Building the Death Machine

1

Khashoggi wanted (it was said)
A permit to be lawfully wed,

So went into the Consulate
(He was the prey, the permit bait),

Where, trapped, they cut him up alive,
Ensuring he would never wive— 

Outside she that was his intended
Innately knew her hope was ended

When he, her loved one, fair devout,
Who had gone in, did not come out.
​

2

The bonesaw sliced into his flesh
And as he screamed, his blood flowed fresh,

As one by one, his fingers severed,
Life eked away; and they endeavored,

His torturers, to send a message
Incapable of happy dressage:

Do not subvert the Despot’s rule
Or question it, lest every tool

Available at his disposal
Be used to sap your life ambrosial.
​

3

The Consulate, some sanctuary
Became a trap; Jamal, unwary,

He entered in—the case was clear— 
But never thence did reappear:

“He slipped outside the back gate”—so
The word official tried to go,

But of more weight men held the thesis
He left the place in little pieces,

His corpse carved up in little bits.
The story changed in starts and fits.
​

4

The President, a Saudi chum,
Gave cover with excuses dumb:

“It may have been some rogue assassins,”
And so great guilt with lies he fastens

On citizens of the US:
“We knew the Saudis would transgress

But looked the other way because
Money sways us more than do laws,

And precepts some ascribe to God
We will excuse the House of Saud.”

5

The Party men, they did begin
Then to defame, excusing sin,

Calling Jamal, the journalist,
The mill of propaganda’s grist— 

A bad man, liar, so they said,
Who for his job was better dead— 

For free speech in the USA
Was better to be done away,

And citizens without a conscience
Heaped up such lies and gave them staunchions.
​

6

“There’s money to be made in war;
That’s what our consulates are for,

And if perchance we sanction murder
Such small crime merely makes one girder

Within the greater edifice,
For in the last analysis

We will support the House of Saud,
And give all sorts of crime the nod

Because, the Death Machine we build
But sees our own deep pockets filled.
​

7

Jamal Khashoggi, rest in peace;
Ourselves absolve, ourselves release

From moral pretense, and make clear,
He who has ears, then let him hear:

Whomever speaks the word of truth
We will bring low, to death uncouth,

Stopping not shy of murder, torture,
Though deeds may be a conscience-scorcher.

Just like the Saudis killed Jamal,
Truth-tellers, we will kill you all.”