O Allah! Hear our cries؟

We are occupied
We are terrorized
Yet the whole world is hypnotized

Our walls are being crushed
Our homes are ambushed
Living in fear every day
Why is everyone so hushed?

Our weapons are sand piles
To slow down the tanks for awhile
Bullets fly by our heads
Nightmares await us in our beds

Our children and wives cry
We are in fear for our lives
Every single day that goes by
O Allah! Hear our cries؟

We suffer in our own land
But hold on as much as we can
For this beautiful land called Falasteen
Was granted to the Muslimeen

Allah grants all victory
And even though throughout history
Oppression is all we؟ve known
We long for the Jannah - our real home

O Muslims! Hold on, be brave
For Allah hears the cries of His slaves
There؟s not one day that passes by
When Allah doesn؟t hear our cries!

~ Ayeen
6/27/06

(الى المعطاءه (أم الشهيد
ارجوك يا حبيبتي ان تخلعي السواد
ففي مثل هذا الظرف لا وقت للحداد
اوما علمت بأن الارض غنت للشهيد
وزغردت فرحا له يوم الجهاد
وضمته تلثم وجهه والدم يرويها
والطفل طاب له الرقاد
سقطوا جميعا ,الاب والام والابناء كلهم
فأشعلوا نارا تأكل شئ
ولا يقدر الاعداء ان يخمدوا نار البطولة
ولو سففوا الرماد
الناس يا حبيبتي لا يعرفون الخوف في هذه البلاد
وهم الذين تصابروا يوم الحصار
ما همهم صراخ اطفال جياع
ولا هزهم ضجيج طائرة تحلق دون انقطاع
والارض يا حبيبتي في فلسطين ثكلى كما النساء
وتنبت الاشبال والزهرات في كل واد
وكلما روى دم الشهيد الارض ينبت اثره سبعون
فالناس في بلدي يا حبيبتي لا يقبلوا التعداد

I was raised on the standard Zionist myths. We would receive certificates indicating that trees were being planted in israel in our names. Little did I know that those trees were covering up destroyed Palestinian villages. We were also treated to films about the concentration camps - inextricably linking the holocaust to Israel. I no longer consider myself to be Jewish - Not so much because I don't like Judaism but because I'm an atheist with little patience for any religion, including nationalist versions. Anyway, here's a poem...

Somewhere in Israel there are trees,
planted in my name.

Somewhere in Israel,
in the eye of my young mind,
the hands of young Jews
were turning desert sands
into gardens.

Somewhere in Israel,
a vacant land was lingering,
longing for the chosen to return.
For the chosen to restore
a longed-for lost glory,
a long before, long lost home.

Run and rerun for young hearts؟ review,
grainy film flickering shadows
of the chambers and body mounds.
Picture shows of the shade millions,
dead minions in black-and-white,
became the mental fertilizer of paradise

Never forget. Never forget,
yet,
the empty deserts were
not.

Never forget. Never forget.
(Whose tears could ever wash
those pictures away?)
But,
Send them away. Send them away.

There was a debt to pay,
(robbing Peter to pay Paul, as it were.)
Never forget.

Somewhere in Israel there are trees,
planted in my name, and other Bar-Mitzvah boys.
And in loving memory of; in honor of,
and in tribute to...

There must be too many trees,
somewhere in Israel, so some trees,
somewhere in Israel, must come down,
must be torn up.

Olive groves and
orchards of oranges or,
date-palms, perhaps.

And too many houses were built,
so others must be
؟un-built.؟

Isn؟t that it?

My trees are 33 years old now.

Somewhere in Israel,
in the eye of my young mind,
the trees that were mine
stood there with little signs,
bearing my name.

Now I؟d go find them,
somewhere in Israel, and say:
؟Give me my trees,
please.؟

I؟d hope they were useful,
Olive groves and
orchards of oranges or,
date-palms, perhaps.

I؟d dig them up, one at a time,
and carry them,
past the checkpoints,
and plant them
somewhere in Palestine.

In loving memory of; in honor of,
and in tribute to...


--July, 2003

Murad Hamzeh - Breaking Free

I am the voice of the silenced majority,
Screaming in the cage of my reality

Shattered dreams of a life shaded in grey,
Obscured vision of a brighter day

Oppression is plaguing my reality,
Scenery of constant obscenity

My thoughts forever inscribed in stone,
Sleeping through life on my own, I am alone

My dying breath crushing my chest,
Buried in the cemetery trying to rest

My breath of innocence taken at birth,
An unfocused earth giving me no worth

My life in a bubble, a constant struggle,
No one seems to hear my voice even until I؟m in trouble

Walking on an unlit road to the unknown
All the seeds of hate have already been sown

My mother and father trying to survive,
Having nothing to do but try to stay alive


Imprisoned by my obvious mortality,
Never escaping this certainty

The olive trees screaming through the night,
The conscience of the world, nowhere in sight

My life in a bottle, thoughts trapped in a cage,
No wonder I blow up and get consumed by rage
I engage in fighting for my freedom and my history
It؟s a travesty, a mystery, when will we stand up and change our reality

The wall is built, and the gates are closed,
Forever trapped in poverty in a ghetto so cold
I was told to give up my ways,
I was told that this would lead to better days

But I will never stop fighting until I am free,
Never stop opening my eyes until I can see, until I can breathe

When will morality, give me equality,
I am Palestine, trying to break free of my catastrophe

salam ms,im amir,a muslim,from malaysia land.i feel sorry to heard about the story,may i know more about palestin?

Wishes of an old Palestinian

I wish I was torn before I was born
But I didn؟t have any choice
And here I am living as a dry thorn
Never mind I did come
A wish is a wish

I wish I had died before I was three
And was buried under an old olive tree
And this woudnt be later me
But a wish is a wish

I wish I had died before I was driven out by
Force from my country Palestine
Which was all through history ours and mine
But here I am still truly wondering and worried
And a huge burden on my shoulders carried
A wish is still a wish

Oh look at me, dying for my country again
Israelis, Americans and Europeans making
me insane
I wish you use the brain instead of following
and riding the speedy current train
I cannot help it and a wish is still a wish

Let us be honest and face realty
Wishes don؟t always come true
This is well known and not new
It was said in the past as a guide
If wishes were horses beggars would ride
So after all a wish is still a wish
And should work hard to realize a wish
-------------------------------------------------------
M.A.Edghaim
27/7/2007