Posted by: Ron DuBour | July 14, 2014

I am not sick yet feeling nausea~by Abdul Wahab


 

 

I am not sick yet feeling nausea

I am not sick yet feeling nausea
Not by seeing the posts of wailing Palestinian mothers
Kissing the frozen faces of their children of six and seven years
Disfigured beyond recognition
And strained with fresh blood crimson red
By the booms and missiles dropped over their heads
From airplanes fashionably named F-16
Supplied to a tiny Hell nation, Israel by the big brother USA
But I am sick by the loud and grotesque
Reactions from their spiritual silence
From the men and women whose pen went violent
When Malala Yousafzai was shot
And the inhuman deeds done by Boko- Haram
Oh, I should blame myself
For my forgetfulness that
This world is getting polluted
Then where shall I get pure and innocent
Hearts blood and mind
Like that of six seven years martyred child
Then where shall I find uncooked
History, reason and logic
As fresh as rays, rain and green leaves
Untrudged by the steps of bias and prejudice
Untouched by the slaves’ mentality of either fear or favor
And free from the crocked grip of human greed
That the Holy land belongs to the Palestinians
From the century seventh
From the time of building the ‘’Dome of the Rock’’
And where shall I go to see that

This truth is accepted well without any ill argument
I am not sick from the posts from my friends and foes
Stating ‘safe Israel ‘
And ‘Israel has every right of self-defense ‘
And seeing races and religions backing Zionist
And uniting against Palestinians
And showing delights over the deaths
As I had seen Nero fiddling
While Rome was burnt
Seen brighten faces of Changhees, Halagus
Hitler and George Bushes
When Mosul was plundered
Bagdad was bombed to stone age
And millions of Jews were slaughtered in concentration camps
But I am sick with the infertility of minds
Of the present Muslims throughout the world
Who sit lame ducks upon hills of wealth and swim
In the well of oil and gases
And like cranes push their beaks into the sand of ignorance,
Rise up only when their balls Titillate
To play playboys, to pass time womanizing
I am in awe to see them in luxury
And I am astounded too to see their bravery
When they practice fratricide
But never know where their buttons of defense are
When they are under attack by brutes or beasts
When they are needed most
They were not like that

They have forgotten they are the sons of Saladins
Within few centuries their forefathers won half of the globe
And gifted it as garland to wear round their necks
Threw it as offering to their feet
What is needed most now is to kick
The ass of those fatalists who avoid hard works and science
And seek solace in praying only
It is time to whip the skin red of those leaders
Involved in corruptions
And failed to provide funds for research and development
Whip them red, man
Whip them red
Who sow seed of disunity and stand as bones
In cementing brotherhood and fraternity
And disregards your safety and security
Whip them red
Otherwise the world will whip you red.


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