Tag Archive: terror


a child of war and terror

art by banksy





a child of war and terror.



 


as she lies bleeding,


the girl who skipped, hopped to school,


all of nine and a half years old,


with ribbons in her hair and a laugh that was her father’s pride.


 



as she lies bleeding,


shrapnel lodged in her torn stomach,


she stares at her skipping rope,


blood soaking it the colour of cherries her mother buys.


 



as she lies bleeding,


she sees human shapes all around, thick in the black smoke,


blurred visions of scattering feet, 


shoes left behind,

hearing nothing but the pinging in her smashed eardrums.


 



as she lies bleeding,


she slips away and then she is dead,


a mangled heap of a nine and a half year old girl,


whose laugh was her father’s pride.


 


 


as she lies bleeding,


even in death she bleeds some more,


shrapnel wedged in her torn stomach,


stealing the light from her bright innocent eyes.




as she lies bleeding …



in jallianwala bagh in ‘19,

johannesburg in ’93,

leningrad in ‘42,

freetown in ‘98,

soweto in ‘76,

beirut in ‘85,

hanoi in ‘68,


st. bernadino,

manchester,

baghdad,

brussels,

london,

tripoli,

miami,

jenin,

paris,

kabul,

raqqa,

basra,

mosul,

gaza,



aleppo still.


 


as she lies bleeding,


a little nine and a half year old girl,


whose laugh was her parent’s pride,


we know she’ll bleed more,


tomorrow and in many tomorrows yet unborn,


with shrapnel in her stomach,

ripped open and torn.


 

as she lies bleeding,


a child of war and terror.






art from google








apples and spinach … … …

​the foul odour of scarred flesh.


the reeking decomposition.


bodies once animated, once so alive, now strewn across the moist ground.



the surgical strike.


pin-point accuracy.



the smartest weapons, deployed, to decimate the bad guys.



black and brown people, more often than not, pummeled to a pulp, black and blue.



while LCD screens miles away, surveill, scanning for potential targets, the unknown other.



the evil doers,



as mothers and daughters, pick out apples and spinach


in a market-place in the cross-hairs

Buchenwald – 1979

walking towards horror,
my seven year old eyes,

were sewn open on that day at Buchenwald.

the reeking stench of death
was by now,
lost to the winds,

and ahead,

stood Buchenwald Concentration Camp.

Never Again!

we have said,
over and over,

and over and over,
but, but,

as Erich Fried* wrote,

it happened,

it is happening now,

and it will go on happening if nothing is done to stop it from ever happening again** …

    ____________________

* Erich Fried 1921 – 1988.

http://allpoetry.com/Erich-Fried

** taken from and inspired by Erich Fried’s poem “What Happens”

http://poetrypill.blogspot.com/2009/04/what-happens.html?m=1

afzaljhb@gmail.com

bigotry is binary – a rant

image

Niemoller

instilling fear,
sowing terror,
masked bigots seeking to silence us all.

instilling fear,
sowing discord,
blustery politicians seeking to terrify us all.

instilling bigotry,
entrenching hate,

schizophrenic fascism gestates,
                sinking fanatical talons into the corpse of humanity,

feeding hate,
sowing racism,

doctrines of superiority mutates.

bigotry is binary,

there are no shades of grey,
no colours of the rainbow today,

bigotry is binary,

we’re either white or wrong,
my religion right or wrong,
my country right or wrong,

many heads of the hydra,
monsters reared to prey,

while bigots of all shades,
spew hate as they pray …

image

Madiba

a child of war

image

a child of war.

as she lies bleeding,
the girl who skipped, hopped to school,
all of nine and a half years old,
with ribbons in her hair and a laugh that was her parent’s pride.

as she lies bleeding,
shrapnel lodged in her torn stomach,
she stares at her skipping rope,
as her blood soaks it the colour of cherries her mummy buys.

as she lies bleeding,
she sees people all around thick black smoke,
blurred visions of scattering feet, shoes left behind,
hearing nothing but the pinging in her smashed eardrums.

as she lies bleeding,
she slips away and then she is dead,
a mangled heap of a nine and a half year old girl,
whose laugh was her mother’s pride.

as she lies bleeding,
for even in death she bleeds some more,
shrapnel wedged in her torn stomach,
stealing the light from her bright little eyes.

as she lies bleeding …

in jallianwala bagh in ‘19,
leningrad in ‘42,
freetown in ‘98,
soweto in ‘76,
jenin in ‘02,
hanoi in ‘68,
beirut in ‘85,

raqqa now,
basra still,
gaza too.

as she lies bleeding,
a little nine and a half year old girl,
whose laugh was her parent’s pride,
we know she’ll bleed more,

tomorrow and in many tomorrows yet unborn,

with shrapnel in her stomach,
ripped open and torn.

as she lies bleeding.

N O T
          I N
                M Y
                       N A M E …

then they came for the ______________

( fill in the blanks, Mr. Trump )

be careful,
the extremists appear to be on the ascendancy,

the brutal murderers of daesh and the neonazi drivel of trump,

so be careful: guard your mind,

never forget,
remember,

always,
always remember:

“first they came for the Communists …”

image

H O P E

there’s always hope, I suppose,

so I still cling onto it,

a wishful hope perhaps,

that there will come a day,

when,

those who profess to believe in a higher being,

an almighty, or many,

will listen to what the tenets of the myriad creeds of the ‘almighties’ to whom they pray each day,

say.

Yup, a vain hope it may be indeed,

that these holier-than-thou ‘believers’ would,

or could,

for maybe just a little while,

shut the hell up?

and actually listen,

to those humane tenets that we are told are present in every creed,

and maybe then,

if they shut the heavens up for a bit longer,

they may actually,

really,

for once,

to all those glorious words,

pay some heed.

Ps: I mean if one claims to be a ‘fundamentalist’, it follows that its obligatory to follow the ‘fundamentals’, erm like let’s take this really, really ancient one as an example:

“Thou Shalt Not Kill”

Yup.

That would be a good start

peace | love | uBuntu

The Infidel …

The Infidel …

The infidel writes,
blasphemes,

rejecting cellophane sermons.

The infidel whispers,
cursing,

the benevolence of the higher power.

The infidel chokes,
gagging,

on the odour that emanates,
from self-righteous mouths.

The infidel waits,
patiently,

for the retribution that must arrive.

The infidel casts off,
the labels of faith,

of belonging,

of sanctimonious snobbery.

The infidel refuses,

To beseech the merciful god,

And to cower,
And to kneel.

The infidel stands,

At times alone …

“Let him who is without sin cast the first stone”Jesus Christ

The Siege of Kobane …

(Saturday 11th October 2014)

The resistance stands,

Kobane stands,

it’s defenders armed with Kalashnikovs and the fierce will of a people refusing to be cowed,

the resistance against the perversions of ISIS stands,

today,

in the streets of Kobane.

The battles rage on,

as we type these words,

as you read these lines,

the resistance against ISIL barbarity holds firm.

Kobane stands!

Still!

Kobane has not fallen!

Viva the Resistance!

Alan Henning (Rest in Peace)

Alan Henning
(Rest in Peace)

A working – class man of conscience,

is dead.

Murdered by ISIS,

killed by hateful bigotry,

Alan Henning is dead.

Shame on you!

you who wield knives in the name of religion.

Shame on you!

you who take lives whilst chanting God’s name.

Shame on you!

you who rape,

pillage,

murder,

and murder.

Alan Henning is dead.

A working – class man,

a father,

a husband,

a friend,

a man of conscience.

Alan Henning is dead,

yes,

you killed him,

but,

but,

but,

you will not kill us all,

for we shall always,

always be,

many many more.

We SHALL always be many many more!

Rest in peace,  Alan Henning

afzaljhb@gmail.com

A Child of War …

a child of war…

 

as she lies bleeding

the girl who skipped and hopped to school

all of nine and a half years old

with ribbons in her hair and a laugh that was

her father’s pride

 

as she lies bleeding

the warm bullet lodged in her torn stomach

she stares at her skipping rope

as her blood soaks it the colour of the cherries her mummy buys

 

as she lies bleeding

she sees the people through the thick black smoke

blurred visions of scattering feet and shoes left behind

hearing nothing but the pinging in her blown-out eardrums

 

as she lies bleeding

she slips away quickly and then she is dead

a mangled heap of a nine and a half year old girl

whose laugh was her father’s pride

 

 

as she lies bleeding

for even in death she bleeds some more

the warm bullet wedged in her torn stomach

steals the light from her bright little eyes

as she lies bleeding

in jallianwala bagh in ‘19

leningrad in ‘42

freetown in ‘98

soweto in ‘76

jenin in ‘02

hanoi in ‘68

beirut in ‘85

raqqa now

basra still

gaza too

 

as she lies bleeding

this little nine and a half year old girl

whose laugh was her father’s pride

we know she’ll bleed and bleed some more

tomorrow and in many tomorrows yet unborn

with that warm bullet in her stomach

ripped open and torn

 

as she lies bleeding..

afzaljhb@gmail.com

https://mobile.twitter.com/hashtag/notinmyname

afzaljhb@gmail.com

Buchenwald – 1979

Buchenwald – 1979

walking towards horror,

my seven year old eyes,

were sewn open on that day at Buchenwald.

the reeking stench of death
was by now,
lost to the winds,

and ahead,

stood Buchenwald Concentration Camp.

Never Again!

we have said,

over and over,

and over and over,

but, but,

as Erich Fried* wrote,

it happened,

it is happening now,

and it will go on happening if nothing is done to stop it from ever happening again**

* Erich Fried 1921 – 1988.

http://allpoetry.com/Erich-Fried

** taken from and inspired by Erich Fried’s poem “What Happens”

http://poetrypill.blogspot.com/2009/04/what-happens.html?m=1

afzaljhb@gmail.com

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