A Letter From Toronto’s Eighteen August 13, 2008
Posted by revolution in : Political Poetry, Sorrow , add a comment
The number of times we inhaled injustice, the breaths that our lungs set free…
On the second of June, two-thousand and six, we were coerced out of lightness into dark…
Where cruelty was hired, where mercy was fired, where prejudice was the crowned monarch
Our deeply missed family, our dearly beloved friends, our honorable community of belief,
Allow us to share some words of honesty…some facts that may come to your relief.
While we have been pushed to the edge of the cliff, to the capacity that a human could bear…
We invite you to witness some blessings we were given, and we dare you to even compare.
When the hour glass of life started pouring down sand, seven hundred fifty-five days ago
Each one of us darted towards a goal to achieve, like arrows projected from a bow:
We extend our glad tidings, we hereby announce, that one of us has memorized the Quran.
In the span of this time, how high did you climb? By Allah, what deeds have you drawn?
Arms raised to the sky, never daring to ask why, we would stand before Allah for days,
Running empty on tears, losing all of our fears, praying desperately that it’s just a phase…
A pill you can not swallow, a well so dark and hollow; we long for our families, we long…
Our siblings, our parents, our wives and our children, hold on to His mercy, be strong.
When you saw us behind bars, you stared hard at our scars, and temporarily took a sneeze of our flu,
You felt our restrains; turned your watches into chains, and attempted to live through it too.
We thank you for your empathy, and your feelings of sympathy, even though we need not your awe:
Because a cell is not a cell, a cell is not a cell, when you sell your soul to Allah.
But we have one burning question inflaming our chests, torching our conscience from ease…
Why did you regret us, and eventually forget us? Please give us a good reason for this, please…
Please tell us the address to Benefit of Doubt, please give us a Google map to “Fair Trial”.
Please tell us where they wholesale “Friends-no-matter-What”, or if e-bay will auction off a smile.
Please tell us why you ran, as far as you can, avoiding us, ashamed and disgraced…
Please tell us why the steel you saw on our heel, ordered our great times from your memories erased?
Have you forgotten our Love, for The One who forbade, the killing of an innocent soul?
Then why did you stand by, without caring to testify, that your brothers do not deserve this hole?
When one of us earned trial, with a two-year olds’ smile, we would pray to be gifted with wings,
Not so we can fly out of this cage of ruin, but to intercede for our brother like kings.
If only you came out, to support your brother’s bout, maybe then the judge would have agreed,
That eighteen lives have been utterly destroyed, that it is about time that they are all freed.
It may seem unfortunate, and worthy of your pity, that our hours were converted into years,
That we missed watching our babies spill their food; or watching our fathers as their hair disappears.
But we hereby announce, that in the deduction of this logic, there has been one great flaw;
A cell is not a cell. A cell is not a cell, when you sell your soul to Allah.
Source:Cageprisoners
A Poem For ‘Umar Khadr August 11, 2008
Posted by revolution in : JihÄd, Political Poetry, Sorrow , add a comment
by Marryam Haleem
In the name of God, the All-Merciful, the Mercy-giving
Captured at 15 years of age by U.S. soldiers
Omar Khadr has suffered for over five years
At Guantanamo Bay.
Because of the torture and lack of proper medical attention,
Omar, at age twenty, is going blind.
They’re taking you sight away
They say,
Your precious beloved pair,
They dare
I’d give you mine, God knows,
So the Arab saying goes.
But I wish it was not this way
I wish your sight would stay
When your sight you’ve lost,
So great its cost,
God’s beloved said
The Garden’s yours instead[i]
The blind sight snatchers
Your deluded captors
See coercion and duress
As the way to success
But those in torment and seclusion
Will wipe away that false illusion
And then you, cooling of my eye,
Will, on freedom’s wings, fly
After this earthly flight,
In the Gardens of Delight,
I pray we meet,
At Heaven’s gate we greet
And here let me end
And off my poem I send
May God restore your sight
May He surround you with light
[i] In an authentic narration, the Prophet Muhammad, peace on him, reported God saying, “If I afflict a slave of mine with his two beloved things (the eyes) and he remains patient, My reward for him will be nothing but the Garden.”
To Those Non-Muslim Soldiers Occupying Muslim Lands August 10, 2008
Posted by revolution in : Advice, Political Poetry, United States of Losers , add a comment
This poem written by Showkat Ali is also applicable to the American Soldiers. It is entitled, “Fighting for Queen and Country.” You can replace it with, “Fighting for Uncle Sam and Country.”
For queen and country
Fighting against the enemy
Those opposed to our beliefs and ideology
Planning deadly attacks against our home territory
Hence we invade
And consolidate
Our colonial outposts once more
Like before
The enemy is invisible
But has views which are incompatible
With Secular Democracy
Wants to take the world back to the dark ages
For centuries
So we fight for queen and country
Against the evil enemy
Whose weapon is terror and mayhem
The enemy attacks constantly
Landmines and fatalities
We suffer constantly
While they disappear
And hide, but only to re-appear
Hitting us when we least expect it
And filling us with fear
Our casualties mount and increase
While re-enforcements arrive slowly
The dead make the news
And affect public views
While the wounded are hidden and ignored
Because they are an economic burden
And not good for morale
The public back home
See us as a source of shame
The reason why they are targets
For reciprocal and retaliatory attacks
And want us back
They no longer believe the lies and fiction
Which are spun by the media and politicians
Sometimes I wonder
Whilst watching my comrades get buried under
Why the natives hate us
And support the insurgents
No longer wave
Or see us as brave
Are we not the heroes and liberators
Freeing them from the evil Islamists ?
They see us as invaders
Colonisers, rapists, murderers
Looters and imperialists
And hence they fight and resist
For Allah and their hereafter
Continuing the war of attrition
To see who gives up first
And the way things are going
Seems we’ll be returning
Either in a coffin or
Tails between our legs.
“…Do you sit down?” July 30, 2008
Posted by revolution in : JihÄd, Political Poetry, Sorrow, True ShuyÅ«kh , 1 comment so far
“The People of Palestine have drunk from the cup of grief,
And the wound of Hijaaz in you can no longer heal,
Do you sit down?
Do you sit down while the rulers failed to defend our sanctity,
And their chief seeks Kufr and sustains it?
Do you sit down?
Do you sit down while the merchants fail to pay their Zakaat,
To prepare an army full of bold men?
Do you sit down?
Do you sit down while the heroes did not organize their lines,
And could not free al-Quds from the hands of the aggressors?
Do you sit down while the youth’s did not heal the wounds,
And did not fold or dress the corpses of the children?
So where were the sons of Islaam when the war got intense?!
Would they not respond to Allah’s command and strive?
And the sons of Islaam are nothing but generous,
And the disaster of our loss (i.e., al-Aqsa) has left them weary,
But despite,
But despite the wounds,
Their conviction in the return of the glories of the Caliphate is growing,
And all the burdens caused by the traitors,
Are just specs scattered in the way of Jihaad,
And they swore by Allah their Jihaad will continue,
Even if Hercules or Caesar were to challenge them!”
- Shaykh al-Muhaaribeen, Imaam al-Mujaahideen, Abi ‘Abdillaah Usaamah bin Muhammad bin ‘Awad bin Laadin
Click here to watch him read the poem [starting at 4:10] or click here to see the English subtitled version.
You talk of 9/11… but 9/11 happens everyday in my lands… June 20, 2008
Posted by revolution in : Political Poetry, Sorrow, United States of Losers , 21 comments
You talk of how 9/11 was a day you suffered,
And how it was a day where it killed 3,000,
And a sad day that must be remembered for eternity…
And it is a day you keep reminding us about,
And you cry over it repeatedly…
When does the second face of the hypocrite expose itself?
In Palestine, my people are bombed constantly,
Homes bulldozed like grass being cut with a lawnmower.
In Afghanistan and ‘Iraaq, my people are cowardly bombed from the sky,
Most of the time, killing women and children,
And destroying homes and families.
In Somalia, my people are raped and their neighborhoods bombed,
Until my people wake up every morning, expecting the worst.
But of course, none of this matters to you.
Because the blood of an American is worth more than a Muslim…
So glad tidings of hypocrisy to the two faced people,
Who cry of innocent deaths on 9/11,
But turn their faces away towards the innocent deaths of daily life,
Committed by its own people and her allies.
And glad tidings to these two faced hypocrites,
Who attack the Muslim lands after 9/11 based on retaliation,
Yet, for some reason, the Muslims don’t have this same right,
When they retaliated for the crimes of America
On September the 11th.
You talk of 9/11,
But 9/11 happens everyday in my lands.
Two idols fall… January 25, 2008
Posted by revolution in : 'IrÄq, Lebanon, News, Poetry, Political Poetry , add a commentTwo idols fall…
One in ‘Iraq,
One in Beirut.
The idols which had covered the horizon,
Are now smashed into pieces,
Shattering the morale of their worshipers.
