My clean land
My thoughts reach far, yet stay bound within,
To teach you truths you cannot win.
My body is forged from red soil’s embrace,
My thoughts are pure, untouched by disgrace.
I am the angel of freedom’s throne,
In my kingdom, I stand alone.
You hold the throne of a broken crown,
To guide your restless soul renown.
Enter my green mind’s uncharted zone,
But tread softly—this is sacred stone.
You moved fast, too fast, in days long past,
But life’s cast shadow is one that lasts.
Beware! For I am no fool of your design,
I am the child of heaven’s divine.
I count the stars, from one to seven,
This is my land—my boundless heaven.
I’ve stood firm, my walls unbent,
While countless storms their fury spent.
So make your nest where the winds are bare,
For my heart beats here—yours beats elsewhere.
====================================
I am Gaza, the Tomb of Democracy
I am Gaza, the tomb of democracy,
Unveiling the masked face o f hypocrisy.
I am the flame-borne voice that cries,
Revealing the veiled historic lies.
Though I’m sleeping in dust and sand,
I’m holding Western creed with ashen hand.
My children wail through smoke and stone,
Their screams expose your merits blown.
That seventh day, October laid its snare,
A plan designed to steal away my heir.
If justice cries, “An eye for eye,” then why-
Return one death with storms that blind the sky?
Where is the song of human rights today?
Why the beam of your torch is fading away?
Why silence now? Do not all mothers weep?
Or is our blood too cheap for you to keep?
My collapse has scorched your gospel bare,
Your house once white, now rots in poisoned air.
My soil lies torn, yet names like stars ascend,
While yours decay in hate that has no end.
I am the chained, yet still a rising flame,
You drown within the fury you became.
I am Gaza, a grave you chose to make,
Oh Wretched! My grave keeps me awake.
I cry in cells where youth and hope decay,
Bombs fall like rain, in blood my kids sway.
Bargain on me? That Trump’s deranged decree,
Still marks this age with crowned idiocy.
Greed’s grand parade made wars your industry,
Zions feast on my flesh, ordained in history.
What name can grasp this depth of travesty?
Words fail to brand your mockery of democracy.
