of the methods of martyrs…

How many skies must you tear
How many coins tossed
Into the fountain of fear
Skitterish sideways leaps
Of you, at your own shadow?
In arrogance, in pride,
with pompous certainty
proclaim your one truth
as if it ever lived
outside the fevered,
discursiveness of your mind
For no amount
can your lies become truth
For all you lash
Your conveniently cut forehead
Ramadan denials
As your stomach growls
Hungry for the food
You swear you least desire
Fanaticism, fearful screamings
Stone the infidels!
But the people turn their faces
Blush for the shame of you
Amongst them
Oh you would to that cross ascend!
Drape in careful, studied artlessness
As if such sacrifice
You ever made for anyone
When all things are taken
To assuage the gleam of empty deserts
And dreams of Houris
And great, tender thoughts
Of your own splendor
Bled out upon the ground
Oh Shaheed, clever, self-proclaimed prophet
Spend your coins in some other fountain
Where the spittle you would launch
Thinking it pristine gift
Is not so well known as
The poisoned saliva of a viper
Slithering as if too stealthy
As if all ears do not know
The sound of unrepentant destruction
Upon cool tiles

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