A caliph trembles at the sound of aircraft
like a dachshund beaten too much while
his pack snap and bite and **** their legs
to *** on a better world

Their state is a chewed thighbone
covered in flies yet they mint coins
in gold and silver and praise God as they
throw effeminate teenagers off rooftops

A Turkish fisherman with a large shoe
stuffs cash into a pregnant pocket
and crams frightened souls into the shoe
which sinks on the horizon like the sun

Assassins have the crescent moon
in their left hands ***** pictures
on their phones and tight vests
leaking lava

She searched for tips on eyeliner
the day she erupted as a volcano
leaving her sheer blouse to mourn
at home on the ironing board

The world has become as mad
as Napoleon in stiletto heels
cross-legged on the back
of a tortoise singing Hey Jude

☪  ☮  ☪  ☮  ☪  ☮  ☪  ☮  

Bearded and furious, quoting some prophet
they rage in the streets of their failed nation-states
exporting dysfunction, subversion and violence
the hordes are empowered—they’re now at your gates.

They fume as they gesture, in ***** pajamas
and brood over battles from centuries past.
they **** for their Caliph in murderous dramas;
the next ****** tantrum will not be their last.

Republicrat/Democan?  Satan to them…
They care not an angel what party you vote.
Your well-meaning efforts are lost in translation—
they’ll just as soon slit your good liberal throat.

Scandinavia’s day-dream, once Nordic, once bright
is consumed in the chaos and vanished as smoke.
Santa Lucia receives violent darkness for light
as statistics play dead to her national joke.

The Ishmaelite deity (Arabic sin)
is a vicious excuse for extreme misbehavior;
a wind of aggression, demonic conception
enraging dead souls against Jesus, Our Savior

Let destruction descend upon Mecca/Medina.
The angels rejoice—may the righteous side win;
for the judgement of God on an evil religion
proclaims that earth’s joy is about to begin.

While the minarets topple, midst filth and manure
in a cleansing display of immaculate hope,
the muezzins are silenced, the pilgrims are stalled
and the muftis are starting to mope.

☪  ☠  ☮  ☪  ☠  ☮  ☪  ☠  ☮  ☪  ☠  ☮

Exporting democracy, whorelets and song
You dwell in the center of endless supply
as customer-king you can never be wrong.
Your choice is the answer—now shut up and BUY.

Gadgets with touchscreens and upgrades to boot –
Distractions and playthings to dazzle the eye;
Your choices are regal, your credit assured;
Your country is closing soon. Shut up and buy.

The Ishmaelite hordes are released from the dam
the sluice-gates are opened, the waters descend.
Our Empire, ignorant, closes its eyes
Babylonian currencies bank on the trend

Mohammedans know that the West is a Beast
and the least of their worries—their Caliph is nigh.
We shop as they’re chopping; expanding their brand.
The muezzin is wailing now: shut up and buy.

They hear and obey while you’re watching the game.
The refugee nations, with time on their hands,
flow over the borders demanding attention
Malign infiltration. Deception expands.

These newest dependents refuse to assimilate
whining of racism, milking the state
Government, clueless, declares them immaculate.
Holy diversity Batman—it’s late !

They wait for their moment. You’re scared to offend.
it’s the Christians you wish would oblige you and die
The Muslims, you know, are committed to peace
and that’s something to celebrate: shut up and buy.

No borders no flags, social justice, no war
(nor knowledge of history, conflict or God)
Universal utopia, scaffolded lies
crashing down (but you’re busy defining jihad)

Poor traumatized victims. Concern never ends
It’s our fault they are here: it’s a charity high.
They laugh in your face with your back to the wall.
Your nation’s invaded so shut up and die.

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

****.

The poison's me the choice is up to you. Good lord, if they take away all the fashion houses, the rain men won't have anything to wear.

Naked armies, fighting the stories that just someone's grandfather wrote. Is it even real if it goes to sleep at night? Does it wake up to address the evening sky? I don't know....three heroic words the human race can barely say. Isn't the want for pizza an international religion, can we agree on that?

What mind of man gets it in his head that it's his hand that receives death to choose? In what nowhereness did these lonely princes lose everything they knew? Did they hear that killing isn't cool like it was in the 11th Empire- to make light of a situation or just a few lumens too, is pretty rad for any human to do. I may be a vampire but I need a bit of daytime if I want to continue to worship the dark.

It's been 4000 years, and I'm still looking for her, the way she talked to us after the sea we crossed through. The poison is me but the choice to take it is up to you. The rain men may come, but the water dance's for a seldom few. We could starve just for the thrill of wrapping ourselves in pieces of the moon.

Ne me quitte pas. Ne pas passer la lumière. Je vous attends ici, tout comme je le fais toujours. Il est dommage, je suis passé par là avec vous attends.

“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.

arson farson
larson? pio
leo trio el feo
angle fangle
his mite
is frite
scrap flap
trap slap hlap,
harun al rash
enter trash, mash
grate great
***** sheikh
eel feel meal really real
aeal steel molecular
trust bust, shrekular
even bush
shrugs off
the north tower.

iMac
I can
I done

I always spit the pun

Iraq
Iran
I run

All the way to the cinnamon bun

Neither the stone nor the stoning

Or the finger pointing up in the air

Not the knife that cut the throat

Not the rational or the irrational

Not the oil and the oil production

American troops on holy ground

No command of terror nor a laugh

Not the mountain or the new born

Nor jihad or of intelligent significance

Not god and god is not great

Cause god does not exist.