War, who’s keeping the score?

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Laymen
Of war I have only my minds glory,
The battle wounds are only imaginary,
I prattle my tongue in vanity,
As I sit in home’s comfort and serenity.

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Victims
But they have no minds, any more,
Obliterated, defunct by throes of it all,
Bullets for breakfast, shells galore,
Bombs delivered, to the font door.

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Politicians
There’s no trivialising, no making sense,
Of wars purposes, and hidden intent,
Irrespective of lies and agenda pretense,
On faces, in souls, in eyes, the damage is immense.

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Society
So go on complain, how your country has no room,
Admit it, you’re racist and in full bloom,
After your leaders destroy homes, bring utter doom,
Maybe if we called on natives of the earth to exhume.

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Natives
They’d attest to your murder and all your atrocities,
To your false establishment and forceful colonies,
Your utter racism, call it what it is; white supremacy,
Your indignation for humans and foreign policies.

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Soldiers
You left your lives behind under false gallantry,
To bring destruction and disharmony,
Proud with your guns in all your glory,
The truth of it all will hit you, and forever yours is misery.

17 Nov 2010, Ar Raqqah, Syria --- Sheikh Ghazi Rashad Hrimis touches dried earth in the parched region of Raqqa province in eastern Syria, November 11, 2010. Lack of rain and mismanagement of the land and water resources have forced up to half of million people to flee the region in one of Syria's largest internal migrations since France and Britain carved the country out of the former Ottoman Empire in 1920. REUTERS/Khaled al-Hariri (SYRIA - Tags: AGRICULTURE ENVIRONMENT) --- Image by © KHALED AL-HARIRI/Reuters/Corbis

Earth
The earth will bare witness for what you have done,
Will come your day when of no avail will be your tongue,
When it consumes you whole under it’s maggots you succumb,
Under the thumb, in the slums, you’ll remain for beating your war drums!
-W.E.

I’m tired of mindless drivel. Endless philosophising, arm chair experts and shallow coffee talk. The reality of the matter is we’re all responsible. There is too much comfort in our lives for it not to be partially our fault.
Until every human from every walk of life shares the luxury of peace and security, we’re all the problem.
Our lives and lifestyles need fuel and a catalyst, the catalyst is war, the fuel is raped from the lands that are wrought with devastation and destruction, with genocide and pillage and with a convenient amnesia by us all, and on, into oblivion we continue thinking we are innocent and not responsible for the atrocities. Until it stops, the blood is on all our hands.

-W.E.

 

A Poets Repentance.

repentance

How can poets repent?

When they carry the sin of every man and woman that lived before them and that will follow?

Maybe they don’t want to repent because repentance means giving up past vices
the vices that become their muses
the muses that fill their hearts with so much blood it tsunami’s into their mind
their mind can’t contain it
breaking ocean beds
smothering shores and pouring out into the pages of the city
swirling through drains
bubbling up through fountains
sweltering shop walls
drowning city halls
revitalising city parks
softening the foundations of sky scrapers
floating away old wooden shacks that have outlived their time
washing away the drunkenness of taverns
sobering the park bench inhabitants
cleansing the lanes from human waste.

Maybe they can’t repent because repentance means they can’t leave pen dents any more.
If they can’t dent a page
with love or rage
with lavender or sage
with wisdom of their age
with paying homage
to their forefathers gauge
how can they take the stage
of loves rib cage
give and engage
with the human masquerade?

Maybe they will be forced to repent
in which case
they’ll be the future generations embrace
the fire souls solace
the writer, rapper or activists brace
the stencils for children to trace
the soldiers about face of about face
the disbelievers worship place
the lovers lace
The freedom fighters giving chase
the farmers growth space
the peoples abandonment of haste.

Whichever way you look at it, a poet can’t repent, there’s things to be said which only the love off their tongue can expel and exorcise the demons out of us all with.

Priests, holy men and war mongers will all but surrender under the poets megaphone.

Be it as they may, torture them kill them or cut out their tongues, they cannot and will not repent.

To repent is to turn their back on everything past and future, severing the voice boxes of the children to come.

So off to martyrdom they go inviting death so that words may live.

Repentance after all is for the wicked!

-W.E.

Scholars and Warriors

scholars and warriors

“The society that separates its scholars
from its warriors will have its thinking
done by cowards and its fighting by fools.”
– Thucydides,
History of the Peloponnesian War (ca 410 BCE)

And what has become of todays society?

Brainless soldiers

Heartless scholars

Fashionable philosophers

Rapist politicians

Dishonest doctors

Manipulative media

Sheep common man

Women who tear their wombs out

Men who sever their genitals

Suck shit, reap what you sew!

-WE

Have you ever thought?

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Have you ever thought,

Asthma might be an allergy to breathing?
Because despite the ‘no, no there’s no proof’ from doctors,
my eyes don’t lie and my heart knows better,
this shit wasn’t as prevalent in my youth….
No, once every now and then you’d hear about an asthmatic.
Not every second child needed beta agonist’s
to do what their lungs were meant to do.
Not every second child was banned from having a peanut butter sandwich
because of fear they’d break out in a rash or worse choke from asphyxiation,

There’s that breathing again.

Wait stop, they can’t even be around a child that is having a peanut butter sandwich?
No they can’t even be around a child that didn’t have a peanut butter sandwich
but may have been around another child that had a peanut butter sandwich.
Have you ever thought about this?
Have you ever thought about why boys can’t even have a chocolate bar
even if it doesn’t have nuts in it but may have been produced in a factory that also processes food with nuts?

WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON!

Vaccination,
Medication,
Medicalisation,
Indoctrination,
Legalisation of forced inoculations,
Owned by corporations,
Creating patients of mass consummation,
Inflammation,
of organisms,
Brains and bellies and central nervous systems,
For what?
Sterilisation?
Control of population?
Americanisation?
Systemisation?
Engineering of civilisation?

It’s a scary situation.

Have you ever thought,

Blindness might be a mercy from seeing?
Because seeing bodies discarded and severed by shrapnel,
Is just as bad as swallowing
a capsule,
a mouth full ,
an ear full,
a gut full,
of hateful,
enticement through media rich-imagery that’s spiteful,
inciteful,
designed to excite you,
and at the same time scare you,
have you swayed like a pendulum, – un-remorseful,
No it’s not normal,
for it not to move you.
So what use are your eyes if this is what you see?
When they’re disconnected from the organ that inspires you,
to good, to beauty, to love, to sorrow, to pain, to forgiving… to you?

Have you ever thought,

Deafness is ease from hearing?
Listening to the gossip,
the lies,
the screams of what eyes,
were closed for but the ears could not escape,
the sound of souls extracted as death comes to take,
the innocent cries of motherless children taken in Gods sake,
the shrills of a woman being raped,
the sounds of fathers sobs over coffin drapes,
Its not a mistake,
the ears are not meant to partake,
in this senseless heartache,
this is stuff no soul should be burdened to take.

Have you ever thought,

That your thoughts were not yours,
Just rallied up scores,
Of effects and cause,
Like the deceit of the Moores,
April fools trickery of war,
Outlaws,
Mining your minds for flaws,
Just so their profit shares can soar,
To sell your habits like whores
To the highest bidder with more,
More money than clause,
So they can keep steering those thoughts,
as they please,
making you believe,
You’re free to conceive,
To achieve,
to retrieve,
Thinking memories you recollect are fact,
But if you retract
and delve a little deeper,
realise they planted that seed right from the start and you’ve been an asset,
a keeper
and been doing nothing more than responding to the carrot that’s dangled,
I can hear you all quip,
‘That’s a bit far fangled’.

Then again,

Have you ever thought?

-ME

Extremism has no religion.

extremism

If ever there was an example made that extremists are ugly no matter what hideous corner of belief they espouse, it has been in the viral story of fourteen year old Ahmed, singled out as an extremist and being far from it, ironically by real extremists, that is his school teacher, principal and the police force which mistreated him at the school.
You don’t have to blow up a building or slaughter innocents to be labelled an extremist, you can be so defunct and devoid of soul and character, utterly lacking in wisdom and sound judgement and be fuelled by ignorance but more predominantly your arrogance and reluctance to see any other view but your own, and that would make you far worse an extremist in my opinion.

#ISTANDWITHAHMED