This is the story that must be told
of an Iraqi baby, not very old.

Lying in her crib one star lit night
How could she know of those planes in flight?

She lay there quietly touching her nose,
Watching her mobile, wiggling her toes,

Oohing and cooing, so sweetly is she,
Talking to someone, who could it be?

An angel is standing with her in the room.
The baby is smiling, unaware of her doom.

The crib starts to shake and the mobile goes round.
And suddenly comes a most deafening sound.

The ceiling drops in, in a second or two ...
On top of her crib so she ceases to coo ...

No one knows how long she lie there
Who thought about it? doesn't anyone care?

Is she alive? is she dead? Is she in any pain?
Now that you mention it, who knows her name?

Her name is Amal. In English we say Hope.
Crushed between the rubble, her tiny fingers start to grope.

Where is my mommy? I love her so dear.
Come, get me mommy! It's dark in here!

I'm scared and I'm hungry and I can't see my feet.
There's blood in my mouth! Give me something to eat!

Where is my daddy? Where's my big brother?
It hurts when I breath! Where is my mother?!

How long have I been here? Is this just a dream?
I open my mouth, but can't even scream.

That angel appears once again to my side,
This time with a tear I plead Why have I died?

Am I alone in my sufferings? No, there are many others.
In our grief and our misery, we are sisters and brothers.

Who are we? I ask you ... for what crime did we die?
They're throwing a party! Doesn't anyone cry?!

Is it True? Am I nothing?! How could it be?
Don't they also have babies, just like me?

It is war they say, of which death is part.
How blind they've become, How hardened of heart.

Did someone say hero? To whom do they speak?
A victory claimed for killing the weak?!

Why are they happy? Why are they proud?
Don't they know that I'm cold in my burial shroud?!

No war has been won; No ifs, buts, or maybes,
They've Only Killed Babies!!!!





WHY ME?
Shoukri Amorelli

Why me?
Out of all the others in the world it could be.
Why was I born into this?
The sadness touched my heart,
And how could it miss?
For 50 years my people have lived in misery.
As the powerful ones live well despite their hypocrisy.
Why was my grandfather kicked out of his nation?
Now I live in a tent, facing starvation.
They tell my father he is less that a man.
I look in the cupboard to find only an empty can.
They claim this is their land,
How can that be?
We were living here,
But their terror made us flee.
As days pass by more of them come,
Yet they are not natives,
Not even some.
They now live in the home where we used to reside,
The tears are too big so I can no longer hide.
He looks out at me and laughs with his curls,
My mother wears rags,
His mother wears pearls.
This was our nation,
We were so proud.
Suddenly gun shots rip through the crowd.
It appears an 8 year old boy posed as a threat,
They want to teach us a lesson we will never forget.
Holocaust, they put in the world's ear,
But for us, no one sheds a tear.
As the boy bleeds on the ground,
The angels come to his shoulders,
Suddenly my heart turns even colder.
They say we are terrorists,
But how could they understand?
Nobody came and took their land.
So as I sit and watch the little boy die,
The tears stop coming,
I can no longer cry.
My heart is now cold, just like them.
Now you know the hatred, and it's stem.
I realize that I must put my own life on the line.
To bring back my nation called Palestine.





Elegy for my Mother

In Loving Memory of Alix Roberts

When thy soul ascends at last
those so close, disconsolate
We hear you quietly from the past ......
omnipresent, from heaven’s gate
His summons soft and hid from view
for he is here to carry you ......
There is no place in there for death
to rend asunder, void thy certainty
For memory gives you being and breath
and what thou art is eternity ......
Diurnal rhythms now picayune
Elysian peace, my Mother, too soon

Tim Roberts,January 27th 1999





Black Depression

When I was young I used to sing
that over the rainbows, caps I’d fling
and so I did I high, wide and free
and love came easily to me

I tilted hard in a careless way
at gods with feet of crumbling clay
and all the laughing world conspired
to keep me petted and admired

Then something happened....
to sour this earthly heaven for me
enslaved I found myself to be....
condemned to live eternally

Now mute of soul, embodied pain...
I live upon a lightless plain
by gusts of sexless passion hurled....
....about my empty..... windmill world.

Written about 1970 - en route Hong Kong-Osaka..

Tim Roberts





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