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

A click here
and a click there
taking snaps everywhere
at the age of living carefree
our generation is obsessed with selfie
with a stick in our hand
everywhere we stand -

feeling sick
let's take a pic
going to party
don't forget the photography

every single moment is;
captured as if was a bliss!
fake smiles captured with a flick
but we never get bored of taking click

we are loosing the compassion
in no way we are human
we don't help the one in need;
fish our camera and take snaps instead

portraying poor and their poverty
the name and fame won't help them any
All they want is may be a piece of bread
but the human in us is already dead!

all we do is take a click
Believe me all this is a sh*t!

Extended verse -

we have strong opinion on social media
but in actual world we suffer anemia
we like, comment and share;
when action is needed all we do is stare

such piteous is our condition
we can't stand in unison
and so its easy to break us
else what the hell is this ISIS

So let’s consider what is meant
by rolling heads and bodies splattered…
time for Truth to represent
(as if such inconvenience mattered…)

Such events disturb our sleep
and force us to compose, on waking,
lullabies for drowsy sheep
as predators are overtaking.

Flags of doom and holy slaughter,
sons of Ishmael filled with rage
are coming for your wife and daughter
and yourself. You turn the page.

Rising now to storm your tower
(7th century back to bite you),
Allah brings satanic power
to convert you or to smite you.

****** dhimmis would have us think
such rage is due to unemployment;
pure confusion on the brink
of funding further troop deployment.

Meanwhile, mullahs sip their tea
while tenured academics prattle
watching MSNBC
as soldiers die in battle.

Belgium, we hear you.
Our tears fall at your loss.
One day, things will be okay, and the world will turn right-side up.

It won't be tomorrow, or in my lifetime, but one day, it will.
Until then, we hear you, and stand with you against the evil in this world.

Evil exists.
It is very real.
There are monsters in the shadows, gouls under our beds, and ghosts drifting outside our windows.
We are all but children playing in the dark.

Evil, and pain, and wrongdoings, and losses, exist all around us.
And one day, when we decide, they will go away.
Until then, we hear you.

Thorns in the hearts of millions and fear in the minds of billions.

Heard across the whispers of machines, spoken to the minds of onlookers.

Entrances carved into the souls of children by myriad opinions.

Young ones engraved with a memory, reared to despise terror as one would hookers.

Advance the agenda. Propaganda distributed; phones, theaters, televisions alight.

Losing our souls to the terror, we huddle in our whining and dining rooms.

Lips loose and battering what we don't understand, they're the terrors! Don't you understand?

Destitute is reason in the fanatics worlds away, yet in our very homes.

Encouraged to make poor our own empathy, as we seek them out.

Solace lost on our tongues we devour them, mercy removed from our bones.

Everyone knows we have to get them first, right? Right. There's no other route.

Right is confused with fear. They've made us just like them. Just like them.

Vie for change! Do it all you want, but you can't change them, not with sinful might...

Entrance them with modernity, educate them, sequester them, it's a farce, a problem.

Aren't we the beasts? Shooting missiles from a, "Wicked City," televisions alight.

Grand mess we've made, hypocrisy ten miles high, sin ten miles deep.

Right. Where were we? Who shot last? Compare past to past, continue the fight.

Already we're planning, where to strike next? Whack the hive, make 'em weep.

Vanishing like shadows in all-encompassing light the terrors disappear.

"'Enraging us again,' coming soon!" the sequel should be good next year.

To the men who terrorized my innocence,

The screams that night still plague me, they haunt my midnight hours when I
beg for sleep to take its hold on me.
I remember holding her hand.

the girl I loved.

But, to you, she was just another person in the crowd…
Another victim.
To me, she was honey and roses on a summer morning; she was
the one to save me when I mixed too much Hell with Heaven.
I repaid her with the last few kisses I could muster while her tears intermingled
with our blood.

Just a few hours ago, she was smiling up at me in delight; arms wrapped around my waist
as the music played behind our enclosed bodies.

I held her like this until the bullet ripped her life away from this Earth.

An Earth without her,
It wasn’t someplace I wanted to be.
But I held onto the tidbit of life dancing in front of me;
the one that you had injured but had not stolen.
I couldn’t quite tell which set of crimson belonged to I;
the puddles were drowning all of us.
Which screams were mine?
I’ll never remember and I don’t think I’ll care to;
they all mixed into one loud wail as we fought to grip
the idea of hope.

Trust me,
my lungs were filling with so much hopelessness that
I couldn’t quite remember how to breathe without it within those moments
where I begged for God to take me with her.

But you.
Did you take delight in destroying us?
Her, I, and the others?
I had felt someone grasp my hand right after her’s had fallen away;

You know,
they must have felt me give up. because I knew
It was an encouragement to keep myself breathing;
to keep my lungs from restricting and my soul from rising.

I couldn’t quite tell you how long I thought you were there;
to me,
it felt like years.
I can’t imagine how long it felt for those people who were lined up in front of you
waiting for God to show his face in any form possible.  

The ones who stared down at your guns;
who pleaded for you to rethink your decisions
who had children at home,
who had spouses waiting for their smiles,
who had… families.

Those shots will forever be burned within my memory;
This night,
this horror,
this loss.

But will you wake up screaming,
wondering how you could have saved her?

Will you see their faces in every little corner of the street;
in every thought?

Will you relive the memory of how her hand felt pressed into yours,
right before you lost her?

Will you thank God for that one man who tightened his grip
on your fingers, keeping your mind here,
keeping you alive?

Will you trace the line of stitches along your body,
where the bullets had made a home within your skin?

Will you pray to God that this was only a nightmare,
just to hear Satan laugh in your ears?*

-DDF

We tied a knot in heaven
and left it there
suspended in the air
unaware of the care that lent there
we stare, bare of emotions
for those we sent there
prematurely
surely it was god’s plan
between that ISIS and
the American man’s man
but wait
I don’t rate the
Wests lack of responsibility
they attest not to the culpability
and without an ounce of timidity
suggest that their
interactions are near
the vicinity of humility
when really Iraq
was left gutted like a
listless fish
to be added to the list
of countries
America and Britain not great
Felt the need to mend
not with gentle hands
but with the bayonets hate.

left without infrastructure
a poor suture on
a shambling wreck
Iraq limped on
to suppurate into civil war
which we condemn and abhor

but somehow haven’t the
nous to implore that we have been here before
The imperialist shadow looms like
a hound, as we espouse civility;
Irony abound.

“Humankind: be kind – be One!
I am appalled at what’s been done.
Benign intentions must restrain us.
Hate should never entertain us.”

The toad comedian Ban Ki-Moon
croaked a pitiful One-World tune
while gunmen paused, reloaded, armed
checked that they had no comrades harmed –
and then prepared for further battle
against the clueless kuffar cattle.

Ban stood upright to intervene;
surveyed the terrorific scene…
muezzins chanted, mullahs chuckled
swords were sharpened, bomb-vests buckled.
Dhimmi dim-wits went on shopping.
(Are heads in sand less prone to chopping ?)

Hesitating, he cleared his throat,
raised his pitch by a quarter note:
“These acts are most undemocratic
We are saddened; yet emphatic – “

(no one heard his discourse further
drowned by the sound of massive ******…)

So let’s consider what is meant
by rolling heads and bodies splattered…
time for Truth to represent
(as if such inconvenience mattered…)

Such events disturb our sleep
and force us to compose, on waking,
lullabies for drowsy sheep
as predators are overtaking.

Flags of doom and holy slaughter,
sons of Ishmael filled with rage
are coming for your wife and daughter
and yourself. You turn the page.

Rising now to storm your tower
(7th century back to bite you),
Allah brings satanic power
to convert you or to smite you.

****** dhimmis would have us think
such rage is due to unemployment;
pure confusion on the brink
of funding further troop deployment.

Meanwhile, mullahs sip their tea
while tenured academics prattle
watching MSNBC
as soldiers die in battle.