Song Of Palestine – The Embroidery Of Filasṭīn
Breathe the folklore; olive-oil ‘n -wood; the love-song ‘n the poetry.
Breathe the folklore; olive-oil ‘n -wood; the love-song ‘n the poetry.
Hell between the aid trucks ‘n the nascent dawn…
The Evil Of The End Of All Things comes
inevitable on the heels of time!
T’ward th’lapwing th’baboon trots. Back to his shoulder she descends, as th’roaming dead assault the fens…
In his own hand (his left) he takes up a stalk. “Your red heart I’ll pierce, after tearing through your chest!”
Across America on wiccan wings, riding ‘pon the heatwaves of fiddle-fire!
This design lies deep within our marrow; plays its pull upon our sinews still.
For all the world’s indigenous, we will fight for Palestine!