Hey Mr, Master, Sir, Supreme Leader,  

                                    After the last comma      Come on!

                                     Put a full stop!

 

From the moment’s roof top

Today’s crying Death to the Ruthless

Tomorrow’s its witness

Don’t fire on unarmed loneliness

All folks have spilt to the street which leads to the sea

See!

The water that’s flowed

Won’t return to the river

Why fire on protesters?

Their bloody palms are waving to your hammer which is coming down

Watch!

Which is your mother?    Brother?    Sister?

Dear Mr, Sir, Supreme Leader

Hey whoremaster!

Facing you

           The question mark that’s whying

                                                          Is the comer!

 

 

poet: Ali Abdolrezaei

The River Thames is off           where?
The London eye’s high              why?
Who made my sky shy?
This Town’s vomited his people
Although my cup is empty
All windows are full of tea
What’s wrong with the city?
London is a song which the stranger sings at sunset
Let’s clap for all these       Please!

Although I’m left
I’ll write right
         About your juicy pussy      this tight!
Don’t ask me what happened to you that night
I’m a communist     who makes love by pen
Pen is my all
My whole is penis