He is a stoic, struck in stone. <br />Of noble brow and high cheekbone. <br />A striking, singular, face composed <br />And divided by an autocratic nose. <br />His liquid eyes are languid pools <br />Of dark emotion, sly and cruel. <br />His lips, perhaps, are a little full, <br />For a thin smile, apt to drool. <br />His tongue hides behind perfect teeth, <br />To spit venom from underneath <br />A studied beard and manners schooled <br />To rule the fears of knaves and fools, <br />And hurl invective at the godless world <br />Of luxury and corruption. <br /> <br />He recruits his legion from callow youth, <br />And those afraid of life, claw and tooth. <br />These desperate failures of the fundament womb <br />Retreat in cells of apocalyptic gloom. <br />This bacillus of hatred and righteous wrath <br />Burns bright as the candle to the suicidal moth. <br />The determinist dogma of revealed truth <br />Breeds killers, callous and caring both. <br />My friend, Osama. Of this fondest embrace. <br />Will he be martyr to the demented, debased? <br />Is he the lamb that lies with the wolves? <br />Is he the chosen, vile nature approves? <br />My friend, Osama. Who can know his true fate? <br />But to be damned by the many, a mad icon of hate.<br /><br />David SmithWhite<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-friend-osama/
