They call me ‘’zealot’’ just for wanting peace,
I do not know what to do, who to please.
Sometimes it gets tough.
Milk and nuts
the cheese-farm parcel.
To open, rear, doughy portion
finding that place to leave soured...
Crunched into numbers, exaction's Zealot!
-through the Shaikh...
..be He blessed,
The news has come to me about the kind of calamity that will befall Baghdad.
Offering a supplication on behalf of the inhabitants of the city, praying they be spared. Saying, as God, dejected;
Be my life for indeed someone in this city deserves to be killed and crucified! For one individual whom YOU honor, like thousands of others whom YOU shall have destroy them; You make us suffer for THEIR sins?
WHAT HAVE THEY DONE?
YOU have melted the pieces into ingots of the Godless and men?
You try to compete with the Prophets?
You claim to miracles?
You believe you speak the Word?
That you represent, in doing, by action?
Nay, -you serve the Jinn!
This is the end of an Age,
Vanity is your loss.
* ...be not a deceiver...
The mirrors whisper secrets
Little tidbits of advice
Reflections of a washed up zealot
Being optimistic to pull me from this ever-clenching vice
Torn, tattered, broken, battered
Claimed exaggeration from these hushed murmurs
Self destruction evident, nothing really matters
Tugging on my mind; the zealot’s cheery sermons
“Happiness is key
And the key is universal...”
But no one ever thinks to be
Something ultimately omniversal
A tool to be used constantly for general amusement
A tool to be ignored when no longer needed
A tool to be picked for sadistic abusement
A tool to be deluded, guilted, always twisting to the greeded
And like the calm before the inevitable storm
The tool dances to the tunes the varied user creates
Suicidal pursuit nightly, heart never warmed or warned
Staring back at the zealot is me; whispering dogmatic secrets of self-hatred.
I guess this is what happens when you let your fingers type freely.
Hey! Thanks for reading!
Rant and rave
Scream and shout
You don't know what you're talking about
Screech and yell
Wail and cry
Their flaws are blind to your eye
Are not gods
And this obsession
Is not healthy
They are flawed
— The End —