THURSDAY, JULY 17, 2014
Gaza Concentration CAMP by Marvin X
GAZA Concentration CAMP
There are those who say we must restore peace to GAZA
Peace in the concentration camp
Peace of genocide
Peace no protest allowed
Submit to starvation
humiliation
stunted life
hell on earth
hell on earth
No protest
peace before anything
peace before anything
Before justice
Before life even
peace
Let the people of GAZA sing silent night
Holy night
All is peaceful
All is right
Under the shadow of death
Let there be peace
No justice
Peace
With boots on our necks
Mass murder but peace
At all costs
Hamas Rockets to no avail
Iron Dome is our gift from USA
Iron Domes is saving our asses
Iron Dome is our gift from USA
Iron Domes is saving our asses
From land, air, sea you attack
Mighty Mouse you are
Iron Dome Mouse
Look at you
Wild wild West beast
No thought of justice
Just peace
Peace be still.
--Marvin X
7/17/14
Palestine |
| I am not an Arab, I am not a Jew Abraham is not my father, Palestine is not my home But I would fight any man Who kicked me out of my house To dwell in a tent I would fight To the ends of the earth Someone who said to me I want your house Because my father lived here Two thousand years ago I want your land Because my father lived here Two thousand years ago. Jets would not stop me From returning to my home Uncle Toms would not stop me Cluster bombs would not stop me Bullets I would defy. No man can take the house of another And expect to live in peace There is no peace for thieves There is no peace for those who murder For myths and ancient rituals Wail at the wall Settle in "Judea" and Samaria" But fate awaits you You will never sleep with peace You will never walk without listening. I shall cross the River Jordan With Justice in my hand I shall return to Jerusalem And establish my house of peace, Thus said the Lord. --Marvin X (Imam Maalik El Muhajir) Cerca 1970, Black Scholar Magazine Marvin X and Mohja Kahf: Two Poems for the People of Syria how much water can run from rivers to sea how much blood can soak the earth the guns of tyrants know no end a people awakened are bigger than bullets there is no sleep in their eyes no more stunted backs and fear of broken limbs even men, women and children are humble with sacrifice the old the young play their roles with smiles they endure torture chambers with laughs they submit to rape and mutilations there is no victory for oppressors whose days are numbered as the clock ticks as the sun rises let the people continue til victory surely they smell it on their hands taste it on lips believe it in their hearts know it in their minds no more backwardness no fear let there be resistance til victory. --Marvin X/El Muhajir   Syrian poet/professor Dr. Mohja Kahf Oh Marvin, how much blood can soak the earth? The angels asked, “will you create a species who will shed blood and overrun the earth with evil?” And it turns out “rivers of blood” is no metaphor:  see the stones of narrow alleys in Duma shiny with blood hissing from humans? Dark and dazzling, it keeps pouring and pumping from the inexhaustible soft flesh of Syrians, and neither regime cluster bombs from the air, nor rebel car bombs on the ground, ask them their names before they die. They are mowed down like wheat harvested by machine, and every stalk has seven ears, and every ear a hundred grains. They bleed like irrigation canals into the earth. Even one little girl in Idlib with a carotid artery cut becomes a river of blood. Who knew she could be a river running all the way over the ocean, to you, draining me of my heart? And God said to the angels, “I know what you know not.” But right now, the angels seem right. Cut the coyness, God; learn the names of all the Syrians. See what your species has done. --Mohja Kahf |