From Iran to speak he came, His presence sure to all enflame. Symbolically, jihad’s façade; Its president, Ahmadinejad. A little man whose stature grows Within the minds of would be foes; The world has empowered him, Beyond his place as passing whim. From within his desert home, A pile of sand, this little gnome Denies the lessons of the past, Arrested thought within him vast. Some fear his words used to enflame But it’s his words that make him lame; When he speaks it’s on display, His ignorance in full array. Yesterday before a crowd, Announced to all so rightly proud, That thanks to Allah, all ye praise, That in Iran there are no gays. (Of course there’s fewer than before ‘Cause when they’re caught, they’re caught no more; He wraps a noose around their neck And drops ‘em through a wooden deck.) In the litter box he plays, A piece of waste with numbered days; Not worthy of the time of day, Napoleonic, he’s cliché.