Nightmare II: War Crimes

My worst nightmare is seeing children crying

scared to death

from bombs and the burning toxic galore

of illegal war

destroying souls and more

celebrated by the world’s lovers of gore

as its broadcasted to the masses

that it’s the  water for your planted fears

that you’ve been taught for years

to kill others

who don’t look like you

 

women and children, and men alike

are bloodied and traumatized

dying and hospitalized

wondering when their hospitals

will be attacked too.

 

Palestine, Syria, these arab sisters are victims of war crimes

all under the guise of terrorism

as if creating rivers of blood will drown ISIS

giving in to the lust and playing with chemical attacks

and torturing civilians alive

It will earn the safe western public a medal… for war on terrorism

raping women

kidnapping children

torturing men

an arab genocide

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Nightmare 1- Society’s trend

My worst nightmare is being bullied and outcasted

My worst nightmare is becoming homeless, dropped as a beggar

getting locked up

My worst nightmare is getting murdered

Getting in debt

lots of debt, neo-slavery

Having no choice but resorting to theft

having  no morals left but bravery

just as scary, getting raped and knocked up

and after that, getting raped by society, – no justice

while my innocence is surrendered

and that bastard is praised for his gender

given his future, and kissed on his ass

this reality is all worse than murder

because it’s accepted

and takes away lives

in worse ways than murder

a slow death

emotions and humanity snatched

likened to less than an animal

what a nightmare we live in.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Looking for the Unborn

Why dwell on the past when the future guarantees your self-worth

Why live on moments that are not different than death

It’s happened and it’s gone

It’s forever away

and nothing more than a figment

or a nightmare

The reason is, you are never alone.

Those who are like you are hiding just the same

Living in the past

of shackles and thorns, bleeding away

distraught and cold

they hope to find the sunshine

in something already rotting

They dig to see if there may be something left,

unborn.

A plea that it may regain the light and bud into a new life

But everyone knows, the past is like the afterlife.

Just death and memories

Instead search for respite, come out of your graves

begin your quest for inner peace

there’s no telling what fortunes lie ahead

except that you are in control of the piece of flesh in your chest

that creates the line between you and your past