I am becoming more inclined to share more of myself on this blog. Especially with all the great support and words of encouragement from many of you. I will no longer hide behind my poetry or mask the messages so that I can satisfy the hubris of being shared.
Today I’d like to share a video of a team that works in the World Bank and that’s trying to start a website like Kickstarter in Iraq. The project will allow young students and NGO members to get funding for any crazy project they may have. People that have dreams can actually make them come true.
There is no mobile internet in Iraq. There is no online banking. By using simple text messages, this project solves that issue. People with ideas post projects on a website. In return people that want to donate text a special code on their mobile phones and a small amount of money is taken out of their phone credit and transferred to that project’s fund.
Just by sharing the video and showing your support, this team could get $68,000 from the World Bank to fund the project. A simple idea that could possibly really make a difference.
A poem is a state of mind that manifests itself through words. But what is poetry if we lack the boldness to make those words manifest through our everyday actions.
Love you all,
Splinters of ash
Washed upon my shores
I play with castles
My fingers bleed
Up until it rains
A little child, he smiles
Just for a while
The sound of rockets
A nation bleeding from its ears
The whole world’s perched
Atop this distant hill
Six billion eyes all on one hill
Six billion tongues, six billion minds
And yet we’re so alone
We rush to make a change
To kill, to steal a life from someone else
The bullets seep into our flesh
A million rounds, a million aching wounds
They hurt so much
They leave a mark forevermore
We make the headlines
A bunch of media whores
Fucked over then forgotten by the war
Tomorrow morning the sun will never rise
Our world will seep into a deep surrender
The printing press will fabricate some lies,
We’ve won the war they say,
And yet this hill has lost so many lives
A million bodies stacked from head to toe
A living sculpture of our own demise
They sent us here,
They cheered us as we fought
And now they’ve turned their eyes away
Some look upon a burka in disgust
But they themselves are veiled
Behind a thicker curtain
A sheath of fiber optics, media bites
A stage, a prompter, cameras and lights
Objectifying wars with gory lust
And counterfeiting peace to suit their needs
They are no different
Sending us to fight
Against the very horrors they incite!