Poetry

(in answer to Cornelius van der Merwe)
 
Out of the hell coming from stuttering Ak-47’s,
RPG-7 rocket grenades that destroy armoured-cars,
Stalin-organs that sing their deadly song,
T-55 tanks that circle in closer
men did return from the other side of the border
posthumous, wounded and bush-fucked
 
with every battle and the war won,
thousands of the enemy shot to pieces, killed,
their battle-tanks and armoured cars changed to scrap
so that even the Russian commanders realized
that against these brave men
they could not win.
 
Today these white citizen force soldiers
are seen by the government
almost as war criminals
and a monument had been built on a hillock
where they are not even mentioned,
 
where those that lost the war are esteemed highly
as the victors,
so as if history
can be turned back
by a corrupt black regime.
 
No revolution at Soweto, Langa and Nyanga
did force these Afrikaners to their knees
and in their God was their only salvation
against a vast majority of enemies and deadly weapons
in their fierce struggle,
 
but a bold-headed man (the leader out of own ranks)
did silently with his whole cabinet
walk over to the enemy,
and each other Afrikaner whose blood did flow
was betrayed and robbed from a chance of a existence
 
and around his head the Nobel price was hanged,
in his own glory, by himself being messianic
he was caught for long moments
as if he was bringing peace, while the death
of white farmers now circle out wider and wider
in the thousands.
 
[References: “En die omega” (And the omega) en “Soldaat môre” (Soldier tomorrow) by Cornelius van der Merwe.]