- snapshot from occupied Palestine
Written mid April 2008 - (42 lines)
*
A Zionist pig
Adjusts his camo-wig
Sets down his deadly rig
Chews another fig
Breaks another twig
Feels strong and big
Lights another cig
Takes another swig
Of Palestinian water from a nearly empty well
You dig?
Yes! Your own grave!
Big as a cave!
But you are not brave
And repeating your fave
Prayer will not save
You the way you behave -
All the reasons you gave
The ones you enslave
One day they will crave
Their justice and rave
As a huge human wave
And your skulls will pave
The roads of the former land of Israel...
And THAT might finally break the spell
The curse and disaster that befell
All the good people who used to dwell
There until colonisers came to expel
Them, but nothing could quell
The yearning for home, for in every cell
They carry the memories, the sound and smell
Of their ancestral lands, and they tell
With a passion and pride that makes the heart swell
Their legends and stories to the young who yell
Impatiently that they must excel
In fighter-skills, as they vow to repel
Those who stole their lands to sell
Time hurries like a swift gazelle
Old myths are difficult to dispel
The future harder to foretell
But a mirage yields no pearly shell...
As for the Zionists, no fond farewell -
Inshallah they will burn in hell...
*
Copyright © 2008 - IBRAHEEM (O.E.H.Johansen) - All Rights Reserved
Written mid April 2008 - (42 lines)
*
A Zionist pig
Adjusts his camo-wig
Sets down his deadly rig
Chews another fig
Breaks another twig
Feels strong and big
Lights another cig
Takes another swig
Of Palestinian water from a nearly empty well
You dig?
Yes! Your own grave!
Big as a cave!
But you are not brave
And repeating your fave
Prayer will not save
You the way you behave -
All the reasons you gave
The ones you enslave
One day they will crave
Their justice and rave
As a huge human wave
And your skulls will pave
The roads of the former land of Israel...
And THAT might finally break the spell
The curse and disaster that befell
All the good people who used to dwell
There until colonisers came to expel
Them, but nothing could quell
The yearning for home, for in every cell
They carry the memories, the sound and smell
Of their ancestral lands, and they tell
With a passion and pride that makes the heart swell
Their legends and stories to the young who yell
Impatiently that they must excel
In fighter-skills, as they vow to repel
Those who stole their lands to sell
Time hurries like a swift gazelle
Old myths are difficult to dispel
The future harder to foretell
But a mirage yields no pearly shell...
As for the Zionists, no fond farewell -
Inshallah they will burn in hell...
*
Copyright © 2008 - IBRAHEEM (O.E.H.Johansen) - All Rights Reserved
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