No more, French jam, nor cheese, on breads
No L’Oréal, for faith’s, fearful façades
Since Macron, tore a, ‘myth’ to shreds
In smug souls, squirm, a billion jihads!

Just how much faith, can a soul, ever hold
And hate, a heart, until they spill
From the spleen, of fanatics, in fear’s blindfold
Who vow, to storm, Macron’s ‘Bastille’!

Is it, all about, a caricature!
Why Paris, awaits its, next bloodbath!
Who redeem, their creed, in fear’s conjecture
Make “Infidel-World” pay, for their, faith’s aftermath!

If it serves, your faith, do malign Macron
But demolish too, your, bigotry’s bastion!
Spite seems, to be their, piety’s only pawn
Who Found, In Macron, New Satan!

© 2020 Vikas Chandra