The Revolutionary Cannot Speak

We were taught that the sun does not always shine
We were taught
Thousands mirrors worth a truthful face

We tried to unlearn, those many lines our memory cannot forsake
The revolution, we repeated, the revolution is the solution
A task we may never undertake

Our revolution is pure, and it is not White
It’s grounded and rooted in our sinful eyes

We are the people
We are the words of wisdom
Your books and think-tanks so eloquently did not foresee

The power lies in people
The Black Palestinian painfully teaches us

Why do I feel that I’ll soon be the last Syrian alive
40, 000 corpses can never lie
They lay underneath our sacred soil
They haunt us in protests
Occupy our banners
and online profiles

A burden I cannot bear
So like others, I long for the day I join the Shuhada

I cannot be the last Syrian alive
I cannot be the Syrian who left, and still alive

You think “critically” of our raw revolution, you say
You think and cite our savagery with references of youtube videos
You are as powerful as the states you oppose
States silence us with machine guns
They send us sleepless killers in black suits
States fight among each other
We have learned the drill

But you, like the White, speak on behalf of us
You are the intellectual whose privileged voice silenced our indigenous voices
You’re no friend of mine
The leftist, feminist and the pro Palestinian activist
Are names of spaces you proudly occupy
To me, they’re just another privileged class
You made it possible to become my enemy

Yes, I have said the word “enemy”
And I would say it in the class you teach
Below the many articles you publish
Where you could tell the world how my struggle isn’t consistent with yours

What is your struggle, I wonder
When you’re the diasporic subject and I am the postcolonial
I stand in front of systems, machines and propaganda
In my besieged land

Your battle has become my dream of freedom
Your intellect has become another bullet in my chest
A “friendly fire,” I do not call it

I am being silenced by your pen

The revolutionary cannot speak
She may never speak for years to come
She writes in her mother tongue
Speaks folky words and songs your memory can no longer grasp
The revolutionary speaks to her gender-less comrades
And you
The powerful male intellectual
You are not one.

Would You Be My Palestine?

We can buy Almaza and get to your uncle’s place while he’s having his Argileh with his friends outdoors.

We can buy some of the Armenian nuts you like.

We can sit next to each other on the Sofa.

We can get nervous.

We can allow silence to be so loud.

This is it.

We can turn Valentine into a sacred sin.

Would you break the law with me?

We can wait till we finish our first bottle.

We can forget about your tomorrow and mine.

You can let me start right here and now.

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The Great Hero and Martyr Khalid Islambouli

From Zionist Wikipedia which some consider as a “resource” in their blogging and some link to it in some “alternative” media outlets:

Legacy

Khalid Islambouli continues to serve as an inspirational symbol for Islamist movements throughout the world, including terrorist groups. On July 31, 2004 “The al-Islambouli Brigades of al-Qaeda” claimed responsibility for an assassination attempt on Shaukat Aziz, then a candidate for the post of Prime Minister of Pakistan. On August 24, 2004 a Chechen group calling itself “The al-Islambouli Brigades” issued a statement claiming responsibility for the bombing of two Russian passenger aircraft.[1][7]

Actually, dear fucked up Wikipedia, Khaled Islambouli continues to be an inspirational symbol for all of us, Leftists, Socialists, Anarchists, LGTBQs, women and men. This linkage between such amazing people and Islamic groups like Hezbolla and Hamas, and Islamatized American-funded groups as Al Qaeda will only reflect your pathetic western racism towards the regional people’s self-determination and disapproval of leaders like Sadat.

Leaders who support occupation and cooperate in murdering people and assassinating resistance leaders will be down someday, very soon I hope, in fact, only then I might consider celebrating a true New Year.

Gaza will never be down, not with such great and amazing everlasting resistance.