tehrent,
In the comfort of the oases,
Replenishing our thirst and fatigue,
With benevolent breeze from palms and peaches,
Glancing at the magnificent mirages pearls,
We sight the atlas mountains,
And its Maghreb,

Caravan
A Poem Written By,
Historian E.Lexano
©March 8,2015

presidential hypocrisy
the sincerest form of mockery
eulogise a man you'd have seen hang
had he worn a keffiyeh and a beard

He wasn't anything.
He wasn't white.
He wasn't black
Or brown
Or peach
Or tangerine.
He could have been green.
Was he Asian?
Middle Eastern?
Did he wear a kippah,
A keffiyeh?

He wasn't anything.
I bet he didn't even
Have a belly button.
He came before the race.
He was nothing,
He was
earth.

We can't say

From the river to the sea

We dare not wave the

Palestinian flag

We are not permitted

to wear the Keffiyeh

But we can say that we

ALL LOVE HUMMUS.

In her arms
it felt so right
she was a warrior
just like me
she was my book
I could read for eternity

Every battle we conquered
with olive trees, melons
gardens of wild flowers
that blew free in the wind
kept warm with the keffiyeh
a bottle of Bekaa wine
we dreamed
of a land
where all children
play with laughter
live with love and no fear

The color of the keffiyeh
the color of blood
the color of  death
the name of the little  goat
soon to be dead
a rose is a rose
in a garden or cut
one is alive
the other not for long
a murdered friendship
time to cut my throat
and shut the hell up

Guys, remember Max T?
The Israeli at the Zionist Embassy
in Washington, DC
"Atefah is a terrorist," he loves being a bully

Max T couldn't keep away from KAAS (Keffiyeh As A (head) Scarf) fighting, sister-in-law of Ensi
You know her, never far away on the battleground from her bestie, Asi
and the wife of a husband demonstrating Muslim male heroism, Mehti
We both love Palestine and its persecuted people, right, sweetie

On 1/6/25, God's blessings fell from a sky in serenity
to remind us of how the works of purity
can turn Max T into Mehti

As quickly as the snowflakes in the new year blew jittery,
Standing in the procession line, the look-alike's poster reading, Dr. Hussam Abu Safiya, let free

From Max T to Mehti,
the power of actions of piety
and self-determination emerging consistently
showing the world what can result when we stand for the downtrodden's dignity

Max T, of the Israhelli Embassy
metamorphose Mehti (Mehdi Nahidian), of Palestinian solidarity

By: Najwa Kareem