The Root of Terrorism
My wife calls to tell me that there are warnings of terrorism
On the subway.
I didn’t know
Although jihad was always there as a possible affront to sanity.
The schizophrenic mind behind our lack of courage
Underneath his black suit is a white designer strait- jacket.
Even his outfit is bi-racial.
Instead of presenting a wall of strength he has invited Muslims
To walk all over our ambivalence.
The Koran reads like Reservoir Dogs.
It is the religion of death,
A pulp fiction of blood.
Where oh where has Tarantino gone?
Into a celluloid film of Muslim beheadings.
Obama calls the most violent people in history peaceful.
I suppose it is peaceful when you are dead.
Not if you’re a Muslim.
You need a lot of jism for seventy-two virgins.
And why would virgins want to sleep with hairy, bearded,
I imagine going home and getting blown up on the subway;
My liver on the glass,
My spleen on the pole,
My brains on an advertisement for the Democratic party.
Will my wife climb the White House fence and get Obama?
I fantasize that he has taken away her love and life, me,
So he could seem like the man who had ended wars when
All he did was encourage them.
Why doesn’t Obama pick up my dead hand and shake the sad future
Of the nation?
Shame is the failure to accept responsibility.
Obama hides behind his misguidance of the American nation,
Talking, endlessly talking.
He is Narcissus fallen into Walden Pond.
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