It could be the skin and the beard
The arrow, in his solo cell, pointing to Mecca
On suicide watch; it’s feared
For his life and the life of all
He says: “Allah is great! ” Holding up a translated Koran
And praying in English
Today’s topic: the degeneracy of the West;
Occidental and oriental contest
Jazz mags raise the level of his pillow
(Bed sheets changed every day)
The dwindling fifty - gramme pouch stays in his cell
During exercise and landing social
And he’s never left England
And he’s never left Liverpool
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Consummate irony. Classic.