The Soldier

A Lesson On Spiritual Laxity

By Novid Shaid, 2004

(Author’s Note: First and foremost, this is advice for myself)

A nervous, young soldier, waited impatiently underneath his trench. Listening carefully, he held his breath. For a whole minute he heard silence ruling above him and it seemed that the bullets and bombs had stopped. Hope rising in his heart and feeling the strain of this long, hard, protracted war, he was sure this was a telling sign. Inwardly, he wrestled with his conscience. Fear stated that he should remain cautious and in a state of ever present alertness. Hope said, this was just rewards for his long hard slog, for holding the fort, for his indefatigability. Fear, hope. Hope, fear. Fear, hope. Hope, fear. Oscillating for a while, he sat against the mud and the stench of his trench, becoming increasingly exasperated. He gripped his rifle tightly, clenched his teeth, closed his eyes, then looked up at the sky for help. The silence and peace was just irresistible. Fear, hope. Hope fear. Fear, hope. Hope, fear. Hope. That was it. Resolute, he thought it was now safe to chance it above.

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Propaganda

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.

If The Man On The Moon Were A Mozlem

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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World Events

Like
an
inexorable
river
thundering,
gaining in momentum, swelling,
the multifarious world events flow to a waterfall,
spraying
into
the
tributaries of time.
Some drops plummet
like weighty rocks
shattering our surfaces
but other drops
float and slide
restoring unity.
Then foam rises
resurrecting from
the impact of reactions,
forming
convoluted clouds
or arresting apparitions
Before we evaporate into the ether,
Will we fall, or burst, or saturate?
Will we merge, or clear, or emanate?