You can behead an unarmed man
You can rape a defenseless woman
You can blow up an innocent child
You can burn a book, or 1000's
Attempt to erase history
Spit on the culture of mankind
Here is what you will never do
You will never catch Charlie Brown
Or behead Allah the almighty
You are an army
Of no hearts
Of no heads
The army of the evil living dead
Behind the dark walls of the prison,
Hiding my face from all in my vision,
Abandoned by my bosses,the terror leads,
I wait to be hanged for my misdeeds.
Now I look back to think….
Important member of the Al-Qaeeda,I was,
Given tasty food, and rigorous training by my boss,
I was taught “muslims are harassed round the world,
To help them, grenades and bombs ,I have to hurl.
Arms and ammunitions to me they gave,
To destroy the world, the path they paved.
Rigorous physical training I was given,
On the path of “Jihad’I was driven.
I felt …”me, a class four dropout from school,
To a fidayeen…oh so cool.”
With pots of money l was lured,
A place in paradise..I was assured.
Reading the terror email from the Mujahideen,
I was all charged up and excited to become a fidayeen.
With the ammunitions, I was on my way,
On the path of destruction that they laid.
“Explode bombs, shoot and kill”,
They said “that is what was Allah’s will.”
An obedient student I was in their list,
Little did I realize I was a dangerous terrorist!
As I killed and killed and shed innocent blood,
Suddenly, I was shot and I fell down ..thud!
Interrogations by cops continued endlessly on me,
Confusing the cops,I waited for Al-qaeeda to rescue me.
To my rescue, none from Al Qaeeda came,
Hated worldover a terrorist I became!
No one would come I felt
I was misled! I silently wept.
Jihad would never get me paradise,
Fallen in eyes of Allah, I will never ever rise.
I am unable to bear this and want to die,
And face Allah ? In fear and shame I cry.
I neither can live nor die in peace ,
Forgive me Allah, I cried on my knees.
Old, young, man woman, child I randomly killed,
Was this by Allah, in me instilled?
I repent and feel am cursed by all,to hell I shall go,
What mass destruction on earth have I done? Oh!
I have now to face all those I murdered,
What do I answer them, I ponder.
Spread love and peace is the message of God,
I have now learnt the message of the Lord.
I confess ..”Jihad and terrorism are hated by god,”
I sincerely beg “Forgive me all, forgive me Lord!!”
Kindly note :If anyone wants to comment on my poem, kindly note that I am not a terrorist.
This poem is written by me as a message to all the terrorists in the world that peace and love
is what god wishes.The inspiration is from the recent attacks in Mumbai.
Starry eye moon
Away with your beam
And learn the stride of time
Cast mournful shadows
Upon blood soaked sand
And bid the cheering stars same,
Tonight, there will be no
Story telling nor moon kissing
For no giggling maidens
To jest the flutist call
Only sad hissing to death's long haul!
If you must stay, i pray
Dim thy light to water grief
And hide your smile
Behind panned night.
Listen as creaking wail
Beget sad clapping,
Then shall I tell thee
A tale of hate,
Of minors killed in heaven's name.
To the morning
A tray of desecrated banquet is set
Bald headed birds arose
To sumptuous feast
And gnawing claws
To shredded meats
Once limbs to tender breeds
Blood rinsed from promising dreams.
Brought to the end
By the sword that kills
In the name of God...
But which god?
Starry eye moon away with your beam!
Reality is lost and I fear…
That someday…somewhere so near…
I will fall amongst the people so dear…
I fear…that I’ll just be another one…
Another one lost…
I wonder what the cost of my life is
not to get too political…
But I want to know what the cost of my life is
Is it money…is it land
I do not own any of them…I’m just a simple man
I remember…When I ran across your land…
I remember when I kissed my grandmother’s hands…
But you ripped my away from her…From my home
you ripped my away from my heart…you ripped me away from my soul
I feel helpless…I feel low…
It’s hard to play along when I know…I have no role
I have become a slave.
After all the love I gave.
When I look at my country…people I want to save
When I look around me…people I need to change
It seems like a hard thing to do…
when the range of people is way bigger than you
Freedom…oh how much I’ve heard that word
Freedom…oh how this idea has become absurd
when God gave us life…
He warned us only he can take our lives…
Oh Syria…my home
Oh Syria…my all
Oh Syria…what did they hurt you for?
Oh Syria…I’m here…I won’t let them hurt you anymore…
I am Proud to be your son…
They say the sun shines on the skin of a goddess her hair dark filled with flowers and her skin of silk,
When you see her don't let her go she will treat u like a god and run her silk hands against the ruffness of your skin she will show u the right way to enlightenment her eyes golden brown so deep you can get lost she can see right through you and know the depth of your soul she will speak words so smooth softer then the wind
Skin so smooth the sun follows her every move.
If i could exhale, really exhale,
To expire the rubble of the ages,
1000 years of dread off my belly,
and my fingertips once so dainty
then could grasp stars and not burn,
I dig my face into the dirt and find eternity.
i gazed into the jackals eyes and he spoke to me from eternity
he said "follow closely so that i might teach you to exhale
and maybe dear in return a smile upon your face will burn"
an expression lost on my brittle jaw for ages
so i walk upon the crust of the earth now bruised and dainty
yet i feel growth between my toes and swelling in my belly
woe does bewilderment plague me here, tearing up my belly
then a soft green garden snake cradles me into eternity,
i watch her curl and dance across the soil of this dainty
room, she looks back from her slither reminding me to exhale,
have i been lost for all these ages?
or have i simply been afraid to burn?
and thus so is it my place to burn?
for i feel welcomed and smooth yet i have poison in my belly
and tomorrow i will remember the pain of the ages
may i retain the knowledge of eternity
or become bodily again when i exhale?
or have no question that my thoughts and ideas are dainty
i have visions of my presence siting crossed and dainty
breathing barley and quiet as i burn
surrounded by a castle of tones that bring me to exhale
into the mouth of god and back into my belly
i feel my self escaping and gasping for eternity
coming back down to the end of my ages
i could sit and cry for the death of the ages
but this life i despise growing and rooting, dainty
yes, paltry no, and tattering for the rest of my eternity
yet i recall the jackal and his feet where the earth does burn
and i miss the poison in my belly
it not escapes me, but it crusades me to exhale.
before and after the ages, the world will burn and my body will lie dainty
on the ground filling her great belly with the poison of eternity cursed to exhale.
Copyright © 2013
Skittles and a soda
against a gun in its holster?
One day that scream
will be known as a teen
not a heinous lying Fein
What a sinister ploy and twist
with a loaded gun and no fist?
Had everyone sitting and waiting
doomed by a verdict just delaying
Was this just an optical illusion
or, a devious planned conclusion?
Now, this generation too afraid
wearing hoodies will get you dead
But, the Klan was still glad
hoodies they've always had
A verdict they too saw,
ushering in martial law
Who am I?
Am I defined by what is near in sight?
Am I defined by what I have done,
Or am I defined by what I could become?
Perhaps I'm of no use.
To him, or her, or I, nor you.
Or perhaps I'm too misunderstood to be defined,
And it is something like understanding that comes in time.
And if to the world I'm never shown,
Yet in my own light I've grown and grown,
And so I can know no happiness but my own--
The reason for my smile, to you, will forever be unknown.
I do not pray for the world to know my name.
For it and verse; the letters are the same.
And if a man should find his sorrow in what he reads,
I pray his pain my words to keep.
Should his eyes rain on my page,
Better tears than storms of rage.
And if a man should find his sorrow in what he reads.
I pray his pain my words to keep.
And if to the world you're never shown,
Yet in your own light you've grown and grown,
And so you know no happiness but your own.
Let the reason for your smile, to you, only be known.
SARAJEVO - THE ANXIETY
A wave that grows from deep inside of me
to bring me down I feel it start to grow;
its' only name--is called--anxiety,
where it comes from no one could ever know.
As tiny needles prick my skin, I feel
sensation of a drifting tenderness
that goes from here to there, and so un-real.
It leads my mind to only second guess
at what's invading to the soul I own
fortelling what has been and what must be
from Sarajevo where my life has grown
into the death I recognize as me.
I'm but a vagrant never meant to know
too soon forgotten like a Balkan snow.
© Ron Arbuthnot aka Ron Wilson
A full moon night
to my delight
what is so wrong
with doing what's right
nothing is right
after so long
no use in complaining
time to move on
The Dream Water one day
might take me away
farther from the comfort
I float on my back
then shut my eyes
my body now sinking
into ocean arms open wide
Now swallow your son
back to his nature
when he is no longer
needed to stay here
the next generation
are dooming themselves
they need my experience
to guide them through hell
Why should I bother
on my own, I strive through
I turn my back on the thought
of bothering to save you
alone in this world
my, is it spacious
I'm finally smiling,
never so gracious.
The Apple PASTURE
Oh how I long
To drift into the apple pasture.
Were once was and all well meet.
A pure and dear site.
Where silver reflection cover the still waters that holds the golden
grains of morality and the grazing souls lie young amounce no stars.
Oh how I long
To drift into the apple pasture
Were winds smell of melon and the trees whisper spring corals in the mellow dark and best of light and time creeps into no tomorrow.
face, hands, feet.
She clothes herself now
in an adornment of white
as bitter fumes
seep beneath the door.
Her source is god.
Her destination is god.
She pleads with god now
As men mix and pour
Just outside her door.
Her sisters wail.
They bathe her lifeless arms
And shroud her
as Iris Albicans-
The imam, he stands,
As men convey her
From ashes to ashes
And dust to dust.
From ashes to ashes
And dust to dust.
Seeking accompany- Zamreen Zarook
I kick to wonder what made me to cry,
Am really writing as a fry,
Myself launch to be dry,
This ink will be a victim for my cry.
What really went wrong with me all these day,
What made e to forget my last day,
I realized I jumped out of my track yesterday,
So I regret for that, what is called as present today.
Happiness have started to wave hands for this sinner,
Sadness have started to move inner,
The faults that I considered as miner,
So far changed as a miner of a winner.
My face was a comparison to sunlight,
Where as my routine changed it to moon light,
I wish to get that twilight,
As a sinner I started to search for that enlight.
I started to enjoy what is right,
I remade my faults as a kite,
I wished it would fly apart from my sight,
My system said, you are free from your rubbish weight.
It proved that I always should depend on god,
In whatever the variation of my mood,
He is there to clear my victorious road,
So, I started to live according to His code.
This world cannot offer the level of Love,
or the Joy found in Jesus alone,
From the oceans below to the mountains above,
I no longer consider this 'Home'.
Shallow pleasures of Sin, for which I were a slave,
Began many wars of the past,
They Remain beside footprints approaching the grave,
The Door to the Joy which will last.
VRBANJA - BRIDGE OF DEATH - SARAJEVO 1995
You steal the light when there is none to see
when there is nothing left, you take it all,
For Sarajevo. just the shell of we
stands mesmerized; and backed against the wall.
Our Balken moon's behind some branches bare
We watch it move so slow and lovingly
until it leaves the trees behind, and there,
is just the shadow of its smile to see.
No one may loose the power of ones dreams
to bathe in sunlight of a brighter day,
we stay to die where love's not what it seems,
you speak to us in words you never say.
Our sniper waits, across the Bridge of Death
in air so cold, we only see his breath.
© ron wilson aka Vee Bdosa
SARAJEVO - the sniper
He hides behind the dirty window pane
with eyes all cold and void of any care
in blinding heat or through a drizzle rain
his thoughts are only what has brought him there
his mind's not thinking that's a special friend
nor is that girl in love; he doesn't care;
the choice comes on with no thought of the end
and made, perhaps, because she's standing there.
His sight is set, and all she'll ever be
gives way to things her life will never know
and when she falls and lays there helplessly
his only thought is she was quick to go.
All in a breath, he's layed her to the street;
and ended life to make his day complete.
© Ron Arbuthnot aka Ron Wilson
It was for you and me ,
That Jesus left His throne,
Bore the scourge and agony,
Shivered His flesh and bone,
It was for you and me,
He took the awry tour,
Towards the dreaded Calvary,
Summed His tortured hours,
It was for you and me,
That Jesus bore the cross,
Paid the greatest penalty,
That death supposed be ours,
It was for you and me,
He wailed the gloomiest cry,
It was for you and me,
Jesus was nailed to die,
Oh, that you and I may see,
Our wickedness beyond measure,
Jesus to set us free,
In our stead bore the torture,
His love mysterious great,
Knocks the door of all men's heart,
His mighty power recreates,
Renews our lives whole to restart,
It was for you and me,
When on the third day death sufficed,
The savior left His grave,
Victorious he arised,
He rose back to His throne,
Sitting by His Father's side,
Prepare! He's coming soon,
Today is to decide,
Dedicated to all the children who were
Victims of the conflicts in Syria
You have heard more grenades crack at dawn
As bullets wizz beneath your pale sun-
O Syrian Child! Whose family has been torn
By Taliban glories and Tribal rivalries.
O Syrian Child! To whom pain sets the day
To whom bliss only exists in the books-
You lost your sense of smile
And forgot to dream like every child.
O Syrian Child! before you she perished-
That sweet mother, blown in her parish:
You watched her Kick, as she supplicated you:
"Flee son, flee to Yabroud. Flee!! Alahu agba.
O Syrian Child! She was your only mark,
Since dad had fallen years gone and dark.
The Bomb had gotten her, as it had gotten him-
And now you are left to the world's cruel hymn.
Wipe your eyes, O syrian Child!
The pain bleeds your tender heart-
The terror of your people is a pile:
O child! How I dream you were a blissful lad.
Go down on your mat,
Pray, pray! pound out to Him,
Call out to him, sweet Allah,
He knows your broiled dilemma.
He knows, he knows, O Syrian Child!
Allah knows - that very God we worship.
There are tears in his tender eyes,
As he watches his people in ruin.
O child! there is a way up yonder
The Lamb rubs his head against you
Urging you to hope for joy by
Looking up to that God, Allah!
Yesterday in GAZA
I saw a mother's tears
About his family martyrs
You don't know how I felt
I thought I'll kill myself
I used to ask her (myself)
How can I go there ?
How can I help them ?
Why am not I brave ?
Especially this time
Why am I so late ?
Why do I stay behind ?
My wall's shade
I wanted to fight, didn't I ?
Why am I scared from the fake ?
Sons of Zion, the wrongdoers by their crimes
This is a big mistake
How can I go ?
In order to show
To all this world
How I shall swallow
This Israel, like the pea
Mix it with the peach
I'm not joking here
It's just I wanna volunteer
By everything I've, even it's my ears
DRIFTING IN THE HALE-BOPP
The puzzle comes apart deep in the sky;
calls nothing that is concrete to the mind;
as far as we can tell and meets the eye
the reason for the tail's not ours to find.
We stand confused, and only guess at why
the wonder of it all has stilled our voice
did David Korish ever really die?
and is it all worked out, with little choice?
Mount Carmel but a coming of an age
the catostrophic ending of mistake,
what hope is there to ever quell the rage
appeassing what is wrong, for honors sake?
Is there a sign that's ever flown the sky
or is it just a dream where-in we die?
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet
It is in heaven I shall live forever
the earth is my floor
and the sky is my canopy
it sends the rains to make rivers
to water me and grow me plants
for a simple sustenance
and for me a bountiful food
I do not meanly the falsehood
and concealing the truth
I do not create mischief
and trouble in my homeland
I am created from nothing
and nothing is me
and that me is secret to itself
A secret that Allah kept to discover
where I shall believe is true
nothingness is only seen from nothing
that nothing exists to prove I am nothing
that nothingness exists
in my existence it is indeed nothing
I do exist as nothing.
As I shall always need to believe
that my life would be restored
it is upon my life’s death
that Allah will teach me what I do not know
He will teach me who knows nothing
that nothing is indeed me
and without Him I really mean nothing!
UCA, Kota Kinabalu,
29 June 2014
1st Ramadan 1435
Heads rolled, limbs frayed, wow!
An ocean of blood, Allahu Akbar!!
Their reason for the season
Martyrs of wiles on these simple lie
Allahu Akbar! 20 virgins tiredly waiting,
Fresh tomatoes winking
it is I
Peace in white, simplicity adorning
God in man, man in God
Will peace through these heathen rise?
Or shall their Alleluias ring? Allahu Akbar!
From the east, their tiny star shone
Dome, doom, mime, maim, gbom!
Shoulder to shoulder they stood
Echoing in splaterring flesh
God in man, man in God
God is the greatest
Senile man plays God
fixing the wrongs of who,
Fireworks in their sky
curl up before lightening kiss the thunder
joy immeasurable facing the star
winking tomatoes screaming I
Je suis Charlie
The Ka'bah, so peaceful
see how it stitches the world
with bombs and explosives
from Baga to Paris
peace offering chanting
You're a voyeur at best!
Your vampiric heart beats out of your chest
Ready to consume the final climax
I know who you are - when the lyrics fail to resemble
Letting your poison drip straight from your lips
Portraying, entertaining the image of sex's delusion
You know only rape - manifestation of hate
Lack of the fruit of the beauty of a human mind
Depths you'll never penetrate!
She was only a doll - type of a lost father's adore
Impaled into a desperate whore
Shamefully out of broken safety's choice
She bore embryogenesis of morose
May your rusty blades caress as they please
So confront the masses with the halt of embryogenesis
Let the worship of machines be
Leg them construct us cell to cell
Nature's just in the way
Of our race of perfectly engineered machines!
The burden of conception
Surrenders to the will of
The New God
is ruined to ground and I’ve only an hour or less
to spend my life.
The enemy of my people, a bit stronger
and seems happy to have more time
to live his, stands before me.
I always thought that great Allah
was with me; I’m a faithful Muslim. He is
a devoted Christian. I saw him, ere we exchanged
bullets of anger, intently calling to his
Father (household name of his so called God)
Now, we’re slaving ourselves, thinking.
With our guns pointing at each other,
would he let me live, or would I let him go?
Ah, what are we goin’ to do with our short
remaining breath, continue killing each other
or mend our wounds?
Or, should we still ask the god(s)
to solve these issues at hand?
I do not know?
The freeze has brought them to a winters' night
they've made themselves, forgetting what is right,
and they can see their children cry
but not a one will reason why,
nor think upon enough to see the light.
There's no repent for killing as it's done
and no resistance to it going on,
just hate on hate that only grows,
the hint of peace that never shows,
with lots of blame, enough for everyone.
And to this chaos, we have paved the way
for men of opportunity to play
and build their fortunes from it all
while winter makes its frigid call,
and brings another dark and longest day.
The heros are not known, til dies are cast
til all has slipped away into the past,
and truth is what a baby hears
but laid to rest in later years,
and right is not defined until the last.
© ron wilson the Doylestown Poet
We all feel like
dying to get out of here
at least sometimes;
a car or bus or airplane
a house or apartment
a nation or state
a Party or clan
a faith community or PTA.
This is about the reverse view:
living to get out of there.
How is my competitive praxis
and haunted by,
autistic and/or suicidal images and fascination,
anxiety and psychopathology
when does our cooperative praxis
hunt most ubiquitously,
omnipresently and generically,
affectively, effectively, and efficiently,
sustainably, optimally, and faithfully,
permaculturally and polypathically,
for love and active peace,
equivalent value for equitable natural nutritional systemic merit,
laughter and humor therapy,
rapture and ecstasy,
light and enlightenment,
primally eternal and sacred relationship?
Perhaps when we globally comprehend
that love is to human-nature's spirit
as medicine is to all nature systems;
that the dynamism of polycultural-polypathic love is to spiritual systems
as the dynamic power of permacultural ecotherapy is to natural systems;
that life is to synergetically cooperative love,
as death is to entropically non-polynomial terror of eisegetical isolation
as the reposed destiny of universal prime relationship,
adventuring toward +/(-)(-)(0) negentropic global evolutionary exposure.
Perhaps when we culturally and religiously
and metrically and scientifically
define Prime Relationship
as (0) Core Vector Beloved Community's Tao
and Thermodynamic Double-Binding Temporal Principle
of Harmonic-Octave-Frequency Energy-Optimization Balance
and Sustainable Emergent Systemic-Holonic Climax Communion.
Perhaps we learn cognitive dissonance distinction
between thinking of death and fear as "goodbye,"
"that's behind me!"
and simultaneously comprehending dissonance and anger
teachable contiguous moments for global and personal well-being,
love and active peace with justice for each and all,
including Self, Other, and Earth.
When we learn to begin each gathering with passing peaceful pipe,
communing our communion,
silencing our background screams,
co-passioning our minds full together with each Other,
in shared faith that before we can no longer see
whites of each Others' eyes and bleached true souls,
while we share this warmth of Tribal burning bush
we will each and all walk away from each Other
understanding differences between what we need v. want,
AND we will each and all walk toward our global future
with reconnected commitment to what we each and all NEED
to sustain our permaculturing lives and loves,
our racial polyculturing regenetic ribbon rhapsody,
our ecosystemic well-being,
our ecotherapeutic homes and communities
and economic trans-actional systems
and networks of positively slow-trending information,
and eco-logical scientific revolution of religion,
of nature-spirit paradigms,
Universal Natural Systemic Wisdom-Tao of Design and Development
with optimal Continuous Quality Improvement standards
and normative-therapeutic Prime Principle
of P=NP Equivalence
= Yang + Yin
= (0) Core Tao Beloved Organic Balance.
"To return to the root is Repose;
It is called going back to one's Destiny."
Destiny is both new birth cry for air's incoming flight
and final breath extended,
incubating speciating Space with timely Time.
I do not know?
Killing in Allah’s Name…
Pieces of burnt flesh,
in a school,
charred hands, smouldering corpses, fractured bodies,
dismembered human beings,
just human beings,
in Allah’s name…
…A 4 year old boy,
11 year old girl,
78 year old man,
40 year old mother of six,
in Allah’s name…
…Gandhi said ‘an eye for an eye will make the whole world blind’…
Complicit by my silence,
I stand in shame,
of the bigotry,
wars of aggression,
invasions of distant countries,
flag-waving ‘my country right or wrong’,
perpetrated in my name…
…I refuse to be silent,
to be complicit,
while the slaughter continues,
in the name of god,
I refuse to be cowed,
to be complicit by my silence,
as the killing,
…You who kill innocents,
you who shroud your slaughter in scripture,
you who drape your aggression in flags,
you who cloak your hate in anthems,
you who veil your intolerance in finely-tuned semantics,
you who bomb school-buses,
…You may sow terror,
you may pound cities from afar,
you may wreak havoc,
yet you have lost,
you cannot kill us all!
We shall always be many, many more!
“…all that is necessary for evil to triumph is for good people to do nothing…” – Edmund Burke
I woke up this morning and I took my breath,
prayed to Allah that I took that step.
Making it's hard but I cooked what's left
and saved the rest for the family
can of peas
that I took off the shelf,
you understanding me.
I have dreams so everyday I stand and freelance styles
it's been the same process sense I was a child now,
I write a song every other day the other days
I discover ways to put a buck in the bank hussling.
We all struggling, financially I hate
to see my mom stumbling loosing her job again.
Forget sobbing when the times get tough,
put in overtime at my job
dimes stack up, it's not enough....listen.
Bills rack up out my checks they take half
I spend the rest on food and music you do the math.
Everyday is like another step taken,
we're in the same boat all trying to make it.
I know it's people that think it's fine where I'm at,
but they haven't seen through the eyes of Iraq.
Suicide bombers take lives they die fast,
even little kids hold knives that slice back
at US militants, orders from Bin Laden
land hold killers even innocents get blasted.
Car bombs go off,
youngen buying bread for mother
gets his leg blown off for him it's so hard.
That life I want no part so Allah
I fight through life writting like I've been
struck by the venom of white vipers.
Might not see the next day the best way
to write until I'm dead face
down shot up from tech spray.
I live and die for the music
it's all love don't try to confuse it.
Until then don't judge my soul, I know
you know the feeling let's roll we in the same boat.
Wandering human beings each
Enslaved by personally true doctrines of the existence or
Inescapably twisted with the nonexistence of the Existing One
Rampantly whirls around to face thousands of destinies all in one:
Death in color: paganism, science cutting edge, madness, and suicide.
Dla, November 17, 2014
Jaafar Sadig el Waad