The Jihadist

With apologies to Rupert Brooke)

If I should die, think only this of me
That there's some corner of a foreign field
That is forever ISIS. There shall be
In oil-rich earth a thicker dust concealed
A dust whom England bore, taught, made aware
Gave, once, her music to hate, her ways bemoan,
A body of England's, breathing English air,
Bored by the telly, hooked on a mobile phone.

And think, this heart, all evil given sway
A holy warrior on beheading bent,
Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given,
Of Western crimes, and Islam's coming day,
And hatred, learnt online, and discontent,
And doe-eyed houris waiting me in heaven


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