Best Syrians Poems
Gadaffi! That hole in your temple
will put a full stop to your trample
of the poor Libyans.
So, now the Syrians
say, "Assad, step aside; that's a sample."
Behold the sun of two thousand twelve go
It rose on January one with pomp and show
Like dethroned Presidents of many countries whose
National wealth decline and personal grow
Two thousand thirteen ushers in
On it the people and nations their hopes pin
One more promise one more hope
Spain and Greece will climb up the slope
Portugal will once more its glory regain
New York will not be devastated by rain
Rulers and kings will perform such feat
The year will poverty and hardship defeat
Taliban and Al-Qaida will meet their doom
On the heads of Syrians death won’t loom
Deprivation and misery will rule no more
Greed and lust will see the door
Religious intolerance would be words unknown
Skies won’t see the flight of drone
Kashmiris and Palestinian’s plight will end
People would rally and freedom defend
Victory of justice protection of rights
Lust harnessed that misery invites
Human souls saved from hunger, disease
World will witness life expectancy increase
This will prove a different year
Hearts will know no tyrant’s fear
Back in 2013 the President 'resetting,' drew a line in the sand
Syria sprinted across it; faced no response from our end
So, Bashir Assad killed his own countrymen with chemical gas
hundreds upon thousands fled Syria, Europe's problem, alas*
Then near the end of his term, ignoring his every general's advice
DJT threatened to pull the plug on Afghanistan one night
--thought a quick exit for his 'resume' would be nice
And now JB's gone and done it, what a horrific choice we face
To recognize the Taliban, an admission of disgrace
A low blow to all our brave troops who died in that place
Yet if we cut off the Taliban; if we can't bite out lips
ISIS stands ready to blow Afghanistan to bits
Now I'm not just complaining; I've a simple solution at hand
No more Presidents play-acting Commander-in-Chief
-- without military service beforehand
Let's have a former soldier who honors and respects his command
who can discern perils in jungles, deserts and mountain badlands
If this means a separate office for Commander-in-Chief
I'm all for it: Enough of my countrymen's (and the free world's) disbelief
And if you feel I'm all wet, think 2029... Try to envision
AOC** reviewing troops, making life-and-death decisions
_______________________________________________________
*Even today, as I write this, Syrians homeless since 2013 are being
used as political pawns by Russia and Belarus, who have flown them
in (!) to crowd the border of Poland, where they 'live' in unsanitary,
makeshift 'cities' -- all as part of Russian blackmail to force Poland
and its European backers' hands. (Source: Wall-Street Journal,
November 13, 2021, page 1 report).
**Alexandra Ocasio-Cortez... a popular 30 year-old member of the
House of Representatives, an avowed Democrat-Socialist, who's
backed open borders, defunding the police, and many other such
'progressive policies.'
Yes modernization is here
Islamic rules have made it clear
Pick up a small stick
And beat her to the wick
Make her understand
Obey your command
Pakistan is the modern land
Live like a man and beat at command
Only though because you care
To make her subservient and thus obey
She must follow your Islamic commands
And bend over for perverted desires in your satanic land
Now death to Israel
For they have committed the crime
Of being modern in un-modern times
As they saved the wounded of Syrians blood
They embrace humanity
Pakistan grabs a small stick
And strikes fear in the sexes
My god is there no common senses?
Notes: This is not to condone or condemn any Country. Merely to show how at times biases take things way out of context. At times the world decries one death, as in humane as next door hundreds of thousands take place under the silent ones of oppression.
Secondly this is specifically about The Council of Islamic Ideology a powerful constitutional body that advises the Pakistani legislature whether laws are in line with the teachings of Islam. There interpretation is of course ludicrous and I am well aware true Muslim worshipers would never follow such violent and antiquated teachings.
This came about from the CNN article http://www.cnn.com/2016/05/28/asia/pakistan-women-light-beating/index.html on the topic. On weekends I often partake in discussions at a Middle Eastern coffee shop, people from all over the middle east, where we have lively discussions. So it’s of note that this poem was the summary and views of the Muslim mates are I was sharing tea with.
Of note, many of them in their own countries could never voice any dissenting views without being tortured or killed.
In Two Thousand Fifteen, Donald Trump stood firm
Said smart folks will soon come to learn
That the U.S. is in need of sounds from his horn
But he soon switched, for use of his trumpet
He's been blowing non-stop with no regret
He's Producer of fiery political script, don't forget.
This privilege trumpeter I soon began admiring
His consistent pattern of behavior is astounding
Saturday Night Live has nothing over him
The Don takes no hostage, but now he's lying
First, Dr. Ben hit his Mamma; then Mexicans come sinning
Next, his trumpet blew all Syrians down, none escaped him.
Donald J. Trump is star in his very own show
Neon lights flashes bright wherever he goes
His opponents' role, his hands can never slow
You'd think the Don's on Comedy Central show
Foreign and Domestic policies will take a toll
The Presidency's pendulum will surely fall.
Now, Hillary has the Don nit picking again
He's blowing, huffing and puffing... all to win
And because he's loud, I detect he hiding
Right behind that voice; that's not really him
I wouldn't be surprise to see him joining in
Switching sides, endorsing Hillary would be big win.
*
Well, well, Welby
Beg your pardon
He’s got three Poles
At the bottom of his garden*
And joining in with daily prayers
Some Syrians beneath the stairs
Asylum seekers in his shed
And Communists
Beneath his bed
He’s just doing what he can
To pander to the ‘common’ man
To separate the issues, see
Of race and the economy
With good intent, to bridge the gap
‘Twixt logic and the racist cr*p
For Welby is a diplomat
Just in case, and just like that
It’s not that we’re a racist state
Good luck with that one, Welby, mate
Imagine pubs across the land
The dodgy banter, beer in hand
That Archbishop got it right
We’re all white mate, we’re all white
Share our wealth with all the planet?
Outrageous! (outraged Bob from Thanet)
But what of all the fish and bread
With which five thousand mouths were fed
Would Jesus Christ have found it hard
To put up Poles in his back yard?
by Gail
* a play on the words of the English joke "Well, well, well, three holes in the garden"
A dirge for the ancient and modern
city.
Damascus a lamentations of the
blood spilling;
Of the blood of the dying crying
'avenge me' like Abel of old.
Of orphaned children lost in the
war of adults.
The wounds of Damascus are so
grievous that has defied
all treatments.
Swallowing its young generation
etched in hatred and
vengeance;
Of ideologies that consume the
very soul of Syrians
This is a lamentation for the wasted
generation, of a gap
deleted forever.
The city of Paul's crusades and
conversion.
Of foundations of a hundred
generations.
Damascus ancient and modern
on the brink.
Let’s scrape away those Palestinian Muslim Arab scums
To rightly make room for the Jews, God’s chosen ones.
In the name of God, King and Country, always to trust,
To slaughter the innocent children, too die if they must.
No lessons learnt, to follow 6 million corpses dust
That satisfied past glorious Germanic murderous lust.
In the name of God, King and Country, always to trust
To slaughter the innocent children, too die if they must.
Sword wielding followers of Mohammad, a Sunni Shia divide
Bring destruction one to the other, so millions have died.
In the name of God, King and Country, always to trust,
To slaughter the innocent children, too die if they must.
Be gone you Popeless protestant English bastard
For us Fenians to see the will of Jesus be mastered.
In the name of God, King and Country, always to trust,
To slaughter the innocent children, too die if they must.
If oil be the quest let war drums roll and bombs become rain.
So onward Christian soldiers, to Iraq and away with Hussain.
In the name of God, King and Country, always to trust,
To slaughter the innocent children, too die if they must.
Millions made homeless, endless suffering without pause.
Civil war is the call, now Syrians fighting another hopeless cause.
In the name of God, King and Country, always to trust,
To slaughter the innocent children, too die if they must.
And so to the future, a blond king is born, his war ships to sea
Yet concern there must be: Does he even know his ABC?
In the name of God, King and Country, always to trust,
To slaughter the innocent children, too die if they must.
There are lessons to learn, yet clearly history will show
That none shall take heed, even with nukes ready to throw.
In the name of God, King and Country, always to trust,
To slaughter the innocent children, too die if they must.
Yet fear not; delight in frocked men’s promises of a life ever after.
72 virgins promised, though beware of other Godly men’s laughter.
In the name of God, King and Country, always to trust,
To slaughter the innocent children, too die if they must.
John Jurkowski
27 March 2017
VII
There never was an army quite like Xerxes’.
Hyrcanians, Medes, Egyptians, Syrians, Scyths –
soon, Greece would grovel at its tender mercies –
a fate more gruesome than the grimmest myths.
It drank whole rivers dry. Took three days with
the crossing of the bridge. Then came a scare:
as Persian lava swamped its xenolith,
the portents were not good. A pregnant mare
gave birth to healthy offspring. But it was a hare.
VIII
A blundering boxer trying to swat a fly,
the Persian force could lunge, but could not kill:
it lost all credit at Thermopylae.
The Greeks, hard pressed, were in the battle still.
To win a war, you break the other’s will,
and this was not occurring. Could the key
be naval warfare? So, for good or ill,
Salamis earned its place in history.
The fleets would clash there. Whose would be the victory?
IX
A tyrant’s strength is his Achilles’ Heel.
His habit of command, of being obeyed,
occludes capacity to see and feel.
To trap them at their moorings seemed a raid
assured to smash the Greeks. Their fleet once flayed,
they could not go on fighting. They must lose.
But Persia’s pride, colossal numbers, made
disaster certain. Tangled, cramped, confused,
the sharks became the bait. For Xerxes, dreadful news.
X
“My bridge. Is it still standing?” Xerxes asked.
Oh, in that question, what a universe!
The pampered prince who - up to now - had basked
in sunshine felt a clutch of fear, and worse:
the tide of fortune, swinging to reverse,
began to drain him of all certainty.
The bridge was now his lifeline, and his curse,
his last hope and his vulnerability.
Persepolis lay far away, fenced off by sea.
XI
So, despots kneel before their own adventures,
become the playthings of their crazy schemes,
contract with Fate, creating wild debentures,
condemn themselves by sure-to-crumble dreams.
Unhappy with mere wealth, they seek extremes
which bring no comfort: sick ambitions bloat
and fester. Most familiar of themes,
Great Xerxes’ boasts grew more and more remote,
until the day his restless minions cut his throat.
It was a spark that lit the freedom path!
Young boys and girls broke out in wrath!
They wrote on walls what once was a dream.
“People want to overthrow this rotten regime”
Soon the police captured these tiny creatures,
And put them through all sorts of tortures
Their folks condemned their brutal cruelty.
And hit the streets demanding justice and equity.
Instead, police and troops fired with all disdain.
They shot them with bullets like torrential rain!
It was a horrible sight in a series of war crimes!
Assad has been committing a million times!!
For six long years he’s left no stone unturned!
He’s used all weapons, permitted and banned!
Bullets, rockets, barrels and chemical gases.
Syrians still wonder, “where are the masses?”
“Why don’t they raise a finger to help us?”
“Are they busy capitalizing on our loss?”
They hear a voice coming from far,
Saying something they find bizarre,
“Human rights and UN organizations,
Have all been lies and fabrications.”
The red flag flies at half mast
at the passing of a class lass
who paid a very high price tag
for defending those less able
she fought for Syrians and Palestinians
woman's rights and freedom
a champion of labour values
and a top draw parliamentarian
a loving wife and mother
you rocked jo Cox
rest in peace, my lovely
In USA,
There is a presidential election fight,
Well, everything seems to be alright,
It might be alright, everything seems tight,
Sometimes, I dream of a red sky,
The earth is cracking,
I'm slowly dancing
On your sweet love floor.
Turkey
Sends bombs for free into Syria, on the other side,
Well, it seems that nothing is more important than having pride,
When Syrians in Turkey need to hide,
I've never dreamed of a sky so red,
The earth is cracking,
I'm slowly dancing
On your sweet love floor.
The Greeks
Don't want to sell to Canadian consumers their gold,
Well, it seems that in Canada it is very cold,
Why is it so cold in Canada all the time and the gold isn't sold?
I really dreamed of a huge red sun,
The earth is cracking,
I'm slowly dancing
On your sweet love floor.
The world
Is waiting for a new shift of magnetic poles,
But, instead of this, earth makes gigantic craters called sinkholes,
Smart money makers lose the remote controls,
I really had a multicolored dream,
The earth is cracking,
I'm slowly dancing
On your sweet love floor.
Much more protesters
Want to change their lives and their presidents.
To feed their kids, they work 12 hours per day for a few cents,
It's something to think about, when life has no sense.
I dreamed of a world having a little pink,
The earth is cracking,
I'm slowly dancing
On your sweet love floor.
We were supposed to be discovered
By Columbus in Fourteen-ninety-eight,
But we had the Arawaks and Caribs
Already there, so Columbus was late.
We are a Cosmopolitan Nation
Of every color, creed, and race,
Call ourselves a Callaloo people
With all the mixture in this place.
The Black people or the Africans
Came to the Caribbean as slaves,
The Indians came as Indentured
As Laborers and not as Braves.
We also have a good blend
Of Chinese European, and Japanese,
Most of whom came to do business
Syrians, Koreans, and Lebanese.
But we thank God for our mixture
And now the whole world could see,
That people of many cultures
Can live together in harmony.
He had a human body,
but had a heart out of the ordinary.
He Loved everyone he met;
tax collectors, gentiles, Romans,
Caiaphas, lepers, Judas....irrespective
of who they were or what agenda
they held against Him.
He forgave the ones who plotted
for His arrest,
and those who nailed Him on the cross.
He still forgives us today,
for the follies we commit everyday.
If we are able to embrace His compassion,
we can forgive our haters, back stabbers,
con men, robbers.....and even our own
families and friends.
Israel will be at peace with Palestine;
racism will cease to exist;
nuclear warheads will be destroyed;
modern slavery will cease;
Syrians will return to their homes....
If we follow the steps of Jesus,
Heaven will come down on Earth!
Who am I?
A clergy once asked
Are you a drunken prophet?
Who is careless about every aspect of life?
No, you ain't
He doubted
?A forest gonzo who like to sing and dance to no rhythm?
It cant be, he replied soliloquiesly
Now tell, who are you?, he uttered
Then i said,
I am the summer leave
Fathered by wall gecko
In the midst of the 'wise fools'
Singing strange songs of the Syrians soldiers, I arrived