Cry Of The Motherland
The truth must be told…she lays awake at night,
waiting for a new day to unfold..
Wandering out loud…where are my children
where have they gone?
Will I ever see a new day, will I see daylight.
Seeds the fathers scattered.. across the motherland
sprouted strong and tall… in some foreign land.
Oh, how I long for the touch, the feel of
my children… I am so abandoned, I am so
neglected, all my tears have dried…
and I am old and sad..
Who will care for me, who will tend this land?
I fear for the morals of the fat cats
roaming the city streets… leading a violent life,
undisciplined for words, and,
the big fat cat of all, who’s only claim to be
the reincarnation of the father teacher
when he was on earth before, nothing less, nothing more.
Come home my children …come
bear witness to how the off spring ,
of the fat cat, have taken up residence
in their permanent abode in the catacombs.
Be ware of the darkness my children,
as the fat cats on their nightly excursions,
of the most undignified nature,
often they honor with their presence .
In the halls of shame seeking diversion,
in subterranean theaters and cabarets,
for subhuman species dancing the nights away,
soaking in red baths, as though it was wine,
feasting on what’s yours and what’s mine,
they have become so fat, ugly, as ugly swine.
While the big cat, whose name they call the master
sits amongst the desert rats,
with a mindless head , fleshless forehead
his corps stiff as plaster.
Preaching his shallow sermons…his finite wisdoms,
to his adoring flock as they bowed their wrestles heads
in blind submission…
indeed they said … Al Mahdi has come… he is the master
witness my children …witness…
history’s grave disaster.
Adlhamid Mustafa Ben Hameda