Think of them
Let us go deep inside
to, before Worldwide Wars
the endless path of shame
short stops
Vietnam, to Iraq and Iran
Refugees
They lasted and will come
from kings and sultans
the leaders as are called
and that is for their own
their silos
buying the minerals
selling arms and show offs
death, no joy, killed is love
to give love
to gain love, to share love
They are old and, erased,
obsolete.
I want back my old time
as Hippy to Babak
Khorram-Din
Instead I see bombs
see drones, ships capsized
suicide killing self to kill rest
What a shame; see Yemen, Palestine…
Ignored are the ones killed, refugees
Then Paris
Makes me think of Tehran
Iraq’s bombs,
And people scattered in planes and deserts
I recall the start with woman in blood
Asking for something to…
“In my bed…I give you…”
Man told her, the clown that was rude
But this is part of war…
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem