Monsieur Hugo, je vous demande pardon.
Monsieur Gringoire, je vous en supplie, pardonnez moi.
Je mÃ¨ne une vie plutÃ´t bohÃ©mienne depuis le 23 Juin 2016.
And so all is now lost when we walk upside down.
All’s turned topsy turvy and what was is no longer true.
It’s a dog’s Brexit with politicians jockeying for new positions
Without conviction, meaning, purpose or anything but self regard.
Where European summits are petulant enfants terribles
And meaningless words flying here, there and everywhere
Like punches thrown mano a mano because we are men.
All’s upside down – so much so that we see little too clearly:
Trump, Clinton, Obama, May, Hollande, Putin
What are they to their predecessors: Roosevelt, Eisenhower, Kennedy, Churchill, De Gaulle, Lenin?
The comparison draws a world standing on its head
With little meaning and less purpose, belief or reality
Beyond self self self seeking the bottom line –
Where lying and cheating are clever business tactics
And thieving is successful investment worthy of La Fontaine
Whose Fables have now become back to front truths
Regaling us on social media – except when hacked
And we are forced to converse – that is talk to each other
Where I talk, you listen, you respond, I listen, I smile and add a comment
And you create a new thesis of the previous until
We marry and live happily ever after – then we divorce on Twitter.
Ah! Monsieur Pierre Gringoire, I shall be your EsmÃ©ralda
Marchante accompagnÃ©e par ma chÃ¨vre
Which has more sense than our Parliamentarians
Making it all up as we go along – making what up?
I can not articulate their view for fear of being branded anti-Semitic
When all I seek is a peace where we Palestinians live in harmony
With our neighbours whatever their or or faiths might be
For we are one in our humanity and fellow feelings and aspirations.
What naÃ¯ve talk this is “hypocrite lecteur! mon semblable, mon frÃ¨re!”…
It shows that it is the poet in you that had turned upside down
Whilst the world carries on in its delightfully normal way
In Aleppo, Mosul, Gaza, Sana’a, Crimea, Sinai and many other places.
Nothing has really changed mon vieux –
You are old and tired and your clouded vision
Sees things differently and without borders
Just a blurred image of a chaotic life
Filled with words, hurt, hate and strife.
Seek ye a tree, sit below its canopy,
Enjoy the shade and colourful panoply.
That is all that is left you for now- by the by;
To dream, seek truths and gently float on high.
Categorised in: Article
This post was written by Faysal Mikdadi