Ryfe Greenwood

Cotty Wocko is a failed jihadist you might know.

Obviously, those greasy Americans he wanted to blow.

While his elder siblings fought the noble fight,

he was upstairs playing Fortnite.

Beneath pictures of Potty and Shoddy, everyday,

toward Mecca, he would faithlessly pray.

“If only with his druthers…”

Cotty Sr. would say, “…he would emulate his brothers.”

From the green, yellow, and red bar,

to radicalization training in Qatar.

The former bombmaker turned schoolmarm,

reminded Cotty of his father, having just one arm.

Spelling, heretic stabbing, and metallurgical alloys,

were taught to men and boys.

Pictures were shown

of ball-bearing damage to flesh and bone.

Finally, he understood what the holey war

was for.

Thrice failing the suicide-bomber qualification,

led the teacher to a somber realization.

Over a beer,

Cotty was demoted to pamphleteer.

He frequented the charred markets, wherein the air,

particles of Potty and Shoddy still blew here and there.

Suddenly one day,

failed jihadist Cotty was recalled to the suicide-bomber staging bay.

Unsustainable, extremist attrition,

would fulfill his ambition.

This act was unlike his gaming hobby,

he thought, entering the hotel lobby.

A grand mural of a mountain,

stood in the background of a mosaic fountain.

Shushing a dog in a Louie Vuitton bag, a ravishing lady adjusted the collar above her ample chest.

He considered this, feeling the weight of C4 and circuitry in his vest.

Holding the trigger, his hand sweated.

Did he really believe all this hooey? he fretted.

Looking around,

he then prostrates himself on the ground.

Resigning to a searing fate, he remembered the chant.

“Shutup, I was here first you sycophant!”

Scuffling ensued between a skinny broad and one with Botox,

over what was to play next on the digital jukebox.

Ignoring this, he began shouting “Allahu Akbar! Allahu Akbar!”

Just like he learned in Qatar.

Invoking the name of the King,

he was prepared to give himself – a holey offering.

Suddenly, Cotty felt strange.

He heard a tune and experienced a change.

It was the Heartbreak Hotel.

Speaking of where the lonely dwell.

He didnt clack off his vest,

Fore he knew it was the king calling him west.