Breakfast with Kurdi
I flew as spy
Recorded Kurdish talks
Recording was secret in plane
We gave it to master; USA.
I knew right there then
What we did for dirty politics
Between two mean leaders; of cold war.
Two played game of chess
I was knight, someone Rook and so on
Pawns many and mostly the Kurdish,
Or others on borders…
Players pocketed name and fame
They gilded history
Stalin and Roosevelt, Gorbachev
And Reagan
But the Kurds were thrown in fire
Their women sold for rape
And the ones on the run
Lose their lives, sample is Aylan child
His tiny lifeless look
Is a hell for me who
Changed the lines, on the maps
After peace, of Alger
Between Shah and Saddam
Now, morning and time for breakfast
All of these come to mind
My plan is bread and butter
With honey
Honey talks of queen
Of drones, spree
Losing life
And labours who are pawns.
Damn…damn…damn…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem