I devise exploding bombs
to tear apart the silken flesh
that loves this world too much.
I plan and make the horrors of
death and blood that visit and
haunt the innocent ones who
don’t inherit the earth that’s theirs.
I rejoice again in the spectacle bloody
that spreads across the world in words
and pictures, and sends the terrifying
prophecy that the faithless ones are doomed.
I kill myself for glory so that I am
destined for the land beyond this
reviled place; and in this death so sure
that visits me and others for the
cause that had no name, the act of dying
becomes my truth for the sake of my eternity.
I am the thin edge of religion’s sword
that’s white and black and has no shade between.
And I sit and plan among you,
pausing at the extreme,
waiting in judgement,
with death as my friend.