Elect The Pimp (2) – انتخبوا العرص

The scathing attacks against Field Marshall Abdel Fattah Al-Sisi, have been relentless and are only gaining steam.

This is an Arabic poem, by Jihad Al-Torbani – جهاد الترباني:

انتخبوا العرص
انتخبوا العرص سليل العار انتخبوا من حرق الثوار
انتخبوا حبيبًا للأوغاد انتخبوا عدوًا للأخيار
انتخبوا من سحق الأطفال انتخبوا من سجن الأحرار
عودوا وانتخبوا فرعونًا وارضوا بدمار بعد دمار
فرعون بأرضكم استعلى … وبشعبه آلهة قد صار
يا مصر شبابك قد ملوا… من حكم العسكر والفجار
لن يرضى شبابك إرهابًا من صنع الشرطة والأشرار
لن يخش رجالك تقتيلًا لن تخشى نساؤك صوت النار
لن يرض العيش بإذلال … قوم كسروا قيد الأسوار
هي حكمة تاريخ كتبت … فاسمع ما جاء من الأخبار
في بيت قصيد تحفظه.. وتخلده بين الآشعار
لا خير بأرض يحكمها عرص وبدا من غير وقار
انتخبوا

Autumn Fire

Autumn Fire

Pale amber sunlight falls across
The reddening October trees,
That hardly sway before a breeze
As soft as summer: summer’s loss
Seems little, dear! on days like these.

Let misty autumn be our part!
The twilight of the year is sweet:
Where shadow and the darkness meet
Our love, a twilight of the heart
Eludes a little time’s deceit.

Are we not better and at home
In dreamful Autumn, we who deem
No harvest joy is worth a dream?
A little while and night shall come,
A little while, then, let us dream.

Beyond the pearled horizons lie
Winter and night: awaiting these
We garner this poor hour of ease,
Until love turn from us and die
Beneath the drear November trees.

Art by: Ann Marie Bone
Poem: Autumnal
Poem by: Ernest Dowson, The Poems and Prose of Ernest Dowson
Poem provided by: CZ

Silent and Spooky

Silent and Spooky

All houses wherein men have lived and died
Are haunted houses. Through the open doors
The harmless phantoms on their errands glide,
With feet that make no sound upon the floors.

We meet them at the door-way, on the stair,
Along the passages they come and go,
Impalpable impressions on the air,
A sense of something moving to and fro.

There are more guests at table than the hosts
Invited; the illuminated hall
Is thronged with quiet, inoffensive ghosts,
As silent as the pictures on the wall.

The stranger at my fireside cannot see
The forms I see, nor hear the sounds I hear;
He but perceives what is; while unto me
All that has been is visible and clear.

The spirit-world around this world of sense
Floats like an atmosphere, and everywhere
Wafts through these earthly mists and vapours dense
A vital breath of more ethereal air.

So from the world of spirits there descends
A bridge of light, connecting it with this,
O’er whose unsteady floor, that sways and bends,
Wander our thoughts above the dark abyss.

Photo by: QAuZ
Poem: Haunted Houses
Poem (partial) by: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Poem provided by: CZ

Primal Needs

Primal Needs

I let you be your wicked self,
My touch opens up a dark gate
And frees your demons to drag you
To depths you would not contemplate.

I cater to your primal needs
As, together, we navigate
This minefield of carnal pleasure
That no other might recreate.

In our world, limits and taboos
Are just concepts we decimate
Here, restricting bonds grant freedom
To the beasts that we hold innate.

A lust you can’t eradicate!

(Secreted Sins)