“Race with, our bullets, every day
Dare you, outrun them, every time
May you, run out of luck, when, we waylay
To make you, jihad’s, sacrifice, sublime!”
Such ‘saintly’ psalm, of, Satan’s sons
Bodes, the kismet of, Afghan ethos
War is best, of all, the inventions
By men, who love fear, at faith’s loss!
“Don’t shoot, the messenger, crucify him!”
Vows Taliban, from masjids, like azan
“May the world, too know, he is, doom’s pilgrim
Who desecrates, prophecy of, Quran!”
Afghans, stare at, endless Dark Age
Whilst, Danish sleeps, silent on bier
That messenger, is, message of outrage
Whose Fate, Flirted With, The Faith, Of Fear!
© 2021 Vikas Chandra
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