Friday, September 12, 2008

On a personal note

Not a day goes by without frustration in this nation of ours. Fanaticism and hatred (although sometimes masked) is predominant. Turning a blind eye is no longer a feasible cure, nor is it a solution. For those fortunate enough to have had the chance to leave for a while and encounter a hint of civilization; reality is bitter. Bitter in a sense, that upon our come back, we believed that we could actually make a difference. Little did we know that such a difference meant that we were to be looked upon as “new born hippies”, “traitors”, “high on illegal substances”, “dreamers”,…etc; even “mentally challenged”. Nevertheless some stuck to their grounds and beliefs, and tried their hardest to live up to their new found morals and ideas. In order to do that, they professed what they deeply believed in; mainly tolerance and understanding.
On a more personal note:
When the shit hits the fan (and it did), having come back to the motherland in all good intentions; reality hits you hard on the head. One deception after another on all levels, you find yourself slowly drained from all that is human within you. The “animal” takes over, and just like a “Dhamer, Bundy, Manson,…etc”, you apply your own personal frustration to your geographical context and long for “blood”. Some even will go as far as to wish for yet another war in order to justify their own perverted way (the only way they know) to vent their frustration, and feel empowered again. For in your (Lebanese that is) darkest hour, the trend has always been to grab your weapon and use it, regardless.
For a split second lately I belonged to that category, I was aching for blood, death and destruction, as a stage that would alleviate my own shortcomings (but then again, I am Lebanese); and for that I ask forgiveness.




Armalite, street lights, night sights
Searching the roofs for a sniper, a viper, a fighter
Death in the shadows hell maim you, hell wound you, hell kill you
For a long forgotten cause
On not so foreign shores
Boys baptized in war
Boys baptized in war

Morphine, chill scream, bad dream
Serving as numbers on dog tags, flak rags, sandbags
Your girl has married your best friend, loves end, poison pen
Your flesh will always creep, tossing turning sleep
The wounds that burn so deep, burn so deep

Your mother sits on the edge of the world when the cameras start to roll
Panoramic viewpoint resurrect the killing fold
Your father drains another beer, he’s one of the few that cares
Crawling behind a Saracens hull from the safety of his living room chair
Forgotten sons
Forgotten sons
Forgotten sons

And so as I patrol in the valley of the shadow of the tricolor I must fear evil
For I am but mortal and mortals can only die
Asking questions, pleading answers from the nameless faceless watchers
That parade the carpeted corridors of Whitehall
Who orders desecration, mutilation, verbal masturbation in the guarded bureaucratic wombs
Minister, minister care for your children
Order them not into damnation
To eliminate those who would trespass against you
For whose is the kingdom, the power, the glory for ever and ever
Amen
Amen
Amen
Amen
Amen
Amen
Amen

Halt who goes there! - death!!
Approach ... friend
You’re just another coffin on its way down the emerald aisle
When your children’s stony glances mourn
Your death in a terrorists smile
The bombers arm placing fiery gifts on the supermarket shelves
Alley sings with shrapnel detonate a temporary hell
Forgotten sons
Forgotten sons

From the dole queue to the regiment a profession in a flash
But remember Monday signings when from door to door you dash
On the news a nation mourns you unknown soldier count the cost
For a second you’ll be famous but labeled posthumous


Forgotten son
Forgotten son
Forgotten son
They’re still forgotten, they’re still still forgotten
Peace on earth and mercy mild, mother brown has lost her child
Just another forgotten son

6 comments:

Ekios said...

You are making me nervous Marillion :(

Are you ok ? (I mean "you" personnaly)

Marillionlb said...

@ Ekios,

Some dark clouds are hovering up in my skies; but not for long for I have summoned the heavy winds to chase them away.

Anonymous said...

I totally understand your frustration..It happened that I visited Beirut in May after a four year absence, my excitment, my plans, my happiness all went down the drain the day after my arrival,I got stuck at "Ras-elnabeh" and for two weeks I lived in fear which brought back memories of old days..I left the day before downtown was cleared of the ugly tents..How I wished to be there..

I always had hope that we might recover but that last round,what I heard and saw in the streets of Beirut left me pessimistic, and I don't think we'll be ever free..
I hope am mistaken..
If you are in Beirut, I wish you luck and stay strong :)

Noura

Marillionlb said...

@ Noura,

Welcome to my world of frustration and turmoil. I know what you went through on your last visit, and wish that you won't wait another 4 to come and visit friends and family. Those are only wishes unfortunately for the future does not look that bright. I too hope that I am wrong.

Anonymous said...

I am but a visitor to your country. A simple expat trying to understand the complexities in this land of milk, piss and Honeys. How can such beautiful Honeys live in this turmoil. Your poetry leaves me stunned. Fuck Kahlil Ibran...Marillion forever!

Marillionlb said...

@Anonymous II,

Glad that you enjoyed the text. I do share your opinion about the "Land of milk, Piss and honey" and would add that their is more "piss" than there are milk and honey. I do hope though that one day my people will finally wake up and make changes. In the meantime I will keep on venting my anger and frustration in the hope that it will touch more people like yourself.
Thank you.