collapsingworldFrankenISIL’s lam/rant

As the heart aches, on the day of Benjamin Netanyahu re-election, as the Creature marauds

through the lands, as Obama declares it was their bad

To you I owe my breath,

My heartbeat

My lopsided step

My patchwork features

My ignominious demeanor

 

People call me monster

Accursed am I and unloved,

People flee me by the thousands

Not a soul

To give me a crust of bread

Though my face is hidden

In a black rag

Like my flag

My countenance is offense

To legion and religion

 

Why have you forsaken me

Mommy and Daddy

And hide in a house of candor?

Comfortable you are in your house of splendor

And me forsaken in deserts

Mountains and valleys

Unloved and despised

An abomination

In the eyes of women and men

A miscarriage of politics

Malformed yet alive

And even thriving

An abomination

To the eyes of women and men

 

Yet if people dared to look

It wouldn’t be hard to detect

In me your pointy chin

Your jug ears your long

Aristocratic face

Your coiffed blondish hair

Your painfully thin lips

But even when they stared

Into my (your) deep blue eyes

it was to hard to believe

 

Overtaken by pity you drop me

Weapons with the cover of night

Provide me with

Fleets of Toyota trucks

Barrelfuls  of Hollywood editors

Send me reinforcements

Unschooled

In the compass of Mecca

 

In the light of morning

You turn away your glance

Again I am not your creature

But I probably wouldn’t have been born

If it weren’t for you,

And certainly couldn’t thrive now

Had you truly abandoned me

No I am no mere blowback

Ancient  son of conditions….

I am your creature!

I am your SON

 

No foster child, no adoptee

But flesh of your flesh

Though conditions could be created

And a creature born

No baby could live

Without a mother’s milk

And a father’s constant care

Your DNA is at the core

Of my ignominious self

Of each of my cells

And I wander the earth

With its orders

 

Don’t disturb the eternal rest

Of your dead intellectuals

Who in their old age

Dared turn from faithful servants

into whistleblowers

Don’t call me BLOWBACK

Quit your damage control

I am indeed

The legitimate son

Of your accursed quest

For Empire

The flesh and blood

Of your Wall Streets

And skyscrapers

And Pentagons

And alphabet soup entities

Of your frontline states

My mitochondria

Bears the mark of a long line

of un-tender Secretaries of State

National Security Advisors

Special Ambassadors to the United Nation

Yes, I have nursed at the teat

Of  the Madeleines, the Hilarys, the Condoleezas

And their nourishing milk

Has made me grow strong

 

Though now you dress me

In desert garb

Like a Salgarian marauder

My core belongs where the sun sets

And my actions

The scimitar of perfidy

Mirror

Your exotic fantasy

 

Accursed be thy name

And thy sight

May the axe of justice

Soon sever

That umbilical chord

And both your life and mine

Creating conditions

Generating a womb

For the birth of a different story.

 

Pina Piccolo, 18/03/2015