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Àŧùl Oct 2016
Extremism, He taught them.
Extreme belief in the book of Satanic Verses.

Polygamy, He taught them.
Polyandry he dared not teach them ever.

Terrorism, He taught them.
Terrorising he needed not teach them ever.

Mirth, He taught them.
Utter hatred for the non-believer forever.

Paedophilia, He taught them.
Old men marrying & ****** children forever.

Paradoxes, He taught them.
Cleaning ***** feet with hands before the prayer.

Hatred, He taught them.
Why else are his teachings a copy of threats?
Boycott terrorism and the chief religions of terrorists.
Polygamy is the epitome that undermines women's rights.
All women should stop reading or following the 'Satanic Verses'.

HP Poem #1225
©Atul Kaushal
a raw beast slouches towards my native soil
the cradle holding our innocence rocks wrathfully
back and forth in the ruthless wind
the windows are shut the door locked
and still I hear the helpless cries
of whole communities collapsing
and crumbling because there is no center remaining
no mental balance left to connect the old
with the new and one day when the beast arrives
we will stare at each other with bloodshot eyes

and muse
*wir haben das nicht gewusst
Ignatius Hosiana Jun 2016
So many things
the eyes were no meant to see
very many tales
ears weren't meant to hear
reeking stench
the nose was not meant to smell
a million stuff
the tongue wasn't meant to taste
but because of this
heart no longer sings
the world's in ecstasy
no more inspiration wells
it's no more joy living here
we're a babel, Chinese and French
we've turned universe into Hell
Humanity's rough, survival's tough
to nowhere we're going in haste
chained ourselves, lost the keys
Joel Hayward Apr 2016
Wickedness dances like a Chinese dragon
held high on poles by the grinning

It curls its tail and snakes around the minds
of admirers who see beauty in its gaping jaws

Flaccid and incapable, this billowing beast
intoxicates and seduces the frustrated and resentful

It dances in Kirachi, hoodwinks in Bradford,
and slips into the dark places in distracted minds

— this infernal idea more bilious and mephitic
than a komodo’s bite

It dances wildly in the confused thoughts of lost boys
who haven’t noticed its cunning wink

They sway and rock — utterly taken
far more mistaken — until stilled by the slap of death
Beleif Dec 2015
Across the ocean's dome,
Controlled by piercing shouts without a doubt;
On an altar in the distance:
An open book with censored words!
Tear a page,
Observe the rage.
Not what any freedom fighter would.

In a rowboat in the open,
Draw the source of their devotion.
Pencil sketch the jagged beard,
And stretch the nose a thousand years.

What a time to strike some fear!

The terrorists will echo with madness,
The pen is your sword.
The innocent will run to the forests,
And the artists make war.

Across the desert homes,
Contained by giant seas to some degree;
In a planetary orbit:
A crying team with crooked teeth!
See the page,
The winds enrage.
Not what any freedom lover should.

Bullets charge at the comedian's door,
Burning down all the carpenter's lore.
Sculptors mourne over severed stones,
The innocent turn, yearn, learn...

The invasions form, warn, and burn.

As the terrorists echo with madness,
Hold the pen as your sword.
As the innocent run to the forests,
Let the artists make war.

Throw the drawings ashore!
Prelude of "Pennons of Madness."
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