Christmastime

It’s Christmastime and what a cheer,

Trees and lights and reindeer and shopping malls full of people,

We support big corporations and yell at people who don’t wish us “Merry Christmas”

That’s what Christmas is about.

There was a Palestinian family,

They had no money so they got to stay in a barn,

And had a little boy  right among the animals,

He grew up an activist, that boy

He preached non-violence and helped his fellow man,

It didn’t matter. His existence was violence to the state,

When he was 33 the state killed him.

He stood against occupation, for equality.

He had to die.

His mother wept as she saw his body.

Tortured, a reminder to all those who resist oppression.

I digress.

Don’t know what that has to do with Christmas.

Merry Christmas

Poem: Mothers of the Undisposessed

Mommy, have you seen my soul? I think I lost it

I was playing soldier and my friend was playing Arab and I shot him dead with my toy gun

BANG BANG BANG

Afterwards you told me I was a good boy and that Arabs want to kill me so I have to kill them.

I was so afraid I put my toy gun under my pillow, I think my soul dropped somewhere.

I know you’re busy but if you see my soul, let me know? I think I need it.

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The Case for Burglary

This is a guest post by Phil Oni. Phil has been an armed robber, burglar and con artist for over two decades. He has won several accolades for his work in breaking into houses and terrorising the residents inside. He is the author of several books including “Breaking up is hard to do: A modern tribute to the crowbar” and “How much is that dog in the window? Who cares?”

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