Dividing the Pie

Divide and Rule.

A simple equation = Man X given a gun + Man Z given a gun.
One will be triumphant and the dividers have already won,
either way they'll get a piece of the pie.

circumstance divisible by the circumference
which dictates the die a meter.
chances for survival? Acute. 180 dead, 90 alive.

natural resources reflect the reaction,
sometimes resulting in an inaccurate inaction
or the secret sponsorship of a rivalling faction.

Enticed by a just cause, only to realize 'justice' had a clause.
And it was Santa Claus Plus Consumerism.
Capitalism multiplied by Christmas.
Or the long division of ethnics

Neo-colonialism - More-fierce than an agent smith in Nicaragua.
Contra's. In. Abundance.
Captivity. incorporated, with arithmetic
or Covert. Invading. Army.

Imperial or empirical formulae now defined
by standard deviation Or
diplomatic deceptive devices.

euphemisms makes the modern apart tides legal.
preliminary self defence is especially regal.
like punching you before I think you'll punch me.
the logic is assuring, I'm sure you agree....

Lucrative arms bless twisted palms,
as war lords thank the polytheistic heavens
for many blinded AK's..

47 lay dead in the ditch that day.
47 million made that week.
Sales of Arms.
Maimed Arms reach out for hope.
But the only scope available is for the long range sniper...



By Mohamed-Zain Dada


Twitter @Zainthepoet

M.I.A

They're overwhelming me

It's overwhelming.

My minds' a bit perplexed

and my heart's a bit upset

And my limbs dont want to accept

My body wont co-operate

Nothing's working in sync to my dismay

I drop and play dead

But these demons still prey on me

They lay on me

heavy and strong

like artic cold iron in the tonnes

Crushing my morale

with weakness i am overcome

And the onlookers ask ''what's wrong?''

Looking for one to blame

but failing to see

I am the wrong

Trying to be right

Trying to conquer myself through strife and fight

But they cast me with obstacles along the way

Conflicting me with things i am too feeble to face

Theyre overwhelming me

its overwhelming.

By Zibz Hilwa

While I was Writing

I don’t know if these words will find

The one’s they were written for

Or that the expression they contain

Will be heard by those they were meant for

Or Even if

The need is greater than the art

I find these times to be of great concern

I sense the breeze is strong for those of duplicity

This is the irony in these tales

And their meanings

Drone bombs fall on my brothers

My sons my daughters my sisters

Blinded by poverty and the air of deprivation

Blinded by machines that show no mercy

Blinded by the men who control their aims

Blind are those who see not this travesty

Foolish am I who thinks we will reach this amnesty

Yet, despite this anger and rage

These lyrics are not bullets

They are not incendiary

Maybe these thoughts are too simple

Their aim a little elementary

Could it be that such emotions

Just don’t reach the parts of us

That will give rise to a force

For change

That will actually deliver

The people of Gaza from their innate disaster

The price of the suffering in Bosnia

And the screams of Ten-year-old Husna in Chechnya

I use to believe

Now I just bleed words

And lyrics for us forgotten misfits

We chase the web for YouTube and a million Tweets

While I was writing this…

Another family’s dreams was just blown to bits 

“While I was Writing” by Cypher 7 A.D

Cypher 7A.D is a Poetry & Spoken Word based enterprise aimed at expressing issues that count, not those that sell..peace.

http://www.cypher7ad.com