Ad Doha

Cement walls surround compounds, villas, empty lots
Huge, random gaping holes; windows to the city’s aspirations
Towering piles of heavy stone and rubble
Angry at being blown to smithereens after eons spent in undisturbed slumber
Surround deep gashes in the landscape created by hungry monster machines
Determined to build foundations for bigger, better buildings
That attract businesses and tourists; translation
Money and Global prestige.

Holes, rubble piles, dust, huge, land-crushing machinery
Ominous at night silhouetted against artificial light
Vivisection of an ancient land struggling to become
Modern, hip, chic, up-to date, up-to-the minute
Every acre holds an obsolete piece of architecture
Razed now to make way for something new
Untouched for generations under attack by avarice
Virgin lots raped of innocence to bare magnificent capitalism

Dark skinned armies of men build the Monarchy’s vision of their city
Packs morphed together on buses
Enter the outskirts of the city in the early morning; before dawn
Dressed in migrant worker uniform; dusty, blue coveralls
Headscarves hide everything but eyes
But, when even eyes are covered with dark glasses
They become doomed Tuscan Raiders of Tatooine
In a low-budget version of Star Wars

Sometimes the wind blows in from Saudi Arabia
Turning the sky the color of dull gold
Sand fog so dense the rubble, the buildings, the workers
Disappear, consumed by the desert
Mother nature coming to reclaim the city
That refuses to stop encroaching on her territory
A reminder that she has the power no matter
How much money is poured into the expansion of DOHA