Call Me Filth

By | 27 June 2005

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.

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