Absent Ones...


Some of my regular readers, wrote to me, enquiring about my seeming absence, my silence...

I am not absent, am just screaming silently...

After all, is that not what you had hoped for in the first place - Stifled Screams?
After all, is that not what you had wished for - a Silent Voice ?

Maybe you devised how to choke an Iraqi woman online, or maybe some new technique on how to mutilate with no scars, or maybe how to rape through your words...or maybe how to murder with no sound...another of your favorites...

What you wished for me, you are wishing for all Iraqi women...And it is happening.

Are you orgasmic at it? Does it turn you on? Does it tintillate your hidden fantasies -- a strangulated woman, choking on blood and words?

It must be some great climax, where you are suddenly reminded you have balls. After all, you just murdered another one. Examine your balls and see them all heavy now.

Now, now, I don't want to see those droopy eyes of yours, nor that baby pouting face, you too are culpable...

Now, now, I don't want to hear that lame voice of yours...

I don't want to see you wringing your hands, with your head down, muttering some excuse or another...

I want you to look me in the eyes...into our eyes... and I want you to parrot your sentences like you have been trained to do.

I want to hear, "under the former dictator" and I want to hear "under the current liberation"... Say it while you look me in the eyes...will you ?

I want you to count with me. Can you count from one to one million ?

Draw a cross for me...place it in a center and see a crucified man on it. He is no Jesus...he is an Iraqi.

Draw circles on the ground, throw that red paint and dance around it, and you will see American names dancing with you...

Check that hole for me...now, now, don't get that excited, it's only a hole.

A drill hole...whilst at it, check those mutilated female genitals, will you?

Does a labia here and a clitoris there, thrown next to a dumped body turn you on?

Oh yes, I thought so too. Do you know their names ? Are their faces familiar ?
You don't recognize them ? Of course you would not, they are burnt with acid...try a little harder, will you ?

You may recognize the bit of lipstick, dripping pink on the corners of what used to be a mouth...

Oh that mouth, that mouth of yours...

How much you like to talk. How much you like to shit political verbiage from that stenchy mouth of yours...

Your mouth is like a sewage, a gutter, a blocked drain pipe, whose filthy foul smelling water is flooding me.

American, English, Iranian, and even Arabic. Iraqi, Jordanian, Palestinian, Saudi, Lebanese, Egyptian, Syrian.... putrid waters...

Am sure you are already masturbating at your own odors...and in between you speculate another of your political theories.

Imperialism, colonialism, pan arabism, political shiism, revolutionism, feminism, capitalism, marxism, socialism, zionism......ism, ism, ismus....spasmus, contraction...

Go ahead and contract those muscles and ejaculate with pride...

Wait, just wait, hold it there.

Before you shoot your final exclamation, before you reach your little nirvana...before you conceptualize and ejaculate another of your theories...

Before you engage in another round of your intellectual masturbations and produce yet another article...

Before your testicles explode with another political analysis...

Before you fall drained on your bed, having reached the ultimate...

Hold it, hold it there and tell me...

What is our name ?


Painting : Iraqi artist, Karim Rissan.

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