KILL THE RICH
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DISCLAIMER: THIS SITE DOES NOT ADVOCATE THE MURDERING OF THE RICH OR WEALTHY. IT IS SOLELY INTENDED TO BRING ATTENTION TO THE PLIGHT OF THE POOR OF THE WORLD. |
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Poetry by Amina Mansour |
Frustration, devastation… A world doomed by anger and domination
Where are we heading to?
Hell and total disintegration?
The shadows of this capitalist world, entraps my
imagination
I fail to think, I fail to write as money, war, hatred
Were never topics that fit my perfect equation
An equation of an evenhanded world garlanded by peace,
fields and
endless recreation
Was I so naïve to think that the world is an
incandescent jewel
awaiting exploration?
It seems I was, as everyone is fighting for prejudice
causes leaving
my mind in total inflammation
What is right?
What is wrong?
Whom should I follow?
No one I guess, simply because I feel the topics are
so shallow
Religion, racism, terrorism,
No unity, no balance, no equality,
Complex inferiority, thousand things on the list
Nothing compared to an ideal system of communism
Where no religion, no racism, no materialism
Just a solid, healthy soil for equality and peace to
persist
Sometimes we so much believe in ideologies, even if we
know they
might no longer exist
But worldly temptations are attractive and are very
difficult to
resist
Like a devil, they weaken our resistance and
re-prioritize our lists
But in my heart I know I am a Marxist
Burdened by religion and worldly injustice
And because some disasters can shape the world around
you
And make you insist
>From now on till forever I'll live like a modest
communist
A confirmation
Eternal dedication
Long live communism
Amina
Capitalist Play
Sitting on your luxurious chair, in an air conditioned atmosphere
Bossing around, an innocent worker; whose hideous fate has brought her here
All she can do is obey your orders helplessly with a heart trembling with fear
A situation vividly clear; of how capitalist violence can rape vigorously the innocence of a deer!
You enjoy enslaving and humiliating people; then order them to thank God for your contaminated air they’re breathing
Have you ever thought of placing yourself in the unjust life they’ve been leading?
but just to let you know, I will never take a ride in your capitalist show;
it’s disgusting, it’s heartless, and I promise you I’ll never go with this ugly capitalist flow
Set a show and enjoy being captured in its capitalist flashy flares
But I won’t remain silent as the situation is too much for my Marxist heart to bare;
All the worker can do, is stare wishfully at the things you wear
or listen silently to your nasty words as you capitalist **** swear!
You and your capitalist friends eat like greedy
But you never think of feeding her; the poor and needy
You pray, and pray but is this what your god has ordered you to obey?
Injustice, humiliation, and leading workers astray!
Shame on the world that has made you act this way;
Believing that a man is what he eats and wears; but soon I promise you your capitalist life and mind will decay; I’ll then be very gay, to see you on the ground sharing leftovers and tasting a glass of the humiliation you scolded with your workers everyday
But just in case you don’t get this world; here is a simplified version of the play
We all eat
Reproduce
Die
Hasn’t your mind ever questioned why; we treat others differently, although we are all going to die?
Till then I promise you workers I’ll write everyday
About injustice, and capitalist so-called heroes in the play
But because everything has an end
Very soon the heroes in the play will amend
You are the heroes, and this capitalist play will very soon come to an end !
“GOD HAVE MERCY”
The moment has come for the night to run, to pave the way for a brand new day
The night cautiously undresses in a gradual way, revealing a naked world that is in no way beautiful or gay…
Bitter weather has eaten his body in a repulsive way, transforming a short night sleep into total dismay
He is up again, he has to…the struggle to live in a very primitive way conquers every aspect of his life and chains his soul in a suffocating way
Fog has covered the world in a very gloomy array …..But will it make a difference?
His soul has always been trapped inside, like clouds blocking the sun on a rainy day
Like mice squeaking in their hole, he seeks leftovers to eat something whole
He leaves with no energy to start a hectic endless day
Where the factory is his shelter, his God, his sole source of nothing and everything in so many ways
On his way, he smells bakery, fresh from a street corner café
Where cheerful laughs and luscious smells re-form his thoughts in a rebellious way
“Why is the world so unfair, giving some everything and sucking my life away”
He passes by a church and captures a scene of people as they pray
But will he pretend to be satisfied, to thank God for nothing but agony, to thank God for a live less life!!
“Religion is the opium of the masses”, it’s what pushes them to cling to strife on hope that one day they’ll lead a better life! But is there another life? Or is it just another illusion traumatized by God’s valor; never to question if what he says is right?
His cough shakes the world like the sound of the deafening machines in the factory
Time in the café passes like a feather in the air enjoying the sway
Time in the factory passes like centuries of torture, isolated far away
“Who am I? another inferior character in God’s ugly play?”
But if only people knew what workers do!
They pave the way for the loud laughs drumming in the capitalist café
Every cell in his body screams wishing to retreat …But this vicious, wicked life is difficult to defeat
Eyes quiet neat in the café are starting to drift away, the night has fallen and they’re exhausted by living a wholesome, fun day!
Night in the factory is nothing but a prolongation of an everlasting, mad day
Where hope, future and comfort are void in every single way
Workers stand in lined on hope they’ll get rewarded for the day
They’re drained, they’re weary..they’re restless in a remarkable way
A flashy car drives and throws left overs of nothing in an arrogant capitalist way
Its time to leave, his heart filled with grief
He looks like a 99 year old, consumed by a world that knows no relief
He’s back home, squeaking like a mouse shocked by electricity in his hole
He dug his grave, ready to sleep but all he could do is hysterically weep
“Why has GOD created me if he ever knew that everyone would regard me so cheap? “Why does he enjoy seeing me weep daily till I sleep?”
“GOD HAVE MERCY”
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