An Indian Iraqi American Hymn (Yes- I’m putting out some of my hippie poetry- bear with me!)

Nablus: The High Priest of the Samaritans c. 1920

Image via Wikipedia

Hey guys.  Thought I’d share a poem I wrote this morning with you all.  Wanted to see if you could read into the metaphors & overlying theme.


Teenage Dalit girl in the streets

Mother, Father

Refused the right for sustenence

Sold into carnal solicitation

Body brings meager rations

Great Brahmans walk by

The tip of my crown barely casts a shadow

They beat and rape me

Until I’m left to drown like a maggot in blood

I am waiting for love…


Iraqi Jesus lover in Baghdad

Left my descendants,

Allah’s lineage

Left to dwell underground

house to house

Singing and speaking the praises of my King

Opal-eyed mercenaries walk by

My convictions raise an eyebrow

They have cast off my head in the spoils of war

I screamed, “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do!”

I am waiting for love…


Young, black, gay adolescent

Ghettoes of America

I don’t know my Father

My Stepdad abuses me

I hide

Internet fantasy realm of copulation


like a player to my peers and friends

Yet when darkness is cast upon the city streets

I contemplate if my suicide would even make them shed a single tear

A leper

I don’t know where to turn,

Only whom to fear

I am waiting for love…


Old religious man

Suburbs of utopia

“The post-war dream ain’t what they said it would be”

Isolation from my heathen neighbors

I just sneer at them as they walk their dogs

on the concrete

Yet I just read today in the sacred, ancient text

Of a Samaritan who dressed the wounds of a dying man

And the assertion that “faith without works is dead”

Hollow, monotonous, overfed

I am waiting for love…



Snap your fingers, drink herbal tea, beat bongos, and tell me what you think friends 🙂   Peace- Ben


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