Category Archives: Dr. Ali’s Poetry

Wise Men of Washington – A Poem

Majid Ali, M.D.

A Poem From My Book Drone Democracy


Wise Men of Washington

Who is a Talib?

Politicians on the Hill know,

Talk of terror,

Keeps fear aflow.


Wise men in Washington,

For peace, they pray.

Human flesh, dripping blood,

War hawks in prey.


Freezing infants,

Too numb to whimper.

Children with open sores,

Mothers lost, eyes sunken,

In despair.


Afghan women, dark, lifeless,

Squatting in dirt, pride long gone.

“Winning hearts and minds”,

Warriors of Pentagon.


Nerds with joy sticks in Nevada,

Raining bombs on Afghansitan.

Drone democracy enforced,

With missiles in Pakistan.


Dead Pushtuns,

Decomposing in slimes.

Spewing compassion,

Columnists of The New York Times.


Who is a Talib?

Talib is singular for Taliban. Who is a Talib? Who is not a Talib? Eight years ago, these questions could not have been answered by my wife and daughter when they traveled extensively through Swat valley and other areas in the larger Afghan-Pak region. Then two women could travel there in complete safety and with full freedom, What a difference a war on terror of the deluded can make!

❉   ❉  ❉


Dr. Ali’s Poetry

To read more from my book “Drone Democracy,” please use the search box of this web site.

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Drone Democracy Poem

Majid Ali, M.D.

Drone Democracy Poem


A glistening speck,

Lit by a burning sun.

Miles below,

Bare-footed children,

Dirt, rocks, and fun.


And then,

Out of a crater,

Little limbs fly,

Of children blown,

By a missile from a drone.

Red-tan shredded brain,

Peeping through smashed bones,

Toddlers’ flesh,

Smeared on dry stones.


Dazed mothers search

For pieces of children,

In a devil’s douse,

Far, far,

Far, from the White House.

Can you hear them?

Can you hear their silent screams?

Drone democracy maker,

Can you?


Your charisma,

Smashing smile,

Your vision mystifying,

Your words electrifying,

Your stellar speechifying,

Your minions chant,

Man,

Yes, we can,

But,

How deep are you, brother?

How true are you, brother?

The empire’s caretaker.

How deep? How true?


All wars are

Wars against children.

Do you know that, professor?

The oppressed

Become the oppressor,

Do you see that, professor?

Who will be oppressed next?

Can you guess, professor?

What will be the pretext?

Of the new oppressor?

Can you assess, professor?

Can you?

The empire’s peacemaker.


How true is your devotion,

To the homeless?

To the voiceless?

To the hopeless?

To little girls,

whom you made fatherless?

How true is your devotion?

The Empire undertaker,

How true?


In a land of tormented silence,

Of killers’ prominence.

Despair delivered by drones,

Of full spectrum dominance.

A world enchanted

by your eloquence.

But does that hide

the stench of  death,

your eminence?

The empire’s fear trader.

Does it?


Your celebrated passion,

For audacity of hope.

For the change,

We can believe in,

Your commitment,

To the rule of law,

To constitution’s claw.

But, is there

A soul for justice?

The empire’s judicial faker?

Is there?


Do you see the broken babies?

Do you see chunks of children?

Mutilated men?

Weeping women?

Do you see them?

The empire’s freedom fighter?

Do you?


Is there a heart?

Is there a soul?

Is there?

Drone democracy maker?

❉ ❉ ❉

In 1997,  Britain lost Hong Kong, its last major colony. That was the centennial year of the time when the British poet, Rudyard Kipling, wrote the following:

Far-called, our navies melt away,

On dunes and headlands sinks the fire;

Lo, all our pomp of yesterday

Is one with Nineveh and Tyre!

Just a little history lesson for you, professor.


Nineveh and Tyre were two ancient cities. Nineveh (612 BC) was located where the present day Mosul, Iraq, is. In the reign of King Assurbanipal, its library contained an estimated 20,000 cuneiform tablets. Tyre (around 1400 B.C.) Was built on an island off the coast of present Lebanon. In 333 B.C. it was sacked by Alexander, the Sick.

Lashes – A Poem from Drone Democracy

Majid Ali, M.D.

✃✁✃
Lashes
Kill me, kill me,
Words escape yelping lips.
Male knees unyielding dig deep,
Into yielding female hips.

Her face buried in dirt, by
One of high and noble birth.
Her spread legs pinned to the rock, by
A holy man of mighty girth.


 Sacred faith flashed,
In a cold killers’ den
A 17-year-old lashed,
By bearded pious men.

No, no! not punishment,
Only a teachable moment.
Male judge, male jurors exhort,
Repent, O daughter of Islam,
Repent, repent, repent.


 Screams of a girl in burqa,
A circle of deaf men in taqwa,*
Justice so delivered
By Shariah’s fatwa.
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*Taqwa is an Arabic word for the highest form of piety and enlightenment.
 In early 2009, a Swati teenager was accused of impiety. Two bearded pious men held her, face down in the dirt, while the third bearded pious man lashed her thirty-four times. She begged to be killed as other bearded pious men stood in a circle, savoring the application of Sharia law in Pakistan. What a difference eight years can make! What might the future hold for the oppressed of these lands?
 By some accounts, over three hundred schools for girls have been blown up in northwestern Pakistan. In Afghanistan, tactics used to keep girls out of schools included burning their faces with acids.

The Breath – A Poem From “Heart Dancing, Feet in Lead”

Majid Ali, M.D.

Fears and suspicions,

Why so seductive?

Anger and rage,

Why so addictive?

Misery, why so easy?

Happiness, why so hard?

Suffering, why so ready?

Love, why on guard?


Men crazed and craven,

What determines their fate?

Pathology of control,

Power of hate.

Bitten and scorned

Who would care?


Deep healing,

Why so rare?

Conniving, conspiring,

Bring the wrath,

Sensing, conversing,

Delineate the path.


The breath belongs

To breathing,

As breeze to air,

And the spirit

To soul, generous and fair.

Majid Ali, M.D.