For 46 years - prideful and hateful
Wrath, envy, spreading the net
Building an A-Bomb, a decision fateful
A sword to be held, like eternal threat
Destruction, murder, elimination
Iran, to wipe Israel off the map
A sordid task for the whole nation
Stubborn threats, boasts, contempt
It was their purpose, the goal, the aim
To end every Jew on planet Earth
Fanned hot Middle Eastern flame
To Hamas and Hezbollah, they gave birth
Spread the tentacles, to suffocate
To build an Islamic Republic empire
Never learned from the old caliphates
They are all gone, purged by fire
Lusted for bomb, to be held as a club
Over every fearful head, forever
Wanted to enter the atomic club
By picking the locks and feeling clever
The last mile, they were almost there
To grip the victory with the jaws
Removing all stops, and didn’t care
Moving forward without pause
But no, those dreams never came to pass
Atomic Persia, the purveyor of dread
Where are you now, evil top brass?
Someplace unfound, unburied and dead
June 16, 2025
Categories:
caliphates, war,
Form: Rhyme
The towers burned ...
Billows roiling and twisting into azure
An oily, angry monster to thrash the morn
Consuming two flowers of steel
Raping a world's innocence ...
The petals fell ...
Colors fluttering in the late-summer air
Precious petals, rich with limbs and lives and loves
That plunged the sunny splendor, screaming
And turned the earth crimson ...
The heavens wept ...
Ashen, poisoned tears of mad malice
Careless caliphates, crying sin from a foreign sky
Shrouding a free world, brought to its knees
Where it found its greatest ...
Strength.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Enter The 'Any Poem You Want To Write 180 Words Or Less" Poetry Contest, Caren Krutsinger, Judge & Sponsor.
Categories:
caliphates, courage, freedom, memorial, metaphor,
Form: Free verse
Two throws of tens and let the dice roll,
that some may live, and some may die,
and at death, are comforted by soul’s mantle light.
For deep beneath a vast ocean of lies,
that have always foretold a promised place -
where no righteous man or woman have ever been …
Is where bright stars never rise or fall,
and wide rivers that cease to ebb and flow,
where angel’s trumpets neither sound nor blow -
Is where blindness shadows endless tears,
and jihadist dreams that fall on deafened ears,
where lost Caliphates, Mullahs and prostrate Emirs …
Is where emptiness has no regrets,
a naked silence, shattered monuments,
where four seasons weep, and all Heaven ends -
for their faith’s reward - is abandonment.
Categories:
caliphates, islamic, judgement,
Form: Rhyme
Shatters of our loins;
Trepidating high on the mountain sigh
Caliphates on the shoulders of power
The Jungle; a psyche for warriors
I fear not; for its aim are-
Alas, a country jabbed!
The reeling ridge; bridges to leech-
On the stenchy throne; matyrs made,
On the stenchy throne; history made.
A plunging ocean!
The reeling ridge.
The reeling ridge! Tempo high;
Nigh, the reeling road!
A stain; the road to victory,
The reeling ridge.
Categories:
caliphates, satire
Form: ABC
The heart of fundamentalism beats in desert sands
pumping hate and cash through veins to limbs in many lands,
bringing life and means to hands who long for fire and chains,
a lust for killing stories till a single narrative remains
A country built on gold as black as the deeds that it enables,
where womens rights are just a dream, and the human kind a fable,
of rampant migrant slavery built on economic exploitation,
the keepers of the Ka’aba and the narrowest interpretation
No brotherhood of faith when disagreement draws fresh blood
and when the blade argues over the tongue you’re soon lost in the flood
of bitter retribution, of revenge on faceless foes,
of targets drawn through worship and a rift that will not close
Funding bombs and beheadings to further divide and separate,
a xenophobic attitude of difference viewed through hate,
of pious pawns and dreams of Caliphates on bloodstained squares
whilst the innocent are slaughtered and Muhammad’s ghost despairs
Categories:
caliphates,
Form: Rhyme
That is truth,
in England
all people have looked as polished talents and genius,
even a driver there
or porter, or steward,
or begger, or trader,
or stealer, or priest,
or head of ministry
do not work without great quality and service.
There is, seem, only one stupid man - mister Bean,
who prevailed all brilliant persons given together.
They are all have made themselves
as they want and planned
through successful work
and competition
in various branches and activities
of high improved community,
while the others unlucky
inhabitant of authoritarian countries,
post-soviet states
and Islamic caliphates
as the Iranian regime
that must proud only with Omar Hayam
in last millennium,
have had a very small portion
of really famous and respected men
or just intrinsic professionals.
And their waste majority
looks like as screws in clock,s engine,
or as soldiers in training camp of rebuilding empire,
or as religious fanats in Friday namaz
or as new slaves
in collective farm and weapon producing factories.
They have not any chances
for arise to personality
in terms of quality and standards
so usual for British community.
Categories:
caliphates, england,
Form: Parallelismus Membrorum