Death to America (Osama Bin Laden)

Editor’s note: the following 4-part  poem, purporting to be  a transcription/  translation of a new “undiscovered” poem by Osama bin Laden, forms the centerpiece of a  political article. The article can be read in its entirety here:

http://www.theoccidentalobserver.net/2010/12/%E2%80%98death-to-america%E2%80%99-a-new-poem-by-osama-bin-laden/

Here is the poem by itself:

Death  to  America

Do what you can, and so shall we. Just wait!—we too are waiting.
—  Qur’an XI. 121-22

1. The Great Satan

America!
The inhabitants of the earth
Are drunk
With the wine of your fornications!
You have given birth
To terror, hatred, hysteria!
Your people are sunk
In stupefaction.

Darkness has come upon you.
Nevertheless
You think you live in the light.
Your eyes have been blinded.
Your people stumble in darkness.

Greed has undone you.
Pride and lust are your blight.
God’s sees, and has minded!

Miserable crew, forever whining
About 9/11 and your precious
virtue!
As if you alone had known pain
And the world were under obligation
To kiss your feet and court you
And approach you with shining
Eyes—
you blot, you stain!—
You object of utter detestation!

Country of murderers and thieves,
Bloodsuckers of the Third World,
Devils with smiling faces—
My curse on you for ever!
May your land be reduced to a wild
Desolation, may all that lives
In your tainted spaces
Never know peace—or joy—
ever!

2.   The Coming Doom

Where your people once lived
Secure in the illusion
Of their superior virtue,
There the bison will roam
Again, the frog spread confusion
Over the marshes, the vulture thrive.
There’ll be none to hurt you
There, buried beneath your slime!

Another people will possess your land
Taking your place, a race
From beyond the sea, superior
In virtue: one that practises
What you only preach, showing a face
Of kindness and compassion and
Care for mankind: a race far dearer
To God, and less prone to vices.

You brew trouble, you foment wars
So you can peddle your arms.
Pain screams
From the mouths of children so
That your hatchers of harm
Can trinket their whores
And live the American dream.
That way lies hell, and
there you go!

You defile all the regions you rule,
You scatter your bases and rob
The lands you begrime and bescum!
Who helps to kill children for kicks
In Palestine? May Abu Ghraib
Gnaw away at your inmost soul
Like a maggot! The time will come
When your backs will be beaten by sticks!

3.   The  Holy  Land

Israel!—an American colony
Disguised as a Jewish state,
Deliberately planted to destabilize
And drive entire races demented!
A country whose main product is
hate,
Whose
raison d-être is to make misery,
Where peace would be the only surprise!
A country not owned, but rented

From the Arabs temporarily, by force
—Where the rent is always in arrears.
America, the day will come
When the rent will have to be paid
With compound interest. You’ll reap in tears
What you sowed in joy! At the end of this course,
You will pick up the tab and become
Chief debtor for the monster you made!

See, the betrayer of the Jews—
The Jews themselves! Or rather
Those who
call themselves Jews, the pseudo
Ashkenazi Jews with their blue eyes
And blonde hair! Could any race be further
From the true Semitic Jews whose
Blended blood has been poured into
Other
bloods under alien skies?

These are the ones, the hocus-pocus
Imposter Jews, who now blow the trumpet
For Zion, stigmatizing
Their critics, and heaping abuse

On those who object to the rank armpit
Of Israel!—Oh, how we loathe these bogus
European Jews whose devisings
Were all learnt from Hitler’s hellcrews
.

4.   The Day of Reckoning

September 11? That was just
The
beginning! Prepare for more
Of the same!—for further contingents
Of “cowards” hell bent on suicide
Flying in to your hated shores!
How can you win? You’ve already lost!
You’ve lost respect: the moral argument.
You are universally despised!

Invincible America, aren’t you glad
You’re
so strong? What “courage” it must take
To skulk behind the clouds and rain
Cluster bombs on the weak, without peril
To your own skins! Yes, it’s a piece of cake
Killing women and children in Baghdad!
Congratulations, America! You win
First prize for shooting fish in a barrel!

Hear now my message: Depart
From our lands: you have your own.
Don’t steal our oil! It lies under
Our sands, and there it shall stay!
Get out of our sight! Leave us alone!
Practise the torturer’s art
On your own people! I wonder
What
Christ would think of Camp X-ray?

Nation of impudent parasites!—
Supervirus of the world!—
So you think you hold all the aces?
Hear now my curse:
May all your bones
Be broken, your ashes all whirled
To the wind! May you who delight
In sowing tares in all places
REAP, REAP, REAP WHAT YOU HAVE SOWN
!

I regret

I  regret

I regret
that you will never belong to me
who were once my true love
in a past life.

I regret
I shall never walk with you
by the sea, or look into
the deep ocean of your eyes.

I regret
I shall never see you
smiling, never touch you,
never kiss your mouth.

I regret
that you are lost to me
forever, that our days
are already numbered.

I regret
everything, but one thing:
that I was there
when you needed me.

I regret
nothing more than this:
that we who never met
must say goodbye so soon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tell me, Stranger

TELL ME, STRANGER

Tell me, Stranger, why we met,
tell me who you are and set
your lips on mine lest I forget.

Tell me, Stranger, tell me why
you looked so deep into my eye
and what happens when we die.

Tell me, Stranger, why we’re here
on this far out wild frontier
and on my frozen cheek this tear.

Tell me, Stranger, tell me why
you slid your hand up my sleek thigh
like a slithering serpent sly.

Tell me why I ever let
you thrust your cruel sword erect
into my wound of wild scarlet.

Tell me, Stranger, why we met,
tell me who you are and set
your lips on mine lest I forget.

Golden Girl, by Damian Wolfman [*POEM*]

 

“Golden girl on the train . . . “

Golden girl on the train
I hope you’ve forgiven me
now that you know
I had good reason
to do what I did.

I’d hate you to think
I lacked motivation.
I did it because
you were irresistible,
and asking for it.

I did it because
of the blind rage
whipped up in me by
the wind and the rain
and the lonesome rooms

and the golden girls
crossing their legs
on the benches of summer;
like you, sweetheart,
on that train long ago.

I want you to know
only one thing now,
you who sleep so soundly
underneath the turf
on Fogmoor where

the wind howls
over the wild heather
and bracken forlornly:
I tried my best
to walk in wisdom

and do no wrong,
but I failed.
Accept these lilies,
left on your grave
to mark my sorrow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


The Tree of Evil

The greatest gift
is the gift of forgiveness
for the unforgivable sin.

Receive then from me
this beneficence today—
the gift of my mercy.

I have taken from your shoulders
the burden of guilt.
Go on your way now.

See!—the cities of Satan
where the evil tree Zaqqum
offers its bitter fruit

to the lost. Spare a thought, friend,
for those who fester in chains
at the foot of the tree, gorging

the devilheaded fruits—
the fruits that feed
the appetite for more evil.

Hellvixen

secret-rapture-header

† 

Love’s sacred sun is setting
And demonfall is here
And the time for forgetting
Your true love is near.

The time has come for aching
And losing what you had,
For leaving and forsaking
And for being sad.

The time is back for burning
Alone in beds of flame.
Hellvixen is returning!
— Hey Lady, what’s your game?


To my True Love

To my True Love

Listen to me now, Lethyn!—
I swear as the moon is new
I’ll give you one last chance
If you promise to be true.

I haven’t the least desire
To bind you to my breast
Or make you leap through fire
Or put you to the test.

You’re free to love or hate me—
To win life’s game or lose.
I’m waiting, dear, I’m waiting
To see which path you choose.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Ways I Keep

You do not understand
the ways I keep:
the sleight of my hand—
how I wind, how I creep.

Do you think I need you
to believe in me?
It’s I who must seed you
first. From my seed, your tree.

How can you understand
me, how can you find
me, unless my hand
reaches into your mind

and lights a lantern there
and does some deep mining?—
Until then, despair!
and total lack of meaning.


Stand fast

Stand fast, stand fast
in the love I give you.
Be not entangled
in the stranger’s net.
See, I forgive you!
Let this love last
and let
the moon be strangled.

I have driven away sin
I have made
you clean
I have destroyed
your fetters. Be not afraid
to begin
again. Avoid
the kiss of the unclean.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Out of the Wound

OUT OF THE WOUND

Out of the Wound these songs well forth
Out of the night of yearning
Out of the tears of lust and wrath
Out of the endless burning.
Back to the Wound these songs will flow
Back to the heart that’s breaking
Back to the blood and tears they’ll go
Back to the endless aching.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Let it finish

Let it finish

Let it finish, foolish lover.
Let these weeping sores heal over.
No more lusts and no more rages
No more cruel chains or cages
No more hunting in love’s jungle
No more whirling through that mangle
No more swooning moons or sighing
In Lilith’s silken meshes lying.
Write these words down in red ink:
If you can’t swim the lake you’ll sink!
If you can’t keep your cool and try
To ride your demons you will die!
If you can’t get a life again
It’s helterskelter down the drain!
Sing a new song! or plummet down
Into the Devil’s well and drown!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lethe (Baudelaire translation)

LETHE

Lie on my breast, you lazy beast, and lounge
There like a lovely tigress. Settle there,
You cold, cruel monster, and let me plunge
My restless fingers in your fleece of hair!
Let me descend into the scented vale
Of your long skirts, and breathe the essence of
You there: from that spent flower, let me inhale
The bittersweet remains of my dead love.
I long to sleep—to sleep and not to be!
To sink into the dream of death, and there
Scatter my carefree kisses recklessly
On your bronze-tinted flesh so young and fair.
My weeping fits, my stifled sobs and sighs,
All cease and fall to nothing in the abyss
Of your bed. In your mouth, forgetfulness
Lies, and Lethe’s lulling waters in your kiss.
I yield to fate, and take a pleasure in it.
Henceforth my doom will be my sweet delight.
A willing martyr, I shall fan this minute
These flames of lust to add to my own plight.
And I shall suck—to soothe my soul’s unrest—
Nepenthe and hemlock, bitter-tanged and tart,
From the pert rosebuds of those pointed breasts
Behind which never beat a human heart.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dead Lovers (Gerald de Nerval translation)

Dead lovers

Where are our lovers now?
In graveyards low they lie.
I guess they’re happy now
In lands of lullaby.
They’re with the angels now
Up in the sky so blue—
They sing the praises of
God’s holy Mother too.
O bride in shining white,
Young woman once in flower,
You lovers lost in night—
The doombell tolled your hour.
Immortal youth once shone
All flashing in your eyes.
Those flames from earth are gone—
Let them light up the skies.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Beautiful Corpse (Baudelaire translation)

Beautiful corpse

One midnight, appalling and drear,
You will lie under your headstone:
Your beautiful corpse, my dear,
In its house of gravel and bone!

When the chaste stars languish and droop
Their eyes at the coming of dawn,
There the spider will weave his web,
There the viper will breed her spawn.

There night after night you will hear,
Like the hounds of hell in your ear,
The wolf and his harrowing howl:

There the raddled harlot will lurk
And the dirty old man will jerk
And the plotter of crimes will prowl.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To the Precious and Beautiful (Baudelaire translation)

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To the precious and beautiful
Whose loveliness illumines me,
To my Idol, to my Angel
All praise in immortality!
She impregnates the air around
Like the wild salt tang of the sea
And in my soul she trickles down
The attar of eternity.
Sachet forever fresh and strong
Scenting the air of a loved room,
Forgotten censer burning long
Through the night in the sacred gloom.
How can I ever truly tell
What undefiled you are to me,
My grain of musk invisible,
My essence of eternity!
To the precious and beautiful—
My life, my joy, my sanity,
To my Idol, to my Angel
All praise in immortality!