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seen from the othere side

as seen from the other side of the border

In the night the easterly wind picked up 
windows and doors rattled 
I was greatly worried a new voice from 
The Middle East – an Arab voice- was loud 
forceful, clear and menacing.
For too long had the people been corrupted
by western influences saying one thing while 
practising the opposite.
The voice was harsh an uncompromising 
void of charity and tolerated no objection,
the voice of those who had been oppressed too
long and  forced to nurture a voracious crow,
a colonial outpost of European misfits,
a cancer on the Arabic soul.
A, time speak to me is it not at this moment right
for western powers to leave and let the game 
plays itself out and let blood run into the sand?
In the backyard dervishes of dust danced faster and
Faster and scoured clean the fraudulent past.



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