Get Your Premium Membership

Syrian Graveyard

Unnumbered human corpses mutilated and spread like illegally-shot elephants in Waza Park! From ‘man know thyself’ to ‘man hates himself’- humans mutilate humans! Future-bound glorious infants, feeble moms and luck-abandoned dads bombed, suffocated, shot and slain by politico-economic drunks! Yawning stomachs here, blood-dripping arms there, open-mouth frozen heads here, rotting breasts there, decomposing legs here… We are in Homs, we are in Alep, we are in Damascus where there has been fierce fighting since long ago… Vultures in black suits brace up for carnivorous autopsy ; they transport chunks from the uninterred corpses to carnivorous mortuaries up-sky. Maggots, ants and scavengers perform rapid interments, substituting caskets and graves with their innards and facilitating the cycle from dust to dust. These mean creatures, some flying, others crawling and some others walking, feast on the garbage corpses , mocking man’s inhumanity to man and celebrating this sudden twist of values— the beastification of humans and the humanisation of beasts. They mock us, they mock us for this sudden twist of values. They also mock us and bemoan the occidental-egoistic planes that burned infinite barrels of exploitation fuel on Libyan skies, urinating bombs and missiles, grinding and crushing humans for humans or humans for oil. Aha! What a twist of values! Exploitation went mad and naked in Bengazi… We are in Homs, we are Alep, we are in Damascus where all Pauls have gone Sauls… Annan can’t understand Libyan humanitarians’ whereabouts now. His six points repose in occidental dust bins. Then he sighs. Then he sighs, performs Pilatism and gives up. Moscow and London persistently draw parallels that can only meet magically in Damascus. So-called World Powers Now ride snails to Syrian emergency meetings while they were flown in swallows to Tripoli. We are in Homs, we are in Alep, we are in Damascus where countless infinities of Arab eyes have focused on one cushion since last year : one cushion of thorns and pleasure, one cushion of spikes and leisure. The solution then? It only lies back in the Syrian Graveyard. Syrians, counts these abandoned, mutilated, rotting, decomposing corpses. Count them and drop your arms. Count them, drop your arms and impregnate your land with progress. Know this: There is only one seat in every presidency… A president may toy with a human constitution, but can never ever thwart the Womb-to-Tomb Constitution . (Mbankolo, 6 August 2012)

Copyright © | Year Posted 2013




Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.

Please Login to post a comment
Date: 1/15/2013 5:38:00 PM
Nsah, , it is evening over here in Texas, I saved this page in order to come back and place a comment here... a very strong thought provoking poem... interesting at its most..xox~LINDA
Login to Reply
Date: 1/15/2013 9:55:00 AM
Nsah, stopping by to say hi ;-) and welcome you to this lovely soup bowl. My name is Linda; everyone here calls me PD for fun. I'm here picking up and finding new poets to love, appreciate and adore. Please do not hesitate to look me up here on the soup if you need feedback on your poetry. I am looking forward into following your poems as you grow and post here at the POETRY SOUP. Take care~ LUV PD"
Login to Reply
Date: 1/14/2013 5:22:00 PM
The atrocities of endless wars all because of greed. sigh...Light & Love
Login to Reply