She asks us whether we were horrified,
She asks it like we should apologise,
A crime with which, no decent heart would sympathise,
Scapegoated for this, one act of homicide!?
To that, we say of course we’re horrified!
Horrified, that none of it is justified,
Where soldiers die in foreign lands giving up their lives,
… For a cause that benefits none, the government lies,
She uses the media to terrorise and her false agenda popularise.
They say we sent the troops for your freedom and rights,
Masquerading their corporate gains to monopolise,
The wealth, the resources and our deluded minds.
She says his hands were bloody, he held a butchers knife,
He bruised and beheaded the soldier, took his life,
As if Baghdad had descended to london, our paradise,
She asks again, but were you horrified?
We’re horrified and terrified but certainly we’re not surprised,
That the blood on Obama’s hands, his eyes and mind, the blood drenched rest of his allies,
Have butchered so many unfortunate lives,
With strikes, and drones, a genocide,
With them, do we ever sympathise? know their names, hear their cries?
In no way are those words meant to dignify,
That heinous crime, we aren’t turning a blind eye,
It’s karma let’s not be mystified or belie,
And let our religion be stigmatised,
Perhaps this was a blessing in disguise,
Because in God we trust, it’s our pride.
A poem I wrote after the woolwich incident (June 2013)