Patriotic

FLAG OF BLACK

There exists today,

A flag of black,

One which represents,

What we want back.

 

Brave men and women,

Who never came home,

Not even their bodies,

This we shouldn't condone.

 

They haven't been forgotten,

Yet still are not here,

They deserve so much better,

Let me make this crystal clear.

 

Our POW's and MIA's,

Represented by a flag of black,

Have been gone for far too long,

So bring them home or send us back.

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Tim McCravey, U.S.M.C.

I have a great friend and his name is Tim McCravey.

He joined the Marines instead of the Army or Navy.

He bravely fought in the Persian Gulf War.

It's people like him who Americans are thankful for.

 

During the war, I wrote to him and he sent me twenty bucks.

Anybody who has Tim for a friend, has plenty of luck.

He and I were friends thirty years ago and we're still friends today.

It's very nice to know that he's patriotic to the USA.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Dedicated to Timothy McCravey.

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Flags, Suits, Guns, People

The Suits made a Flag for People

and People like the Flag.

 

The Suits made Guns for People

to kill other People for the Flag.

 

People do it for the Flag

that the Suits made for People.

 

The Suits like People who take the Gun

to kill other People for the Flag.

 

The Suits do not like People who 

do not like the Flag

that the Suits made for People.

 

The Suits hate People who do not like the Suits.

 

People do not like Guns

People like Guns

 

People like the Flag.

 

People that like the Flag do not like people

who do not like the Flag.

 

People that like the Flag do not like people

who do not like the Suits.

 

People that like the Flag and the Suits do 

whatever the Suits tell them for the Flag.

 

People that like the Flag assume the Suits

also like the Flag.

 

The Suits tell all People they like the Flag.

 

The Suits tell People to use Guns to kill other People

for the Flag.

 

The Flag niether likes nor dislikes People or the Suits.

 

The Flag can be replaced with Money.

 

9/12/2003

To those who died on that day,
My soul goes out to them.
Our Flag red, white and blue.
Red is the blood of those killed,
White is our pure dedication,
Blue is the truth and honesty.

We will swoop down like
the eagle catching a fish.
Upon those and all who dare threaten
our Freedom.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written during Boot Camp

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SEE MY PEOPLE SEE

See my people

See the glory glows down like fire suffering from hand of air
See the sunshine dwindles like winter rose
See the heaven comes down below the head like paralyzing tree branch
See the earth rottens like stinking apple
See the sky browns like drying leaves

MY people see my people
See the moon dampens like cocoa torture by black pods
See the sun reddens like fire coal
See the sea thirsts like elephant
See the ocean fatigues like working camel

My people see my people
See the stars fades from sky like cloth exposes to fullsun
See the heaven rages like hurting pythorn

My people see my people
See the dust smokes like burnt rubber
See the air screams like wild wave
See the day hurries like stale shadow

My people see my people
See my Country sings down
like smoke attacks by whirlwind

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SEE MY PEOPLE SEE

See my people

See the glory glows down like fire suffering from hand of air
See the sunshine dwindles like winter rose
See the heaven comes down below the head like paralyzing tree branch
See the earth rottens like stinking apple
See the sky browns like drying leaves

MY people see my people
See the moon dampens like cocoa torture by black pods
See the sun reddens like fire coal
See the sea thirsts like elephant
See the ocean fatigues like working camel

My people see my people
See the stars fades from sky like cloth exposes to fullsun
See the heaven rages like hurting pythorn

My people see my people
See the dust smokes like burnt rubber
See the air screams like wild wave
See the day hurries like stale shadow

My people see my people
See my Country sings down
like smoke attacks by whirlwind

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Piece of CLoth

It is more than a piece of cloth. Tatered and torn it still holds a meaning of far greater importance than most other things in life. Those who only see it as pieces of fabric sown together do not realize the sacrafice and pain it represents. For in truth each stich represents a man who left behind his wife and children when he died fighting for the freedom of those ignorant people who call it a piece of cloth. Each strand of thread signifies a woman who left her friends and family so those clueless people have the right to say "It is just a piece of fabric it has no value." Those people who can not see past the material value are not blessed with the privelage of seeing what it really stands for. For this "Piece of cloth" represents the lives sacrificed so others can enjoy their lives. It signifies a commitment to unselfishly protect the freedoms of others without discrimination. While its material value is cheap and not worth respecting, what it stands for is priceless. This piece of cloth is more than a piece of cloth, it is symbol of our great country where men and women fight for the freedom of people who call it "just a piece of cloth"

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I am proud to be an american and i respect the men and women who fight for our country i hope yall do too.

LET IT ALL BE RENT ASUNDER

The poor and the have-nots,
Of my motherland have been suffering,
All along the 64 years while hoping,
That things will get better:
However, they have only got,
False promises and fancy dreams,
And plans that rot
In the files of huge, castle-like buildings.
At times I am filled with so much despair,
That I am moved to say: "It was unfair...
We did not deserve the freedom
For which so many fell down fighting".

Evenings come with the moon,
And sometimes without anything ,
But stars, like small bulbs on a painting,
Stretching and encompassing,
Everything ...and nothing!

The feudal plunderers, who have come here,
Through the fallacy I describe
As false democracy,
Are the only ones, making merry,
And their misdeeds keep increasing,
As they mock at poverty
And try to show sympathy
With those miserable masses,
Who do not need their pity,
But meaningful measures,
Aimed at bettering their lives,
With intentions of honesty...

The problems multiply as the days pass,
And it is only the mighty and affluent class,
Which, like all usurpers, spread the world over,
Keeps enjoying living at the cost of the poor.
No prayer can save this so-called
"Land Of The Pure"!
Because only a very few are concerned,
About the malady and its cure!
So, let it rain flood the valleys,
And let the sun bake the parched earth,
Let even mother nature too,
Have her full mirth,
For, as I have said before,
Nobody really cares,
About the nightmares,
That thinkers and poets like me have day and night...

Let there be thunderstorms,
Let there be earthquakes,
Let the angels of God Most High,
Let loose all anarchy...
Maybe then,
At the end of it all,
Something good may emerge,
To save those like you and me,
And all honest, sensitive souls --
From the power-hungry dirty!
Let it rain and let the earth's ovens,
Overflow with the water,
And let all of nature's fury
Move the mountains,
Of Margalla and Murree,
Quake like thunderbolts,
And come falling down,
On the deceiving mighty.
And may everything all around,
Be rent asunder,
So that the foul and the rotten,
Are washed off and the land,
Becomes -- the way it should have been --
As it was envisioned:
Cleaner and purer...
From the stench of the corrupt ones,
Calling themselves rulers.
Let this state of decadence,
Vanish like Pompeii,
And let the able and the meek,
The humble and the true ones,
Who really love this land,
Convert it into,
"The Land Of Purity".
(By Muhammad Naveed Ahmed/Emmenay. Posted on September the 15th, 2011).

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Inspired after watching the news and reading the reports about the worsening condition of "The Land Of The Pure" -- Pakistan.

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A PRAYER FOR MY PAKISTAN

More than four decades

Of my life have passed

And I see nitwits and nincompoops

Bribers and illiterate morons

Trying to dictate my job to me.

I could swallow them, digest them

And shit them out whenever I like

Yet the near and dear ones

In my family

Compel me to swallow my blood

And put up with the nonsense daily.

My beloved lives in a super power

And yet even she cannot do the least

To ease my state of suffering

My best friend is still hankering

About sending me an invitation

To the land where he is happily settled.

My mother and children are quiet

Bearing, like I do, all that this land

The wretched and selfish have to offer.

Inflation is reaching unparalleled heights

Even Mount Everest and Karakorum-11

Mock at my beloved Pakistan.

Men who have been renowned robbers

Thieves, con men, cheaters and hustlers

Murderers, burglars and cut-throat bandits

Are merry making day in and day out.

Muhammad Ali Jinnah, the Quaid-e- Azam

Is restlessly tossing in his grave-tomb

While the uniformed ruffians have looted

And raped my once-prosperous beautiful land.

Promises are made by kleptomaniacs

Who come out like beggars, nay, worse than them

When they want votes for their parliament seats.

Brain drain has made the dreams

Of poets like Dr. Iqbal and Faiz Ahmed Faiz.

I am also aware of all that is happening

How the have are throttling the have-not

Whether the Western powers help them or not.

My poor denuded homeland -- the Land Of The Pure

Is crying for justice to one and all

To humans with conscience

And to the powers that be

And even to the witnessing angels

Of God the Greatest, the Almighty...

But I am alone, like some like me

When will this damaged land see honesty

Truth and a sense of sincerity

To have the havoc repaired --

The destruction and loot by the bureaucrats

And the self-serving politicians?

Is this for what the poets envisioned?

Sages like Sir Syed Ahmed Khan?

Visionaries like Mashriqi?

No, this is a farce I see

A grotesque burlesque fantasy

O God Almighty, O Allah

Enough is enough I am forced to say

Send down your wrath on the guilty ones

Destroy their castles and fortresses

Their Secretariats and their hidden bastions

And all their safe havens and sanctuaries

Above the land and inside the mountains

If Pompeii can rebel and crush

The inequity of the proud Romans

If the USSR can crumble in days

And become separate as Russia

If Germany can be battered too

And the British Empire lose its worth

What great feathers have these morons

Of this land called Pakistan got?

Except dishonesty, plunder and bigotry?

O my Lord God! Allah Almighty

Just like you destroyed all those

Communities and nations that did wrong

And prided in their revelry

Forgetting You and Your silent Hand

Of slow but steady punishment

I appeal to Thee, pray to Thee

O my just Lord God Allah Almighty

Destroy the hoodlums one and all

And make my homeland, my Pakistan

A place where righteousness thrives

Once its buds spring upright and straight

After uprooting inequality.

And let this blessed land of the Qaid

Become an example for all to see --

May it the Eighth Wonder of the world be...

Terrorism is barbarism

And no loyal one of this land would agree

To blow up his own dear ones, his family.

This is a ploy hatched up by those

Who want to wreck peace and amity

And blame it on us poor Muslims

Who are more concerned about our meals.

I challenge Russia, I challenge their friends

To come up with the truth and defend

How a people busy in toiling and work

Can become suicide attackers for money

This is an Indian ploy I am sure

Which is paying for what we do

To help the dying in Kashmir

Indira did not want Pakistan

Just like her father Nehru did

To survive for more than three decades

Madeleine Albright vexes eloquence

In the Zionist forums of debauchery

Tell her to have a debate with me

Televised live on a worldwide stage

And I promise I will make her eat dust

At the wrong doings of her ancestry.

What Mountbatten and Cripps connived

At the time of Partition

Will be laid bare open before the world

Then let me see what Paul Schoefield

Predicted about the devilry

Which the British and the Hindus planned

And divided unjustly the lands where

Indian Muslims had majority...

O, were I Haider Ali

O, were I Tipu Sultan

Or even a strong Mahabat Khan

I would have taught the English men

Who came here as colonialists

And then through divide and rule

Became rulers of our lands so free.

O my Allah! You are the Greatest

Give sense of honour to my Arab friends

And raise among them a Saladin

Who can rid this earth of treacherous men

And spying diabolical women

Who love to be naked and have sex

Even in the arms of an Indian pygmy...

Save this bastion of Islam

O my God, save Pakistan...
My beloved Pakistan!

Author's Notes/Comments: 

POSTED ON OCTOBER THE 1ST, 2010.

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