Lawrence Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Lawrence

Saturday; it is night.
I hate it, being alone.

Worse it is, do nothing.
That is why, I’m busy.

Three things I do once:
Ear on radio, with blues.
Eyes on the history, screen …

Lawrence of Saudi…

The third is getting tough.
Eat pickled, the garlics
Of some years, sour-hot…

And desert in front like a page.
Ex-Hijaz, Saudi, London’s pet
The oil is discovered, not brain
With bombers, bombarding…

Have the rights Yemenis
To kill us, you and I.

Take a look at brands
Bombs, planes and plans

USA, and France, England.

London made Saudi
Planted hatred seeds
Gave the gun and plane
Took the faith; to place
Wahhabis, Salafists
Taliban, Qaeda and ISIS

Don’t blame the Yemen.
This made hell, is devil.
The stove boils bloods.
Stop war, no fire, don’t flare
Give bleak chance to peace.