Muharram

I scat with Beats like Algerian dreams carved in clay speckled pebbles that raise rooftops to azure steeples of song.

I beat my chest with the blade still therein and thirst for the safe passage to quench righteous cherubim.

I turn treacherous tyrants to stone to be sunken vessles of ancient decay in the seas of amnesia and finally sand for a no longer man.

I chant down Babylon but never looking back. The New Babylon attack with no discernment for life they bring pain and woe and strife just like Hussein's (pbuh) sorrow in Karbala 40 days and nights

I cannot forget that they left no survivors or so they thought with ther hubristic empire. For he who is 1st will later get his in a great quake may they alone be swallowed alive.

I know the greatest stories ever told that scream down streets and sear memory for generations to come as delirious I find myself there in the cool night air of the desert, stoned.