Bearded and furious, quoting some prophet
they rage in the streets of their failed nation-states
exporting dysfunction, subversion and violence
the hordes are empowered— now at your gates.
They fume as they gesture, in dirty pajamas
and brood over battles from centuries past.
they kill for their Caliph in murderous dramas;
the next bloody tantrum will not be their last.
Republicrat/Democan? Satan to them…
They care not an angel what party you vote.
Your well-meaning efforts are lost in translation—
they’ll just as soon slit your good liberal throat.
St. Lucifer’s day-dream, once Nordic, once bright 
is consumed in the chaos and vanished as smoke.
Scandinavia receives violent darkness for light
as statistics play dead to her national joke.
The Ishmaelite deity, Arabic sin
is a vicious excuse for extreme misbehavior;
a wind of aggression, demonic conception
enraging dead souls against Isa, the Savior
Destruction descends upon Mecca/Medina.
The angels rejoice—let the righteous side win;
for the judgement of God on an evil religion
proclaims that earth’s joy is about to begin.
While the minarets topple, midst filth and manure
in a cleansing display of immaculate hope,
the muezzins are silenced, the pilgrims are stalled
and the muftis are starting to mope.
