A poem originally posted on [The] Cactus Lover, a Muslim newsletter set up in the aftermath of the murder of Theo Van Gogh
Oh you firestarters freeloading on fear and blood!
Like your colonial ancestors,
I am also a thief of tropes, symbols and treasured icons
Thus have I appropriated
Theo Van Gogh from you
I weep louder for his unjust, brutal slaying than you do
I pray more earnestly for his soul than you do
I laugh more raucously at his madness than you do
I love him more than you
Oh you who are too afraid to speak, but burn instead
Cowering under the weight of Europe's great historical lie
Crippled by the numbness of your cultural spectacle
I have made Theo Van Gogh
A Sufi saint
I have stolen his spirit and buried it next to Sultan Bahu's tomb
I have secreted a cactus on top of the Ka'ba
I have posthumously converted Theo to dancing Dervish
He is ours, along with Karl Kreuger
and the Smurfs
Oh you who think Islam means murder
Making every Muslim the mirror of your darkest imaginings
Stealing memories from my children with flames
Listen up!
Theo Van Gogh is a nigger!
I no longer speak of Muslims, I speak of theo
I see my brother on the street, I give salaams to my theo
There are bad theos, sad theos, cool theos, rude theos
He is no longer the capital of your world
And because I love him
I can love his spirit, but not what he said
And because I love him
I can love his life, but not what he did
And because I love him
I can cherish him and chide him
You are like the darkest vampire
And drink only the poison from his congealed blood
I weep louder for his unjust, brutal slaying than you do
I pray more earnestly for his soul than you do
I laugh more raucously at his madness than you do
Theo Van Gogh, henceforth appropriated
from your hatred
Like your colonial ancestors,
I am also a thief of tropes, symbols and treasured icons
Thus have I appropriated
Theo Van Gogh from you
I weep louder for his unjust, brutal slaying than you do
I pray more earnestly for his soul than you do
I laugh more raucously at his madness than you do
I love him more than you
Oh you who are too afraid to speak, but burn instead
Cowering under the weight of Europe's great historical lie
Crippled by the numbness of your cultural spectacle
I have made Theo Van Gogh
A Sufi saint
I have stolen his spirit and buried it next to Sultan Bahu's tomb
I have secreted a cactus on top of the Ka'ba
I have posthumously converted Theo to dancing Dervish
He is ours, along with Karl Kreuger
and the Smurfs
Oh you who think Islam means murder
Making every Muslim the mirror of your darkest imaginings
Stealing memories from my children with flames
Listen up!
Theo Van Gogh is a nigger!
I no longer speak of Muslims, I speak of theo
I see my brother on the street, I give salaams to my theo
There are bad theos, sad theos, cool theos, rude theos
He is no longer the capital of your world
And because I love him
I can love his spirit, but not what he said
And because I love him
I can love his life, but not what he did
And because I love him
I can cherish him and chide him
You are like the darkest vampire
And drink only the poison from his congealed blood
I weep louder for his unjust, brutal slaying than you do
I pray more earnestly for his soul than you do
I laugh more raucously at his madness than you do
Theo Van Gogh, henceforth appropriated
from your hatred
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