Between Abu Jahl, a Fool and the Arab Mob: A Boring Story

Posted on September 26, 2012

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Abu Jahl must have shrunk in his space­-less grave

Lamenting the bad timing of his ludicrous life

Wishing in between knocks of Munkar and Nakir

To have been present in this heinous era

Where his monstrous antagonism would have

Elicited disproportionate bombs for pens.

 

He would have balked at the crossing thought

Of the superior competence of the imbecilic Egyptian

And his acclaimed achievement and his own forgotten failure

Or how else do you name his fruitless attacks

Relentlessly, on the physical presence of the prophet

And this first attempter has a world calling for his empty skull?

A wannabe con artist encouraged by a psycho cleric

Brandishing few notes of Mr Franklin and nothing else

Assembled few frustrated Hollywood aspirants

And together in a dirty room concocted a crappy picture

For onward manipulation by a system with changes

That would eventually lighten up the slowly summer

A few dozen saw it and readily rightly dismissed it

The lack of brain and the absent talent put them off.

 

The story should have uninterestingly ended there

But for a zealot who sent it through the air

And another thoughtlessly aired it without care:

And so the undisputed imbecile became a celebrated genius.

The buttoned idiots who knew little of programming

Left their mosques and burned down their country

Killed their good friend and angered everyone else

To the open market, they nakedly danced

Just like they did when a beat up drawer

Scrawled some foolish drawing of Abu Qosim

And a confused writer in between doses of Strongbow

Conceived confusing work that would get him vicious fame.

 

When will the robotic rioters realize

That this project couldn’t have been completed

Without their willing helpful hands and rioting legs

And it wouldn’t have inspiringly fructified

In the absence of their gargantuan idiocy?

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Posted in: Poetry, Religions