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.
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.
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.
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.
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
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!