Aquesta és la reflexió de l’alumne Mohamed Belkaid de 2n de Batxillerat B sobre el fet que vivim en un mòn globalitzat del qual tots en formem part. Es tracta d’un text i un poema rítmics, vibrants, crítics amb la realitat d’un mòn que és molt millorable. Fer-ho està en mans de tots.
IWROTEBETTERTHINGS
I was born, looked around and saw lots and lots and lots of things to fix.
Immigration, legal immigration, acceptance, white power, U.S, Chaos in the middle east, intentionally misunderstanded religions, deaths, blood all over the desert, changes of pace in the singular lives of the war kids, kids… kids staring at they’re parents weep, between protests, protests moved by people moved by ideas that turn into ideologies, ideologies that end some fortunate people’s life, thousands of thousands with the swastika, the hammer and the sickle.
There’s been rumors of war and wars that have been, the meaning of life has been lost in the wind. And some people thinking that the end is close by. Instead of learning to live they’re learning to die.
Our country is bullied by stronger countries that punish us off because of our “there’s no tomorrow” thing. Banks, politicians, richs thieves of the system, I feel pity for you all. Your big amounts of money will make your life better, grateful and you’re going to enjoy life a lot with this immense lack of empathy, take that for sure. But the more you love this life, the more you fear losing it, and remember, we’ll all be the same when the undertaker ends his work.
People rolling up their sleeve for a few bucks, unexistent likelihood for the rich to help; unexistent likelihood for the rich to get held; socially isolated people tryin’ to get reinserted; bums, hobos, tramps, som of them lost in mother madness, staring… staring at you who philosophize disgrace and criticize misery; prostitutes vomiting on the streets, university sophomores with gonorrhea, freshman high school girls married.
As much as I’d like to write more things for you to read, I want you to understand that I’m very tired so, if you want to get away of this crappie world you’re invited to my hut, and once there, we’ll drink and drink and drink till we forget everything we learned in this world addicted to the drama.
This I about a man that left his fiancé for Israel. I don’t know how to title it.
(warning: very melifluous)
Red’ll be the color of my veins in your
absence, angelical brunette carnation,
queen of my feelings,enchanting and
unique wizard of my soul with those
enormous feline darkbrighted glances, and
lips, fleashy goal I’ll never reach before fillin’ my coffin.
Skinned as the north pole, immaculate white
adding the personality of a dizzy and
nice character like a sunbathed morning,
ceaseless, immortal, untiring, as
hot as Virginia and Sylvia’s oven who
couldn’t expect their tragic end, neither the
Zionist who’s debating wether I’m worth living or not.
