Slicing Enlightenment (a poem)

Softly it whispers, parting air,

The edge so sharp, so glistening;

And as it strikes beneath your hair,

Is anyone still listening?

The sword of Islam makes the slice,

And your severed head just rolls;

You've made the final sacrifice,

Loyal to your Liberal goals.

 

When others warned of futures dire,

You made root cause excuses;

You turned your faces from the fire,

Pursued your liberal muses,

Ignoring death—fired feudal fires,

Luring fools to paradise,

Fanatics facing Islam's spires,

Whose sword above you lies.

 

Back when we tried to warn you,

You snickered and you sneered;

Imperial fools our view untrue,

Dumb dupes, who only feared.

Your enlightenment would show us

The path to worldwide calm,

So Jihadis would not blow us

All to hell with Islam's bomb.

 

And now these decades later,

When Sharia rules our land,

Where Christians, disbelievers,

Feel the wrath of Islam's hand,

I feel compelled to ask you Libs,

As that blade zips out your light,

Bloodies your precious, do—good bibs,

Might you think it's time we fight?

 

Russ Vaughn   9 29 06

(Russ Vaughn is the Poet Laureate of American Thinker)

Softly it whispers, parting air,

The edge so sharp, so glistening;

And as it strikes beneath your hair,

Is anyone still listening?

The sword of Islam makes the slice,

And your severed head just rolls;

You've made the final sacrifice,

Loyal to your Liberal goals.

 

When others warned of futures dire,

You made root cause excuses;

You turned your faces from the fire,

Pursued your liberal muses,

Ignoring death—fired feudal fires,

Luring fools to paradise,

Fanatics facing Islam's spires,

Whose sword above you lies.

 

Back when we tried to warn you,

You snickered and you sneered;

Imperial fools our view untrue,

Dumb dupes, who only feared.

Your enlightenment would show us

The path to worldwide calm,

So Jihadis would not blow us

All to hell with Islam's bomb.

 

And now these decades later,

When Sharia rules our land,

Where Christians, disbelievers,

Feel the wrath of Islam's hand,

I feel compelled to ask you Libs,

As that blade zips out your light,

Bloodies your precious, do—good bibs,

Might you think it's time we fight?

 

Russ Vaughn   9 29 06

(Russ Vaughn is the Poet Laureate of American Thinker)