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The Bride of Loftiness
You heard the Rhapsodist that lately sang
(Methinks he had a little nasal twang),-
He gave to suicide bombers praise and laud
And so he took his poet’s lute and crowed.
The poet offered up a gallant Ode
To Ayat, who did smilingly explode
What valiant smiling Bride of Loftiness
Who opted for the Paradise Express
The Bride of Loftiness though took with her
Some folks so unprepared with her to share
Beatitude and blessings high and bright
Procured by hefty sticks of dynamite.
In paradise the bride had company
For virgins seventy would not agree
Which would be first to usher into bliss
A "Martyr" by their arduous services.
While yet on earth these virgins got a kick
On teaching kids a fashionable chic-
The latest trend , in gay parades or floats
These kiddies too prepare for bomber Odes.
Virgins have fuses taped around their skin
And shapely bellies smell of glycerin,
And full score seventy in languor sigh
How merry! - blankets tumble, pillows fly!
But yet, conjugal troth can but erode
As in the end the virgins too explode.
Left to herself the Bride of Loftiness
Is hugged and comforted by Baalam’s Ass.
