Your day is done

Your day, like those others 

Which came and is now gone

Is a day that had to be,

 Bitter lost than better won.

It's a day that, alas! has come

But a day we bitterly knew,

Would spare all in life,

Fornever and none anew.

You own the truth?!

So I heard you own the truth?

Flanked by the numbers,

All brainwashed and made blind

You think you have the proprietary handle

On my reason-loaded mind?

But behold, you are the fool

Hidden behind big numbers,

All hallucinating an afterlife,

Today, in eternal slumbers.

You want me want,

You want me wish,

Because you are

A shoal of  fish 

In a fathomless sea 

Swimming in dark,

Fearing a fictitious shark!

Ignorant but consumed by fear

Only believing what you hear;

And I get to swim afloat the tide

In all the glory of light,

And I get to sail with pride

Enjoying all in sight.

So jealousy or blind arrogance?

How is your version a better truth,

Wake up and seize the [last] light,

Your chance to life before you lose.

Was!

Gentle plateaux and a little spike

My history is a divided past,

I am not, and there I was!

And here, back to am, at last!

Of the span of time which I like,

But why, I know, nothing to say

That little life, little spike

Counted the most by end of day.

Children of Yarmouk

Mamma is dry
And daddy,weak
My siblings,
Shot and sick.
I asked for help from above
But only came planes that roar
Laden with bombs of death
And salt to my oozing sore.
Mamma is dry
And daddy is weak,
It's now my turn
To go and seek,
For crumbs of food
Beneath the grass,
Hoping,one day,
This too shall pass.

Letter to oppressor

You excel me in links and ties
You might have the muscle might,
I am the human with little guilt,
But more conscience and will to fight.
Sooner or later but sure in time
Lost shall be your upper hand
While your  muscles shrink and die
My grand ideas will stand:
The idea of peace and love,
Human respect and dignity,
These are the weapons I have to spare
These are the muscles of eternity.

Fire and gold

Fire tests gold,
They say of old;
Fire I caught
And gold I sought,
I only  saw and all afar
A frightened molten brass
That only came to save a face
Once the fire had come to pass.

Little Powledge

Little power and little knowledge,
How lovely a couple they seem!
Little knowledge brings peril
So little power does scream!
Little knowledge and little power,
They have sort of a common pact:
To grow together or die,
Or forever remain intact.