This poem is a transformed piece inspired from the source text She married me written by Nizar Qabbani, translated in to English. 

The transformation process involves a bit of background information from the inspired poet. When Nizar was 15 years old, his older sister 25 years old at the time, commit suicide because she refused to marry a man she did not love. This poem can be seen as a transformed piece from his sister’s point of view.

When Nizar Qabbani was asked whether he was a revolutionary, the poet answered: “Love in the Arab world is like a prisoner, and I want to set (it) free. I want to free the Arab soul, sense and body with my poetry. The relationships between men and women in our society are not healthy.”

 

An Englishman's View on the N.R.A's response to a Horrific American Tragedy

"Defeat Obama.
Defend Freedom.
N. R. A.”

Are you kidding me?! Obama is asking Congress to accept and pass a bill against the selling of Army grade automatic and semi-automatic weapons and to ban the selling of the ammunition those guns fire! It’s a step in the right direction for better gun laws and in no way shape or form impedes on US freedom.
Wayne LaPierre is a fool and an imbecile.

"The only way to stop a bad guy with a gun. Is a good guy with a gun"

Or maybe you could crack down on those “bad guys” opportunities to use Army grade weaponry against children by working on stricter modernised gun laws rather than glorifying one sentence that was written over two hundred years ago that was only enforced because the British came over to the states in hordes and tried to take back the Americas. I’m not attacking the constitution nor the bill of rights. I just think that in a modern world America needs a modern approach to gun restrictions.

Rant over. I’m all for Obama’s new bill and hope that Congress see it as a step forward than two hundred and twelve steps back.

the unjust clock pounds down on my heart, as the cogs of my thoughts exhausts itself trying to piece my words in to adequacy.
—  N.R.A
You should not encourage someone’s anger with more fuel, rather be silent and serve them tea.
—  My Mother

I see

Despair.

Dancing around me and entwining my thoughts.


I feel

Burdened with an unequivocal sadness.

A sadness that can only be cured during a momentary lapse of slumber.


I hear

Insomnia whisper to me in the darkness.

Quiet. And so alone.

—  N.R.A
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