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No words to rescue this
thought detention.
Once a stream flowed
through this now barren land.
Imprisoned are my feelings.
Lonely are my days.
..
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Maybe tomorrow.,
But tomorrow never came.
Today, my skies
are painted.
Brushed skillfully grey with,
promises of your lies.
Maybe tomorrow, ..
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My hometown to which I'm not "allowed" to return
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Adapted from a longer poem in Arabic I wrote on our first night.
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I’m a convict of my past,an inmate of my present,an accused of my future.Crimes which I have not committed,and will not commit.But it seems, i..
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Poor Marvin,
He was ninety three years old.
Slowly, he froze in bitter cold.
I guess his neighbors were busy
singinga silly song.
in a world ..
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In memory of many
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We’re very strange, indeed.
We pay debt with more debt,
we wage wars while paradingPeace,
and feed hunger with greed.
So very strange,..
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This humble pen
bleeds tonight,
on a forsaken page.
In a story of human plight,
and
not so uncommon carnage.
It bleeds the wounds of flowe..
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In such a world of conflict, a world of victims and executioners, it is the job of thinking people, not to be on the side of the executioners.- Albert..
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