Saturday, September 22, 2012


There was a young girl who shot arrows
And later she also got parrots
She played out all day
Or the piano she'll play
Hoping parrot would start eating carrots


Pages of long words
Fit into a few lines
Of forgotten art

Modern Medicine

When I visit the doctor who said
That her job is to only treat head
Cause the treatment of spine
Is no business of mine
She is rich, but her skill is sure dead

Friday, September 21, 2012

A Religious Question: Haiku

Can you attack those
Who see you as violent
To prove them wrong?

Thursday, September 20, 2012

Off With His Head

A man named Muhammad
Who called for Jihad,
Which some say it's love he was preaching about
Could make no mistake
And no harm he could cause
But your head would be chopped if you doubted his laws.

Poisons: Haiku

In China, US
Companies poisoning us
Protected by law

Wednesday, September 19, 2012

The West and the Islam - Haiku


Leaders of freedom
Apologize, once more
To dark tyranny

Thursday, September 13, 2012

The Movie And The Rampage

A peaceful protest against a movie

In Libya, Egypt and Yemen too
It's love, and a bad movie, that sends on a rampage
The silent majority –
who claim to object the fanatic minority –
To ask for blood and the heads
Of those
Who do not understand
What love and tolerance truely mean.


A man of love, we can call him Jilel
Who adored promised virgins of hell
Not a bomb on his person
Not a saw to chop heads
Bad director must die, he would yell.


Movie go to hell
Then we'll be in peace again –
Preaching tolerance.

Sunday, September 2, 2012


Five thousand were killed in Syria in August alone.
Assad, their president and an optometrist, is in love with his wife
And goes shopping to make her happy
Often on line.

A UK university still call to boycott Israel.
Assad does not live in the UK any more.
The Arab world blames Israel
They must have planned it all along
Especially the UN failure
To stop the bloodshed.
The same UN that appointed Libya
To head the Human Right Commission.

Barbara, my neighbor, is truly upset
Her favorite chocolate is out of stock
And will probably never be in again.
The small shop that made it
Is being digested by a giant
And their secret recipe, that was in the family for generations
Is substituted.
But the children in Syria would have loved a piece.

At least those not among the five thousand
Who do not mind how inedible it has become.