Life, Dreams and Reality -- Sohel's Blog

Futile War By Mahbubul Karim (Sohel) March 24, 2003 This is how it begins. The grandiose ideas of cakewalk become the task riddled with bullets and loss of precious lives. Young men and women who are following the orders of their superiors give lives. Bombarded Baghdad is burning. Abraham whom all the three major monotheistic religions of our time believe as their patriarch or prophet, his supposed birth place the ancient city Ur in modern Iraq is seeing wars of misguided descendents, the destruction and bloodied body littered in the desert and dishonorably shown by warring parties to further their propaganda, perhaps are the reminder what this war really means. Perhaps it may expose the futile fervor of war’s rage and brutality. Shocked and awed are the world as are the Iraqi civilians and children lying in hospital bed with bloody bandage, listening the booming blasts from the on going destruction of their livelihood. In Iraqi morgues, piles of dead bodies, male

Thousand Widows By Mahbubul Karim (Sohel) March 23, 2003 Not with the darkest night or shuddering chill But the soul or mind traverse the mortal distance in whapping gallop, over the tempestuous waves of restless sea deep blue with bubbly foam twinkling in every krill oozed from watery mouth of dancing seal in the midst of pounding storm as if the world is in need of pure reform The sea is like a mountain with its thunderous waves swelling in the farthest peak and then dismantling into flowing waves like melting lava eviscerated from raging volcanoes And the screaming wind swinging the aura of an isolated oxbow or pinnacle reef in the middle of thousand violent wars and piercing moan of thousand widows Not with the bitterest shriek or hovering fright But the soul or mind traverse the mortal distance in whapping gallop, over the waves of sand in bombarded desert dusty white with chunky gnome baffling in every fi

The Victors’ Monologue By Mahbubul Karim (Sohel) March 20, 2003 Glamorous four dimensional extravaganza Colorful and shining with immense pride There you see our lambasted victors Meandering with pompous hide Winners are we, losers are you We are the destiny and owners You are my obedient subjects Liberty is the days of goners Believe in my muscle and might Look at this newly designed arsenal This one can incinerate disloyalty in nano-second Oh! How gorgeous! How phenomenal! We are the victors! Future is ours to shape Either you are with us or with the losers With the loyal color transforming gnats We will take over the world by hammers It’s hammer time! Let’s dance and shake Smile and fake How sweet the blasting chime! Freedom and multilateralism are the defeated spooks The ghost of liberal ideals are heaped in vain This is the time for neo liberalism fusing conservatives Let the shower of glory rain

Candlelight Vigils By Mahbubul Karim (Sohel) March 16, 2003 Candlelight vigils and millions of peoples’ unified voices Ruffling through, and peace dove fluttering its spanned wings over musty air As if its fleeing is foretold and war is foretold in a predetermined sermon Serpent’s venom and crushing bulldozer’s demolition of homes and bones Are all intertwined in the same fashion of predetermination of fate or hold Aye! The forceful captain is out in shoving force Dismantling the wings of dove or silencing people’s voices, sweet or hoarse Are all the game of poker or other musing gambles Jackpot if you have lucky numbers or be doomed to shambles They want the world to burn They want the weak to die or mourn By the bombarded relative’s skeletons But the candlelight vigils and millions of peoples’ unity Not to be reckoned with ceaseless impunity or careless gesture Thy the endless fabrication and polymerization o

The Moment of Truth By Mahbubul Karim (Sohel) March 16, 2003 This is the moment of truth Says the leader As if other moments were nothing But the false breeder Azores sees the galore of might Glittered podiums emit the fright History hums in the shadow Wants to tell the story untold On the streets of America and the world Peace marchers growing bold Our muffled humanity crumble And mumble in the face of war and blood The battle will bring more misery And catastrophic refugee flood The good Pope, Rabbi and Imam tried, as tried Desmond and Mandela Their cautions and appeals are ignored The leaders are defiant “Baghdad must be bombed and deplored” This is the moment of truth Says the leader “Follow us, worship us” “We are the bigger” And the peace marchers shout back, “No!” From the Australian summer to Canadian snow These are the people of conscience and heart Facing the might eye to eye and taking apart All the falsity and concocted fa

War’s Wraths and Devastations By Mahbubul Karim (Sohel) March 9, 2003 The mounting oppositions, the growing concerns and voices against the looming war and its calamitous ferocity that will surely kill thousands and thousands of innocent civilians and somebody’s father or mother or brother or sister will be in the zone of danger while fulfilling their superior’s orders in military combat situation wearing American, British or Iraqi uniform, seem to have no apparent effect on Bush’s obsession with Saddam and war. Real people get killed in the real war. Real widows mourn for their flag wrapped buried husband, and someone’s six-year-old son drops the very real tears while the eleven gun salutes take place for honor and patriotism. War is the failure of our collective humanity. While the leaders’ sons and daughters are tucked away in pleasant dreams, only the soldiers from the working class are put into forefront of vicious war. With the fervor of constricted patriotis

Bugle for the Dead By Mahbubul Karim (Sohel) Only the tattering rattle of stuttering guns Pop! Pop! Pop! Where is the Imam? Where is the Bishop? The schoolteacher has fled as well as the nuns The night sky enlightened by flying missile And there was churning burning fissile Whoosh! There goes one more life The bones are scattered among a puddle Crawling ants shift through the meaty muddle The bloody meat and open wounds of the dead And the dying still groaning from gushing dread Oh! the laughter of the leaders and charlatans They are twisting fingers for the sake of peace From the podium comes gobble hobble chum Lyrical oration are babbled with ease Soothing talks to cover the muddle and puddle Meaty muddle are faraway in the remote desert Or in the middle of urban warfare among the child The mothers are blind and fathers are splattered Their free roaming eyes and meaty muddle Are shifted through by the cra

memories of war, an anti war pantoum - A Poem by Caroline Ravenfox memories of war, an anti war pantoum By Caroline Ravenfox memories of war, an anti war pantoum Wickedness was how the days were fashioned. We tried to feed the children rain, because we were shunned at the market, for our pain. We tried to feed the children rain. Rain was scarce in those days. At the market for our pain, we were separated, told to go our separate ways. Rain was scarce in those days, it was war everywhere, mountains of dying. We were separated, told to go our separate ways. always accused of lying. It was war everywhere, mountains of dying. Needless to say, the children had hunger, always accused of lying, it made you wonder. Needless to say the children had hunger. We were starving, it made you wonder, the soldiers wouldn't share the meat they were carving. We all were starving, there wasn't enough rain to go around, the soldiers wouldn't share th