B(arab)bas and the hope he gave

Poem by Marc Aupiais

You won't understand, perhaps,
My love!
That I don't share their joy:

Only tragedy at a soul condemned
The devil uses his generals,
Until he murders them,
No longer of use.

Obama O$ama Obama.

How they both specialise in terror,
In ideology.

The fox hunt for a human being,
One after another,
In Africa, and Eurasia.

And perhaps B-arab-bas gave some hope.
A voice however evil.
A force. Not scared to stand.

Against the imperials,
The empire of Rome.

And a fuddy duddy old man did die.
He would not surrender till the end.

And then there was a bullet in his head.
The kill was the command.

As in Egypt. As in Pakistan.
Though few but Wikileaks have said.
America. Our Lords. Our Wargods.

She gives us our icons.
Tells us what to think.

Says sin is good,
Good is sin.

And when a donkey brays at them.
American lives.
Forget all the rest.

Two, and more wars.
War plains. Jets.

To win an election.
O$ama must be found.

Mercy is over.
Next to the Pakistani military training compound.

Sovereignty. What is that..?

And where is our fair trail?
Was it even him?

Or just the devil's speakerphone.

The devil's general was once great.
Or so his soldiers and enemies said.

The devil's general.
He sent Hell more soldiers too.

Yet no strategic threat.
Facts must I repeat?

Of unjust war.
24 on 4. No hurt or casualties.

Killed "after" a firefight.
America. Instilling terror.

So, my love!
I'm sorry,
But I'm scared,
Not happy.

As I see sacred human blood.
Spilt without so much as pretence.

All life is sacred.
If a Green card it has.

And I wonder.
At B-arab-bas.

Spared for a season.
And disposed of quick-ily.


A political statement.
Vengeance. Cold and blood.

B-arab-bas is dead.
Yet long he lives on.

John Paul II Yesterday Beatified.
Yet to them that turn to terror.
Yesterday was born a saint.
His demon soul patrolling oceans.

His master,
Abandoning him.
More useful for something else.