I waken to the sounds of bombs. Women and children crying. Rubble. That is all there is to see.
Baghdad: once filled with beds of flowers and happy smiling faces. Now destroyed homes: destroyed families -- no peace, no hope ...
I miss my ma and papa so much. Images of their mangled bodies lying in pools of blood will never leave my mind ...
The back door opens. Two American soldiers. The enemy. The destroyers, who say they are here to save us. I hate the Americans ...
"Get them to the camp," the gruff one orders ...
A prisoner of war with nothing to live for except maybe to uphold the memories of my beloved Allah, my parents and my country.
To truly show the world what it means to be Muslim, I reach under my salwaar kameez and release the catch of dynamite strapped to my chest. Two minutes. Silence. THEN!!!!!
"I think we ought to read only the kind of books that wound and stab us...We need the books that affect us deeply, like the death of someone we loved more than ourselves, like being banished into forests far from everyone, like a suicide. A book must be the axe for the frozen sea inside of us.
"How could you, Francis. How could you. You heartless bastard." -Ilyka
"Death to the Republic of Dork! All hail the Geek Empire!"
"It's kind of like Lileks on electro-shock treatments that aren't quite working."-steve the llama butcher
email the emperor:
unconqured -at- gmail.com
(bonus points for anyone that can guess the literary referance in which "unconqured" and "I" figure prominently)
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