The roaches keep launching attacks.
Then scurrying back into Satan's dirty crack.
Covering their backs with the children of Gaza.
Launch, then hide- launch, then hide.
When they lose ground, they call for a ceasefire.
Understand, there can never be peace.
As long as these hellhounds are off their leash.
Nobody in these three-ringed regimes mentions the hostages anymore.
Nobody remembers October 7
or September 11
let alone the holocaust.
Short-term memory problems for those with long-term limits.
Nobody dares to put the bullseye on Iran.
Who has the real blood on their hands.
Billions of U.S. dollars fund the attacks of these ogres.
Whose soul do they own, just asking for a friend?
Get their undivided attention.
Lay waste to the Persian oilfields.
Parch their treasure chests.
Maybe then peace can prevail.
Then the Bedouins of heaven and the children of Christ can rest.
Until then, I think we're heading down the plutonium throat of Armageddon.
In my back, yellow mountains, glittering with a thousand bursts,
Of course, the sun has its incandescent magic
God is phosphorescence; his knowledge blinds all dogs and cats,
May the night be divine, when I leave my kingdom,
Who are we? Camel companions, desert companions,
Companions of eagles with millenary greenhouses and pointed,
Lost companions, by the splendor of our cities,
Who are we? Companions of the blue Bedouins,
We know about what only silence teaches us
We know only what God wants to hide from us,
We are companions of camels in the desert,
Behind our backs, yellow mountains, sparkle with a thousand bursts.
If you have never felt the lure of the desert,
you cannot understand why people like me
prefer to be surrounded by sandy dunes.
An inexplicable lure, that acts like a drug.....
Until I was kidnapped by four senile Bedouins.
There was nothing senile about their guns.
Courteously I was led into their tent
built near a small oasis. I was fed, sort of.
And then the entertainment began.
From behind the curtains, someone strummed
a melody of eastern music, eerie and mysterious,
but still unpleasant to my ears.
Two men performed a sword dance.
Then a lovely female dancer took the stage.
In the dim light, the air was smoky with hookahs,
she stood in the middle of the tent,
The music climbed slowly in a crescendo,
her dance matched the rhythm, slow to fast.
I wonder why she did not interest me.
I was more concerned about the weapons
Aimed idly at me. Someone handed me a drink,
like nectar. I drank and drank and drank.
The end came, abruptly.
I woke up groggily,
and was sent to the nearest town.
The senile Bedouin smiled:
"The desert has its beauty, my friend.
But be careful. You can get lost."
Still, the lure of the desert will always beckon.
Twenty long desert years
sweeping scorpions into their pits
over and over and over again
Now the sweepers are leaving in haste
not enough blood money to be made.
Scorpions are pouring back out of their pits
Stingers held high above the heads of Biden's Bedouins-
The Bedouins, refugees from other times
The places were they live are still the same
But other people founded States and took
The deserts where they roamed ,ancestral nooks.
Ther little tents of black on the hillsides
Have not changed from Mediaeval times
But now they are like flies, unwanted guests
Who will know the tremor in their breasts?
Cruel is the heart of humankind,
The Commandments spat on daily by men blind.
The Bedouins of our spirit need to be
Allowed their space, allowed their deserts free
Nomads of the desert,Jesus Christ,
Nomad of the darkness in our minds
From the fast melting clouds comes the rain
you might wonder, and ask does it fall in vain
the question the river and the forest don’t pose
you would not either if you care to look close
see how from mellow hearts kindness drains.
From the deep darkness comes the sun again
you might wonder, and ask does it rise in vain
the question the day and the birds don’t ask
you would not either if you know how to bask
in the glow of the inner light the soul retains.
From desolate desert’s core comes the fountain
you might wonder, and ask does it spring in vain
the question Bedouins and the oasis don’t frame
you would not either if you know how to be tame
in the turmoil of tough time where destiny reigns.
July 6, 2021
Contest : Completely Your Choice (45) Any Form Any Theme
Sponsor : Brian Strand
Most of us know more now than we did before when news
was simpler such as the Soviet Union bad- and Mao in China
swam across the river I have just been reading about Sinai
a place I thought consisted of sand, goats and Bedouins on
white horses, but there has been a slow war there going
back a long time. We didn’t and were not told that Islam has
many aspects and sects – just like us- and there is fighting
amongst them, usually about power and money, religions is
the glue that binds together the rest. The young Muslims in
Europe, who go to fight for IS they are fooled into believing
they fight for a cause and the will be dispensed of when no
longer needed. In Sunnis eye, they are foreigners.
We live in paralysed world we don’t which way to sway do
let us follow the money whoever is in power.
In this world of circular,
Some animals born peculiar,
Camels carrying a big load in particular,
In this world of circular,Camels a wonder,
In a plural families of jungles,lion is the ruler,
Camels in deserts in singular and the only ruler,
Camels walk in deserts on the backs Bedouins,
Mating sitting,no food,no water for days in wake proceedings,
The hump like a lump jumping over the skin,
Long feet to keep head up and to kick dust and kin,
The widen paws avoiding,sinking deep the feet on riding base,
The Y shaped camel's meat,milk and skin for people to amaze,
The feces not wet still hot to make fire is the truth refuse not,
"Camel milk and urine proper for nursing" foresaid the last prophet,
In research,the camel milk and urine,thick and syrup like a medicine,
A cure for long searching and a Nobel waiting cancer,is divine!
The Gays of India
In India gay people can´t get married and that is sad for those who think
a ring on a finger is enough to utter love and loyalty. Liberal as I´m I ought
to sign letters an express my outrage against the Indian government,
but my heart is not in this battle of hysterical expression of democracy.
There many inequalities, say, the plight of the Palestinians and now
the dilemma of Negev Bedouins who soon will find themselves flattened
by this juggernaut of harsh, unthinking quest for security and land; it
will not stop, pause or think of a peaceful alternative. How to stop this blitz,
this amoral action before it destroys both perpetrators and victims
in an orgy of bloodletting. Then there is Syria, this intractable problem
this can cast us into a catastrophic null point when someone will use
nuclear weapon they profess not to have, in the name of feverish existential
survival. So the gays of India can´t for now get married, what can I say?
Carry on fighting for your right, but do not fall into the trap to think the rest
of the world thinks your problem is of outmost importance.
Limerick : Once a Flutist played an enticing tune
Once a Flutist played an enticing tune
While sitting on a seat-burning dune
Bedouins learned from camels
While suff’ring from measles
To compose get camel measles in June !
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
The Herder
Words are racing by as a yacht making blue water white.
Should I now think in nautical terms, say, a bad seascape
painting of crested waves, which looks like clotted cream?
When I’m thinking of sheep that feed on sun yellow grass
on a field dotted with olive trees? Bedouins unlike cowboys
feel no disgrace looking after them. Biblical peace, that is
before walls were erected and common land absorbed in
the name of nationhood. I know naught, land has changed
hands for thousands of years and will do so again, but I pity
the olive tree it takes a long time bearing fruit, when it does
the walls will be used as building stuff for modest homes.
Peace will be restored, but not forever humanity is, even if
it talks about it, not made for peacefulness. The man with
the biggest flock of sheep will always want more land.
The beautiful world of books
Has long been my passion
Reading a super fiction
Hiding in corners and nooks
Romance an all time favourite
Soft tears it always brings
My heart sometimes sings
As I long to savour it
Classic tragedy comes next
With Othello, Macbeth and Hamlet
Into every castle and chalet
Though the dialect is complex
Flying with fairies and goblins
Forgetting all but neverland
Merryweather and her magic wand
And the caravan of the Bedouins
The sacred passion of reading
Opens a whole new world
Where new ideas gets unfurled
And life takes a whole new meaning
so wily and smooth, he boasts
he can make huge profits
among Sahara Bedouins
selling them mounds of sand;
so shrewd and suave, he brags
he can convince Eskimos
right in their igloos to buy
from him expensive tons of snow;
now so quiet and cold, he still
touches those he outsmarted,
even in his grave, in the ground,
with the sand, 'neath the snow.
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