"syrian" poems
The Syrian process is a serial problem
When the disenfranchised
Cause a landslide
Of historical hatred
The key that ignites
Business and commerce
Wildfire hearts
And boiling skin
The harsh outbreak of deadly cholera
The blockade of the forceful armada
The coalition forces
Run wild like horses
The bombs keep falling
The people cry
The engine keeps stalling
The car dies
The white phosphorus
Brought by the white prosperous
Can burn to the bone
And wounds can ignite up to three days later
But the people of Raqqa
Are used to reigniting scars
They're used to searing flesh
That melts like tar
Where this will go
No one knows how far
Machines must be sustained
Hearts will be untamed
Lives constantly rearranged
A human rights activist attempts to send a report
What he's witnessed in Raqqa
Injustices; perceived and objective
But Hellfire
Turns the Internet cafe
Into a senseless violence display
The dirt, blood, and bodies
Mixed and spread like the art
That was ignored to lead to this quagmire
Whether this calamity started
At the Melian dialogue
Or a market diagram
Or a martyr's diatribe
What we need now is an m.d. to suture the wounds
But who will save us?
When noble protectors are blown up
And the reigniting scars scorch the hands that heal
Jun 12, 2017
Jun 12, 2017 at 7:48 PM UTC
Let's talk about heroes
the everyday kind
a Jordanian principal
at a school for girls
offering a simple solution
rather than slamming
another hateful door
in the faces of children
who have done nothing
to create the war
forcing their families to flee
or die in the hateful dust
clouding the world's vision
the school is overcrowded
but when Syrian mothers beg
for their children to be taught
instead of saying no room
the principal asks each girl
to bring a chair and she will
find room for one more
students walk to school
carrying multi-hued chairs
so many eager daughters
classrooms full beyond bursting
but the principal keeps her promise
none are turned away
a loving heart refusing
to be the lock on the gate
offering instead a key
a mother's simple wish
for her daughter to write her own name
becoming "maybe she will be a doctor"
a seven-year-old girl declaring
"I want to be smart"
the world begins anew
with open arms, willing minds
perched on the edge
of bright plastic chairs
asking only teach me
I am hungry to learn
May 10, 2016
May 10, 2016 at 8:40 AM UTC
hello hello hello
what have we got here
a few ships assembling
with highly explosive
gear
hello hello hello
who shall fire the first shot
into the Syrian
plot
hello hello hello
America and Russia
are on opposing sides
the gulf in their opinions
very wide
hello hello hello
the world
shall see a drama
most potent
others in
the Middle Eastern
corridor
may get
involved too
that will be a show
which may mean
a powder keg
that can't be
subdued
hello hello hello
why have men
in power
always had a yen
to be war faring
and not think
of their fellow
men women and children
hello hello hello
this time the lesson
may come at an extremely high cost
for it may well
bring end
to all existence
on the planet
as we know it....
Sep 4, 2013
Sep 4, 2013 at 9:03 PM UTC
I am the young girl running around the house,
looking for the pony,
on Christmas morning,
while the ship is slowly sinking,
in a manure flavored sea.
I am the armless tennis player that
is convinced he will defeat Roger
in less than an hour,
using just one ball, over and over again.
I am Roy Wright at the beginning of the trial,
with a big stupid smile in my pocket,
and a tinny black book in my soul.
I am the faithful survivor of unfaithfulness
and I will be the one that lands on his feet,
in Scottsboro heaven.
I am Bartolomeo V, the one with no vendetta,
having a croissant,
waiting for Nicola to shave, before we take off in one of
Rothko's paintings. May the 5th be
with the ones who actually did it.. and, you know what?
I honestly think Cronaca Sovversiva is a great title,
even though I haven't read the ******
thing and I have no sympathy,
whatsoever, for any anarchist.
Hell! It's hard for me getting my **** together in complete order. I don't want to think what would become of me
in complete anarchy.
I am the one that wakes up every day
with a stupid smile under his nose,
not remembering the scent of yesterday's failure.
The one that starts dreaming as soon as he gets up,
ignoring the fact that he might be an ignorant
*****
with no desire to go to outer space,
but with huge hopes up his sleeve for
M. Damon and his agricultural knowledge.
I am in favor of all fancy schmancy Earth saving knowledge,
and I am aware that all that space debris in my head
will do some serious damage one day.
If they ever figure out how to get it all in.
I am the tic, that will come after the tac-toe, this time, and not the other way around!
the encore of every good concert,
the yin for the panda ****
the slim leg for the flamingo,
the gambler,
the rambler,
the day rider.
I am the Syrian boy that just learned to swim and
all of this infinite blue soup
is nothing more than a Saturday stroll.
I will get in the back of that truck and I will breathe
the purest air that someone could ever breathe,
I will sleep the sleep of reason and monsters will not be produced.
You have my word!
I am the skin before the needle shoots up
all its ink.
I will be perky. I will be green.
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 5:58 AM UTC
salt stings wounds
salt stings eyes, entering, leaving...
healing, healing. The sea will take you away.
I tire of hearing abot these migrants
well they tire of the rick-shaw of an untested boat
of their homes becoming rubble & dust clouds,
of seeing blood in the dirt.
As long as there is war,
as long as there is famine
as long as there exists somewhere
called 'refuge'
then there will be refugees.
Oh child, rocked to sleep by the tide...
you should never have to answer for adult violence,
innocent & sleepy, sinless.
You have been written in blood in the old books
you have been decided for.
Your dice have been rolled by strange hands;
born amid angry eyes,
and so shall die,
washed ashore upon sand,
carried quietly away
to your final crib
to your refuge.
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 4:23 PM UTC
On the day Liz Taylor died,
CNN called Larry King
out of retirement to
eulogize her during
the mornings
breakfast segment.
Tears were shed.
On the day Liz Taylor died,
TEPCO stated that one
of the Fukushima nuclear
reactors was on fire.
Tears of cataclysm
were shed.
On the day Liz Taylor died,
government officials warned
that Tokyo's water was
contaminated with
radiation and was not fit
for infants to drink.
Tears of anguish
were shed.
On the day Liz Taylor died,
the crew of the
USS Ronald Reagan
scrubbed the deck
clean of TEPCO
radiation.
Tears of worry
were shed.
On the day Liz Taylor died,
Oregonians rushed out to
buy potassium iodine
tablets to counteract
radiation poisoning.
Tears of affliction
were shed.
On the day Liz Taylor died,
NATO forces continued
to fire missiles and drop
bombs on Libya.
Tears of agony
were shed.
On the day Liz Taylor died,
a terrorist bomb exploded
in Jerusalem, killing one
and injuring many.
Tears of vengeance
were shed.
On the day Liz Taylor died,
the Syrian Army fired on
demonstrators
calling for reforms.
Tears of hostility
were shed.
On the day Liz Taylor died,
The USA Today reported
that during the past decade
the population of Detroit
declined by 25%.
Tears of loss
were shed.
On the day Liz Taylor died,
a dilapidated brownstone
in Philadelphia collapsed;
city officials expect
many more to occur.
Tears of distress
were shed.
On the day Liz Taylor died,
President Obama cut
short his Latin American
trip by skipping a tour of
Mayan ruins.
Tears of dismay
were shed.
On the day Liz Taylor died
the Dow Jones Industrial
Average closed
up 67.39 points.
Tears of joy
were shed.
On the day Liz Taylor died,
Elton John dedicated the song,
Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me
to the memory of his departed friend.
Tears were shed.
You Tube Music Video:
Elton John,
Don't Let the Sun Go Down on Me
Lewes DE
3/23/11
jbm
Feb 27, 2013
Feb 27, 2013 at 2:23 PM UTC
Said Myrtias (a Syrian student
in Alexandria; in the reign of
Augustus Constans and Augustus Constantius;
in part a pagan, and in part a christian);
"Fortified by theory and study,
I shall not fear my passions like a coward.
I shall give my body to sensual delights,
to enjoyments dreamt-of,
to the most daring amorous desires,
to the lustful impulses of my blood, without
any fear, for whenever I want --
and I shall have the will, fortified
as I shall be by theory and study --
at moments of crisis I shall find again
my spirit, as before, ascetic."
2.9k
Shall I get drunk or cut myself a piece of cake,
a pasty Syrian with a few words of English
or the Turk who says she is a princess--she dances
apparently by levitation? Or Marcelle, Parisienne
always preoccupied with her dull dead lover:
she has all the photographs and his letters
tied in a bundle and stamped Decede in mauve ink.
All this takes place in a stink of jasmin.
But there are the streets dedicated to sleep
stenches and the sour smells, the sour cries
do not disturb their application to slumber
all day, scattered on the pavement like rags
afflicted with fatalism and hashish. The women
offering their children brown-paper *******
dry and twisted, elongated like the skull,
Holbein's signature. But his stained white town
is something in accordance with mundane conventions-
Marcelle drops her Gallic airs and tragedy
suddenly shrieks in Arabic about the fare
with the cabman, links herself so
with the somnambulists and legless beggars:
it is all one, all as you have heard.
But by a day's travelling you reach a new world
the vegetation is of iron
dead tanks, gun barrels split like celery
the metal brambles have no flowers or berries
and there are all sorts of manure, you can imagine
the dead themselves, their boots, clothes and possessions
clinging to the ground, a man with no head
has a packet of chocolate and a souvenir of Tripoli.
2.9k
A young man, twenty eight years old, on a vessel from Tenos,
Emes arrived at this Syrian harbor
with the intention of learning the perfume trade.
But during the voyage he was taken ill. And as soon
as he disembarked, he died. His burial, the poorest,
took place here. A few hours before he died,
he whispered something about "home," about "very old parents."
But who these were nobody knew,
nor which his homeland in the vast panhellenic world.
Better so. For thus, although
he lies dead in this harbor,
his parents will always hope he is alive.
2.7k
Oh benevolent One,
One who loves us as all over the World
People Suffer.
*Today in Uganda women who show any signs of being gay are repeatedly ***** by soldiers*
Is that Love?
Lord you omnipotent force...
A force which sits by as wars destroy
People and Places
Up to this day 162,400 innocent people have died in the Syrian Uprising
Is that what you do with Power?
Mighty omnipresent God,
A God which sips on wine in heaven,
While children die due to lack of water...
4000 children die every day, because they simply don’t have access to an adequate supply of clean water
How can you just Watch?
So All Mighty One,
You are no God in my eyes.
If there is a heaven,
I'd rather rot in hell,
Than look that God in the eye...
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 4:34 PM UTC
Sailing through purple skies unhindered
And breathe crystal snowflake frosted air
Floated past the mysterious Weeping Mountains
And yellow forests called Warlocks Fair
Trembling
Wandered the underworld
Drunk with false courage from Cretan wine
Leapt bravely from star to star
Journeyed through red starred scattered galaxies
Witnessing the birth and death of time
The finality of the forever feared tolling
The ringing of deaths solemn bell
Conjured this was in my mind quite carefully
For I am she who tells the tale
Commanding the heavens and the earth with my pen
To me the four winds bow low and kneel
The water robed river nymphs pirouette
Wild horned stags vault high to my music
You must admit the scene quite captivating and surreal
The moon kiss my cheek with shy affection
Apollo grace me with a sunburst arrow of gold
Syrian lotus seed the door to the universe
Held tightly in small clutching hands
Where lies stories soon to be told
She who tells the tale
Sprung from blood of ancient lands
Portraying in ink and script
The dark images of man.
@ Copyright Tammy M. Darby Dec. 12, 2018.
Dec 10, 2018
Dec 10, 2018 at 9:07 PM UTC
Concrete rubble sings
As I search ruins for a glimpse
Of my looted childhood
Sep 3, 2016
Sep 3, 2016 at 12:47 AM UTC
the commander in chief
has a propensity
to use all kinds
of weaponry
his Nobel Peace Prize
is looking rather tainted
as he is a man
who so likes war pictures to be painted
he's stated he'll make a limited strike
on Syrian soil
but why would a so called man of peace
need to become embroiled
is he propping the Military Industrial Complex up
those poor arms traders who require billions
for their impoverished cups
he might yet be making a miscalculation
as to where his fires a missile
for it may be greeted
with not such a friendly smile
the Middle East is a place
where some moderation is sorely needed
there are others who have a divergent view
to the commander in chief
they may take it upon themselves
to act in a certain way
which shall lead to some
very grey days
an explosive situation
is on the horizon
and the ramifications
are too dire
to contemplate
may the commander in chief
not press to the brink
for it may mean
peace on the planet is bound to sink
he must take a level headed approach
to any military activity
as it will mean
that harmonic relations
are in a state of permanent injury
Sep 8, 2013
Sep 8, 2013 at 1:50 AM UTC
Falling Leaves on The Desert Trees
Missiles are a flying
many are dying;
Oh, you can hear the crying,
where Syrian fights each other
more bloodshed is on their beds,
some say they are of the brave master
they **** for hate of their own fate,
some hangs on for the given of love,
Oh, the tears and the years that are falling
children’s have no hope
to obey what their hearts hold.
hear the scope
life has taken a loop
that keeps everyone so confused,
their stories are written in the sand
where the evil ones stand
making more sins;
hope and love has been lost
the cries of the innocent ones
are long gone;
wide range of ego strength
gives a helping hand;
where reality makes its way in,
by noon more will be dives,
wings of darkness
makes more bloodshed;
the minds of the broken hearted
are in a civil war;
where love ones
are now in the desert rose gardens;
God Jehovah and Jesus our Lord
knows the path of the innocent ones,
the sky is the outlet of grey
where many has lost their faith,
where courage and love needs to be.
where the spirit of love can run free,
Oh, souls of doubt make a sought,
where vulnerability stands near
holding on to more fear;
tears are falling on bending knees
where words of forgiveness
are being writing in the blood stain sand,
rewards will come when the war is all done,
where peace and love someday will return,
where the desert trees will sprout leaves
of all the lives that has been taken
where true love will be in the making,
words of truth will hover over the souls
that had once walked on the sand long ago,
the sun will shine in one’s life
don’t be surprise God will help save lives,
in vague shadow of a blazing night,
where the rose garden will have bloomed
with the young and the old,
their story has been written
in a world of testing of the forbidden.
But them vex souls will be taken.
But never let your love be shaken.
Please forgive the eyes that sees
Please forgive the anonymous stories
Of the desert leaves;
Where the innocent blood is pouring
Out like the sea.
Poetic Judy Emery © 2017
The Queen Of Darken Dreams Poetic Lilly Emery
Apr 7, 2017
Apr 7, 2017 at 5:48 PM UTC
Before identities and allegiances are even confirmed,
The cries of anger rise up like a thick, black smoke,
Heavy and suffocating, it flows through streets,
Over the English Channel, across oceans,
Seeping into social media and blanketing all else.
Cries for vengeance,
Vengeance,
Vengeance.
And those cries barely manifested into a wisp
When Beirut was attacked the day before Paris.
I didn't see any Facebook pictures of the flag of Lebanon.
Do any of us even know what the flag of Lebanon looks like???
To **** innocent people is a crime except when we do it,
Then it's "There are always casualties of war,"
But if this isn't a war except when we're killing people,
Can it really be called a war?
We care so much about the injustice of it,
How the innocent are mowed down without mercy,
That we want those bombs dropped and we want them dropped now.
When those bombs destroy homes and blast children's limbs apart,
Bloodless and pale, until the area looks like it used to be a porcelain doll factory...
Will we all have Syrian flags for our Facebook pictures?
Jul 15, 2016
Jul 15, 2016 at 10:37 AM UTC
Two Syrian women on Friday were locked in a cage full of skeletons in punishment for violating Daesh’s strict dress code in the militant group’s stronghold of Raqqa.
The London-based Observatory for Human Rights said one of the women fainted in the cage and had to be transported to one of the hospitals in the northern province, which became Daesh’s headquarters in Syria after the group took the city in 2013.
A spokesman for the local-based activist group “Raqqa is being Slaughtered Silently” also reported Daesh’ latest scare tactic against women found to have flouted the draconian rules.
Daesh recently locked a 19-year old woman in a cage full of skeletons, driving her to the point of madness, according to Mohammed Al-Salih. The spokesman did not specify whether the incident was the same as the one reported by the UK-based monitor.
Salih also said that there were “similar cases of women locked in cages with skeletons or forced to sleep overnight in a cemetery” for not wearing what Daesh deems as appropriate. More serious violations are punished by the amputation of limbs, or execution.
Video reports as well as accounts of escapees show that Daesh forces women living in its areas — whether in Syria or Iraq — to don head-to-toe garbs.
Meanwhile, the Observatory said Daesh has recently stormed homes in Raqqa and arrested 10 men suspected of spying against the group.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com
May 3, 2016
May 3, 2016 at 4:31 AM UTC
after watching
the videos of children and humans
striving for a breath
their bodies limp
from a saran attack
I would strap my *** to
a cruise missile
after getting a tattoo
all over my body saying
Assad
this is for you!
It was sickening
beastlike satanic
and I cried
my stomach wretched
I shuddered
here this world is
in the 21st century
and some of us
are still barbarians
I pray
we listen to the
little girl some
call the Syrian
Anne Frank
my heart breaks
again
Apr 6, 2017
Apr 6, 2017 at 9:26 PM UTC
Inana Shlash
How I wish I knew you
I would have melted
And oozed into
Your shoes
lingering many hours
Before you finally
Took a shower
I would have been a blanket
Embracing your back
Nuzzling against the nape
Of your neck
Until you wandered away
To a cool breeze
On the deck
If the gods would have
Smiled on me
I could have been
A billion water droplets
Easing into the hundreds
Of thousands of pores
In your silken skin
Alas
Our missile
Blew you away
And I don't know what to say
Sean Hunt
Windermere, December 6 2015
Dec 5, 2015
Dec 5, 2015 at 9:55 PM UTC
Welcome to America, in 2016.
Where "all lives matter"
Except Syrian refugees
Where you can't even breathe
Without offending somebody.
Where parents are taken from their children,
Because of the color of their skin.
Where we normalize police brutality.
Where you can be a racist,
And still run for president.
Where injustice is served, with a side of GMOs.
Where the citizens of Flint have been without clean water for how long?
Who knows.
Our minds are diluted by capitalism and celebrities.
Where people will look at you crazy for saying,
"Save the bees"
Meanwhile they're out there, planning WWIII.
When you're told "your vote counts!"
But we're stuck with Trump & Hillary.
Where women on the red carpet are glamorous and sexualized,
But if you're ***** they'll ask,
"Well what were you wearing that night?"
A guy selling marijuana will serve his whole life.
Whereas Brock Turner was released in what felt like overnight.
Where white privilege has never been more real.
And our generation is learning that
"You're weak if you feel."
People being told we have nothing to fear,
Meanwhile the media is controlling what we hear.
People fighting for clean water, as if that wasn't our God-given right.
Our women are afraid to walk home alone at night.
You can work 40 hours a week, and still not make enough to live.
But if you ask for government assistance, you're a "lazy son of a *****
When in reality, it's just enough to feed your kids.
The Elite have created this illusion of seperation.
They have torn us apart as a world, and as a nation.
The color of our skin doesn't make us any different.
I promise you can love someone who practices a clashing religion.
Underneath it all, we're all the same.
All this person on person violence just makes us pawns in their game.
We should be coming together as humans, who have lost their humanity.
Maybe this all makes my "liberal."
But in all honesty, the current state of the world has me questioning my sanity.
Love thy neighbor, respect their spirit.
Or we won't be around much longer to experience it.
Welcome to America in 2017.
We forgot how to love one another so we were wiped out, mercilessly.
If only we had come together before we tore ourselves apart.
If we remember who we are,
We can be our own light in the dark.
Oct 13, 2016
Oct 13, 2016 at 2:17 PM UTC
Migrant refugee
a place of temporary
community is everything for
The Afghan, Syrian, Iranian and Africans of all
from the jungle they came, to The Jungle they go.
A place to pass through hope
to go over to Dover and
beyond. Think so fond
of the other side.
Work, new life, peace
and family they seek.
On a journey to travel, men,
women and kids flee from
an evil chasing their race.
They stare death in its
face the whole way.
To leave it all behind in hope
to find that which is true.
Some French help, some unsure,
others come from afar
to serve and ask
"What can I do?"
to find there is nothing but to see.
Some pray and some say
"I will not stay"
after months of waiting
to leave with no more tricks in
their sleeve, oh Lord when
will they believe in this Jesus
who sets all free.
Jun 20, 2016
Jun 20, 2016 at 1:46 AM UTC
Are we to reject a greater unity
for the sake of a superficial
sovereignty.
For does not the richness of
every need its canvas.
And every flower deserve a special
place in the garden.
As every star sits in the nights sky
belonging to a constellation.
I never hear them complaining
only gently sparkling.
Are we to reverse down a dark alley
not knowing where we are going.
Do we wish to offer a clenched fist
or are we to open our hand and heart.
Have we become so inwardly looking
that we switch of our lights close our
eyes as a room full of blind nations
continue to fight.
Are we to be influenced by papers
that serendipitously cloud the difference
between EU immigrants and Syrian refugee's.
As Rupert Murdoch and corperate power
divides and conquers.
Trillions gather of shore sit on the world
like a giant cancer and all we do is fight
with each other.
As they in circle us with their power we become
the entertainment at their coliseum.
Or do we pour love within the gaps becoming all
so much closer bringing back all our power.
Are we to live in a shrinking world where
other people's problems do not matter.
Is it time to close our eyes or time to look
in the mirror.
Out out out keep the bad guys out
as though our hands were clean
that we had never done anything wrong.
Are we we to cling to a penny pinching surface
or delve into the depths of our character looking for
a deeper treasure that truly matters.
Will not the true values of our heart not proper
when connected more deeply on the inside
and out.
By clinging to a superficial sovereignty we may
find ourselves also clinging to a wobbly mast.
As our island drifts of into a rough sea we maybe
to involved with surviving that we forget
who we truly are.
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 10:46 AM UTC
While people talked about what Miley Cyrus was wearing
Ben a homeless veteran of war, had a heart attack, fell from his wheelchair
and died and people stepped over him.
While people talked about what Miley Cyrus was wearing
A forest fire burned in Yosemite National park and Sierra Nevada destroying homes, and
threatening wildlife including 200 year old redwood trees.
While people talked about what Miley Cyrus was wearing
Latonya lost her job, and in turn her apartment and in turn the custody
of her children.
While people talked about what Miley Cyrus was wearing
Yu fellated a man in a sweaty brothel who was nearly four times her age.
While people talked about what Miley Cyrus was wearing
Fukushima Daiichi Nuclear Plant leaked tons of radioactive fluid into the
Pacific.
While people talked about what Miley Cyrus was wearing
Syrian President Bashar al-Assad used chemical weapons on his own people.
While people talked about what Miley Cyrus was wearing
Aug 27, 2013
Aug 27, 2013 at 5:32 PM UTC