What is that you think you do?
With what care you perform ritual ablutions,
Five times daily for your habitual intrusions
Into this world of creative spontaneity,
Hating Nature, loathing kuffar, and serving your own vanity!
Salafists, Wahabbis! wash your faces, forearms, feet –
While worms fill your hearts on which they feed!
I've relished wudu, learned the script, revelled in prayer ...
Then, absorbed in dhikr I reread those suras, became aware
Of what you're doing, have always been doing, will go on doing:
Not joy you sow but stark despair, and all of your wudu-ing
Will never cleanse a single hair; you love jihad but know no God!
You love to conquer, just not yourselves; claims of peace deception, fraud.
Taqiyya your gospel, and mighty hospitable, as it suits you, as it suits you –
Supremacist and underdog unified in Umma, addressing others, Christian, Jew,
Or East or West: your plans are laid, appeased and blessed by States who've screwed
Their peoples for less, dhimmitude without conscience courage or character to confront
An ideology of such massive proportion, with an own ideology which would grant
Islam all that it wants and hankers after – how the imams do sheikh with laughter,
At the suicide of nations – full of patience, speeding their haste for dominion – gullible kuffar!
And so I weep, and go on weeping, for all your victims, my head bowed –
My weeping is my wudu, my tears are my ablution now.
No comments:
Post a Comment