Life is about taking breaths
But the most important times
Are when it is taken away
And all that haunts a displaced child
Is when their breath was lost then found again
From the moment a 3 minute warning is given
Where does one evacuate to
When already in a shelter
As bombs blast
And shots echoe in the near distance
When the ground shakes in pain
There is no time to think
No time to act as shrapnel came flying
To pierce their skin
And homes collapsed
Walls caved in
Only to harden their resolve
All out of tears
They no longer fall
When they get used to the pain
They recite the martyred like a grocery list
Mum
Dad
Brothers
Sisters
Aunties
Cousins
Uncles 
Friends
But­ the souls of lost ones are trapped in little hearts
Caged in past dreams
Where Fatima still comes to play with Aisha in the courtyard
Even with her head twisted off by the guards
Tariq and Abdul play marbles with charred fingers
Maha clings onto yesterdays that can never be the same
Where her father's farm was ripe 
And days were spent out in the field
A child sees a child does
So they accept they were born to die
And pick up a stone to fight
At least they must try to protect themselves
Even animals reserve that right
It's instinct
Basic defensive nature and survival needs
Yet the world condemns them
Serpents that bare snakes
They are terrorists in the making
As curses cry out from anger and hatred
A crime to be born in the middle east
The gates and borders of surrounding countries
Closed for their emergency
Where the only place to go is through the doors of heaven
Which are wide open
And in this case is it cruel of me to say
Maybe it is a better option
Than to live and die a thousand times over 
Mentally disturbed 
Overwhelmed with distrust
All that will be left are robots
That have nothing to lose
Time that should be spent in school
Is a time that will never come back
And everyday is a chance lost
Scars that will never be overcome
Eyes that have seen too much
These angels don't belong here

His squidgy wet nose prods my cheek

Ending another night’s sleep on the sofa

Our eyes meet

His happy, optimistic

Mine red, realistic, sad nearly sober

I stroke his silky chocolate brown head

An expression of expectation

Raised tan eye brows

Head cocked to one side

Long ears flopping

Happy mouth agape

Pink tongue lolling, panting

His mood is infectious

He spins to catch his elusive tail

Then checks for signs of my approval

He asks for nothing but love

I cast off my petty worries

Because for now...

I'll live in the here and now

A lesson instructed to me everyday

By my faithful canine companion

Before we face the world together

free internet 24-hour
Johnny Cash radio station
-all day long
the general listens-
plasma tv on the wall
silent bombs in Gaza
orange blossom specials
-they need plasma, don't they-
burn, burn, burn
-Cry, Cry, Cry-

r ~ 7/29/14

****** hands
By :Mehrdad Nosrati (Mehreshaer)
After a puerile toil to gain more of their bike
Now are sharing their limbs cut off and diffuse
None of these two brothers would go this far in that
And won’t accept the mangling tank driver’s excuse

Our disputations had a pen of words as proof
Not a weapon of brutality you offered
Ghazza kids, our witnesses at the divine court
Testify by the change ****** hands hope covered
*
I’m a shia and a sunni is my brother
With the same moslem’s heart hate your savagery  
But not we alone feel like this, real jews, christians
And other believers of overall world boundary

You seem not be aware of Ghazza long history
And what a marvelous role it had played during times
So go and read the bravery of Batis against
Alexander, When chanting and clapping for your crimes
*
Once again I and my sunni brother tonight
After saying our common prayer will decide
How to expose your red hands to criminal court
To affect most the history’s heart by our new pride

Folded into this numb-husk of unknowing,
undeveloped eyes, wrapped by distressed skin,
continue to peer, unseeing, accustomed
as they now are, to a feed of distant

Telegenically Dead. These short lives have been
socially shared and mocked,
as morgues overflow to floor;
impromptu fans recirculating mournings hot air.

There is little chance for grief on Day 13;
rage has to be spent like a brass cartridge
or slung stone, or drowned in red pools
mixed with the water of collective driblets.

Meanwhile a politician says something else.

Every night
it is so silent where I lay
that I can hear my heartbeat thump thump thump
in my head
outside a night jar coos
and in the distance I hear an owl call to someone unknown

Every night
my brothers and sisters cower in fear
the only lullaby are the sounds of the bombs that whistle overhead
I can hear their heartbeats thump thump thump
never knowing when one will fall on their heads.

I'm still stuck in day-drunk unemployment.
A millennial with eyes to a screen,
adopting a science
in a bedroom whisper for Gaza.

Now a writer of pretty words and clumsy verse,
there's no place for happiness
in forcing poetry. There are ribbons and bows
around the fenced-off trees,

there are notebooks of unfinished thought.
I'm searching the skies for a scrap of movement,
for some coded message
to **** the engine of war.

There's a wedding in the morning,
and there is somebody who still believes in love.
Rainbow confetti will kick in the sky,
a dandelion is born in the skull of old Palestine.

I'm still stuck in this new-age desperation,
a constant plea for peaceful completion.
I'm changing address
for a clean way of living,

in your sweet floral dress,
let this be the beginning.