Poet’s Note

Dear Reader,

I wrote this lament with a heavy heart. Nigeria’s Christian communities are being systematically slaughtered — villages burned, churches destroyed, families wiped out — in the name of Islam. This is not random violence or mere tribal clashes. It is the direct fruit of a demonic ideology that teaches total domination, conversion by the sword, and death for those who refuse.

I call Islam what it is: an evil creed of conquest and submission. For too long, the world has hidden behind soft words and political correctness while innocent blood flows. The martyrs cry out from the ground. Their suffering demands truth, not comfort.

If this poem offends the guilty, so be it. If it wakes the sleeping, it has done its job.

May their blood not be forgotten, and may justice come swiftly.

—The Poet

Ye that love the LORD, hate evil. (Psalm 97:10)

The fear of the LORD is to hate evil. (Proverbs 8:13)

Abhor that which is evil; cleave to that which is good. (Romans 12:9)

Hate the evil, and love the good. (Amos 5:15)

On the suffering of Christians:

Remember the word that I said unto you, The servant is not greater than his lord. If they have persecuted me, they will also persecute you. (John 15:20)

Yea, and all that will live godly in Christ Jesus shall suffer persecution. (2 Timothy 3:12)

On the blood of martyrs:

And they cried with a loud voice, saying, How long, O Lord, holy and true, dost thou not judge and avenge our blood on them that dwell on the earth? (Revelation 6:10)

On false teachings and killing in God’s name:

Now the Spirit speaketh expressly, that in the latter times some shall depart from the faith, giving heed to seducing spirits, and doctrines of devils. (1 Timothy 4:1)

They shall put you out of the synagogues: yea, the time cometh, that whosoever killeth you will think that he doeth God service. (John 16:2)

On spiritual battle:

For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world, against spiritual wickedness in high places. (Ephesians 6:12)

On calling evil what it is:

Woe unto them that call evil good, and good evil. (Isaiah 5:20)

And have no fellowship with the unfruitful works of darkness, but rather reprove them. (Ephesians 5:11)

In the blood-soaked fields of Nigeria’s weeping plains,

Where faithful bones lie shattered beneath the scornful sun,

The ancient Cross is trampled by the crescent’s cruel chains,

And Islam’s demonic creed devours daughter, father, son.

From Boko Haram’s blades to Fulani herdsmen’s fire,

The ummah’s holy mandate rings with unrelenting hate—

“Convert or die,” the doctrine whispers, fueled by dark desire,

A supremacist plague that brooks no equal, spares no fate.

This evil ideology, forged in desert conquest’s flame,

Demands total submission, mercy’s name forever banned;

It sanctifies the slaughter, exalts the infidel’s shame,

And turns the Koran’s verses into ropes for Christian hands.

Churches blaze like beacons in the terror-haunted night,

Schoolgirls kidnapped, brides defiled in Allah’s twisted name,

Whole villages erased beneath the jihad’s savage might,

While Western silence cloaks the truth in diplomatic shame.

Oh, demonic creed of bondage, sword and taqiyya’s lie,

You cloak your lust for dominance in robes of pious deceit;

You breed the suicide bomber, train the child to glorify

The rivers running red with those who dare to not retreat.

No peace resides within you—only dhimmi chains and fear,

A totalitarian hunger that history cannot deny;

From Nigeria’s bleeding heart to every frontier near,

Your fruit is death unending, your harvest graves piled high.

Yet still the martyrs sing beneath the blade’s descending arc,

Their voices rising heavenward through smoke and ash and pain:

“How long, O Lord, till justice breaks this ideology’s dark?”

Till Islam’s evil empire meets its long-prophesied shame.

Weep, world, for Nigeria’s slaughtered saints in endless row,

Whose only crime was loving Christ while Islam bared its fang.

The lament thunders louder—let every conscience know:

This is no random violence; this is the faith’s own song.

Awake, arise, and call the demon by its ancient name,

Lest the crescent’s shadow lengthen and the Cross be overthrown.

For evil unresisted spreads its consecrated flame,

And Nigeria’s Christian blood cries out from hallowed stone.