Shipwrecked
He was Japanese, smiled politely
and took his shoes off
I smiled also, it was the right thing
for us to do, shipwrecked sat
in a rubber raft of the type leaving
Tripoli
Libya, where we murdered Gaddafi
and made a mess in the smaller
states he helped
All this because Tony Blair and the
loathsome French president bored
money from Gaddafi but didn't
want to pay it back
We had harpooned a whale with
a pen knife and a cycle pump
but we didn't have soy sauce and
let the beast go
A blue balloon in a sea of calmness
The setting sun teased us, throwing
gold coins into liquid jade.
At dawn, the Japanese gave me his teeth
and swam towards the rising sun
I gave the teeth to an elderly shark
that, in gratitude, piloted me to Mandalay
where i met another loser selling
pink oversized bra, suitable as tents
for the bombed-out people of Gaza
green plastic buckets and Nottingham
scarf,
The Japanese sent me a postcard offered
me, a Toyota at half-price
Racial harmony is about
common respect
Categories:
gaddafi, 8th grade, absence, angst,
Form: Blank verse
Ah, Marcus Garvey, you were a trier, but never destined a King
Easily made a fool of, if only you had half a brain you could win
Famed by your own notoriety, ideology based on incompetence
But, you've not gone through history, without acknowledgment
Giving birth to Malcolm X, who in 1965 dreams were shot down
Martin Luther King, another black, whites didn't as want around
Where Bob Marley's assassination attempt, rumored by the CIA
Black's standing up for their rights, never to see the light of day
Muammar Gaddafi, taken out on the orders of white supremacy
Opening the borders to African blacks, he is shown no clemency
I tell you I've met God in my dreams and he is not flamin' white
When he reigned before me, black, black as any moonless night
Categories:
gaddafi, allegory,
Form: Couplet
(Mary Custis was the wife of Robert E. Lee.
Union forces captured her ante-bellum
mansion in what is now Arlington Cemetery
and defiled it, because it was the only thing
of Lee's they could get their hands on.)
Suppose you kill Gaddafi and Hussein,
or sad old Nazis, huddled in the dock.
So what exactly do you think you gain?
Your own humanity is what you mock,
not them. The winners stringing-up the losers
can not be right. You heap your fury on
the halt and helpless. Beggars can’t be choosers,
but winners can. (Why not Ben-Gurion?)
Put Karadzic before a firing-squad
for spite, or just to entertain the flock,
but don’t disguise the ugly thing your lust is.
Don’t talk of Law, or Liberty, or God.
Go rape the home of absent Mary Custis,
if rape you must. Don’t dress it up as Justice.
Categories:
gaddafi, judgement,
Form: Sonnet
Gaddafi
I see America dancing in oil sodden nights, nostrils stinking the scent of death
Your ghost exorcising demons of colonialist clout, walking along banks of the lost river
River that lost its freedom
Your shadow suffocating under the smell of exile and scent of slums
Gaddafi, propaganda is fart, fart deodorizing the winds of the villages
I have a burning passion to bring back the dimples and wrinkles of this country.
Ghaddafi
Ich seh Amerika tanzen in öltriefenden Nächten, Nasenlöcher verströmen den Duft des Tods
Dein Geist treibt Dämonen kolonialistischer Macht aus, schreitet an Ufern des verlorenen Flusses entlang
Fluß der seine Freiheit verlor
Dein Schatten erstickt unterm Geruch des Exils und dem Duft der Slums
Ghaddafi, Propaganda ist ein Furz, Furz der die Winde der Dörfer deodorisiert
Ich spür eine brennende Leidenschaft, die Grübchen und Falten dieses Landes zurückzubringen.
Categories:
gaddafi, africa, allegory, anxiety, bereavement,
Form: Dramatic Monologue
Uncle Roo
I forgot to celebrate your 89TH
Birthday but as you turn 90
May be i will
Some how for the some reasons
You know it
Gaddafi Is dead
'king of kings'
who died like a mole in a hole
Was he buried in the sea or space?
Wise one i believe you know
Amin Is dead dead
'The king of Scotland'
Fell from his monarchy
Butcher of black
Far from black is buried
Mubutu Sese seko dead dead dead
'The leopard king
In the jungles of Zaire
Buried like a fox
Rests in peace?
Like Charles Taylor
The deer of Africa
Breathed and went breathless
In the cage
He shies away always
Now Mandela sleeps
The true son of Africa
Not a king but a son
Our Mandela
Our Tata
Is gone
Son who wasn't a king
A son you become a father
Mandela stands even when he sleeps
Sons stand Kings fall
My Mugabe
Will you stand or fall?
Categories:
gaddafi, africa,
Form: Elegy
Year 2011 dead, its body lying in state
With all its achievements, faults, flaws
Failures, ailments and deprivation's floodgate
Stock market collapsing, euro in Dollar’s claws
Italy, Greece and Portugal in financial mess
China and India vying for superiority
Osama shot dead, how else Obama could impress
His nation clamoring for changed priority
Hosne Mubark dethroned, Gaddafi slain
Syria witnessing blood bath, Middle East in gloom
In Pakistan corrupt leaders reign
Afghanistan proving Nato soldiers doom
New sun of 2012 has buried the past year
Faces of hope are shinning with glow
Flowers of anticipation blowing far an near
The sky dressed with colorful rainbow
The year will see Israel’s expansionism harnessed
From Iraq and Afghanistan US and Nato forces retreat
Palestinians wounds nursed and dressed
Kashmiris right of self determination with success meet
Nations will see the bride of prosperity usher
Peace and tranquility to prevail and rule
People not with war and killings suffer
Children not to see the bombings of school
New Year brings the promises new
New shine in eyes and new flame in hearts
Roses blushing with the kiss of dew
Hearts pricked with Cupid’s darts
Categories:
gaddafi, hope, people, uplifting,
Form: Rhyme
The Transitory
A feline has
Moved into the shed
Gave birth
Two six kittens
I’m looking for a hammer
To hit a nail
Into the wall and hang
Up a painting of Jesus with
His eyes closed
Looking remarkable like
Gaddafi when he was murdered
The painting is a fake
Kaddafi was not
I shall miss his splendid
Sky-blue uniform.
Categories:
gaddafi, satire,
Form: Blank verse
Muammar Muhammad Gaddafi;
'Brother Leader', dog of Tripoli.
People of Libya
happily say, "See ya!
Here's for Flight 103 - Lockerbie."
*Dead 10/20/11
Categories:
gaddafi, war,
Form: Limerick