Prayers they heed not, to entreaties they are deaf!
Earth and heaven shrink before them,
They clamp down whole countries as behind prison gates,
They grind nations, as nations grind grain!"
Konstantin Balmont (1867-1942), based on inscriptions from an Akkadian temple. These words were used by Sergei Prokofiev in his Cantata, "Seven, They are Seven".
PART A.
I.
Cold are their souls…
…And colder than their climate
Where they dwell alone
And converse with fear!
And inside of them
There is not one place
To light a candle!
When they talk they sound
Like humming motors
On the same voltage!
When they feel they freeze
Like a butterfly
Hanging in mid-air!
When they breathe they move
The block of concrete
Which was their conscience!
II.
Cold are their souls…
…And colder than the hair
Which was not caressed
For years without end!
Yet the memory
Of the tenderness
Refuses to fade!
It comes from above
Like the hovering
Smell of new jasmines!
And from watchful eyes
Of the grandmother
Who could never blink!
It is the substance
From which drop by drop
The prayers are made!
III.
Cold are their souls…
…And colder than the chrome
Of their wet red wheels
Which plow foreign lands!
They are the pious
Who kill the savage
So they can save him!
They say they are brave
Yet they never cease
To speak of terror!
Yet they only fight
At a mile above
Those locked on their screens!
Yet they give candy
To find the fathers
They want to kidnap!
IV.
Cold are their souls…
…And colder than the soup
Which lost its flavor
After the brothers left!
Between the doorstep
And the other world
An abyss has grown!
Yet a long sad song
Comes from the window
Like a lost night bird!
And it brings the warmth
Of so many breaths
Which were made of love!
It brings monologues
But not even one
To break the silence!
PART B.
“For the thundering valor of ages to come,
For the lofty tribe of humankind,
I'm deprived of a cup at my fathers' feast,
Of happiness, and of my honor.”
O.E.Mandelstam (1891-1938)
V.
Cold are their souls…
…And colder than their smiles
Which hide the horrors
Of their redrawn maps!
So are their handshakes
Which become handcuffs
And bind like plastic!
So are their contracts
Which are stillborn
Just as they sign them!
So are all their vows
Which they never take
Unless they can break!
So are their bibles
Which they use to trade
For new colonies!
VI.
Cold are their souls…
…And colder than the sky
Which witnessed their deeds
And lost its blueness!
But now even trees
Look the other way
When they are approached!
Every living thing
Shows the betrayal
Of its caretaker!
Even the seagulls
Forgot all the sounds
But the call of grief!
Even the engines
Suck more oxygen
And grow yet bigger!
VII.
Cold are their souls…
…And colder than the tools
Which do not make scars
When used for torture!
They pass by children
With third degree burns
And go on their way!
They cover the face
Of humanity
With long and black hoods!
They hang boys from hooks
Like meat of cattle
Till their wrists detach!
Then they take photos
Displaying their deeds
And grin like tourists!
VIII.
Cold are their souls…
…And colder than the mat
With the welcome sign
Just under their feet!
The panic digs deep
As inside stray dogs
When all doors are slammed!
And the aloneness
Blows from head to toe
Through the naked spine!
And the knees sink more
Into the blackness
Of the Universe!
There is no language
Between the planet
And the intruder!
IX.
Cold are their souls…
…And colder than the whip
They use on the backs
Of broken people!
They sleep with dollars
Made from paying cents
To day laborers!
They bankrupt farmers
By making their goods
Worthless by tariffs!
They sell furniture
Cheaper than timber
To close factories!
And they spray the world
With the viruses
Bred in their airwaves!
X.
Cold are their souls…
…And colder than the chains
Attached to the bread
Which they claim to own!
Yet those who earn it
Gather just its crumbs
Like their dignity!
Others die of thirst
To reach the borders
Of their oppressors!
All given by grace
And even sunlight
Now bear their price tags!
Indeed the rivers
And even the air
Which they steal from lungs!
PART C.
“He said: ‘Enough of harmony,
You loved Mozart in vain:
A spidery deafness is taking over,
Here the abyss is stronger than our strength.’ "
O.E.Mandelstam (1891-1938)
XI.
Cold are their souls…
…And colder than the clouds
Which carry the moans
Across the oceans!
From all the natives
Snatched of their countries
Like babies from breasts!
From the four corners
The world cries out loud
Not one of them hears!
The orchestra plays
For a full audience
Of pretty corpses!
Not one sheds a tear
For the Requiem
Made in USA!
XII.
Cold are their souls…
…And colder than the dreams
Of unknown soldiers
Who are wrapped in flags!
The saviors who came
Back to their new homes
Of bright oak coffins!
As the cameras
Which were proud of them
Missed their funerals!
And as their mothers
Were warned to sob where
No one could hear them!
And those who sent them
To fight fake demons
Broke one more champagne!
XIII.
Cold are their souls…
…And colder than their skin
Which covers like snow
The mud of winter!
It beckons the heart
With its nakedness
And then spits on love!
And it hides the deep
Racism within
With many covers!
Beware of their skin
It is the surface
Of a deadly swamp!
Beware of the lust
It can set on fire
To burn its victims!
XIV.
Cold are their souls…
And colder than their church
Where they take showers
And think themselves clean!
Where their false prophets
Wear colorful gowns
To entertain them!
Where they twist teachings
And polish reason
To condone madness!
Where they hold captive
The truth they perceive
And declare for all!
And where they honor
Those who volunteered
To kill for paychecks!
XV.
Cold are their souls…
And colder than their greed
Which will grab by force
What it cannot steal!
The world runs from them
But where can it hide
But where can it hide?
They see in darkness
And from outer space
And kill what they choose!
They build air bases
To protect themselves
From contrived phantoms!
Who can hide from them
For cold are their souls
Colder than their guns!
March, 2005-April, 2006 Crescent City, California
I dedicate this page to the great Johannes Brahms who gave me much strength when I was in great need. May the Lord God bless him forever.
"For we are not contending against flesh and blood, but against the principalities, against the powers, against the world rulers of this present darkness, against the spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly realms."
Ephesians 6:12 (RSV)
"Mundus vult decipi” (“the world wants to be deceived”)
Martin Luther (1483-1546)
“Bism Illahi El Rahman El Rahim!”
“Hence, I carried my meager belongings
And went away to the farthest valley in the future
And sowed my seeds.”
Fadhil al-Azzawi
Contemporary Iraqi Poet
WHEREAS they scattered our seeds on rocks
And ravaged the gardens in our future...
X.
This word that reaches you from me
Do not ignore or forget it my brother!
For I do not sell you what you do not need
But I give you the grass which will become your spears!
This promise will follow you everywhere
Like the breeze which always fills your lungs!
I pack the meals for your long journey
Because often no one will see your hunger!
And remember that your freedom
Can never be bottled and sold like water!
And if they never learn to weep like us
They will wither away like the giant oaks!
I want to be your chronicler my brother
To reveal all that was hidden from you!
I carry my chores like a laundry girl
And never forget who gave me this job!
I am that red tulip my brother
Who always watched you from a far distance
And stored your memory in its petals
For all who pass by in the next ages!
February, 2006-December, 2006
Crescent City, California
“Bism Illahi El Rahman El Rahim!”
No longer do I write for the cattle or the wolves!
Nor do I care to reach the wicked pilots of the world!
I write only for the few who will hear my words!
After I have become what they will become!
So let us pray!
"I love the fields of wheat and corn and the smell of Virginia tobacco.
But I am not American. Is that enough for the Phantom pilot to turn me back to the Stone Age?
I need neither oil, nor America herself, neither the elephant nor the donkey.
Leave me, pilot, leave my house roofed with palm fronds and this wooden bridge.
I need neither your Golden Gate nor your skyscrapers.
I need the village not New York.
Why did you come to me from your Nevada desert, soldier armed to the teeth?
Why did you come all the way to distant Basra where fish used to swim by our doorsteps?
Pigs do not forage here. I only have these water buffaloes lazily chewing on water lilies.
Leave me alone soldier!
Leave my floating cane hut and my fishing spear.
Leave me my migrating birds and the green plumes.
Take your roaring iron birds and your Tomahawk missiles. I am not your foe.
I am the one who wades up to the knees in rice paddies.
Leave me to my curse.
I do not need your day of doom."
Saadi Youssef (b. 1934) Contemporary Iraqi Poet
(Translated by Khaled Mattawa)
“Bism Illahi El Rahman El Rahim"!
Requiem For Iraq
By Shant Norashkharian
“We have lost our way back home
A sudden dread seized us
We may never find our way back
Because we are getting further and further away!
We sat on a mound in the wilderness
Staring at each other
While the evening bled cold into the sky
And a hollow weeping echoed through our souls:
Why have we lost our way home?
Why have we lost the way?”
Abd al-Rahim Salih al-Rahim
Iraqi Contemporary Poet
April 14, 2001
WHEREAS they covered our heads with hoods
In front of our children...
I.
So where are the red tulips my brother
Which they promised would adorn your desert?
Now they water them with your blood
But they still refuse to grow!
Where are the words of their fathers
Who owned slaves and wrote about freedom?
Where are the flags they made for you
With the colors which pleased their eyes?
Where are your rivers which gave birth
To the gardens of Eden
And now must carry your sons and nephews
All the way to the bottom of the sea?
And now I must carry your Requiem
On my shoulders like an oak coffin!
Because I saw and heard everything!
Who can burn my memory now?
Who can dig inside my Silence now?
Who can steal my Emptiness now?
Who can implore me to speak of the things
Which your captive sun witnessed all over again?
“Bism Illahi El Rahman El Rahim”!
“With fire we perform our ablutions every morning
Collecting our remnants
And the debris of our houses
We purge our soul with the blood of our wounds.”
Sami Mahdi
Contemporary Iraqi Poet
February 16, 1991
WHEREAS they sowed discord among us
And turned the fathers against the sons...
II.
So where are your red tulips my brother
Did they rob you from them as well?
Did they ship them back with their UPS
In the same package with your oil and dignity?
Who will repair the silk of your pride
As it melts inside your pillaged museums?
Who will chisel on your stone calendars their deeds
Which are more horrible than any before them?
Who will hold your missing hand my brother?
Who will rebuild you cell by cell and tear by tear?
Who will refuse to paint you with a black brush?
Who will show your face without any labels?
O do not disturb the sand and all it covers!
Let the wind come back as it never fails!
Let it take the wails of countless mothers!
It is not for us to defile the sand!
O do not touch the night!
Or what is beyond the night!
Where the war they made for you is sold!
It is not for us to unveil the night!
“Bism Illahi El Rahman El Rahim!”
“My country does not belong to me
Nor I to it.
For five millennia my country has been no more than imminent exile.”
Awad Nasir
Iraqi Contemporary Poet
London May 9, 2001
WHEREAS they made us more little than little
And paraded us naked in front of their women...
III.
The East cries and it cries loud
And it cannot ask more questions!
And it bows five times from dawn to dawn
With prayers which rise and fall like rockets!
Its poets sit on the sidewalks
And wear black robes like widows!
They raise their hands above the minarets
And bite their tongues to mute their poems!
Because in Fallujah there are still human torches
Which burn with phosphorous until the bone is dry!
Because ninety thousand houses were demolished
When the families gathered for the evening meal!
Because in Al-Ramadi the Marine wears a T-shirt
Which says “Killed More People Than Cancer”!
Because the average payout is $2,500 per body
Less than the cost of one second of war!
Because in Baghdad Haidar sleeps in shop doorways
Where he greeted his eighth birthday!
Because Wazir Mohammad still wants to know
Why he is shackled to a bird cage in Cuba!
“Bism Illahi El Rahman El Rahim!”
“Rome must collapse
and fire must blaze from this ash;
lightning must burn the trees,
And from this dead fetus, warriors must be born.”
Abd al-Wahhab al-Bayyati, Iraqi Poet
(1926-1999)
WHEREAS they unleashed seventy five tons
of uranium on us
And poisoned our lands forever...
IV.
American engineers were paid for them
And they went home to their children
And they took their wives to vacations
After they made the cluster bombs!
And they made formulas for coordinates
To destroy all from X to Y!
So the ugly math of their missiles
Did not distinguish farmer from donkey!
Because in the West they smile
Even when they should weep from shame!
Because they look the other way
When all is done in their name!
Because their generations passed
Yet their boots still litter the planet!
And you can see the valleys they made
Even from the outer space!
Because the universe is expanding faster
To contain more and more of their crimes!
Because even the stars flee from them in horror
And the moon abandons its orbit!
“Bismillah Al-Rahman Al-Rahim”!
“O thou little tree which I planted a few years ago,
Does the grass in our yard still remember me?
And the crack in the fence,
Is it still filled with children’s eyes, peeping?”*
Mahdi Muhammed Ali
Contemporary Iraqi Poet
*Translated by Salaam Yousif
WHEREAS two hundred of our children died daily
As they imposed sanctions on us for twelve years...
V.
Let each one of them join us in a choir
And bring up the voices they never had before!
Let them come down and register each name
Because now they will sing forever!
Let them sing from Mosul to Al Basrah
And show us the faces which could not grow up!
Let the songs of five millennia rise
Like monuments which cannot be bombed!
Let their ancestors between the two rivers
Rise from the mud of Mesopotamia!
Let Hammurabi come with his Code of Laws
And unlock the doors of the first Court House!
Let him tell the world that you governed yourselves
Before even Abraham was born
And before he lived in the city of Ur
Where your king Ur-Nammu built the first State!
Let him tell the world that before Abraham
He declared justice in the land
Where the orphan was not delivered up to the rich man
Or the widow to the mighty man!
“Bism Illahi El Rahman El Rahim!”
“There is no promised land here. No one but blind men with black glasses, coming out of their ancient caves, carrying birdcages over their heads,.no sign of death in their faces, for they could never have died, nor scars of time over their skins, for they could never have lived. No promised land whatever here. They are simply walking through the forests of the world, feeling with their sticks their dark ways between trees. If you follow them, they will lead you to the last tavern in the village of thieves.”
Fadhil al-Azzawi
Contemporary Iraqi Poet
WHEREAS they stole from under our feet the oil
Which Allah gave us to raise us from poverty...
VI.
Who promised this land to us my brother?
Was it Hollywood with its naked women and castles?
What made us drunk with fairy tales
And jump into our fantasy only to drown?
Who brought us to the cities of robots
Which are wired not to ask questions?
Who made us citizens of the den of gangsters
Who roam the earth and grab all its fruits?
Who is making calls from Langley to Baghdad
To blow up car bombs in markets?
And how do they deceive these naïve boys
Who are unaware they are committing suicide?
Who raises these baby pythons
And teaches them to swallow live rabbits?
Who are these made-in-USA dictators
Who come packaged with batteries included?
Where do the coffins come from brother?
Who builds them by the thousands before wars?
Who orders them online like gifts
And why do they never run out of supply?
“Bism Illahi El Rahman El Rahim!”
“O my king, the journey has lengthened, lengthened,
and ages have passed,
and between locked worlds I have sailed, asking at doors.
I carried with me the wounds of fedayeen,
and the taste of death in September, and of mud.
I carried with me the sorrows of Jerusalem, O my king,
and the wound of Jenin,
and a night of high walls that cannot be scaled.
So where is the door? Where is the door?
My sacrifices are heaped at the altar,
my Quran is hidden in the mist,
and the agony of my Al-Aqsa mosque
cuts me like a knife….
How can we spend the night in captivity?
And how can we sleep, expelled from our homes?…”
Nazik al-Mala’ika
(1922-2007)
Contemporary Iraqi Poetess
WHEREAS they planted Israel in our midst
And its plague spread everywhere...
VII.
Fear not the Turk whose yataghan
Could not cut you down for five hundred years!
Fear not your own wicked men
Until they recruit them to be wicked with pay!
Fear the White Man who casts the votes
To elect his wicked men again and again!
Fear him when he becomes the witness of your agony
And then goes on carefree with his daily life!
Fear the White Man who said “What treaty”?
Fear Churchill who sprayed you with yellow gas!
Fear every criminal who retired
With a library bearing his name!
Fear the robbers of homelands
Who trade them like stocks!
Fear the map makers who draw borders
As if they played with crayons!
Fear Israel and its many designs
To catch the globe like a blind fly!
For it makes a hidden and stupendous web
From its own spit on the forehead of man!
“Bism Illahi El Rahman El Rahim!”
“I will think of you, O brother,
Of your loneliness in the desert,
As your hands sail towards me
Waking me whenever I forget.”*
Jamal Jumah
Born 1956
Contemporary Iraqi Poet
*Translated by Salaam Yousif
Whereas they said they brought liberty for us
And left us nothing but graveyards...
VIII.
Yet we must wipe off the semen of untold rapes
Which oozes down our cheeks even now!
We must make peace with our invaders
When justice still waits outside by the door!
Yet we must drag every fallen brother behind us
And assemble the rubble to make new homes!
We must shake off the filth of history
Which sticks to us like permanent glue!
Because we walked around bowing
Longer than many generations!
And each of us who raised his head
Then lowered it on the gallows!
So call the orphans of empty villages
Who gather around those who made them!
Call them before they laugh and rejoice
As they accept their candy and toys!
O do not believe the happy White Man!
O do not accept the pledges he makes!
O do not sell him a piece of your soul!
Do not do not let him buy your sacred things!
“Bism Illahi El Rahman El Rahim!”
“Don‘t despair my dear daughter!
Dawn is breaking the horizon
The hopes and dreams of paradise will lead our caravan
And life’s thorns will no longer hinder our way
Don’t give up my sweet little daughter!
O my sweet daughter, don’t despair!
Murad Mikhail (b. 1906)
Iraqi Poet
WHEREAS they took our dreams and gave us nightmares
And walked inside our souls with their shoes...
IX.
Surely you had dreams for your sweet daughter
As you watched her waving from the balcony!
Surely you could not believe you would never see her again
As she vanished in front of you like perfume!
Surely you held her smile to your breast
Like the last ray of warm sunshine!
Surely you knew everything was to be left
Along the road of barbed wires and no return!
Surely you stretched your arms farther
Across the river which became wider and wider!
Surely you knew every one before you
Had to drift away like a helpless canoe!
Surely you waited for the dawn
To see if she will greet you again!
Surely you held her hand tightly
And cried like a little lamb when you lost her!
Surely you begged around like Palestinians
For what was left of your dignity!
Surely there was a piece of it in her
Which she kept for you like a broken flower!
"Without craftsmanship, inspiration is a mere reed shaken in the wind."
"Straight-away the ideas flow in upon me, directly from God, and not only do I see distinct themes in my mind's eye, but they are clothed in the right forms, harmonies, and orchestration."
"If there is anyone here whom I have not insulted, I beg his pardon."
Johannes Brahms
"Blessed are they that mourn: for they shall be comforted. (Matthew 5:4)
They that sow in tears shall reap in joy.
He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed, shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him. (Psalms 126:5-6)"
Johannes Brahms , A German Requiem
"Lord, help us to keep in mind
the causes of this slaughter:
greed, dishonesty, selfishness,
the dessication of love:
Lord, help us to root these out..."
George Seferis (1900-1971)
The following are quotes by Dr. Henry Kissinger, former U.S. Secretary of State, originally in charge of the 9-11 investigation, wanted war criminal of project paperclip to help the Nazis escape from Germany and many bloody coups supporting dictators around the world:
* Depopulation should be the highest priority of foreign policy towards the third world, because the US economy will require large and increasing amounts of minerals from abroad, especially from less developed countries.
* The illegal we do immediately. The unconstitutional takes a little longer.
* Oil is much too important a commodity to be left in the hands of the Arabs.
* I can think of no faster way to unite the American people behind George W. Bush than a terrorist attack on an American target overseas. And I believe George W. Bush will quickly unite the American people through his foreign policy.
A think tank called the Project for the New American Century, headed by people like Dick Cheney, revealed the thinking behind 9.11:
"The PNAC program, in a nutshell: America’s military must rule out even the possibility of a serious global or regional challenger anywhere in the world. The regime of Saddam Hussein must be toppled immediately, by U.S. force if necessary. And the entire Middle East must be reordered according to an American plan. PNAC’s most important study notes that selling this plan to the American people will likely take a long time, "absent some catastrophic catalyzing event – like a new Pearl Harbor." (PNAC, Rebuilding America’s Defenses (1997), p.51)"
"You know, one of the hardest parts of my job is to connect Iraq to the war on terror."
Little Bush the Liar Interview with CBS News, Washington D.C., Sept. 6, 2006
