The prophet is gone
To his lord with the message done.
The battles he fought;
A message that God is one.
Islam is peace! Islam is not wrought!

Islam cries!
Truants and the fanatical psychos-
Have hijacked the turban
And the peaceful rites that belongs to the faithful.
In the mountains they smoke weeds,
And at the call of the Adhan,
They kneel in prayer to Allah-
Whom they have waged war at
Out of scorn and cruel ideologies.

The old woman who died in her tent,
The campus blast and those dead,
Is that not a war against Allah?
Islam preaches peace, still they moved anti-clockwise,
Proclaiming their faith by killing their brothers.
Is that not brutality and injustice?

Islam cries!
And the enemies of Islam
Are those who proclaimed to be the mujaheedun
Allah never sends them, they are the devil’s tool.
Would Allah send a man that smokes weed-
Whose medallion of honour is but shreds of hatred?
A man whose belief is tied to the riffle and hand grenades
Can never be a Jihadist but an antagonist who-
Hides and destroy in the name of his creator.

Islam cries!
As her name is being taunted
Far and wide by pelting stones of terrorism.
Every submissive servant with a beard
Is feared on the street as a terrorist-
And our women are being named breeders of hatred.
Let them remember what happened to the enemies of Islam
Or have they forgotten what Allah did with the people of prophet Shuaib?
The blood spill of our brothers will bring them to justice,
As the blood spill of the she camel.

It’s in the news,
The zeal to kill and spill-
Blood on a bird abound the cloudy hill
With merry passengers and cheerful crew,
Had spurred a Nigerian on,
In the guise of religion.

Islam is being put to shame,
By those whose grand parents-
Tried to make the prophet lame
In the streets of Mecca,
And on his quest for solace at the Khabba.
Now they preached “extremism”,
By disguising as Jihadist.
Islam is peace; it has nothing to do with blood bath.

Islam Cries!
I feel the pangs, as every thought
Pours itself as an inscription,
To guide and to lead,
And to galvanize every trace of wrought
That dwells in the heart’s palpitation.

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