One suckles, on her, sore bosom
And the other, by, what’s left, of her
What Allah, seeks in, Satan’s harem
Haunting relics, of, faith and, its fear!
Hot dust, blows by, shanties of shame
Where wails, whole day, unrequited faith
Of those, dead men, who martyrs, became
Warring for, a caliph, no more, than a wraith!
Breeds in, their laps, new blood, of Jihad
Instead of, a hope of, lasting peace
Nurtured by fear, in faith’s, façade
Not on lullabies, but on, hate’s homilies!
Why despair, they, inherited sins
And love, to death, Islamic State
Whose mates, savor, seventy two virgins
Black Widows Of The Lost Caliphate!
© 2019 Vikas Chandra