The Sestina Code

‘A black past... that dark, dark day
When western settlements trembled
With grim, nihilistic insight.
Hollow fools! Oh, how Moscow hoots!
Ugly untruths burn
Like vampires when exposed to light.

I suppose you think it was Al Qeida?
Attack all Arabs? Lads, lads... that fat lady sang!
Turn up drunk, huh?’ Stu thumps gut.
‘The Jews were there! West New Jersey, Hebrew texts were etched
Block by block on pork chops – cook books!
Filling sick minds with this riddling quiddity:

Infinity is nil; nil is infinity. Why, it’s implicitly shirking divinity!
Don’t look to me for salvation, kids,
My Voodoo doll only works on God.
Stab! Stab! Stab! Wahahaha! What? My scalp pals –
They tell me secrets.
Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!

Skull thugs! Such smug cunts...
Philip, my child, this is strictly
Between me, the sweet, defenceless pet beetles
I keep in my hair and your good self:
Paps snap as Mr and Mrs McCann drag Maddy’s drab carcass past Valhalla. Ask Allah?
No. No, no, no... Not now, not tomorrow

For who knows tomorrow’s sorry sob story?
Hugh. Hugh! Run VT.’
[STARTS] Backwards-cap brats flap scrawny gangsta claws: brap brap brap!
In txt spk pidgin: ‘Dis iz wikkid m8!!’ (sic.)
A frightened wife sees the two towers fall.
She bells the help desk; endless Greensleeves. [END SCENE]

‘Remember September the Eleventh, brethren!
Oh horror of cod-gob horrors! Gosh.
That’s right! Sit and stare like cattle!
Just munch cud, plump dumb slugs!
This limp civility highlights my king instinct:
All man’s bad karma shall act as a nasty tax.

We knew these wretched unlucky truths, thus unsung
Songs grow stony cold. Christ – is it six-thirty
Already? Time for my squash match. Thanks chaps. That’s all.’