Much That is Spilt

 

Rhyme & Reason

 

 

Shadow of God – A certain Sultan Selim,

Turned deaf to a weeping Cordoba’s cries,

Ferdinand demanded lands

Isabella elegantly exiled;

Since 1503 Andalus has been lost

While we walk with somnambulist eyes;

We were once gods sitting in our paradise,

But then, cursed we, were conquered by desperados;

Now, everywhere run the charges of Coronado,

Like Cordoba we are victimized;

As we wait for our saviors,

We must somehow pass the time;

Life sure seems despised,

When each minute is bought by suicide;

Ameer, true, the roses have lost luster,

In clusters turning pale and white,

The wine in your veins truly tastes bitter –

But, from your lips slip Abdul Muttlib’s sighs

(the first to turn tail and take flight);

Ameer, seize your sorrow, cease your baleful cries,

No Ottomans came to Cordoba,

No Mahdi is coming this time;

The blistering nails in your strapped bombs

Won’t counter Coronado’s crimes;

Spilling blood in the vineyards,

Won’t make any less bitter the wine,

The showers of blood from slashed wrists,

Won’t convert blackened roses to Sanguine.