Wednesday, June 24, 2009
For the sins of our fathers!
Dedicated to Neda Soltani!
A conversation with God.
I lost my temper again.
Why God, why?
How could it be?
Why should you always take side with wolf?
Putting tangles around the legs
Of Innocent Doe.
The ones who steal, the ones who tear apart.
Always get rewarded.
Would you ever listen to the innocent who suffers?
Those beautiful kids shedding blood in the street.
The Tyrant, the devil,
With long white beard!
Stands in your house.
Before he conducts the prayers of a million.
To you God, in your holly day,
He says, send me your daughters,
Send me more fawns.
Let them sing,
Watch me how I paint the street with their blood.
No bird will ever fly free again,
No one will survive.
Than he puts his head on the ground and laughs.
Asking you, can you do anything?
I am so sad I go to sleep.
Sadness always been a tranquilizer to me.
I hear a voice:
Have I ever told you to do anything?
Have I ever told him?
Have you or him, ever seen my face?
Of course not, nobody ever can.
And never has
So what you blame me for?
I gave up the day I created you.
I made you my deputy on earth.
I gave you free will,
I left your world to you.
That's your corner of the universe.
Thinking about Neda?
Need a hint?
You human always suffer for the sins of your fathers.
With all the wisdom and knowledge I gave you.
Why the simple fact puzzles you?
How many time you disappoint me again?
There has been 30 years,
The fathers of today's kids and their fathers.
Chanting and screaming,
In the same streets.
Put this Tyrant and the likes of him in power.
Gave them crowns
And gave them their hearts
Wolves and hyenas on the throne.
Now those beautiful kids suffering.
Bleeding in the same streets.
For the sins of their fathers.
But even today.
I have nothing to do with it.
You are making yourself victims
And your kids suffer.
Than blame everything on me.
Calling me the one who punishes, the avengers.
For the last time
I am neither.
I don't enjoy the pain and the suffering of others.
That is your entertainment.
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