Posted on by EAT

Conflicts

As I watched the invasion and occupation of Iraq unfold, I found it impossible not to read between the lines. American citizens had no say on the matter. The corporate-funded Bush administration saw an opportunity to profiteer, and did so without hesitation, remorse, or apology. For me it was impossible not to feel disgusted by it all.

Conflicts

Enlightened nations strive to finalize the fighting;
Corrupted countries seek to formalize the fighting.

Our eyes are shocked by sparks that fabricate a tyrant;
Plantations build machines that specialize the fighting.

In armchair comfort, watch desultory announcements,
As new and modern methods socialize the fighting.

These stucco walls are filled with countless indentations
Where urban drive-by shootings normalize the fighting.

In air-conditioned rooms with ornamental index,
Fat pashas point to maps and analyze the fighting.

We must protect our rights to unfettered consumption;
Such senseless words are used to moralize the fighting.

There waving on the wind in arrogant defiance,
The stars and bloody stripes now symbolize the fighting.

Those ancient words of peace are converted for battle;
Religious reasons rise and catalyze the fighting.

A single life, Zahhar, exemplifying stillness,
A thousand years from now may neutralize the fighting.

This is my 119th ghazal.

Posted on by EAT

Emaciation

I am going through the poetry I’ve written since ’92 and organizing their titles and properties into a database, as much to learn about Microsoft Access as to organize my writing for keeping track of submissions and for other purposes. When I read this over, I realized it might be worth having here on my blog. I was bold to compare myself with Rumi and Hafez in this ghazal, especially considering my abilities at the time I wrote this, but it does have its redeeming qualities.

Emaciation

Long ago, before her depths fed mad conglomerate needs,
This blood-soaked sand was fertile land that met more moderate needs.

Winds rise up and desert storms destroy ten thousand homes,
And hungry ghosts feed on decay to glut degenerate needs.

All short-sighted might, the Great Machine consumes the world,
Proclaiming all the while to meet the world’s agglomerate needs.

Liberation brought their bane of plunder, ruin and rape,
For raging hearts were finally freed to sate intemperate needs.

Crimson streaks of blood now stain the bedding of our hope,
And fifty bullet holes present the West’s adulterate needs.

Time will sweep the cross and crescent both to forgotten dust;
No-one will remember their strife or their commensurate needs.

Hafez and Rumi, were they here, might have written the same;
You are obliged, Zahhar, to plead the poor’s confederate needs.

This is my 118th ghazal.