Magical Carpet Tour of the Mysterious Bhyzantine

 

 

The regions’ magic carpets are a-beckoning

The brassware in the back bazaars aglow,

Exotic spice is nice

For a very reasonable price

And the camel market’s just the place to go.

 

But…

 

Afghanistan’s dark Muslims are scheming

The women folk are sharpening their knives,

When foreign troops depart

The bloodletting will start

With collaborators screaming for their lives.

 

The children of the Ottoman are smarting

For their neighbours are showing them disdain

By peppering with bombs

Along with Syria’s pogroms

And I wonder why the local folk complain ?

 

Oh the sun comes up with glory in old Egypt

As another national leader meets demise

And old Nasser’s bile will burn

As from his grave he will return

To try to rectify his children’s Holy lies.

 

There are whispers of  a strike at the reactor.

There are reactionary reactions from Iran

With annulment of the bomb

The region should resume aplomb

But I have my doubts this mixture really can.

 

And it never rains on dear old dusty Cairo,

Here, you never feel the chill of falling snow,

You may stalk the back bazaars

For the rare blue water jars

But you should really take protection when you go.

 

And they whinge that all the tourists here are dwindling

That the middle Eastern charm is all but spent,

When the red blood flows like wine

In the good old Bhyzantine

As the peace of night, with gunfire, is wrent.

 

But…

 

The dates are really sweet

And the carpetry so neat

And the music is exotic in the night,

And with the flash of Asian eyes

I can guarantee surprise

As you flee for very life…with bloody fright!

 

 

Marshalg

From the dark Bazaar

23 October 2012