Hunting For Sadam Hussein Poem by alexander opicho

My name is sadam hussein Al tikrit
Please don’t shoot me, I have complied,
Let me come out of my hideout
Out of this hole in which I have been hiding,
For sure, I want to surrender to your might
By acceding to appalling condition of my Arabic folly
Imbued to me as a legacy of my childhood trials,
Perpetrated unto me by my foster parenthood
My Arabic uncle, who often whacked me my skin
To thwart my good manners into defiance disorder,
He pummeled me often, as if I was an African antelope in the trap,
He misled me to amass weapon of mass destruction,
Goofing in my dreams to decimate the synagogue of Satan,
Only to ire my holy big brother of the capital cosmology,
Catapulting him in to an imperial overture;
Zero option but to declared unto me a holy preemptive war
In which I am beaten like a desert lout
By the global powers that have been
In my foolish stamped of the clash,
Very classical clash about civilisation.