Tuesday, June 01, 2004
So now what
We now have a 'new' leader/president/head might I say a 'tribal' leader.
Shall we go forth lest we turn back?
Tuesday, May 18, 2004
Today's emails . . .
________________________________________
Sent: 18 Tuesday/May/2004 4:37 PM
Subject: RE: Never been that Awake!
لا تدوخين روحج هذي والله بستان ما ملكهة انسان كاعدين بيهة من زمان الرومان
-----Original Message-----
Sent: 18 Tuesday/May/2004 3:56 PM
Subject: RE: Never been that Awake !
Thank you ‘X’ ....
You are right FINALLY ....
I love what you said: "Guys this is democracy face it or we go back to Saddam’s era."
I looooove these debates!!!!!!!!!!!
Keep it up.....
________________________________________
Sent: 18 Tuesday/May/2004 3:01 PM
Subject: RE: Never been that Awake !
Hahaha,
Guys this is democracy face it or we go back to Saddam’s era.
I am very sorry about the debate between us and every one has his own opinion on the matter and it is nice to share our thoughts
Take care all
Regards,
________________________________________
Sent: 18 Tuesday/May/2004 2:26 PM
Subject: RE: Never been that Awake !
"فلانة"،
صدقيني مجلس الحكم ما راح يلاقي وحدة تمثلة احسن منج، اني اقترح عليج يا تسويلهم مكتب هنا بالامارات او تشتغلين وياهم بالعراق ?
بالمناسبة، اني سويت فولدر عندي على الجهاز وبي فلمين وثائقية واحد عن العراق والثاني عن احداث 11 سبتمبر، اعتقد كل من راح يشوفهم راح يغير وجهة نظرة عن الحقائق الموجودة على الساحة.
ملاحظة، الافلام تحتاج الى Codec’s، بعد موجودة تحت اسم K-Lite، اذا واجهتكم مشكلة خبروني.
"فلان"، راح املخك اذا صبحت علينا مثل هل الصباح مرة ثانية ?
________________________________________
Sent: 18 Tuesday/May/2004 12:08 PM
Subject: RE:
Dear “Another X”,
Please do look at the pictures of Abu Ghraib Prison but through different eyes. Analyse it. The points you have mentioned are valid but when speaking of the governing council, they may be a lot of things, I do not defend them - nor do I condemn them. Could you speak so freely out side of Iraq about Saddam before?
As for Al Mahdi Army - it is truly a shame that they call themselves with the name of Al Mahdi.
I do speak to people in Iraq, who have come from Iraq and who suffer. Believe me they suffer less now. Please go see Al Basrah now. For the first time in 30 years tall the other provinces feel the suffering, for the first time in 30 years Basrah is better now than before. True that Water, Electricity and services maybe cut off at certain times but even then it is better.
You only see the negative - we may not be in a great state of being now, but boy are we good at complaining. So you would rather the baa'thist regime is back?
My Whole family is in Iraq. Except for a few cousins.
Nobody accepts the flag it is not ours. It is a flag of a castrated entity not Iraq. Never have we been nor will we be like that.
When a person is ill or diseased, usually he takes a medicine, suffers a while then gets better, like cancer, you need to kill the cancerous cells with chemotherapy to get the whole body better. Iraq is going through chemotherapy to rid itself of 30 of a malignant disease. 3 generations are now ill-educated and un-cultured. 3 generations of our people are lost. Iraq needs to expel these cancerous to recover and be on its healing path, let us support our country and people not cripple it please
________________________________________
Sent: 18 Tuesday/May/2004 10:40 AM
Subject: RE:
“She X”,
You can THINK as much as you want, and for sure you can DREAM as well, but I am pretty sure that you can not DO anything. This is not the Freedom that we are looking for.
You want to look to the pictures WISELY, ok then;
1. Look to the infrastructure of Iraq after one year, (as one old Iraqi lady said in an interview: if one oil pipe damaged, US will fix it in 2 hours, but electricity, water, traffic, hospitals??!!!)
2. Look to the Iraqi Doctors, Engineers, scientists; they are killed every day.
3. Look to the Iraqi museum.
4. Look to the Governing Council, it contains thieves and many unknown people to the Iraqi’s. Look how US has put them (she3a, Sunna, kord) with percentages!!!!
5. Look to the new Iraqi Flag (despite the fact that it is another version of the Israeli flag, why they didn’t invite the Iraqi artists in designing it); tell me if there is a flag in the world reflects the portions of country?? Most of the flags reflect the Union or the unified entity of that country.
6. Look at the Prisoners in Abu Ghraib.
I don’t agree with al Mahdi Army nor with al Falouja resistance because it is useless, but at the same time, we can not stay calm and happy while US army have arrested around 13,000 Iraqi people most of them without charges. You might not face such a thing, and InshAllah you don’t, but my neighbour and relatives have been taken since 9 months only because they catch them outside after 11:00 PM (one of them is very poor and was working in a taxi). Please talk to Iraqi’s inside Iraq to find out what is happening there?
I have many stories but there is no place of them here, but InshAllah Iraq will be better, we all love it but every one in his own way,
One more thing, the author of the below article was not honest when attacking Al Mahdi Army, he showed them devils and worse than Jewish??!!!
Have a nice day.
________________________________________
Sent: 18 May 2004 09:59
Subject: RE:
Oh “X”....
People have the freedom to THINK now.... maybe before some people had privileges that they don't have now that's why they see faults in the new cleansing and (InshAllah) renaissance of Iraq. Look at the pictures WISELY not what the media want you to see. LOOK, OBSERVE and use the biggest gift from God your own independent thought and Mind, think of the WHOLE of IRAQ.
The Governing Council as fallible as it is 'Human', something that Saddam’s people never did and will never know. At least they allow people to talk and accept the criticism and accusations letting it slide off their shoulders.
Someone told me this story:
A man (during Saddam’s regime) dreamt that he became president and his friends, ministers, Saddam’s men arrested them ALL, the guy who dreamt and those in the dream (he must have told someone the story).
Let us dream when before we were too afraid to have nightmares. If you don't want to be a part of the new Iraq that's your prerogative but let the people dream and live and think and have the special privilege that you are allowed now - criticise that which you are not pleased with. You would have never been able to criticise the regime during Saddam’s days... did you need to?
________________________________________
Sent: 18 Tuesday/May/2004 9:46 AM
Subject: RE:
"فلان" مع الاسف انو احنا المثقفين اصبحنا نرى الامور بالعكس، مع كل الاسف وبعد كل الفضايح اللي صارت بالاميركان نرجع ونتكلم عن السلام الموعود تحت ظل اسوء التعذيبات والاهانات اللي مارسوها الاميركان على اهلنا في السجون والشوراع، اعتقد انو هذا المقال من احسن المقالات اللي تنطبق على مجلس الحكم "الانتعالي" ولو همه بيهم واحد شريف كان قدموا استقالاتهم واحد واحد، ماكو ناس خايسة اجت تمص دم العراق احقر من هؤلاء في مجلس الحكم، جيبلي واحد منهم طلع ونطق بكلمة عن ما يدور في السجون العراقية، خلينا ساكتين، ورجاءا لا دزلي هيج اخبار لانك تحرك دمي.... خلينا نكمل شغلنا رجاءا
________________________________________
Sent: Tuesday, May 18, 2004 9:36 AM
Subject: FW:
انتهاكات جيش المهدي
الحلقة الثالثة
كتابات - صلاح الحسن
كل فرد في المجتمع لا يرغب أن تمارس عليه ضغوط ، ومهما كانت نوعية هذه الضغوط ، وخاصة في الوقت الحاضر والعراقي يمر بدرس عصيب وصعب ، ولكن لم يصل الحال به أن يتعامل مع الوضع الحالي على أساس التهميش ومصادرة حقوقه ، ومعاملته بالأسلوب الذي كان يتعامل معه زمرة البعث الحاقدة ؛ لأنّ ما تم معاناته في تلك الفترة العصبية من حياتهم ، حيث ضربت بنيتهم الاجتماعية ، وحتى الإسلامية منها ، والتي منها الفرض الجبري لجميع مسمّيات دائرة الحياة .
كان في العهد المباد تفرض على الشعب أفكاراً وممارسات الهدف منها وضع العراقي في موضع حرج ، فإذا تكلّم وقال كلمة الحق كان السجن هو المكان الذي ينتظره هذا إن لم يعدم لأتفه الأسباب .
وأما في عصرنا الحالي فالممارسات أصبحت لها طرق تختلف بعض الشيء ، فالممارسون لبسوا ثوب العفة والطهارة وأصبح هدفهم الحفاظ على بيضة الإسلام ـ وبيضتهم قد اختلف لونها وصغر حجمها وفسدت من خلال تصرفاتهم المقيتة ، فبعدما كانوا يتعاملون مع نظام فاسد ، ويشاركون العفالقة في بث الرعب ، وكتابة التقارير على الأبرياء من بني طائفتهم ، الهدف من وراء هذا رفع شأنه أمام رفيقه الجزار الذي وعده بمنصب أو مكافئة ؛ لأنّ أكثرهم ساقط أخلاقيا بالمعنى الوافر لهذه الكلمة .
فبعد سقوط هذه الزمرة القذرة ومن لف معهم ، عادوا من جديد بلباس آخر ودعوة جديد ، وتصرف مقيت ؛ فبدءوا بتشكيل جيش الرعب المقتدائي وبدأ الكثير منهم يمارس الأسلوب العفلقي في الرعب والقتل دون سبب يذكر أو جرم يرتكب.
هؤلاء عزيزي القارىء لبسوا ثوب غير ثوبهم ، ونادوا بنداء الخلاص وهو ليس نداءهم ، وكتبوا الشعر وهم لا يعرفوا القوافي ، ودبكوا وهم لا يعرفوا فن الدبك الشعبي ، ولكن ورثوه من صاحبة العفة ( أم علي الداكوكة ) وربما علّمهم الأستاذ الكبير البهادلي في الدروس الخاصة في فقه الرقص الشرعي ؛ لأنّه يملك إست كإست معاوية حيث يضرب المثل به ، عندما كان يهزه على مسارح البصرة .
بالله عليك أهؤلاء يمثلون المذهب ويأمون الناس في الصلاة ، ويدافعون عن المقدسات ، وهم الذين دنّسوا المقدسات بقتلهم الأبرياء داخل الحرم العلوي ، وإطلاقهم الرصاص ورفعهم السلاح في هذا الحرم وغيره ، وتدنيسهم لجامع الكوفة وهم يمارسون الموبقات في داخله , أين أنتم من هذا يا من رفعتم شعار الدفاع عن المقدسات ، اخرجوا منها فإن لـ ((مكّة ربّ يحميها)) ، ولا يريد منكم أهالي المدن المقدسة أن تحموها .
وآخر ما يمارسه حماة الديار المهدوية هو نصب أسلحتهم بالقرب من البيوت المكتضة بالسكان ، ففي الكوفة ، وبقية أرجاء محافظة النجف وكربلاء ترى انتشار المليشيات الخارجة عن القانون العرفي والشرعي تختبىء بين هذه البيوت ، وعند مطالبتهم بالخروج منها وعدم إطلاق قذائف هاوناتهم من هذا الحي أو ذاك ، ماذا تتوقع أخي المثقف والمتدين ، وصاحب الناموس ، وحامي الحمى ـ أن يتفوه هؤلاء .
اسمع عزيزي : يقول أحدهم لرجل كبير بالسن بعد أن قال لهم وبأسلوب الرجل الطيب : لماذا يا أبنائي تنصوبون هاوناتكم وتضربون من هنا ، هناك أطفال ، ونساء مريضات وشيوخ ، رد عليه شخص قادم من منطقة (الحيانية) وما أدراك ما الحيانيه من محافظة البصرة :
تدخل بيتك لو أخشش هذا الهاون بـ ..... مرتك !!!!
أجابه الرجل : بارك الله بيك ، وكثّر الله من أمثالك ، وأشكرك على هذا الخلق الحسن ، والمنطق السليم، وهنيئا لكم مقاومتكم ، ومبروك لقائدكم هذه الثلة المخلصة المدافعة عن العرض والناموس.
ماذا تريد قوله لهؤلاء القتلة المأجورين ، وهل تشاطرني الرأي عندما أقول لهم: إنكم ومع الأسف تحملون اسم الإمام المهدي عجل الله تعالى فرجه الشريف على صدوركم ، وتنادون باسمه ، بورك مسعاكم ، ولكن الأيام القليلة القادمة سيبان فيها زيف ادعاءكم ، وظهور نواياكم الخبيثة ، ومطاليبكم المغرضة ، وسيفضحكم الله له سبحانه وتعالى فإنه لكم بالمرصاد ، وسيعلم الذين ظَلموا أيّ مُنقلب ينقلبون .
هل يعلم القائد المجاهد ، تصرفات جنده ، أكان الأفضل له أن يعلمهم قبل حمل السلام وإرهاب الناس ، الخلق الحسن والتعامل مع الكبير والصغير ، ، أم لم يجد في قاموس حياته مفردة مثل هذه ...
وإلى اللقاء في انتهاك جديد إن شاء الله كونوا معنا......
Sent: 18 Tuesday/May/2004 4:37 PM
Subject: RE: Never been that Awake!
لا تدوخين روحج هذي والله بستان ما ملكهة انسان كاعدين بيهة من زمان الرومان
-----Original Message-----
Sent: 18 Tuesday/May/2004 3:56 PM
Subject: RE: Never been that Awake !
Thank you ‘X’ ....
You are right FINALLY ....
I love what you said: "Guys this is democracy face it or we go back to Saddam’s era."
I looooove these debates!!!!!!!!!!!
Keep it up.....
________________________________________
Sent: 18 Tuesday/May/2004 3:01 PM
Subject: RE: Never been that Awake !
Hahaha,
Guys this is democracy face it or we go back to Saddam’s era.
I am very sorry about the debate between us and every one has his own opinion on the matter and it is nice to share our thoughts
Take care all
Regards,
________________________________________
Sent: 18 Tuesday/May/2004 2:26 PM
Subject: RE: Never been that Awake !
"فلانة"،
صدقيني مجلس الحكم ما راح يلاقي وحدة تمثلة احسن منج، اني اقترح عليج يا تسويلهم مكتب هنا بالامارات او تشتغلين وياهم بالعراق ?
بالمناسبة، اني سويت فولدر عندي على الجهاز وبي فلمين وثائقية واحد عن العراق والثاني عن احداث 11 سبتمبر، اعتقد كل من راح يشوفهم راح يغير وجهة نظرة عن الحقائق الموجودة على الساحة.
ملاحظة، الافلام تحتاج الى Codec’s، بعد موجودة تحت اسم K-Lite، اذا واجهتكم مشكلة خبروني.
"فلان"، راح املخك اذا صبحت علينا مثل هل الصباح مرة ثانية ?
________________________________________
Sent: 18 Tuesday/May/2004 12:08 PM
Subject: RE:
Dear “Another X”,
Please do look at the pictures of Abu Ghraib Prison but through different eyes. Analyse it. The points you have mentioned are valid but when speaking of the governing council, they may be a lot of things, I do not defend them - nor do I condemn them. Could you speak so freely out side of Iraq about Saddam before?
As for Al Mahdi Army - it is truly a shame that they call themselves with the name of Al Mahdi.
I do speak to people in Iraq, who have come from Iraq and who suffer. Believe me they suffer less now. Please go see Al Basrah now. For the first time in 30 years tall the other provinces feel the suffering, for the first time in 30 years Basrah is better now than before. True that Water, Electricity and services maybe cut off at certain times but even then it is better.
You only see the negative - we may not be in a great state of being now, but boy are we good at complaining. So you would rather the baa'thist regime is back?
My Whole family is in Iraq. Except for a few cousins.
Nobody accepts the flag it is not ours. It is a flag of a castrated entity not Iraq. Never have we been nor will we be like that.
When a person is ill or diseased, usually he takes a medicine, suffers a while then gets better, like cancer, you need to kill the cancerous cells with chemotherapy to get the whole body better. Iraq is going through chemotherapy to rid itself of 30 of a malignant disease. 3 generations are now ill-educated and un-cultured. 3 generations of our people are lost. Iraq needs to expel these cancerous to recover and be on its healing path, let us support our country and people not cripple it please
________________________________________
Sent: 18 Tuesday/May/2004 10:40 AM
Subject: RE:
“She X”,
You can THINK as much as you want, and for sure you can DREAM as well, but I am pretty sure that you can not DO anything. This is not the Freedom that we are looking for.
You want to look to the pictures WISELY, ok then;
1. Look to the infrastructure of Iraq after one year, (as one old Iraqi lady said in an interview: if one oil pipe damaged, US will fix it in 2 hours, but electricity, water, traffic, hospitals??!!!)
2. Look to the Iraqi Doctors, Engineers, scientists; they are killed every day.
3. Look to the Iraqi museum.
4. Look to the Governing Council, it contains thieves and many unknown people to the Iraqi’s. Look how US has put them (she3a, Sunna, kord) with percentages!!!!
5. Look to the new Iraqi Flag (despite the fact that it is another version of the Israeli flag, why they didn’t invite the Iraqi artists in designing it); tell me if there is a flag in the world reflects the portions of country?? Most of the flags reflect the Union or the unified entity of that country.
6. Look at the Prisoners in Abu Ghraib.
I don’t agree with al Mahdi Army nor with al Falouja resistance because it is useless, but at the same time, we can not stay calm and happy while US army have arrested around 13,000 Iraqi people most of them without charges. You might not face such a thing, and InshAllah you don’t, but my neighbour and relatives have been taken since 9 months only because they catch them outside after 11:00 PM (one of them is very poor and was working in a taxi). Please talk to Iraqi’s inside Iraq to find out what is happening there?
I have many stories but there is no place of them here, but InshAllah Iraq will be better, we all love it but every one in his own way,
One more thing, the author of the below article was not honest when attacking Al Mahdi Army, he showed them devils and worse than Jewish??!!!
Have a nice day.
________________________________________
Sent: 18 May 2004 09:59
Subject: RE:
Oh “X”....
People have the freedom to THINK now.... maybe before some people had privileges that they don't have now that's why they see faults in the new cleansing and (InshAllah) renaissance of Iraq. Look at the pictures WISELY not what the media want you to see. LOOK, OBSERVE and use the biggest gift from God your own independent thought and Mind, think of the WHOLE of IRAQ.
The Governing Council as fallible as it is 'Human', something that Saddam’s people never did and will never know. At least they allow people to talk and accept the criticism and accusations letting it slide off their shoulders.
Someone told me this story:
A man (during Saddam’s regime) dreamt that he became president and his friends, ministers, Saddam’s men arrested them ALL, the guy who dreamt and those in the dream (he must have told someone the story).
Let us dream when before we were too afraid to have nightmares. If you don't want to be a part of the new Iraq that's your prerogative but let the people dream and live and think and have the special privilege that you are allowed now - criticise that which you are not pleased with. You would have never been able to criticise the regime during Saddam’s days... did you need to?
________________________________________
Sent: 18 Tuesday/May/2004 9:46 AM
Subject: RE:
"فلان" مع الاسف انو احنا المثقفين اصبحنا نرى الامور بالعكس، مع كل الاسف وبعد كل الفضايح اللي صارت بالاميركان نرجع ونتكلم عن السلام الموعود تحت ظل اسوء التعذيبات والاهانات اللي مارسوها الاميركان على اهلنا في السجون والشوراع، اعتقد انو هذا المقال من احسن المقالات اللي تنطبق على مجلس الحكم "الانتعالي" ولو همه بيهم واحد شريف كان قدموا استقالاتهم واحد واحد، ماكو ناس خايسة اجت تمص دم العراق احقر من هؤلاء في مجلس الحكم، جيبلي واحد منهم طلع ونطق بكلمة عن ما يدور في السجون العراقية، خلينا ساكتين، ورجاءا لا دزلي هيج اخبار لانك تحرك دمي.... خلينا نكمل شغلنا رجاءا
________________________________________
Sent: Tuesday, May 18, 2004 9:36 AM
Subject: FW:
انتهاكات جيش المهدي
الحلقة الثالثة
كتابات - صلاح الحسن
كل فرد في المجتمع لا يرغب أن تمارس عليه ضغوط ، ومهما كانت نوعية هذه الضغوط ، وخاصة في الوقت الحاضر والعراقي يمر بدرس عصيب وصعب ، ولكن لم يصل الحال به أن يتعامل مع الوضع الحالي على أساس التهميش ومصادرة حقوقه ، ومعاملته بالأسلوب الذي كان يتعامل معه زمرة البعث الحاقدة ؛ لأنّ ما تم معاناته في تلك الفترة العصبية من حياتهم ، حيث ضربت بنيتهم الاجتماعية ، وحتى الإسلامية منها ، والتي منها الفرض الجبري لجميع مسمّيات دائرة الحياة .
كان في العهد المباد تفرض على الشعب أفكاراً وممارسات الهدف منها وضع العراقي في موضع حرج ، فإذا تكلّم وقال كلمة الحق كان السجن هو المكان الذي ينتظره هذا إن لم يعدم لأتفه الأسباب .
وأما في عصرنا الحالي فالممارسات أصبحت لها طرق تختلف بعض الشيء ، فالممارسون لبسوا ثوب العفة والطهارة وأصبح هدفهم الحفاظ على بيضة الإسلام ـ وبيضتهم قد اختلف لونها وصغر حجمها وفسدت من خلال تصرفاتهم المقيتة ، فبعدما كانوا يتعاملون مع نظام فاسد ، ويشاركون العفالقة في بث الرعب ، وكتابة التقارير على الأبرياء من بني طائفتهم ، الهدف من وراء هذا رفع شأنه أمام رفيقه الجزار الذي وعده بمنصب أو مكافئة ؛ لأنّ أكثرهم ساقط أخلاقيا بالمعنى الوافر لهذه الكلمة .
فبعد سقوط هذه الزمرة القذرة ومن لف معهم ، عادوا من جديد بلباس آخر ودعوة جديد ، وتصرف مقيت ؛ فبدءوا بتشكيل جيش الرعب المقتدائي وبدأ الكثير منهم يمارس الأسلوب العفلقي في الرعب والقتل دون سبب يذكر أو جرم يرتكب.
هؤلاء عزيزي القارىء لبسوا ثوب غير ثوبهم ، ونادوا بنداء الخلاص وهو ليس نداءهم ، وكتبوا الشعر وهم لا يعرفوا القوافي ، ودبكوا وهم لا يعرفوا فن الدبك الشعبي ، ولكن ورثوه من صاحبة العفة ( أم علي الداكوكة ) وربما علّمهم الأستاذ الكبير البهادلي في الدروس الخاصة في فقه الرقص الشرعي ؛ لأنّه يملك إست كإست معاوية حيث يضرب المثل به ، عندما كان يهزه على مسارح البصرة .
بالله عليك أهؤلاء يمثلون المذهب ويأمون الناس في الصلاة ، ويدافعون عن المقدسات ، وهم الذين دنّسوا المقدسات بقتلهم الأبرياء داخل الحرم العلوي ، وإطلاقهم الرصاص ورفعهم السلاح في هذا الحرم وغيره ، وتدنيسهم لجامع الكوفة وهم يمارسون الموبقات في داخله , أين أنتم من هذا يا من رفعتم شعار الدفاع عن المقدسات ، اخرجوا منها فإن لـ ((مكّة ربّ يحميها)) ، ولا يريد منكم أهالي المدن المقدسة أن تحموها .
وآخر ما يمارسه حماة الديار المهدوية هو نصب أسلحتهم بالقرب من البيوت المكتضة بالسكان ، ففي الكوفة ، وبقية أرجاء محافظة النجف وكربلاء ترى انتشار المليشيات الخارجة عن القانون العرفي والشرعي تختبىء بين هذه البيوت ، وعند مطالبتهم بالخروج منها وعدم إطلاق قذائف هاوناتهم من هذا الحي أو ذاك ، ماذا تتوقع أخي المثقف والمتدين ، وصاحب الناموس ، وحامي الحمى ـ أن يتفوه هؤلاء .
اسمع عزيزي : يقول أحدهم لرجل كبير بالسن بعد أن قال لهم وبأسلوب الرجل الطيب : لماذا يا أبنائي تنصوبون هاوناتكم وتضربون من هنا ، هناك أطفال ، ونساء مريضات وشيوخ ، رد عليه شخص قادم من منطقة (الحيانية) وما أدراك ما الحيانيه من محافظة البصرة :
تدخل بيتك لو أخشش هذا الهاون بـ ..... مرتك !!!!
أجابه الرجل : بارك الله بيك ، وكثّر الله من أمثالك ، وأشكرك على هذا الخلق الحسن ، والمنطق السليم، وهنيئا لكم مقاومتكم ، ومبروك لقائدكم هذه الثلة المخلصة المدافعة عن العرض والناموس.
ماذا تريد قوله لهؤلاء القتلة المأجورين ، وهل تشاطرني الرأي عندما أقول لهم: إنكم ومع الأسف تحملون اسم الإمام المهدي عجل الله تعالى فرجه الشريف على صدوركم ، وتنادون باسمه ، بورك مسعاكم ، ولكن الأيام القليلة القادمة سيبان فيها زيف ادعاءكم ، وظهور نواياكم الخبيثة ، ومطاليبكم المغرضة ، وسيفضحكم الله له سبحانه وتعالى فإنه لكم بالمرصاد ، وسيعلم الذين ظَلموا أيّ مُنقلب ينقلبون .
هل يعلم القائد المجاهد ، تصرفات جنده ، أكان الأفضل له أن يعلمهم قبل حمل السلام وإرهاب الناس ، الخلق الحسن والتعامل مع الكبير والصغير ، ، أم لم يجد في قاموس حياته مفردة مثل هذه ...
وإلى اللقاء في انتهاك جديد إن شاء الله كونوا معنا......
things that make you go hmmm...
A few nights ago, as I was leaving behind a podium and applause of a recital, I met a few people who joined our table. They were of the media industry, she was a presenter; eloquent, he owns a channel; serene and her husband I can't remember; agitated.
He came by the next day at work and called to invite me to lunch with a common acquaintance. I'd had a big breakfast and so an hour later I joined them for coffee. He was more animated today and showed a keen interest in what I was saying. I was speaking about many a thing whether social, political or religious, all about Iraq. Then he hit me with it... "Why don't you do a weekly program at the station, your own 50 minute program?" Unexpected? No, I've had offers before. So I let it by. He called me twice that evening wanting to speak about two ideas for a show and which would I like.... He came to meet me again for the same... Now I am wondering. My dad thinks I should go for it and so does my friend...
I do want to yet I wonder if I want to be a T.V. face. Do I really want that exposure; I then catch myself thinking as a T.V. persona. I stop myself lest it get to my head…t a
What’s good is that I feel professionally wanted…
I think of my current role and the changes I am about to go through and my insides feel as if they were thrown into something akin to a tumble dryer…
As if I should need a more intense sensation of intestines entangled, I get another job offer…
I thank all who have this faith in me.
He came by the next day at work and called to invite me to lunch with a common acquaintance. I'd had a big breakfast and so an hour later I joined them for coffee. He was more animated today and showed a keen interest in what I was saying. I was speaking about many a thing whether social, political or religious, all about Iraq. Then he hit me with it... "Why don't you do a weekly program at the station, your own 50 minute program?" Unexpected? No, I've had offers before. So I let it by. He called me twice that evening wanting to speak about two ideas for a show and which would I like.... He came to meet me again for the same... Now I am wondering. My dad thinks I should go for it and so does my friend...
I do want to yet I wonder if I want to be a T.V. face. Do I really want that exposure; I then catch myself thinking as a T.V. persona. I stop myself lest it get to my head…t a
What’s good is that I feel professionally wanted…
I think of my current role and the changes I am about to go through and my insides feel as if they were thrown into something akin to a tumble dryer…
As if I should need a more intense sensation of intestines entangled, I get another job offer…
I thank all who have this faith in me.
Thursday, April 15, 2004
Selfishness & Destruction
Monday, April 12, 2004
'Even Freedom Needs Practice' Amir Al Sayegh; Iraqi Writer
Last night - on the rare occasions that I am home - as I was flicking through the channels, I came to BBC World and paused for a moment as I saw two gentlemen strolling through streets that seem to have been from a memory of the past...
One was obviously British; the interviewer and the other was an Arab, an Iraqi; his eloquence was gentle yet not mild, his demeanour humble yet also proud. He said something that gripped me, more so when he said: - 'Even freedom needs practice'. I was captivated.
He was definitely right. The show, upon further investigation, is called Simpson's World and in it 'John Simpson talks to Iraqi writer Amir Al-Sayegh about the difficulties of life in post-war Baghdad'. He was just so real and so eloquent that I was happy to remember; yes we do have well educated, thoughtful, selfless and more so, patriotic Iraqis. Yes, it is good to know that there are still people who truly care about the motherland, about our compatriots and who truly believe in a renaissance for such a glorious country as Iraq.
'Fifty four years of suppression require at least 10 years of practice' - although I would have liked it to be three years or four, I am wiling to succumb to ten should the result be solid and favourable. Mr. Amir Al Sayegh sang sweet tunes to my soul. During these onerous times it is truly refreshing to hear the sound of reason speak. It is very unfortunate that we have in our country the likes of such an odious, selfish, illogical person as Muqtada Al Sader.
On America: -
'They are not experienced in administrating other countries'. Mr. Al Sayegh seems dreadfully disappointed. Throughout his interview you saw a translucent soul aching for the truth, someone who BELIEVED in the United States of America and was, unfortunately, dreadfully let down. Just as an innocent child is so disappointed when he finds out that Santa Clause does not exist. Mr. Al Sayegh spoke of the films he'd seen (Hollywood) the books he'd read (Sydney Sheldon, Harold Robbins etc... ) and he did so believe that America WILL redeem itself and do something for Iraq. Wisely he recomposes himself and says: -
'America is a part of the world, they behave as if the world is a part of America'.
'... all the world must participate'.
So very very true!
... to be continued ...
One was obviously British; the interviewer and the other was an Arab, an Iraqi; his eloquence was gentle yet not mild, his demeanour humble yet also proud. He said something that gripped me, more so when he said: - 'Even freedom needs practice'. I was captivated.
He was definitely right. The show, upon further investigation, is called Simpson's World and in it 'John Simpson talks to Iraqi writer Amir Al-Sayegh about the difficulties of life in post-war Baghdad'. He was just so real and so eloquent that I was happy to remember; yes we do have well educated, thoughtful, selfless and more so, patriotic Iraqis. Yes, it is good to know that there are still people who truly care about the motherland, about our compatriots and who truly believe in a renaissance for such a glorious country as Iraq.
'Fifty four years of suppression require at least 10 years of practice' - although I would have liked it to be three years or four, I am wiling to succumb to ten should the result be solid and favourable. Mr. Amir Al Sayegh sang sweet tunes to my soul. During these onerous times it is truly refreshing to hear the sound of reason speak. It is very unfortunate that we have in our country the likes of such an odious, selfish, illogical person as Muqtada Al Sader.
On America: -
'They are not experienced in administrating other countries'. Mr. Al Sayegh seems dreadfully disappointed. Throughout his interview you saw a translucent soul aching for the truth, someone who BELIEVED in the United States of America and was, unfortunately, dreadfully let down. Just as an innocent child is so disappointed when he finds out that Santa Clause does not exist. Mr. Al Sayegh spoke of the films he'd seen (Hollywood) the books he'd read (Sydney Sheldon, Harold Robbins etc... ) and he did so believe that America WILL redeem itself and do something for Iraq. Wisely he recomposes himself and says: -
'America is a part of the world, they behave as if the world is a part of America'.
'... all the world must participate'.
So very very true!
... to be continued ...
Thursday, April 01, 2004
The Iraqiness in me
I'm thinking of going to Iraq, with the a passion similar to that of before but a bit more tempered.... And I think of you and I am stumped
Been a while ...
and then this here happens the Fallujah monstrosity. Does that give an indicator to the west how much horror had the Iraqi people endured, do they even begin to fathom what Saddam had done to such a rich country and to it's people. This is what they have been reared upon all pro-Baathists. Killings, bloodbaths mutilation and utter disrespect for the dead. Yes I agree with one commentator, what they did to those bodies would embarrass and shame any Moslem. Shameful.
Been a while ...
and then this here happens the Fallujah monstrosity. Does that give an indicator to the west how much horror had the Iraqi people endured, do they even begin to fathom what Saddam had done to such a rich country and to it's people. This is what they have been reared upon all pro-Baathists. Killings, bloodbaths mutilation and utter disrespect for the dead. Yes I agree with one commentator, what they did to those bodies would embarrass and shame any Moslem. Shameful.
Tuesday, January 06, 2004
I need you to light me up.... The Doors' 'Light my fire' ... In Jose Feliciano's smooth, iced latte voice... 'You know that it would be untrue.... You know that I would be a liar... If I were to say to you ... Girl, you couldn't get much higher..... Come on baby light my fire.... Try to set the night on fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiire..... The time to hesitate is through, no time to wallow in the mire....'
So back to the article that infuriated me a while back and that has remained on my mind... The one written by the commander in chief of the Dubai Police, Major General Dhahi Khalfan bin Tamim.
and this is how it goes [please bear in mind the famous Latin expression 'Traduttore, Tradittore'; translator, traitor-so I will be as true to the original text as I can be!]:
'Will history repeat itself?'
"Dear reader - we continue our conversation about the people of Iraq, for Al Hajjaj has said about them that they are a people of dissension/discord & dissemblance/hypocrisy... Etc. Till the end of his infamous speech. When they asked Al Imam Al Hussein who came to them, whence they professed their loyalty and assured him that if he came to them then they will receive him in the grandest manner and will fight for his victory. It is also said that Al Imam Al Hussain on his way to Iraq met the poet Al Farazdaq and asked him aft the people of Iraq and of what their news is? He said: 'Prince of the Faithful; ((their tongues are with you and swords against you!!!))' Al Imam Al Hussain disbelieved it, but was soon to discover that they will turn against him and fight him. Many had beautified his arrival to Iraq but just as soon it turned around and the people of Iraq changed from receiving revellers to fighters against the Imam Al Hussain!
Dear Reader - Do you remember this incident, when it crosses my mind, the story that the opposition recounted to the Americans and said that the people of Iraq will "await you with flowers" and here- of course - with no comparison between the two incidents for truthfulness, the Imam Al Hussain came to Iraq righteously outwards & inwards and even then they betrayed him, whilst the Americans came to Iraq outwardly for justice and democracy and inwardly - God only knows - seeking control over the oil wells that form 4/5ths of the worlds oil in the region bearing in mind countries neighboring Iraq and only a stones throw away.
The red flowers that the American soldiers expected to be received with, changed to scorching gun fire and especially the Sunni areas a.k.a 'The Sunni Triangle'. I had heard a lot from opposition leaders that sit on the Iraqi Governing Council who describe the U.S. forces as invading forces and not as liberating forces! For you will remember my dear readers, that the leaders of the opposition that represent today the Iraqi Governing Council what will they do when they will be asked to leave their 'thrones' and the 'thrones' of responsibility?! Without a doubt they will then be transformed in to an 'opposition against the U.S.' not for anything if only for losing their seats and status that they wish to remain in forever!! Mr. Bremer has found himself in a quagmire that has a beginning but without an ending in sight, Rumsfeld, U.S. Secretary of Defense, had envisioned the people of Iraq as they line the streets saluting & in expectance of the victorious conquerors and in the hands of each a red flower, alas the vision was unlike that which he had foreseen, Rumsfeld had been deceived and the reports from the members of the opposition was utter lies.
to be cont'd ...
So back to the article that infuriated me a while back and that has remained on my mind... The one written by the commander in chief of the Dubai Police, Major General Dhahi Khalfan bin Tamim.
and this is how it goes [please bear in mind the famous Latin expression 'Traduttore, Tradittore'; translator, traitor-so I will be as true to the original text as I can be!]:
'Will history repeat itself?'
"Dear reader - we continue our conversation about the people of Iraq, for Al Hajjaj has said about them that they are a people of dissension/discord & dissemblance/hypocrisy... Etc. Till the end of his infamous speech. When they asked Al Imam Al Hussein who came to them, whence they professed their loyalty and assured him that if he came to them then they will receive him in the grandest manner and will fight for his victory. It is also said that Al Imam Al Hussain on his way to Iraq met the poet Al Farazdaq and asked him aft the people of Iraq and of what their news is? He said: 'Prince of the Faithful; ((their tongues are with you and swords against you!!!))' Al Imam Al Hussain disbelieved it, but was soon to discover that they will turn against him and fight him. Many had beautified his arrival to Iraq but just as soon it turned around and the people of Iraq changed from receiving revellers to fighters against the Imam Al Hussain!
Dear Reader - Do you remember this incident, when it crosses my mind, the story that the opposition recounted to the Americans and said that the people of Iraq will "await you with flowers" and here- of course - with no comparison between the two incidents for truthfulness, the Imam Al Hussain came to Iraq righteously outwards & inwards and even then they betrayed him, whilst the Americans came to Iraq outwardly for justice and democracy and inwardly - God only knows - seeking control over the oil wells that form 4/5ths of the worlds oil in the region bearing in mind countries neighboring Iraq and only a stones throw away.
The red flowers that the American soldiers expected to be received with, changed to scorching gun fire and especially the Sunni areas a.k.a 'The Sunni Triangle'. I had heard a lot from opposition leaders that sit on the Iraqi Governing Council who describe the U.S. forces as invading forces and not as liberating forces! For you will remember my dear readers, that the leaders of the opposition that represent today the Iraqi Governing Council what will they do when they will be asked to leave their 'thrones' and the 'thrones' of responsibility?! Without a doubt they will then be transformed in to an 'opposition against the U.S.' not for anything if only for losing their seats and status that they wish to remain in forever!! Mr. Bremer has found himself in a quagmire that has a beginning but without an ending in sight, Rumsfeld, U.S. Secretary of Defense, had envisioned the people of Iraq as they line the streets saluting & in expectance of the victorious conquerors and in the hands of each a red flower, alas the vision was unlike that which he had foreseen, Rumsfeld had been deceived and the reports from the members of the opposition was utter lies.
to be cont'd ...
Sunday, January 04, 2004
That deep abyss is calling, yet again, and here I am... I hold on to the edge for dear life.... Where are you? See I told you, I need to give you that time for you.
You keep asking "where were you these few days, over the weekend?"
where was I? As if I had a map of directions for where I was heading... Damn that darkness... It keeps beckoning like some super magnet from 'Road Runner cartoon' yeah I feel like Coyote... Totally drawn to my "Bang!" doom and then as I stagger to stand an anvil falls right on my head! ... And you have the nerve to ask me where was I? ... Fuck this shit I wanna PMS!!!!!!
Every time I think of Iraq and the world today a poem comes to mind... A particular poem that slightly reflects where we are, where we were and maybe will guide us to take an alternative path to where we will be... It is a magnificent piece of poetry of the 20th century; 'Howl' by Allen Ginsberg is an astounding reflection of our society in a cess pool... A well shaped pool with beautiful surroundings... And fantastic greenery ... But a cess pool nonetheless.
it is a bit long but Amazing .. Mull it over, savour it ... Roll it over your tongue ... Feel it and then look at where we are today...
Howl
I
I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked,
dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix,
angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night,
who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats
floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz,
who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tene- ment roofs
illuminated,
who passed through universities with radiant cool eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the
scholars of war,
who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull,
who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burn- ing their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror
through the wall,
who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York,
who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night
with dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, al- cohol and cock and endless balls,
incomparable blind; streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping toward poles of Canada &
Paterson, illuminating all the mo- tionless world of Time between,
Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront
boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks
of Brook- lyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind,
who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of
wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of
brilliance in the drear light of Zoo,
who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's floated out and sat through the stale beer after noon in desolate
Fugazzi's, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox,
who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brook- lyn Bridge,
lost battalion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State
out of the moon,
yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of
hospitals and jails and wars,
whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on
the pavement,
who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall,
suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grind- ings and migraines of China under junk-with- drawal in
Newark's bleak furnished room,
who wandered around and around at midnight in the railroad yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no
broken hearts,
who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grand- father night,
who studied Plotinus Poe St. John of the Cross telep- athy and bop kabbalah because the cosmos in- stinctively
vibrated at their feet in Kansas,
who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking vis- ionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels,
who thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy,
who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Okla- homa on the impulse of winter midnight street light smalltown
rain,
who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard
to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa,
who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving behind nothing but the shadow of dungarees and the lava and
ash of poetry scattered in fire place Chicago,
who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the F.B.I. in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their
dark skin passing out incom- prehensible leaflets,
who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism,
who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos
wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed,
who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons,
who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild
cooking pederasty and intoxication,
who howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manu- scripts,
who let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy,
who blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love,
who balled in the morning in the evenings in rose gardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering
their semen freely to whomever come who may,
who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond
& naked angel came to pierce them with a sword,
who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed
shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual
golden threads of the craftsman's loom,
who copulated ecstatic and insatiate with a bottle of beer a sweetheart a package of cigarettes a can- dle and fell off
the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt
and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness,
who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but prepared
to sweeten the snatch of the sun rise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake,
who went out whoring through Colorado in myriad stolen night-cars, N.C., secret hero of these poems, cocksman and
Adonis of Denver-joy to the memory of his innumerable lays of girls in empty lots & diner backyards, moviehouses'
rickety rows, on mountaintops in caves or with gaunt waitresses in familiar roadside lonely pet- ticoat upliftings &
especially secret gas-station solipsisms of johns, & hometown alleys too,
who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up
out of basements hung over with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemploy-
ment offices,
who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open
to a room full of steamheat and opium,
who created great suicidal dramas on the apartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blue floodlight of
the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion,
who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of Bowery,
who wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music,
who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts,
who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates
of theology,
who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of
gibberish,
who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom,
who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg,
who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their
heads every day for the next decade,
who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccess- fully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where
they thought they were growing old and cried,
who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up
clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of
sinis- ter intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality,
who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually hap- pened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the
ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alley ways & firetrucks, not even one free beer,
who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Pas- saic, leaped on
negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic
European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears
and the blast of colossal steam whistles,
who barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch or
Birmingham jazz incarnation,
who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find
out Eternity,
who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver
& brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes,
who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other's salvation and light and breasts, until the soul
illuminated its hair for a second,
who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in
their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz,
who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific
to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave,
who demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hyp notism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung
jury,
who threw potato salad at CCNY lecturers on Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of
the madhouse with shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding in- stantaneous lobotomy,
and who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psycho- therapy
occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia,
who in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia,
returning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible mad man doom of the
wards of the madtowns of the East,
Pilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rock- ing and rolling in
the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a night- mare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the
moon,
with mother finally ******, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at
4. A.M. And the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last fur- nished room emptied down to the last
piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger in the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing
but a hopeful little bit of hallucination
ah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you're really in the total animal soup of time
and who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipse the
catalog the meter & the vibrat- ing plane,
who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the
soul between 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together
jumping with sensation of Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus
to recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intel- ligent and shaking
with shame, rejected yet con- fessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head,
the madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come
after death,
and rose reincarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of
America's naked mind for love into an eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to
the last radio
with the absolute heart of the poem of life butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years.
II
What sphinx of cement and aluminum bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagi- nation?
Moloch! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unob tainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys
sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks!
Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!
Moloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose
buildings are judgment! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stun- ned governments!
Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies!
Moloch whose breast is a canni- bal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!
Moloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless
Jehovahs! Moloch whose fac- tories dream and croak in the fog! Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the
cities!
Moloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the
specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind!
Moloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream Angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and
manless in Moloch!
Moloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me
out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky!
Moloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisible suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral
nations! invincible mad houses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!
They broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pave- ments, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which
exists and is everywhere about us!
Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstasies! gone down the American river!
Dreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!
Breakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! De- spairs! Ten years'
animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time!
Real holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the
roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!
III
Carl Solomon! I'm with you in Rockland where you're madder than I am
I'm with you in Rockland where you must feel very strange
I'm with you in Rockland where you imitate the shade of my mother
I'm with you in Rockland where you've murdered your twelve secretaries
I'm with you in Rockland where you laugh at this invisible humor
I'm with you in Rockland where we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter
I'm with you in Rockland where your condition has become serious and is reported on the radio
I'm with you in Rockland where the faculties of the skull no longer admit the worms of the senses
I'm with you in Rockland where you drink the tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Utica
I'm with you in Rockland where you pun on the bodies of your nurses the harpies of the Bronx
I'm with you in Rockland where you scream in a straightjacket that you're losing the game of the actual pingpong of
the abyss
I'm with you in Rockland where you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die
ungodly in an armed madhouse
I'm with you in Rockland where fifty more shocks will never return your soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a
cross in the void
I'm with you in Rockland where you accuse your doctors of insanity and plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against
the fascist national Golgotha
I'm with you in Rockland where you will split the heavens of Long Island and resurrect your living human Jesus from
the superhuman tomb
I'm with you in Rockland where there are twenty-five-thousand mad com- rades all together singing the final stanzas
of the Internationale
I'm with you in Rockland where we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the United States that coughs
all night and won't let us sleep
I'm with you in Rockland where we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls' airplanes roaring over the
roof they've come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls col- lapse O skinny legions run
outside O starry spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here O victory forget your underwear we're free
I'm with you in Rockland in my dreams you walk dripping from a sea- journey on the highway across America in tears
to the door of my cottage in the Western night
You keep asking "where were you these few days, over the weekend?"
where was I? As if I had a map of directions for where I was heading... Damn that darkness... It keeps beckoning like some super magnet from 'Road Runner cartoon' yeah I feel like Coyote... Totally drawn to my "Bang!" doom and then as I stagger to stand an anvil falls right on my head! ... And you have the nerve to ask me where was I? ... Fuck this shit I wanna PMS!!!!!!
Every time I think of Iraq and the world today a poem comes to mind... A particular poem that slightly reflects where we are, where we were and maybe will guide us to take an alternative path to where we will be... It is a magnificent piece of poetry of the 20th century; 'Howl' by Allen Ginsberg is an astounding reflection of our society in a cess pool... A well shaped pool with beautiful surroundings... And fantastic greenery ... But a cess pool nonetheless.
it is a bit long but Amazing .. Mull it over, savour it ... Roll it over your tongue ... Feel it and then look at where we are today...
Howl
I
I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked,
dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix,
angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night,
who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats
floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz,
who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tene- ment roofs
illuminated,
who passed through universities with radiant cool eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the
scholars of war,
who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull,
who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burn- ing their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror
through the wall,
who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York,
who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night
with dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, al- cohol and cock and endless balls,
incomparable blind; streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping toward poles of Canada &
Paterson, illuminating all the mo- tionless world of Time between,
Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront
boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks
of Brook- lyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind,
who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of
wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of
brilliance in the drear light of Zoo,
who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford's floated out and sat through the stale beer after noon in desolate
Fugazzi's, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox,
who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brook- lyn Bridge,
lost battalion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State
out of the moon,
yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of
hospitals and jails and wars,
whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on
the pavement,
who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall,
suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grind- ings and migraines of China under junk-with- drawal in
Newark's bleak furnished room,
who wandered around and around at midnight in the railroad yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no
broken hearts,
who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grand- father night,
who studied Plotinus Poe St. John of the Cross telep- athy and bop kabbalah because the cosmos in- stinctively
vibrated at their feet in Kansas,
who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking vis- ionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels,
who thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy,
who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Okla- homa on the impulse of winter midnight street light smalltown
rain,
who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard
to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa,
who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving behind nothing but the shadow of dungarees and the lava and
ash of poetry scattered in fire place Chicago,
who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the F.B.I. in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their
dark skin passing out incom- prehensible leaflets,
who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism,
who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos
wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed,
who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons,
who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild
cooking pederasty and intoxication,
who howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manu- scripts,
who let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy,
who blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love,
who balled in the morning in the evenings in rose gardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering
their semen freely to whomever come who may,
who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond
& naked angel came to pierce them with a sword,
who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed
shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual
golden threads of the craftsman's loom,
who copulated ecstatic and insatiate with a bottle of beer a sweetheart a package of cigarettes a can- dle and fell off
the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt
and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness,
who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but prepared
to sweeten the snatch of the sun rise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake,
who went out whoring through Colorado in myriad stolen night-cars, N.C., secret hero of these poems, cocksman and
Adonis of Denver-joy to the memory of his innumerable lays of girls in empty lots & diner backyards, moviehouses'
rickety rows, on mountaintops in caves or with gaunt waitresses in familiar roadside lonely pet- ticoat upliftings &
especially secret gas-station solipsisms of johns, & hometown alleys too,
who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up
out of basements hung over with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemploy-
ment offices,
who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open
to a room full of steamheat and opium,
who created great suicidal dramas on the apartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blue floodlight of
the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion,
who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of Bowery,
who wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music,
who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts,
who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates
of theology,
who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of
gibberish,
who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom,
who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg,
who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their
heads every day for the next decade,
who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccess- fully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where
they thought they were growing old and cried,
who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up
clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of
sinis- ter intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality,
who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually hap- pened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the
ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alley ways & firetrucks, not even one free beer,
who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Pas- saic, leaped on
negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic
European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears
and the blast of colossal steam whistles,
who barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other's hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch or
Birmingham jazz incarnation,
who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find
out Eternity,
who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver
& brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes,
who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other's salvation and light and breasts, until the soul
illuminated its hair for a second,
who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in
their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz,
who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific
to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave,
who demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hyp notism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung
jury,
who threw potato salad at CCNY lecturers on Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of
the madhouse with shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding in- stantaneous lobotomy,
and who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psycho- therapy
occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia,
who in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia,
returning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible mad man doom of the
wards of the madtowns of the East,
Pilgrim State's Rockland's and Greystone's foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rock- ing and rolling in
the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a night- mare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the
moon,
with mother finally ******, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at
4. A.M. And the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last fur- nished room emptied down to the last
piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger in the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing
but a hopeful little bit of hallucination
ah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you're really in the total animal soup of time
and who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipse the
catalog the meter & the vibrat- ing plane,
who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the
soul between 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together
jumping with sensation of Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus
to recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intel- ligent and shaking
with shame, rejected yet con- fessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head,
the madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come
after death,
and rose reincarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of
America's naked mind for love into an eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to
the last radio
with the absolute heart of the poem of life butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years.
II
What sphinx of cement and aluminum bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagi- nation?
Moloch! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unob tainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys
sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks!
Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!
Moloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose
buildings are judgment! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stun- ned governments!
Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies!
Moloch whose breast is a canni- bal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!
Moloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless
Jehovahs! Moloch whose fac- tories dream and croak in the fog! Moloch whose smokestacks and antennae crown the
cities!
Moloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the
specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind!
Moloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream Angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and
manless in Moloch!
Moloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me
out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky!
Moloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisible suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral
nations! invincible mad houses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!
They broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pave- ments, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which
exists and is everywhere about us!
Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstasies! gone down the American river!
Dreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!
Breakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! De- spairs! Ten years'
animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time!
Real holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the
roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!
III
Carl Solomon! I'm with you in Rockland where you're madder than I am
I'm with you in Rockland where you must feel very strange
I'm with you in Rockland where you imitate the shade of my mother
I'm with you in Rockland where you've murdered your twelve secretaries
I'm with you in Rockland where you laugh at this invisible humor
I'm with you in Rockland where we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter
I'm with you in Rockland where your condition has become serious and is reported on the radio
I'm with you in Rockland where the faculties of the skull no longer admit the worms of the senses
I'm with you in Rockland where you drink the tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Utica
I'm with you in Rockland where you pun on the bodies of your nurses the harpies of the Bronx
I'm with you in Rockland where you scream in a straightjacket that you're losing the game of the actual pingpong of
the abyss
I'm with you in Rockland where you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die
ungodly in an armed madhouse
I'm with you in Rockland where fifty more shocks will never return your soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a
cross in the void
I'm with you in Rockland where you accuse your doctors of insanity and plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against
the fascist national Golgotha
I'm with you in Rockland where you will split the heavens of Long Island and resurrect your living human Jesus from
the superhuman tomb
I'm with you in Rockland where there are twenty-five-thousand mad com- rades all together singing the final stanzas
of the Internationale
I'm with you in Rockland where we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the United States that coughs
all night and won't let us sleep
I'm with you in Rockland where we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls' airplanes roaring over the
roof they've come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls col- lapse O skinny legions run
outside O starry spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here O victory forget your underwear we're free
I'm with you in Rockland in my dreams you walk dripping from a sea- journey on the highway across America in tears
to the door of my cottage in the Western night
Monday, December 29, 2003
I am still savouring our last conversation ... it's taste lingers on my tongue and your voice echo's in parts of my head and ears... I can't wait till we meet...
I may not have lived in Iraq, at tmes I may not have felt a strong kinship with my compatriots, maybe even at times I may have felt that I am an outsider with my own people BUT NEVER had I at any point not been proud of my Iraqi & Arab ancestry & heritage.
So you say what brings this on.... aaah well here goes:
A colleague sent me an article written by the commander in chief of the Dubai Police, Major General Dhahi Khalfan bin Tamim - which has - while reading it - slowly but surely raised my blood to a boiling point and left it a slow yet embers red simmer.
below are a few of those mentioned in the article... am not well will continue and translate it tomorrow... I hope
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Al Hajjaj
"Al-Hajjaj ibn Yusuf al-Thaqafi is the one who is very well known for his promiscuity, apostasy, crimes, and total lack of respect for the faith. Al-Hakim has recorded on p. 556, Vol. 3, of his Al-Mustadrak, and Ibn Asakir has also recorded on p. 69, Vol. 4, of his book, the fact that al-Hajjaj used to say, "Ibn Mas`ud claims that he recited a Qur'an revealed from Allah, and Allah is nothing more than a filth of the Arabs." He also used to say, "Fear Allah as much as you want, for doing so is completely futile, and listen to and obey the commander of the faithful Abd al-Malik ibn Marwan for you will then be generously rewarded." Also Ibn Aqeel records on p. 81 of his book Al-Nasaih al-Kafiya saying that al-Hajjaj delivered a speech once in Kufa and referred to those who were visiting the grave site of the Prophet at Medina thus: "May they perish! They go around sticks and decaying cadaver; why don't they go round the mansion of the commander of the faithful Abd al-Malik? Don't they know that someone's successor is better than his messenger?"
Al Farazdaq
Al Imam Al Hussein
Jabir Al Ahmed Al Jabir Al Sabah
Kheirallah
I may not have lived in Iraq, at tmes I may not have felt a strong kinship with my compatriots, maybe even at times I may have felt that I am an outsider with my own people BUT NEVER had I at any point not been proud of my Iraqi & Arab ancestry & heritage.
So you say what brings this on.... aaah well here goes:
A colleague sent me an article written by the commander in chief of the Dubai Police, Major General Dhahi Khalfan bin Tamim - which has - while reading it - slowly but surely raised my blood to a boiling point and left it a slow yet embers red simmer.
below are a few of those mentioned in the article... am not well will continue and translate it tomorrow... I hope
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Al Hajjaj
"Al-Hajjaj ibn Yusuf al-Thaqafi is the one who is very well known for his promiscuity, apostasy, crimes, and total lack of respect for the faith. Al-Hakim has recorded on p. 556, Vol. 3, of his Al-Mustadrak, and Ibn Asakir has also recorded on p. 69, Vol. 4, of his book, the fact that al-Hajjaj used to say, "Ibn Mas`ud claims that he recited a Qur'an revealed from Allah, and Allah is nothing more than a filth of the Arabs." He also used to say, "Fear Allah as much as you want, for doing so is completely futile, and listen to and obey the commander of the faithful Abd al-Malik ibn Marwan for you will then be generously rewarded." Also Ibn Aqeel records on p. 81 of his book Al-Nasaih al-Kafiya saying that al-Hajjaj delivered a speech once in Kufa and referred to those who were visiting the grave site of the Prophet at Medina thus: "May they perish! They go around sticks and decaying cadaver; why don't they go round the mansion of the commander of the faithful Abd al-Malik? Don't they know that someone's successor is better than his messenger?"
Al Farazdaq
Al Imam Al Hussein
Jabir Al Ahmed Al Jabir Al Sabah
Kheirallah
Thursday, December 25, 2003
FUCK THIS SHIT .... That's all I can say.
you gotta read this article 'Dispatches from Iraq'
I'm glad she's there and telling the truth ....
it hurts when you are trying to believe in the U.S. and at times maybe even defend their presence .... Then they turn around and do this...
you know what worries me and I haven't mentioned a word to anyone? I'm worried of all the psychos that are in the army....
Yes I know there are some amazing people like Major Softy and what he's doing for Iraqi Schools ...
but I know there are a lot more like the psychotic morons who had no place in society and are looking for somewhere to prove themselves... Like the weirdo's and nutcases in most American war movies...
And they address us as nonentities, degenerates, ignorant philistines ... They forget the greatest civilization that bought them most of the science that they use...
They forget that we have been here for over 5000 years ... And so we will be for 5000 and maybe 10000 more ... So please do not insult the intelligence of the people of the cradle of civilization, please do not offend the land that has a variety and multitude of cultures more than you will ever be able to manage in the U.S. please show respect so that we 'open minded, modern thinkers of Iraq may have a good word for you and your actions to back it up.' allow us to make you our saviors but with a little respect...
You don't hear much shit from the British... They have done a lot more occupation of countries in their history than the U.S. so look, listen and learn (A primary English school book)!
you gotta read this article 'Dispatches from Iraq'
I'm glad she's there and telling the truth ....
it hurts when you are trying to believe in the U.S. and at times maybe even defend their presence .... Then they turn around and do this...
you know what worries me and I haven't mentioned a word to anyone? I'm worried of all the psychos that are in the army....
Yes I know there are some amazing people like Major Softy and what he's doing for Iraqi Schools ...
but I know there are a lot more like the psychotic morons who had no place in society and are looking for somewhere to prove themselves... Like the weirdo's and nutcases in most American war movies...
And they address us as nonentities, degenerates, ignorant philistines ... They forget the greatest civilization that bought them most of the science that they use...
They forget that we have been here for over 5000 years ... And so we will be for 5000 and maybe 10000 more ... So please do not insult the intelligence of the people of the cradle of civilization, please do not offend the land that has a variety and multitude of cultures more than you will ever be able to manage in the U.S. please show respect so that we 'open minded, modern thinkers of Iraq may have a good word for you and your actions to back it up.' allow us to make you our saviors but with a little respect...
You don't hear much shit from the British... They have done a lot more occupation of countries in their history than the U.S. so look, listen and learn (A primary English school book)!
Monday, December 22, 2003
It's been a few days, I am restless within, at first I thought it may be work related, then I thought that it may be family related, but then I realised it was you ... and me.
He jut came back from Baghdad. For the first time in my life I hugged him, kissed him then hugged him again and inhaled him.... and realised I was trying to feel Iraq through him. That was a first! Never has he traveled and come back nor when I travel and come back have I not missed him terribly but this time I missed my country. I wanted to smell Iraq in him, the place I never lived in, I hugged him and closed my eyes tight and took a few short breaths and then a deep one. My mind was reeling, I received no flash!
But of course I wouldn't recognize the smell of Baghdad, how long has it been? Fourteen years..? Too long...
I felt him bring a dream of it with him, for me, I wanted to ask him about each and every person he met on the street, I wanted him to describe them, I wanted to know how the water tasted and the vegetables and meat too. I wanted him to sing me a song from long ago that would carry me across his shoulders like when I was a child and take me over land and sea to Iraq.
I know a that some may be cynical, 'where were you before?' I've always loved Iraq!
Before we were like lovers hiding from people lest they destroy our fragile child called - a love for one's country - we hid it as a secret never to be told afraid of the 'Mukhabarat' that they may come and question our love and mistake it for loyalty to the Baath Regime.... Yet now... Like two lovers celebrating their love shamelessly in public, our souls as one, our bodies intertwined glistening with perspiration from our passionate encounter, after too long an absence ... We were separate after birth my love and I.
And now we are nearly reunited... and our fire ignited I wanna bay and Howl for my country
He jut came back from Baghdad. For the first time in my life I hugged him, kissed him then hugged him again and inhaled him.... and realised I was trying to feel Iraq through him. That was a first! Never has he traveled and come back nor when I travel and come back have I not missed him terribly but this time I missed my country. I wanted to smell Iraq in him, the place I never lived in, I hugged him and closed my eyes tight and took a few short breaths and then a deep one. My mind was reeling, I received no flash!
But of course I wouldn't recognize the smell of Baghdad, how long has it been? Fourteen years..? Too long...
I felt him bring a dream of it with him, for me, I wanted to ask him about each and every person he met on the street, I wanted him to describe them, I wanted to know how the water tasted and the vegetables and meat too. I wanted him to sing me a song from long ago that would carry me across his shoulders like when I was a child and take me over land and sea to Iraq.
I know a that some may be cynical, 'where were you before?' I've always loved Iraq!
Before we were like lovers hiding from people lest they destroy our fragile child called - a love for one's country - we hid it as a secret never to be told afraid of the 'Mukhabarat' that they may come and question our love and mistake it for loyalty to the Baath Regime.... Yet now... Like two lovers celebrating their love shamelessly in public, our souls as one, our bodies intertwined glistening with perspiration from our passionate encounter, after too long an absence ... We were separate after birth my love and I.
And now we are nearly reunited... and our fire ignited I wanna bay and Howl for my country
Saturday, December 20, 2003
Phantasmagoria ...
Where are you? My patience is wearing thin ... yet still I wait, I wonder how much more ...?
Today my phone fell down the toilet and as quickly I reached for it ... it still worked but I decided to rinse it with a bit of soap .. it may be ok but I guess it needs time to recuperate... as is the case with most things that go through the toilet and survive ... like the lives of a lot of Iraqis. Here I am upset that my phone got screwed up and am relatively worried about the info in the phone that I hadn't backed up ... so how many poor tortured souls did HE devastate and through his torture did he eradicate their lives without backup.
I dread how much I am able to reflect and maybe at times refract like shards of glass scattered over a playground creating a rainbow of colours ...yet sharp and painful to the touch. It’s beauty lays not in the mosaic of colours that it reflects but rather the spurts of crimson that it could spurt … from the tips of fingers and eyes as they lay sight on them … like a fire at midnight …. (Why, well it’s the witching hour) … mesmerizing till you look away and then you see it every where the flames devouring your sight ….
Where are you? My patience is wearing thin ... yet still I wait, I wonder how much more ...?
Today my phone fell down the toilet and as quickly I reached for it ... it still worked but I decided to rinse it with a bit of soap .. it may be ok but I guess it needs time to recuperate... as is the case with most things that go through the toilet and survive ... like the lives of a lot of Iraqis. Here I am upset that my phone got screwed up and am relatively worried about the info in the phone that I hadn't backed up ... so how many poor tortured souls did HE devastate and through his torture did he eradicate their lives without backup.
I dread how much I am able to reflect and maybe at times refract like shards of glass scattered over a playground creating a rainbow of colours ...yet sharp and painful to the touch. It’s beauty lays not in the mosaic of colours that it reflects but rather the spurts of crimson that it could spurt … from the tips of fingers and eyes as they lay sight on them … like a fire at midnight …. (Why, well it’s the witching hour) … mesmerizing till you look away and then you see it every where the flames devouring your sight ….
Thursday, December 18, 2003
I ache ... all over, my body is trying to expel whatever viruses or microbes are in... poor Iraq, I feel for you, imagine trying to be rid of a disease that has engulfed you for over thirty years, poor baby ...
It must be a hell of a conflict inside of you - the good cells against the bad, tryng to drum up enough strength to fight off every last diseased cell ... I guess I reflect you, how much closer we are, so much closer to each other ... like finally going to meet a lover... finally to lay my head in your palms, read it how you may ... I shall rest my head and curl up to you in my dreams feeling the wind kiss my cheeks and the fronds swaying up above playing hide and seek with the sun and my eyes. Ah Iraq.
It must be a hell of a conflict inside of you - the good cells against the bad, tryng to drum up enough strength to fight off every last diseased cell ... I guess I reflect you, how much closer we are, so much closer to each other ... like finally going to meet a lover... finally to lay my head in your palms, read it how you may ... I shall rest my head and curl up to you in my dreams feeling the wind kiss my cheeks and the fronds swaying up above playing hide and seek with the sun and my eyes. Ah Iraq.
Wednesday, December 17, 2003
I hadn't had much time for anything except events and conferences ... yet I think of you, are you reading this ... sure, I am sure you are wondering and wandering. I feel your intimate Iraqiness. I've gotta go attend a function but will definitely be back, at least I will try maybe later on tonight...
Ciao!
Ciao!
Tuesday, December 16, 2003
What is really amazing, is that never had I thirsted for my own as I have right now. let me explain, I never hung out with iraqi friends as others did ... I may even have at points avoided them...yet NOW, I am a glutton, willing to sacrifice myself for My fellow iraqi's... while I would have previously done so only for country.
Weird (apparently thats my favorite word) I have ALWAYS been a proud Iraqi, though now I am happy to be with other Iraqi's and am eager to get to know them and hunger for knowledge of their lives and days and times in the motherland, sadly I discovered that I had been the most estranged amongst Iraqi's that I've gotten to know, like I've been left out of the party...
Whose fault is it .... doesn't matter .... what matters is the reconciliation between the heart and soul.... between the land and people, between two that are forever inseperable regardless if they were Arab, Kurd, Turkomans, Armenian, Moslem (Shiite/Sunni) Christian (Catholic/Orthodox/Chaldean), Jewish (ok so we may not have Ashkenazi but what the hell - Sefardic/Ashkenazi), Sabeans, Assyrians, Yazidi's and all other religions and their subcategories that exist in this beautiful Cornucopia of individuality in such a mosaic of peoples called Iraq. You see what it comes down to is that we all come together as Iraqi's wherever we are in the world (given, the more we hang out with each other, the residues may rise ... but we truly are together no matter what ALL the FRIGGIN' Effed up ARABIC Satellite channels say (except maybe one or two). Am I a romantic? do I believe it or do I want to terribly believe it or is it mere wishfull thinking? well if it doesnt exist then I will will it!!!
Weird (apparently thats my favorite word) I have ALWAYS been a proud Iraqi, though now I am happy to be with other Iraqi's and am eager to get to know them and hunger for knowledge of their lives and days and times in the motherland, sadly I discovered that I had been the most estranged amongst Iraqi's that I've gotten to know, like I've been left out of the party...
Whose fault is it .... doesn't matter .... what matters is the reconciliation between the heart and soul.... between the land and people, between two that are forever inseperable regardless if they were Arab, Kurd, Turkomans, Armenian, Moslem (Shiite/Sunni) Christian (Catholic/Orthodox/Chaldean), Jewish (ok so we may not have Ashkenazi but what the hell - Sefardic/Ashkenazi), Sabeans, Assyrians, Yazidi's and all other religions and their subcategories that exist in this beautiful Cornucopia of individuality in such a mosaic of peoples called Iraq. You see what it comes down to is that we all come together as Iraqi's wherever we are in the world (given, the more we hang out with each other, the residues may rise ... but we truly are together no matter what ALL the FRIGGIN' Effed up ARABIC Satellite channels say (except maybe one or two). Am I a romantic? do I believe it or do I want to terribly believe it or is it mere wishfull thinking? well if it doesnt exist then I will will it!!!
Here's a big sigh of relief for all iraqi's ... Phew! I wish I had comic strip animation so that I can add a few droplets of perspiration flying of my forehead. Yes finally the big rat has been caught!
I say 'the' big rat because I had a mouse in my office which had dropped by to visit on Thursday afternoon... and they placed glue traps in my office... eeeeeeuw, nothing on Sunday and then Bang! they catch Saddam and the poor little furry creature falls into his trap too.
Now please let us make no mistakes here, I feel sorry for the mouse and have no pity for Saddam Hussein. I despise him even more everytime he's on a screen or in a paper, I despise how he and his sons have created a totally unatural conflict of emotions within me.
He is so abhorrant, vile and beyond any doubt a disgustingly cruel mind, yet to see him held captive while he is being checked for fleas and has swabs taken for his DNA, for an instant, a mere nanosecond, a whisper in time - I am just about to feel sorry for a poor disorientated old man who looks like an ancient Russian Poet or a worn out mediteraenean santa. SATAN, more likely. I remind myself of the stories I had heard, first-hand or else, the articles I've read, pictures I've seen so that I may not allow myself to feel one iota of sympathy because, naturally thats how one would feel seeing a 'supposed' fellow human being publicly treated as one would treat a diseased animal. I sincerely hope that that was not the reason the Americans showed him as such OH GOD PLEASE let him have no sympathy, not one single thought of mercy to cross anyones mind when looking at him or observing him but mostly none from those who will be dealing with him.
This is a mind that created sicker minds the likes of his sons Uday & Qusay whose postmortem pictures created the first unnatural conflict of emotions in me - violent rodents. It's a damn shame that it is not possible for them to be alive to enjoy their death - they were very much into carving people and drooling over their gore...
I say 'the' big rat because I had a mouse in my office which had dropped by to visit on Thursday afternoon... and they placed glue traps in my office... eeeeeeuw, nothing on Sunday and then Bang! they catch Saddam and the poor little furry creature falls into his trap too.
Now please let us make no mistakes here, I feel sorry for the mouse and have no pity for Saddam Hussein. I despise him even more everytime he's on a screen or in a paper, I despise how he and his sons have created a totally unatural conflict of emotions within me.
He is so abhorrant, vile and beyond any doubt a disgustingly cruel mind, yet to see him held captive while he is being checked for fleas and has swabs taken for his DNA, for an instant, a mere nanosecond, a whisper in time - I am just about to feel sorry for a poor disorientated old man who looks like an ancient Russian Poet or a worn out mediteraenean santa. SATAN, more likely. I remind myself of the stories I had heard, first-hand or else, the articles I've read, pictures I've seen so that I may not allow myself to feel one iota of sympathy because, naturally thats how one would feel seeing a 'supposed' fellow human being publicly treated as one would treat a diseased animal. I sincerely hope that that was not the reason the Americans showed him as such OH GOD PLEASE let him have no sympathy, not one single thought of mercy to cross anyones mind when looking at him or observing him but mostly none from those who will be dealing with him.
This is a mind that created sicker minds the likes of his sons Uday & Qusay whose postmortem pictures created the first unnatural conflict of emotions in me - violent rodents. It's a damn shame that it is not possible for them to be alive to enjoy their death - they were very much into carving people and drooling over their gore...
