If You Send Your Fling Monkeys Again, Germany
If you send your fling monkeys my way again,
With circus smiles and ego’s pen,
Clattering in boots too big for their path,
I’ll rise with thunder and ancient wrath.
You dressed them in silk, gave them polished disguise,
But I saw the greed burning under their eyes.
They came not with peace, nor stories to share,
Just empty hands and too much glare.
And if you tell me I'm not Kurdish—
Just because I don't know any Kurdish—
Then you’ve never heard how blood can speak,
Without a word, without the weak.
I won’t be your stage, your side-show fool,
My soil is not your training school.
So hear me now, this is no lore—
One more step, and I’ll start a war.
Not with bombs, but with breath and flame,
With memory sharp and a thousand names.
I’ll summon roots you tried to sever,
And we’ll sing a song that ends you—forever.