Eighty Killed Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Eighty killed

Like to find some surgeon
Have removed heart, brain
Of these two am tired
So tired
So tired
So tired
In me they have spies
Ears, sense and the eyes
Everything reported
Is copied, collected
Racks of books and files
Of the past and on line
Then pebble falls in pond
Come ripples and the waves
To most are isolate
To me are connected
Someone lifts gun or knife
Someone shoots, in trucks
Someone builds a tall wall
I see depths, time of ice
Empires all around
Africa, Asia, new found
Murders have axes; streams
And the seas and oceans of blood
Invasions have their forms
Greek kind, and Roman and Persian
Or Mongol, or Arabs with Islam.

Then revenge, banning names
With stones heads smashed
And censors and the bans
'Not this one, don't say that'
The law of the cruel strong
Writes the word: 'Illegal.'

Hey doctors, respected murderers
Anyone with bullet or a knife
Come please lay me down,
Want to be like a sheet
Flat page or paper
Dead and gone.