Alack, In Iraq Poem by Othman Marzoog

Alack, where you sit not fit,
Laocoon cries Ophilia's life,
And she holds her prayers.

Quickens death with your hit;
Daffodils armor cut with our knife,
Iago is our made and we of Cupid.

As Enheduanna you be in layer,
And say merely be, and be it,
As is Macbeth the made of his wife.

But clerks of time, neither nay nor yes sayer,
Doves fly far for purple loosestrife,
Ultimately, Flamingos we can be.

Jabbed with a tradition dagger,
And killed in the name of a lover,
Baa, replayed the cow moo,
All hens must obey, here tongues eater,
Rendered your bride must be relative,
Alack, all birds twitter yes sir.