O Son of Ben-Zion, why have you not
Learnt to rid those pesky “Palesimians?”
Seventy years since the Nakba disease
Yet they hover like bees over olive trees.
The Orange Doctrine and House of Saud
Religiously stand by past and present deeds;
Even the nuclearizing of Jesus's seat
Yet you fail, you miserable beast!
Precious western bullets your snipers waste,
Killing infants, teens, and nightingales
The sand blushes, and the desert capitulates
Unable to absorb the tyranny of fate.
The solution sought lies elsewhere
To the east where the Naf flows in red
Where the laureate and the generals so
Writing the playbook for ridding “pests.”
Far more resilient the Palestinians are indeed
With men forced to breathe smoke through
But still there are lessons that can be gleaned-
Just push, push into northern Levant and
the Middle Sea.
Time is now, strike while hot,
Force the peace that you so violently want
As Golda said “They did not exist”
And once and for all get rid of this “cyst.”
A recent convert to the beauty of poetry thanks to a small group of friends, Khan Abu Hafiz finally appreciates this art form.