We juggle jingoism with all the
fervor of an amateur jester and all
of the lacking substance adding orange after orange
until all the
Jihadi John fell and tumbled
and rolled until he found himself
in the exact place we created for him;
stuck somewhere between a desire for acceptance
and the constant questioning of his intentions.
Now he spends his time juggling lives,
using James, Steven, David, Alan, Peter, Haruna and Kenji’s
heads to replace
the oranges that have all fallen away;
and we say silent prayers whispered softly
into the ears of different gods
pleading for replicated peace and resolutions;
that will never come inside this narrative of jokers
fighting to see who can be the most entertaining
to the king.
Jihadi John will fall and he will tumble
and he will find himself rolling onto and with the
path we created for him and for ourselves.
A path that does not contain any true king’s court.
We can whisper the sweetest prayers,
leave the softest breath against the hairs of the necks
of every god
all across the fallen scattered lives of those we
couldn’t afford to let go and couldn’t bare to accept.
Our jingoist juggle of ideology is our most lethal trick.
If these false kings find it entertaining,
it merely means we’re amusing fools.