Do you see
brothers killing their own brothers..
Do you see the Guns
to protect the Humans
from Humans..
***
Do you see
brothers killing their own brothers..
Do you see the Guns
to protect the Humans
from Humans..
***
complicated are those machines
they call them GUNS
I struggle
to understand their purpose
is it to help the man
or to kill him
***
silenced from the sight of bloodshed
blasting bombs, the sound of the guns
screaming people running for their lives
houses on fire, broken, wounded
loosing the strength, the buildings falling
silenced from the wounds of the city
the city of war, dying a swift death
thousands dead, lying on the roads
and those who survived
turning to become zombies
starting a journey slow & gruesome
for them nothing remained
but to live their lives in utter agony
silenced, never saying a word
asking thmeselves, why didn’t they also die
why a few of them had survived
survived, to live their death
every coming moment of their lives
lost in his thoughts, he couldn’t think much that morning
lost in his thoughts, he caught the wrong train
still lost in his thoughts, he took a vacant seat
lost in his thoughts, he didn’t see people around
lost in his thoughts, he didn’t know where to get down
lost in his thoughts, didn’t hear the baby crying next to him
lost in his thoughts, he didn’t notice something ticking under his seat
in a moment, a severe explosion hit the train
the man suddenly, woke up from his thoughts
but
is now lost
in the ashes of the bomb blast
remember? he caught the wrong train
while being lost in his thoughts
******
His name was Afzal, no more than seven,
A child innocent, a victim of war,
Just a few days back, I had met him,
While, covering the bombings in Afghanistan,
The sight of the blasts horrendous & scary,
With lifeless bodies, ripped off flesh,
A few of them who survived the blasts,
Ran, for a little mercy in horror,
Broken houses screamed in silence,
Small children wounded and bleeding,
Cried in the streets unattended,
There I had seen this boy with courage,
Holding a white flag in his hands,
Sitting by the side of his lifeless father,
Surprisingly, I saw no tears in his eyes,
I moved closer to hear his whispers,
“Father, your son is strong to shed no tears,
To change things for better, I am going out there,
Holding a flag of peace in my hand,
Every beat of my heart, beating in hope,
Determined to melt the hearts of those demons,
How I hope to turn them to humans,
I remember your words, they echo in my mind,
The day will come, there shall be peace,
No more pain, no one will die anymore,
No sight of bloody bodies on the roads,
Holding my flag so white and flawless,
I shall march, I shall not give up,
My hope persistent to conquer the inhuman,
For I shall not let my children to witness,
A world so wounded, chained by terrorism.”
in the middle of the WAR
where one could hear nothing but gunshots
blasting bombs, churning human flesh
blood raining down from everywhere around
screams in the air echoing through miles
bodies of the soldiers licking the ground
such a horrendous scene for that child to consume
the one who sat in a house, hiding from such horror
innocently he asked a question to the God
what do they get from this horrible destruction
what pleasure is there in killing
why do they choose guns over flowers
what is it that the war has to offer
why do they make small children to suffer
could they not just remain humans
could they try not to turn into animals
why can’t they choose Love & Peace
where in the world could we find Harmony
“Dear God, would you please make them end this War”
****
#war #terrorism #ChildrenOfWar
The Truck, that deadly truck
with four wheels to slip on the road
with a steering that failed to give it a direction
the truck with a demon inside
crushing flesh under its wheels
coloring the road with thick red
the red that’s gonna turn black with time
the truck that brought death inside
death for children, women, elderly
screams of everyone, the demon enjoyed
The Truck, that truck of death
the city of Nice shall never forget
it shall never be off people’s mind
bringing them horror, shivers to their spine
the truck, that evil truck
how everyone wish, was out of fuel
wish it’s engine wasn’t working
wish that truck, not to haunt
those who witnessed such act barbaric
oh the truck, That Damn truck
#poetry #terrorism #inhumane
sitting under that old banyan tree
leaves blocking the moonlight on his face
gruesome loneliness stinging his heart
his conscience crying and screaming in pain
his mother, his father, where were they?
masked men had shot them in their hearts a day before
his destiny has brought him to a camp so horrid
where children are trained to be human bombs
tears not stopping to fall from his eyes
desperate is he to find the answers
his understanding is pure love and affection
a child, he is, unaware of hatred
why were they forcing him to be violent
when he must hold a pencil in his hand
why does he have to hold
nothing but a gun in his hands
are they dying, or dead already
are they becoming zombies, the walking dead
emotions drying like fallen leaves
hearts absorbed by the demon
their blood becoming thick and dark
refusing to flow through their veins
caged minds impotent to realize
deeds progressing to barbaric
torturing souls to death
they who have turned into bombs
they who don’t dream without their guns
bringing darkness to swallow the light
there was a time they were humans themselves
today, unsympathetic to humanity
enemies to the children, to the whole mankind
cheating their own selves
ignorant of love, away from compassion
they who spread the shiver of terror
they, who are not called by names anymore
they are simply termed
as terrorists
as I revealed that I was an angel, they told me otherwise
prompted me to let my divinity vanish
urging me to loose my purity
tortured me with fire and ice
as they pulled out my nails in a hurry
I screamed in pain, as I bled
they thought their cruelty were winning
they laughed harder and harder
making fun of my innocence
poor them, I thought as I stood up
looking them into the eye
announcing the power of humanity
the power of belief in peace
I told them, I would rather give my life
over their offering to taker other’s
I shall remain an angel forever
who wins over terrorism
We dance round in a ring and suppose, but the secret sits in the middle and knows. – Robert Frost
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