The web-cam suicide
Death in 1's and 0's;
Transmitted via dispassionate cables and telephone lines,
Streaming grief and sad pleas -
Megabytes of despair,
The last ghazal of inebriated love!
Death in 1's and 0's;
The binary expression of muted cries,
The digital murmur of a broken heart.
Tears don't follow hypertext protocols,
The soul is not coded to turn a blind eye!
Transmitted via dispassionate cables and telephone lines,
Streaming grief and sad pleas,
Witnessed on your tube and mine -
The web-cam suicide.
The earth weeps
You fixed fence posts in this soil that my ancestors tread on and then called me an intruder.
You silenced my songs of this land and told me that I was subhuman.
You tore my soul away from this red earth and send me away to camps where my confused skin was dipped in
bleach and my eyes were forcibly glued to the crucifix.
You raped my mother under your Southern Cross, under the rainbow skies that wept day and night, and
buried your guilt in your farms, under the shining sinful trophies of your enterprise.
You baited my belly with poisoned flour,
You baited my soul with opium and grog,
And now you bait me with pity and disgust, and try to assimilate me into your fold with your sterile apologies.
You!
I want you to know that this earth weeps and in its rage the buried bones of your secrets will be revealed,
And you will be swept away to the shadows of the darkest nightmare that this land can summon.
3. Title: My little red revolution
My little red revolution
My little blue dreams
Complete with flags and placards,
Slogans and screams!
This morning the house was silent and empty,
But then a dying dog was installed in my doorway,
And the judgmental shuffle of feet,
The smell the champagne and the taste of cheese
Woke me up rudely and compelled me to pick my brain apart
Leaving strands of my hopes and desires smeared all over the carpet in the name of art.
So I protested.
I PROTESTED!
I found a rubber tube
And since I couldn't find tanks to throw stones at
I shot up my vein.
My little red revolution
My little blue nightmares
Complete with flags and placards,
Slogans and screams!
Nighttime in Baghdad
The shock and awe of warheads
And roses of the desert bloom in many shades of red.
It's nighttime in Baghdad
And explosions spawn a thousand suns.
Shrapnel race away in their chariots drawn by willing horses
And inscribe the poetry of war on soft flesh.
It's nighttime in Baghdad and neighbourhoods are graveyards
Where ghosts are limbless
And wander without purpose into parks that are booby trapped;
Some drive trucks that are wired with improvised cruelty,
Into check posts with messages of hate
Or love
Or both
Or heat and light
And pain.
It's nighttime in Baghdad
And the green zone is a junkyard
Full of metal and bones,
Prayers beads and photographs of children,
Nametags and hope.
The air is red and blue
And full of screaming sirens
And stretchers.
Another night has turned day in Baghdad
And the roses of the desert bloom in many shades of red to greet the radiant sun.
Over there and here
Here we sit around the green oval drinking lemonade and beer
And the boys in their whites like angels promised unto piety
Dip into kits - forage, examine and discard.
They swing their bats in practised reflection,
Some bounce the cherry red ball on the grass
And others stride like pilgrims to the sunbaked shrine.
Over there, the boys crowd in narrow lanes,
Under the gaze of buildings the colour of willow.
They spit dust and shout over rickshaws.
Someone tosses a corroded coin
And they scramble for the bat with its missing bits consumed by concrete.
Over here and there the umpire calls 'begin',
The ritual of life is played out
And the trials of the hunter and the hunted begin.
