Saturday, April 23, 2011

Revolution For The Fallen.

In my sleep I hear them calling, ushering my name, citizen, citizen life is no longer the same, you question the reason while the truth ferments in your brain, corruption down to the core, you exist in limited freedom, the mafia gets together and starts another unjust war, while the winter cold kills the old couple living next door.

We live like caged animals, please don’t take these words for fictitious parables, for example had a cellular conversation with a brother, he said lets not discuss global matters by phone, before we get flagged for your different tone, these days you get a special deliver by drone, without a shadow of a doubt his words so many of the so called humans atone, mentally enslaved, counted and tagged by the farmers like when the sheep is born.

I am always one to speak my mind whatever the weather, whether it rains ammunition or getting water boarded on Guantanamo earth, swallow my words never, because at the end of the day this soil that I walk on is all that I am worth, my inception came from the dirt, so how can I remain blind to the African child’s hurt, or the Somalian youngster that has to scavenge in the city dumps to feed his younger sister, because mum and dad departed this world riding on a mortar.

What of the Congolese women raped by the diamond laced rebels as they fetch water, or the men that suffer a worse fate, death if out of the village they venture, what about the starving families in Zimbabwe, and the severed limbs that litter the Ivory Coast, starvation even resides right here, where the bankers on billion bonuses toast.   

One thing is apparent in the world today, greed defines all, tired of being caught between narcissistic leaders and the mass media, I watch as reality is glossed over, Without a doubt it’s a war against consciousness, physiological inhalation of your awareness, that’s why you nod your head to so called laws, protocols to over throw regimes in the of the peoples cause, oil fuels the chanting of freedom, the old signs even the blind can see them, for a second please pause, I can still smell the carcasses from Afghanistan, Iraq and Pakistan so await for no applause.

Hamza Egal © copyright 2011 all rights reserved.

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