I am filth. You are right

to hate me. Do not listen
to the mystics' warnings; hatred

will not corrupt your logic. I'm
the source of decadence; see my

thick beard, dark skin and turban.
Do not listen to the learned;

civilisation is a Western value.
Mine is irreversible savagery.

Haven't you received the facts
of my innumerable barbarities

from the mouths of newsreaders,
from the pens of your columnists?

Listen to them. They know
what's best for your morality.

Listen to me: I'm a virus
poised to strike at your healthy body.

Do not underestimate me. My culture
is vampiric. My icons

zombies. Hide your daughters from
my supernatural lust. I'm the very villain

of your gothic horror. The monstrous Muslim
concocted by the Apocalyptic fetish

of your politicians and rabble-rousers.
Listen to them. They know how

to make hatred necessary, user-friendly.
Let their words be mightier than the scimitars

of my legends. Do not spare a thought
for my history. I don't have one.

Yours is the epic of discovery and triumph;
mine an illegible, fading footnote.

Do not worry yourself with
the story of my culture being the Cradle

of Civilisation. You shall rock
my history to the grave

and that's all that counts. You
can afford to be hateful. Your terror

disguised as a ?´hero quest'
for security and democracy. Enjoy

your supremacy. Let me suffer
the consequences of being an archetype

of your hell. Call me evil;
call me filth.