TP- Slithering in a Sandstorm

 Poem 13- Slithering in a Sandstorm  

How many volts of static shock?
How many vaults with hearts in lock?
How many talk only to mock!
Astray do they all walk!
Like a pigeon's eyes shut 'fore the cat's pounce, left not a shred of honor nor dignity, not even an ounce....
We'd rather pretend than our ways mend...
Every carnage courting carnival and flagrancy fueled festival, every Halloween party and Christmas dinner must we at our own gunpoints, attend...
Dearest friend, listen close for the information I am about to disclose runs deeper than its poetic prose...
For the silent sentinel, no longer sentimental, barely stands watering this graveyard's lone rose....
This advise only can I afford to lend, the Qur'ān must ye read, this I recommend! And yet again, I recommend!
Unveil then its cosmic secrets once revealed, ever revered...
Its saves from an abysmal edge, any downtrodden on shaytaan's sledge...
Hold fast onto it lest in division, ye then lacking in provision, he creates a wedge...
I feared should taqwa's thicket be cleared..
Then what can man do alone! He's only ever impatiently peered and lecheriously leered!
Ye can do naught! so turn to He who taught,
Taught man by the pen! This maker your sole caretaker!
This fate your forefathers found then by its word were they ever bound, every land's inhabitants would these invading armies' conduct commend!
O' Muslim! None shall come to your aid, your women be stripped and laid bare, would you even care? Nay! We fight and fend!
For this fahashiyat's fitna now pierces our very sky, yet unseen, its pain veiled from man's eye...
Look back to our pious predecessors without prejudice, their's was truly a strong case!
What madness overtook them to leave every action, vile and base?
Why had they tried? Believed rather than belied? Standing for a cause, knowingly died!
Yet all we did was chase an unjust purchase, for this merchandise of vanity, in depravity we vied!
Verily, shaytaan steers man to a looming doom...
I saw in my dreams a man riding till the end of time searching its tome...
You must know the times were of depressing gloom...
Yet he was hopeful to avert mankind's impending doom, "Inshallah" ever so soon!
Ya Ajmi! Ya Khurasani, that man is you!
Will you not fulfil this prophesy, make it come true?
Death befell the Arab's Artaboon, Israel's leashed dog showing that peculiar madness, its frothy foam...
Blinded in a foggy mist in choking smog, these destitutes shall ever roam!
But ye must render into reality the past' glorious splendour...
Lest the night continue ever so on, the golden days bygone, these septic wounds ever tender...