Incensed...
The day started well, until...
The day started well, on a good note...listening to Sacred Music, incense burning in the corner, drawing imperceptible smoke patterns, dancing in a whirl...my coffee pot simmering on a low fire and the smell of Cardamon filling the quiet space...
The day started well, the sun shining brightly on a November day, the call to Friday prayer filling a spotless blue sky with Hope...
Until...
Until, I was reminded again...not that I ever forgot.
I was hoping for a lull...a temporary respite in between the lines, a full stop in a paragraph. Knowing fully well that other paragraphs will write themselves in this never ending chapter of our lives, writing themselves on the body of my Beloved...raping her again and again.
A gang rape of nations, a gang rape of different races, nationalities, religions and sects...a collective incensed, demoniacal grip on my Beloved...a vampire sucking her blood, tearing her limbs, chewing on her skin, munching her flesh, sucking on her bones...the Cannibalism of nations and races....
Green neon lights, dollar bills, shine in the obscurity surrounding her, in the silence gagging her...neon lights, a phosphorescent phosphorus, dance like laser beams, like the ones emitted from the top of underground discotheques, to the sound of techno and heavy metal, lead and mercury, crack and cocaine, with fake make believe smoke, rising from the dance floor, shrouding the flesh eaters in a demoniacal ecstasy -- a trance of red and black...pissing Black Water and vomiting Eagle's feathers in alcohol stained urinals...
Rapacious clawed fangs, digging into the flesh...her flesh, his flesh...Iraq's flesh...
Every syphilitic son of a bitch has visited her...visited her...oh no, not visited, raped her...every diseased son of a whore, every flea ridden, greasy, warty, stinking, bastard has forced himself upon her...
Americans, Iranians, British, Italians, Spaniards, Japanese, Slavs, South Americans,
Australians, South Africans, Filipinos, Bengals, Indians, Israelis, Egyptians, Syrians, Lebanese, Jordanians, Palestinians...
They all visited her as : soldiers, mercenaries, snipers, death squads, torturers, interrogators, contractors, translators, businessmen, facilitators, consultants, advisers, workers and the rest...
The last ones to add themselves to the long list of rapists and killers are the Ugandans...training as mercenaries--the politically correct word is security agents.
When Africans, South Africans to be more precise, were caught fighting alongside the Israelis in Gaza, as mercenaries, courts were summoned, activists shouted, and lawsuits began...
But for 7 years, thousands of sons of bitches landed in Iraq, to make a quick buck and to enhance and perfect their killing techniques and not one of you bastards, bastards from various nationalities and races, lifted a finger...there was no Goldstone report, and no one was taken before a judge and a court...
Thousands of war profiteers, sucking on our blood, for seven years now...thousands of Whites, Asians, Latinos, Africans and Arabs...and all you did was shrug your shoulders...
One bitch was preaching to me about "international solidarity", well fuck you and fuck your international solidarity...our blood has been pouring in gallons for seven years but your politically correct red lines were not to be transgressed. Who could say that Filipinos, Bengals and Indians were after blood money, who could utter a word on Africans sucking on our blood, who could mention Jews and Israelis as prime murderers, and who dared talk about Iran, the whore, and its Shiite death squads. And who could say that Arabs including "prominent" Palestinians made millions of dollars from occupied bloody Iraq ?
Oh, your politically correct red lines, how they murdered us!
You can shove your international solidarity up your collective asses...you showed no true solidarity with us.
Iraq was not romantic or sexy enough for you...it did not make political superstars out of you and did not feed your rotten egos like other causes...
Seven fucking years...and more Iraqis were killed by your silence than Palestinians murdered at the hands of the Zionists...and not one fucking report.
But you hate those simple truths. You have always hated the truth...it disturbs you and takes out of your comfort zone, your politically correct comfort zone, padded and cushioned with omissions, lies and willful forgetfulness...
But am here, like a sore thorn...to disturb you, disturb you and mess your comfort zone...
And she's there...like that incense stick burning in that corner, all by herself, all alone.
Picture: Iraqi Palm Tree in a Sandstorm.
