FrankenISIL’s lam/rant
As the heart aches, on the day of Benjamin Netanyahu re-election, as the Creature marauds
through the lands, as Obama declares it was their bad
To you I owe my breath,
My heartbeat
My lopsided step
My patchwork features
My ignominious demeanor
People call me monster
Accursed am I and unloved,
People flee me by the thousands
Not a soul
To give me a crust of bread
Though my face is hidden
In a black rag
Like my flag
My countenance is offense
To legion and religion
Why have you forsaken me
Mommy and Daddy
And hide in a house of candor?
Comfortable you are in your house of splendor
And me forsaken in deserts
Mountains and valleys
Unloved and despised
An abomination
In the eyes of women and men
A miscarriage of politics
Malformed yet alive
And even thriving
An abomination
To the eyes of women and men
Yet if people dared to look
It wouldn’t be hard to detect
In me your pointy chin
Your jug ears your long
Aristocratic face
Your coiffed blondish hair
Your painfully thin lips
But even when they stared
Into my (your) deep blue eyes
it was to hard to believe
Overtaken by pity you drop me
Weapons with the cover of night
Provide me with
Fleets of Toyota trucks
Barrelfuls of Hollywood editors
Send me reinforcements
Unschooled
In the compass of Mecca
In the light of morning
You turn away your glance
Again I am not your creature
But I probably wouldn’t have been born
If it weren’t for you,
And certainly couldn’t thrive now
Had you truly abandoned me
No I am no mere blowback
Ancient son of conditions….
I am your creature!
I am your SON
No foster child, no adoptee
But flesh of your flesh
Though conditions could be created
And a creature born
No baby could live
Without a mother’s milk
And a father’s constant care
Your DNA is at the core
Of my ignominious self
Of each of my cells
And I wander the earth
With its orders
Don’t disturb the eternal rest
Of your dead intellectuals
Who in their old age
Dared turn from faithful servants
into whistleblowers
Don’t call me BLOWBACK
Quit your damage control
I am indeed
The legitimate son
Of your accursed quest
For Empire
The flesh and blood
Of your Wall Streets
And skyscrapers
And Pentagons
And alphabet soup entities
Of your frontline states
My mitochondria
Bears the mark of a long line
of un-tender Secretaries of State
National Security Advisors
Special Ambassadors to the United Nation
Yes, I have nursed at the teat
Of the Madeleines, the Hilarys, the Condoleezas
And their nourishing milk
Has made me grow strong
Though now you dress me
In desert garb
Like a Salgarian marauder
My core belongs where the sun sets
And my actions
The scimitar of perfidy
Mirror
Your exotic fantasy
Accursed be thy name
And thy sight
May the axe of justice
Soon sever
That umbilical chord
And both your life and mine
Creating conditions
Generating a womb
For the birth of a different story.
Pina Piccolo, 18/03/2015