Pixelated People

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Images appear

every day and night;

I look but do not see

the pixelated sight


of flesh that vegetates

in bombed out homes,

and the calcined white

of a million femur bones,


Smoke choked yellow skies,

 sunlight without shade,

moonlight without solace,

and gods that are manmade.


Silent pixel children

whose huge sad eyes

and thin husk of skin

never  feel the feet of flies;


Resigned young women

waiting to be resold

shriveled brittle elders

 empty, silent, cold;


Pixel justice  is revealed

to every sex and age

according to the canons

of fear and hate and rage


By talking pixel heads

selling stale ‘Breaking News’,

beer, and sex and drugs,

and biased, specious views.


And yet — despite true lies

or images that decieve,

I  listen, look,and hope;

but rarely can believe.

Rocking the Cradle of Hate

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A few hundred thousand random dead?

A few million random refugees you say?,

A paltry presidential  price  to pay,

for one who fears the dawn each day.


 With commands and prohibitions,

God’s decisions We made clear,

yet no one seemed to care,

and scarcely seemed to hear.


God kills with fire and brimstone,

who’er you are, what’er you do,

all of you must fear Us

Arab, Coptic, Shia, and Jew.


Burned out houses, bombed out cities,

Poisoned children in a line,

God is angry, He has said

Vengeance will be Mine”.


He’s all-loving, all-forgiving,

ever old and ever new,

but lest you want to burn forever,

do as We say, not as We  do.


He’s the one and only God,

We the God Almighty State,

His anointed messenger ,

owner of all reason and all fate.


So We will shower blind destruction

on Arab, Copt, Shia and Jew, 

and all will learn to fear

what We say and what We do.