DIALOGUE - SYRIAN STYLE

STUCK INSIDE DAMASCUS (WITH THE MEMPHIS BLUES again?)

I wake up in Damascus
To some noise out in the town
I open up the window
“Can’t you people hold it down?”

I spot a soldier standing
And I clear my throat, "Ahem!"
He sees me up above him
And he shouts, “You're one of them!"

I start to close the window
But he's Johnny-on-the-spot
He tells me I’m a pris’ner
Of the al-Mukhabarat.

He takes me to his Sergeant
In a room without a view.
Who says that he has proof that
I'm an agent of the Jews.

He shows me grainy photos
Of a club at Thomas Gate
“That bar’s a Mossad hangout
You were there. It’s check and mate.”

I sign a typed confession
And I thought that we were through.
But no, he tells the soldier,
“Take him up to the HQ."

The Captain at Headquarters
He’s a thug, his name’s Farooq
He takes one look and mutters
“Hell, that ain’t no Jewboy spook."

He tears up the confession
And he kicks me in the balls.
He says, “You’re in al-Qaeda
Give it up and tell me all.”

I rattle off this story
How I trained in Pakistan.
And taught Mohammed Atta
How to sneak through airport scans.

They type a new confession.
As I sign my autograph.
Farooq decides to send me
To the Army Chief of Staff.

They toss me in a dungeon
In a place both dark and dank
They leave me there for six days
The food they gave me stank

The seventh day this colonel
He's one of Bashar’s friends
He drives up to the prison
In a pink Mercedes Benz.

He glares at all around him
He huffs and puffs and roars
His helpers cringe and tremble
As he calls for blood and gore.

He looks at me and hollers
“You’re a liar! You’re a fake!
You never were al-Qaeda.
Didja think you’d get a break?”

He tears up the confession
And he stomps and kicks a chair
“You’re CIA, I know it.
It’s a fact as clear as air.”

I sign a new confession.
As we watch the drying ink,
They post my face on YouTube
They throw me in the clink.

They tell the world they got ‘im
Both the plotter and the plot
They have it down on paper
How this "terrorist" was caught

Each Friday before Moslem prayer
They trot me out to say,
“I’m an agent of al-Qaeda
Of the Jews and CIA.”

So that is all my story.
Each word I swear is true
I’m stuck inside Damascus
Guess it’s better me than you

But if you ever go there
And you’re feeling in a rut
Don’t go looking for trouble, Dude,
Just keep the window shut.

And stay out of the daylight
Just sit there like a monk
Go pour yourself a strong one
Hell, you might as well get drunk.
 
'Cause it's crazy in this city.
It's a parallel universe
All the cops are cutthroats.
It only can get worse.
 
The al-Assads are werewolves
Maher's a bombardier.
Asma's locked in a tower.
She stares into a mirror. 

The Parliament's a dumb show.
The Prime Minister's a chump.
The Grand Mufti's a hunchback.
The Mosque's an ammo dump
 
So what's that sound we're hearing?
Is it a wounded tiger's roar,
Or the cry of a despot dying?
Let him die like a dinosaur.
 
But hang on tight to that ticket
It's the last train to the coast.
You do not want to be stuck here
And end up being toast.

Download a copy of the poem here...