Teenage

Do you want to see the moon?
I want to be the moon.
I want to float up to the sky among celestial diamonds plastered into the night
I want to watch the Earth from afar
and take in the all of the beauty and pain of humans wholeheartedly

Yes, I want to see the moon
I don’t know you very well.
But I’ll follow you to the east side of the island,
Where you say the moon is.

This way.
My bare feet are painted in bloody scratches from the rocks,
and I leave a red mark beneath everywhere my feet step,
carving a path of my own on unmarked gray rocks.
The boulder obstacle course I venture over vanishes
as my hair drips down beside me in wavy ornamentation
My hands are empty, free and light

Almost there.
I wonder if you really mean that.
I’m sure you’re lying by now, but your eyes are dancing
with the sparkling sense that you know something that I don’t.
The grains of sand push down under my feet
like a million fallen tears and I ask myself who you are.

Are you the moon?
You act like it.
An extra-terrestrial crescent glowing in the pitch black
among radiated little rocks of illumination.
Well, you must be, because the moon isn’t here.
I don’t see it.
The sky is staring back at me blankly
As I look for answers I can read on your face that you don’t have them.

Why did you take me miles across the island?
I ask you, my stubborn arms folded in the front seat of your car
facing away from you, eyes still hopelessly scanning the sky
for something that is hidden.
My damp body curls up in the corner
under the security blanket of my leather seat belt
trying to make itself as small as possible.
Smoke curls out of the corner your mouth
and out of the window into the cool air
you shrug and smirk, pressing hard on the gas.

I woke up from a nap today
with a happy head
On the first of May
There lying on my bed
A strange block of paper
Along with a leaf of maple

I looked closer and realised
It’s a Math book
All the joy melted like ice
With just one look

I solvde one question
I need a potion
To complete my homework in a click
Or send me a solution or a trick

I looked at the clock
After an hour
Surprised, I yell
“Over is the war”

Lebanon my imperfect home
Lebanon full of war
Lebanon full of blood
Lebanon, I love no matter what

As I dance on top of the ruins
The wind moves the national flag
All the people cheer
All the children dance
Lebanon, I love no matter what

Innocent children losing their lives
Everywhere you walk you see
Millions dying and you do not care
I do not know what you will do
If this happens to you

Sleepless nights is becoming a thing
Millions watching the news at night
When will you stop with this trauma
And horrific genocide?
Why can’t you Leave Lebanon alone?

Many people are dying, and you do not care at all
People are dying and all you do is bomb
Why cannot you be calm and open your eyes
and see the people cry?
It is not war, it’s purely murder
and its called genocide

Rolling on she goes
pushed by her big brother,
she can’t stand
she can’t walk
she can’t move.
I watch the two
talking, joking, laughing
this time so sweet
but there was a sour side
like the sour key candy she loved to eat.
Those last two bitter months:
in hospital — chiseled bone, two screws in place
then home — five formidable weeks in bed
and now — hobbling towards health.
He pushes her
keeping her smiling
keeping her safe
keeping her buoyant.
I walk in her ghostly place
My legs now able to carry me
to buy sour keys.
Her memory encased in mine
I watch her enter the corner store,
come out,
and repeat.
She’s walking now,
we walk together.
The sour keys await.
I go into the store and get some
before looking around
and leaving.
I don’t see her this time.

Four against a tree, sitting with the bees
Someone new leans against the tree, who could it be?
A child, dressed in tan and black
A knife on his belt, smeared in blood
The Four believe he’s not here to have fun
One by one, he lures them away
Never again able to laugh and play
All but one who sits and stares
As the tree of bees turns into a tree of nightmares
Years later the fourth returns again
Staring at that tree of pain
He lays down next to the tree
Laying with the flowers and bees
He stares up at the sky
Watching as time flies by
All the while he sits and stares
Staring at the leaves of the tree of nightmares

As a society we tend to lend our dismissal days,
Happy to pass the distasteful feeling to regard themselves,
The lonesome feeling of being downcast,
Therefore putting others in harms way
Puts their weak matches at bay.
However if you feel euphoric you turn selfish like a beast refusing to be tamed.
Anyone in their correct body would feel that way ,
However mistreating this privilege can feel as uncomfortable as a rooster in a pond
You have to earn joy, if you do not earn it, it will not treat you with reverence,
but swallow your pride wholeheartedly leaving only the stench of regret.

Here I hang,
A cold-metal showerhead,
Tightly bound to my horrendous fate.

Day by day,
I sit, perched like an eagle
Stalking its innocent prey,

The look of panic appears
On their pale, horrorstruck faces
As the toxic, torturous gas
Wraps the weak and strong
Like a suffocating blanket,

The sudden thud
Of the lifeless bodies
Against the chilling concrete floor,
Cues the entrance of the guards,
Ready to add
Yet another victim
To the pile

702
Kind creative and smart
children of the zoo
who love pigeons, bin chickens and crows
Who need understanding friends and dino nuggets
who give friendship, carrots and potatoes
who fear unkind unhumans and monsters
WHO WOULD LIKE TO SEE THE WORLD
we are the protectors of the night
you are safe for ever
We are 702

In nineteen nineteen, a world worn and frayed,
A table of nations, where hopes were laid,
A pen held tight, where the fate of many swayed,
The Treaty of Versailles, in shadows portrayed.

In Paris halls whispers blend,
A fractured world sought bitter mend,
The victors gathered, hopes held high,
While shadows of the lost would sigh.

Germany had to sign the deal,
A heavy heart accused to steal,
With penalties and reparations’ weight,
Turned into a nation burrowed into their fate.

It was they who bore the blame,
With no one left to stake the claim.
A grievous error, a costly mistake,
In silence, they sought to rectify for their own sake.

They were to repair what was flawed,
With a staggering total of 6.6 billion, a burden awed.
With each shaky signature, poverty entwined,
Leading to a deep depression they struggled to unwind.

Their army limited to just 100,000 men,
A sense of weakness awoke within this nation’s pen.
With a mere six battleships, their might was reduced,
Germany fell deeper into a pit of abuse.

Territory lost through this formal agreement,
Six million Germans faced a harsh deportment.
With no more dominance to reveal,
This country got a taste of their own meal.

In the heart of night where shadows conspire,
Whispers of change spark like a flickering fire.
With voices rising, like thunder they swell,
A pulse of defiance begins to rebel.

“We want a change of monarch,” the whispers clear,
For the crown buried in selfishness, not fear.
No longer a happy country, a place where we roam,
But a land where the inhabitants disagree on their home.

“We want a change in laws,” the whispers are firm,
All the land others own is a concern.
The rich hold authority, their power a flaw,
While the poor work like slaves, for what they’re made for.

United we stand, with dreams that ignite,
To build a new future, to reclaim what is right.
With hope as a banner, we echo our plea,
For justice and freedom, a chance to be free.

Censor the king! To freedom it shall bring!
Communism for all, it’s an idea that will swing.
From heart to heart, like a ball it will travel,
Uniting the masses, our power to unravel.

Hand in hand we will connect,
We’ll bring an end to this monarchy, wrecked.
We’ll dance through wars with a grin so wide,
To the freedom that blossoms, our spirits our guide.

(Influenced by the Russian revolution)