Another American Colony
poisoned with venom and hate
Consumed by the world’s great religions
apparently, this was its fate
The Palestine homeland was stolen
by the powerful in our world
They took it and gave it to others
named it Israel, a new flag unfurled
Then created a thing they call AIPAC
for the funneling of funds every year
Take American taxpayer dollars
with each bomb that is dropped, they all cheer
The Parties all do it together
Jews and gentiles sign-off on the funds
Together with makers of weapons
we all pay for the bullets and guns
America’s funding a genocide
our Senators and Reps have no shame
As the people pay all of the taxes
together we share all the blame
Netanyahu, a villain and killer
has a bank that’s called US of A
Anytime that he wants to kill Gazans
AIPAC’s ready with money to play
As for Schumer, he has in his pocket
Booker, Jeffries and Torres and more
It is why he keeps running for office
to keep Israel funded for war
Now the Trumps plan a new Riviera
by Republicans they will be led
With American taxpayer money
they will build it on all of the dead
Jesus was Palestinian
At this sad time
solemn remembrance
200,000 plus slaughtered Palestinians
bombed and shot
like fish in a gold fish bowl
none will come back to life
in three days or ever
children lost
murdered by the most evil
cult in the world
Bethlehem surrounded yet again
bagpipes will prevail..........
The Palestinian memory is a divine chapel
for the ones who are faithful to it,
keeping hope.
Memory is light, a prayer, a sojourn, a treasure,
that makes us dream, of a free Palestine.
They might resort to genocide,
but memory delivers a fatal blow,
that saves the day, that keeps intoxicating our imagination.
The whole parade of bombs can never extinguish its fire;
memory is the brush fire, on history's canvas, from river to the sea.
Where have you gone gentle dreamers?
Where is the humanity you thought you knew so well?
When did they change and how they lost their luster?
How did you turn into a resolute refugee?
You finally found their true nature,
West is a paper dove, reeks of cruelty,
you have only yourself to count on, fearsome dreamer.
When did you learn how much this land is worth fighting for?
When did you turn the table on your cynicism?
That this land is worth everything you're giving?
You're so brave and so warm-hearted, or was it fear of losing it
that it all started?
This rage inside of you is worth the land you're fighting for.
You hate it but it's true, war is hell but you know how it started.
This land is yours, will never be stolen.
You never lost your dream and one day
they'll know they didn't know you well.
Take the land, take the sea, it's yours.
Le them go to war to steal it, this land is for ever yours.
No, I'm not one of those who say, "It's nothing, it's collateral damage for just cause."
How much I regret this plight of conscience,
people walking around unmindful of the tragedy.
Have they no trace of humanity?
Are there no rules of war?
Is genocide allowed?
The spirit of contradiction marks the West, shattering tranquility of academic ivory towers, desperately requiring Nietzschean jailbreak; their sorrow is shallowest thing, they're afraid of their own shadow.
Look no further than Nazi atrocities,
are there no lessons from history?
Follow not the logic of occupiers, colonizing morality.
They color the silence of their tongues with crocodile tears.
Under the Palestinian Olive Trees
They cut down the trees and shoot the farmers, unarmed, in the belly in plain view of IDF soldiers relishing the moment. Here in the West Bank, human rights is exiled and devoured by the fury of Torah-toting violent settlers spewing venom.
How sweet it is to die under the shades of their olive trees,
Binding them to their tortured history, and the wind that blows the branches dancing, oblivious to the daily terror, beating their conspiracy.
The olive trees whisper stories of love,
the hills sing ancient hymns,
witness to a message of hate planted by the separation walls,
thinking they would sink the farmers into submission.
But, the farmers watch, children keep playing, and the ghosts of centuries
past are guardians of the land.
See no evil...
The blood spattered floors
Settlers smashing down doors
Children manhandled and arrested
Peaceful folk, patience being tested
Rogue nation hell bent on genocide
Laws don’t apply, only for others to abide
Hear no evil...
The cries of Palestine
Born into oppression, their crime
Gunfire, bombs raining down
Death and despair in which they drown
Screams of anger, screams of rage
Nowhere to hide, trapped in their cage
Missiles screech, another family dies
Tyrants on tv, with the same old lies
Speak no evil...
World leaders, many tongues are held
Silence is defending, as innocence are shelled
Support for the oppressor they shout
Quiet now about freedom they usually spout
who, US?
by Michael R. Burch
jesus was born
a palestinian child
where there’s no Room
for the meek and the mild
... and in bethlehem still
to this day, lambs are born
to cries of “no Room!”
and Puritanical scorn ...
under Herod, Trump, Bibi
their fates are the same —
the slouching Beast mauls them
and WE have no shame:
“who’s to blame?”
for the mothers and children of Gaza
Frail envelope of flesh,
lying cold on the surgeon’s table
with anguished eyes
like your mother’s eyes
and a heartbeat weak, unstable ...
Frail crucible of dust,
brief flower come to this—
your tiny hand
in your mother’s hand
for a last bewildered kiss ...
Brief mayfly of a child,
to live two artless years!
Now your mother’s lips
seal up your lips
from the Deluge of her tears ...
Originally published by The Lyric; translated into Arabic by Nizar Sartawi; translated into Italian by Mario Rigli
Here and there
Everywhere
Like an exhalation
Here and there
Everywhere
Spasmodic Hiroshimas
Here and there
Everywhere
Ash in wings of foam,
Sandal-less dodders
Violently envious of
Fallen leaves
Transience naked
Here and there
Everywhere-
Nowhere
The eel