The happiness of Palestinian children

The happiness of Palestinian Children

“Whoever controls the media, controls the mind.”

Jim Morrisson

 

Through honeycombs of chicken-wire sky

you flick stars to your sister and her skin glitters

like sea-salt on sailors flying on top of the blue skinned conqueror.

 

Our ancient country gets younger each day now nineteen years old

and you are but eight with eyes that leave two dug graves.

At night you sleepwalk pissing an octopus.

 

In ten years when the ice caps have melted unnoticed like Palestine

you will walk upon Galilee and drag Jesus from a fishing net,

if he walked upon water then he was truly a refugee.

 

In ten years we’ll be eating Palestinian olives as rare indulgent delicacies

and the tree we came from will be the dashboard of an Aston Martin,

A Saudi prince will rest his twinky on it and order cut price bombs.

 

In ten days you will add to the median average of nineteen years old,

I will be recycling plastic which will be the last thing you’ll see

bobbing up and down as your breath explodes in bubbles.