A New Yorker called Donald Trump
With Latinos and Muslims, he had the hump!
For him all the Latinos were a bunch of druggies
And Muslims were a national security worry.
He’d flick his quiff and pick and sniff
While screaming firebrand speeches
The Muslims angered him so much
He’d go all pink like peaches!
Dear Young Men of Baghdadi’s fiefdom,
Is Allah pleased?
When you fire upon civilians
When you shoot cowering women in the temple
Is Allah pleased?
When you blow up your own bodies
And your limbs lie upon the limbs of a young child
Is Allah with you?
When you kidnap young women
And use and abuse them for your own lusts
Does Allah approve of you?
When you deal in oil and drugs,
When you buy your stuff from gangsters and from thugs
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Dear Purveyors of Western Freedom,
When you lay waste to Arab cities,
Is this for freedom and equality?
When you ignore millions of dissenters
Is this for freedom and equality?
When you sell and manufacture chemical bombs,
Is this for freedom and equality?
When you create heaven in your lands
But sow discord and conjure hell elsewhere
Is this for freedom and equality?
When you oscillate between who is your ally and who is your terrorist
Is this for the sake of freedom and equality?
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I’m an alien, I’m a legal alien. Sting
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This is what I think it means to be a British Muslim today, who was born and bred in England but hailed from immigrant parents. To have an eclectic medley of voices swirling around in your brain. Living and constantly shifting between different worlds, religions, languages, cultures, traditions and voices, all competing for some kind of hold on your identity, on your spirit, your will. All this baggage, mixed-loyalties, competing face masks and fashions stuffed into a short-lived life, which, for many of us, typically consists of home, school, mosque and holidays to Pakistan and the holy lands or whichever country you hail from.
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While the rank and file of defiant Hamas
Locked down the city for imminent attack
While the suffering mothers of the Gaza strip
Gathered up their brood for a perilous trip
While the tanks and the trucks of the IDF
Charged along the highway like a crazed express
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The greatest trick the devil plays on man is to make him believe he is free.
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Far away in the hills, there lived this big, proud old man, with his wife and many young children. This man was larger than life, extremely generous and caring to his dependants, but at times he could be cruel and tyrannical. Consequently his children would flee when rage filled him and his wife would weep when anger swelled in his eyes. This old man led his family the way he saw fit, and for many a year lived like a king of his own little world.
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By Novid Shaid, 2011
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The chairman stood upon the podium, grinning at the seated gentlemen, who sat around their tables which were arranged in their ceremonial shape, and began:
“My dear colleagues and friends! I would like to welcome you to this historic, inaugural Greedlibb conference, which I am confident will develop through the future at great progress. I as the chairman am utterly honoured to be addressing you in this opening speech, before we split into our respective groups for the strategic planning sessions.
Continue reading
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Let me inform you of the story of Tariq Azizee
And the life of terrible cruelty he had to bear
Take heed of the tragic tale of Tariq Azizee
Let it balance your hope with some sobriety and fear.
By Novid Shaid, May, 2011
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Presenting events like a melodrama or soap
Rousing the masses against an abominable terror
Offloading opinions disguised as facts and info
Promoting a world view pervasively, drip by drip
Anchoring key words with an infamous persona
Generating a narrative against a villain so big
Alarming the populace with growing hysteria
Nurturing nationalism, dissension frowned upon
Dividing the world for a self-serving dividend
A closed group persists and prevails through media.
by Novid Shaid, April, 2011
The uprising
upsurges, escalating,
preparing the ground for
a ground breaking
an earth-shattering
downfall
By Robert Warrenjehad Denser and Anna Arabaiter Cooltar
If the man on the moon were a Mozlem!
Why, I sure wouldn’t be so surprised.
Coz everywhere you step in our nation
There be mosques and their holy cries!
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We let them into our blessed borders,
Gave em chances that they never woulda got.
Coz they come from the land of the A Rabs!
From their sultanic satanic despots!
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