To us - in the tanks, going back - on the sleds.
Related quotes
Republicans use think tanks to come up with a lot of their messages. The think tanks are the single worst, most undisciplined example of communication I've ever seen.
quote by Frank Luntz
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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On the other side of the Lomba river
There are flashes hitting in the distance,
bad weather hanging on the other side of the Lomba river
with tanks standing ablaze
nothing can stop the war clouds
(while the shots of enemy tanks resound)
or stop the slaughter of the angel of death
and Fapla, Cubans and Russians perish
and we also receive deadly shots.
There are flashes hitting in the distance,
where we teach them a final lesson in Africa
when the enemy appear
but olifant tanks and Ratel armoured cars are stuck in a landmine field
and howitzer canons fire
at the beginning of the slaughter
with tanks standing ablaze
and there are olifant tanks and Ratel armoured cars disappearing in the bush
with rockets raining down
when the enemy appear
which rip enemy weaponry into pieces
and division after division comes under restraint.
There are flashes hitting in the distance,
and the canons of howitzers, tanks and armoured cars fire continuously
while the smell of death is everywhere
with rockets raining down
with few enemy being still alive,
with some leaving intact tanks, fleeing to survive
with tanks standing ablaze
and I am conscious of the inhumanity
and feelings of powerlessness
while the smell of death is everywhere
and the slaughter goes on and on
and human life isn’t important.
There are flashes hitting in the distance,
with tanks standing ablaze
and whatever you do or mean
nothing can stop the war clouds
and feelings of powerlessness
or stop the slaughter of the angel of death.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Anthem to the 47th Cuban / Faplan Brigade
Whom but your mothers back in Havana
and some in Luanda
mourn your lost or knows
that you were slaughtered in battle
as if human life
holds nothing sacred,
were wiped out by one
of only two battalions
at the junction of the Lomba
and Cuzizi Rivers,
that you heard Ratel armoured cars
driving in at speed,
the roar of Olifant tanks
and the thunder of their guns
or the whining stutter of machineguns
nor did you probably say any prayers
before deadly shells fell from the sky.
What remorse does your supreme leader feel
when your mothers, wives and children
light up candles
(who never really had a chance
for a proper goodbye)
and knows by now
that you will never come home.
[Reference: “The results of the campaign up to April 1988 were 4,785 killed on the Cuban/Faplan side, with 94 tanks and hundreds of combat vehicles destroyed, against 31 South Africans killed in action,3 tanks destroyed (SADF tanks entered the war after the Lomba River campaign) and 11 SADF armoured cars and troop carriers lost. A total of 9 Migs were destroyed and only 1 SAAF Mirage shot down.” Jannie Geldenhuys.1994: At the front. P240. Johanthan Ball Publishers.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Phantoms in my dreams
Another river flooded with blood
with thousands of enemy soldiers
wiped out, as if their lives
mattered not to man.
Almost a hundred tanks shot out,
more than three hundred
armoured cars destroyed
and some tanks,
(more than the fingers
on my hands)
just left behind
with the occupants running away
to hide in the veldt
and to this day
the shocking reality
of that battle scenes
are phantoms in my dreams.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Ablaze
Ablaze! An armoured car
is aflame and stuck in
a field of landmines
and enemy tanks are everywhere.
So soldiers say - on yesterday –
just as the dawn was grey
a Ratels wheels
set some landmines of
and it was stuck there
and received seven shells
from enemy tanks
and it’s a terrible, terrible thing.
So Generals say – on yesterday –
just as the sun was rising
we lost one Ratel-90 armoured car
stuck in a landmine field,
but she gave a brave fight
and the enemy lost
thirteen tanks that came
to take a shot at her.
So angels say – on yesterday –
just as sun lit the sky,
man played war games again
and used explosives, cannon and flame
and innocent men died
trying to survive
and it’s a pity
that man doesn’t know
how to live in peace.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Cuttooth
I wanna be in the wallpaper
Or run away to the foreign legion
I wanna be in the wallpaper
Or run away to the foreign legion
And as the tanks roll into town
As the tanks roll into town
A little bit of knowledge will destroy you
A little bit of knowledge will destroy you
As the tanks roll into town
As the tanks roll into town
A little bit of knowledge will destroy you
A little bit of knowledge will destroy you
I dont know why I feel so tongue-tied
I dont know why I feel so skinned alive
Hold you till the arms are sore
Until you cannot feel it any more
Hold you till the arms are sore
Until you find an open door
I built you up to pull you down
Tie you to your feet
song performed by by Radiohead
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Tinanmen Tank Man
What happened to the Tinanmen Tank Man perhaps only the Chinese Authorities do know
The brave one who stared down the tanks of a powerful Nation in time back two decades ago
He stood on the pathway of the huge tanks dancing and swinging his shopping bags above his head
In his eyes the look of sheer courage against all odds he did not show any dread.
Like his identity what happened to him is a mystery and as a mystery will remain
But the story of his act of defiance will be retold again and again
A story of unbeatable courage from the massascre of Tinanmen Square
To the oppressed of the world a true hero people like him to say the least rare.
His act of courage of the highest order to the Tank Man Tango Dance has given rise
In an act of defiance most would see as extremely courageous though some would not see as very wise
Alone he stood on the pathway of the tanks a Chinese Horatius in history he will live on
A moment in Human History that will be remembered when most other memories to posterity will have gone.
For his act of marvellous courage perhaps with his life he did pay
The hero for Human Rights on June the fifth 1989 from Beijing from here far away
He will always be remembered as the Tinanmen Tank Man the story of his bravery is told on every Shore
A story of courage that will live for centuries if not even forever more.
poem by Francis Duggan
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The Old Black Billy an' Me
The sheep are yarded, an’ I sit
Beside the fire an’ poke at it.
Far from talk an’ booze o’ men
Glad, I’m glad I’m back agen
On the station, wi’ me traps
An’ fencin’ wire, an’ tanks an’ taps,
Back to salt-bush plains, an’ flocks,
An’ old bark hut be the apple-box.
I turn the slipjack, make the tea,
All’s as still as still can be -
An’ the old black billy winks at me.
poem by Louis Esson
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The Rites Of Darkness
The sleds of the children
Move down the right slope.
To the left, hazed in the tumbling air,
A thousand lights smudge
Within the branches of the old forest,
Like colored moons in a well of milk.
The sleds of the children
Make no sound on the hard-packed snow.
Their bright cries are not heard
On that strange hill.
The youngest are wrapped
In cloth of gold, and their scarfs
Have been dipped in blood.
All the others, from the son
Of Tegos, who is the Bishop
Of Black Church—near Tarn,
On to the daughter of the least slut,
Are garbed in love's shining dress;
Naked little eels, they flash
Across the amazed ice.
And behind each sled
There trots a man with his sex
Held like a whip in his snaking hand.
But no one sees the giant horse
That climbs the steps which stretch forth
Between the calling lights and that hill
Straight up to the throne of God.
He is taller than the highest tree
And his flanks steam under the cold moon.
The beat of his heart shakes the sky
And his reaching muzzle snuffles
At the most ancient star.
*
The innocent alone approach evil
Without fear; in their appointed flame
They acknowledge all living things.
The only evil is doubt; the only good
Is not death, but life. To be is to love.
This I thought as I stood while the snow
Fell in that bitter place, and the riders
Rode their motionless sleds into a nowhere
Of sleep. Ah, God, we can walk so easily,
Bed with women, do every business
That houses and roads are for, scratch
Our shanks and lug candles through
These caves; but, God, we can't believe,
We can't believe in anything.
Because nothing is pure enough.
Because nothing will ever happen
To make us good in our own sight.
Because nothing is evil enough.
*
I squat on my heels, raise my head
To the moon, and howl.
I dig my nails into my sides,
And laugh when the snow turns red.
As I bend to drink,
I laugh at everything that anyone loves.
All your damn horses climbing to heaven
poem by Kenneth Patchen
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Undeclared war breaks out and now a winter of despair
Undeclared war breaks out and now a winter of despair
with enemies in great numbers everywhere
with grey clouds blowing in from Cuba, Russia
and thundering the bear growls,
but we have seen some beasts before
our ancestors have fought against a superpower
to a bitter end
and although much fewer of us take
to the battle field than them
with mainly armoured cars against tanks
the inhuman slaughter is of them
and although blood flows for sprouting seed
death claims its toll for life to proceed
and spring is coming with all its speed,
but no victory is ever sweet
and killing leaves its marks indeed,
but all other means would have been in vain
although war leaves its marks of pain
and I would rather have seen
a better life for all of us,
as friends have drank coffee
and smoked a cigar
somewhere in a Cuban café
but reality has no place
for dreamers like me
and liberty at times charges a price.
[Reference: “The results of the campaign up to April 1988 were 4,785 killed on the Cuban/Faplan side, with 94 tanks and hundreds of combat vehicles destroyed, against 31 South Africans killed in action,3 tanks destroyed (SADF tanks entered the war after the Lomba River campaign) and 11 SADF armoured cars and troop carriers lost. A total of 9 Migs were destroyed and only 1 SAAF Mirage shot down.” Jannie Geldenhuys.1994: At the front. P240. Johanthan Ball Publishers.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Freedom Park
Build your monument to a war
that you have lost at Cuito Cuanavale
and try to deceive the world
about your victory
which was rather your huge loss
and hail Russians and Cubans as your heroes
and we who have paid the cost
knows where victory really laid
and that no bugle ever played its last farewell
to the enemy we sent to hell
and although no one mourns our dead
most of us live on instead.
We do not need to be on any
honour wall
or to be associated
with your heroes
who mowed down people
praying in a church
and set off bombs in the street.
We never lost any battle
nor a war
and our honour is in the lives
of every man, women and child
who in a way are still free.
[Reference: “The results of the campaign up to April 1988 were 4,785 killed on the Cuban/Faplan side, with 94 tanks and hundreds of combat vehicles destroyed, against 31 South Africans killed in action,3 tanks destroyed (SADF tanks entered the war after the Lomba River campaign) and 11 SADF armoured cars and troop carriers lost. A total of 9 Migs were destroyed and only 1 SAAF Mirage shot down.” Jannie Geldenhuys.1994. At the front. P240. Johanathan Ball Publishers.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Kabul Weather Forecast
Weather Forecast in Kabul.
Rain in Kabul, the weather woman on TV said.
and I wondered if that was a good or bad thing.
Slippery roads and confused drones, what do
I know? Perhaps the rain is just what the poppy
fields need right now. Weather forecast on T. V
is pure entertainment, all respectable channels
have a person with a map who looks confident
when trying to predict the tomorrow. Danish
bomber pilots listen to weather forecast too,
will there be sun over Libya? Kaddafi hasn’t any
more planes left, we are now bombing his tanks.
No-fly –zone? I didn’t know tanks could fly. Rain
in Chad, that’s sad, they like Kaddafi he has been
helpful to this poor country. Never mind all that
he’s a despot and so says all of us.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Snowy Day
One snowy day, my buddy and I went out to play.
We went riding our sleds, on the big hill at Ed's.
Down the hill we both flew, and I lost my shoe!
My buddy just laughed, as he flew past.
And that's the end of our snowy day fun.
See you tomorrow for one more run.
poem by Taylor Knapczyk
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Zombie
Another head hangs lowly
Child is slowly taken
And the violence caused such silence
Who are we mistaken
But you see it's not me,
it's not my family
In your head, in your
head they are fighting
With their tanks and their bombs
And their bombs and their guns
In your head,
In your head they are cryin'
In your head
Zombie
What's in your head, in your head
Zombie
Another mother's breakin'
heart is taking over
when the violence causes silence
We must be mistaken
It's the same old theme since 1916
In your head,
In your head they're still fightin'
With their tanks and their bombs
And their bombs and their guns
In your head they are dyin'
In your head, in your head
Zombie
What's in your head, in your head
Zombie
song performed by by Cranberries
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Wings of destiny
I
Ask any parabat that jumped at Cassinga
and he would tell you
that destiny has wings.
While facing a battalion of
Cuban tanks and armoured cars,
out of the blue and as if by magic
a Buccaneer appeared.
There was nothing more beautiful
than to see that jet
making self-sacrificing dives,
before it flew off to disappear
into the blue sky,
but let me tell that heroic story
as I know it.
II
Coming back from a bombing raid on Cassinga
the next target of Captain Dries Marais was
the Swapo camp at Chetequera
and he insisted
on arming the Buccaneer bomber,
with armour penetrating rockets
in addition to the standard
high explosive rockets.
Andries Marais himself
couldn’t explain the reason
for the irregular request,
but kept on insisting
that every third rocket
should be armour piercing.
Even navigator Ernie Harvey
was perplexed with this request
and they were tense,
while preparing for
the strike mission.
The Buccaneer took of
and in a short while
crossed the Angolan border
and just when Ernie Harvey
were going to check in
with Tactical headquarters
things went mad
on the operational frequency.
The pilot Warneke
who had relieved them at Cassinga,
reported a armoured battalion
consisting out of tanks
and BTR 152 personnel carriers approaching.
The operational frequency
was far too cluttered
to get through to Tactical headquarters
and they heard
two Mirages being scrambled,
but there wasn’t time to arm them
and they had only
only 30 mm cannon.
You need an excellent navigator
to keep tract to a target
over the featureless Angolan countryside
and navigator and weapon systems operator Ernie Harvey
had replaced the maps
with the ones of the new target,
but the navigation computer
still had the settings.
III
When fighting against tanks
and armoured cars
with only a few landmines
and rocket propelled grenades
to stop them,
even light machine guns
are quite useless
and still I kept on shooting
while the LMG’s barrel got red hot
and I tried to keep the enemy back.
There was great joy
to see two Mirages
cutting the armoured cars apart,
but the surprise on the enemy
of that Buccaneer
dropping out of the sky
with its armour piercing
rockets will stay with me
to eternity.
Two tanks were shattered
and stood burning
after the first past
and the twin-barrelled 14.5 mm anti-aircraft guns
that the BTRs were trailing
were being deployed
and the Buccaneer
took one of the anti-aircraft guns out.
Suddenly the air was filled
with Puma helicopters landing
and the Buccaneer
took out a BTR
and two tanks started shelling us
and the Buccaneer kept diving
at close to the speed of sound
until the tanks disappeared
into the bush
and we lifted of safely.
There was nothing more beautiful
than to see that jet
making self-sacrificing dives,
before it flew off to disappear
into the blue sky.
Later I heard that 17 hits
were counted on that Buccaneer
that safely landed at Grootfontein base
and to this day,
I know about no greater heroes
than the two
flying in that Buccaneer.
.
[Reference: Cassinga Swapo military camp / town. Parabat=> South African Airborne / Parachuting soldier.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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If the tanks succeed, then victory follows.
quote by Heinz Guderian
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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In Excelsis Deo - Variations Of A Surrealist Carol For Madrigal Choir To Be Sung While Bathing
1
Hair of soap and head of tears
rinse mine eyes of Christmas stars
O bells, the bells sear me
Wash my hair of splendid fears
water me hot and redly rare
O trumps, the trumpets blear me
Scars heal me up to here
scald me pinkly if you dare
O gay, the gay sleds slay me
Is that flesh floating on the surface me
who swims or sinks fraternally?
I know a strange me
with soap for eyes
and suds for see
Eternally yours,
He.
2
Hair of soap
and head of tears
Rinse mine eyes
of Christmas stars
O Bells, the Bells sear me.
Rinse mine eyes
of Christmas stars
Water me hot
and redly rare
O Fey, the Fey stars blear me.
Water me hot
and redly rare
Scald me pinkly
if you dare
O Gay, the Gay sleds slay me.
Is that flesh
floating on the
surface me who
swims or sinks
fraternally?
I know a strange me
with soap for eyes
and suds to see
Eternally yours,
He.
poem by Warren Falcon
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I don't think you can in any way export culture with guns or tanks.
quote by Bernardo Bertolucci
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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White Winter Gold..
I've been sitting and watching
as the kids from our town
take sleds up the hill
and sleigh ride back down..
from short ones to tall ones
from young kids to old
to them a big snow storm
is white winter gold...
Theres some building snowmen
some throwing snow balls..
others building snow forts
ignoring their mothers calls..
with their nose and cheeks
a bright ruby red,
and heads that are sweating
neith the caps on their head...
They just keep on sleighing
ice skating and stuff
making snow men and snow balls
They can't get enough..
I watch their parents build fires
that glow into the night
marsh mellows are roasting
It's a beautiful sight...
Time spent together
memories kept growing old..
are often the treasures
of finding white winter gold...
poem by Connetta Jean
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When it costs $50 to fill up our gas tanks, it impacts every aspect of our daily lives and the community.
quote by Tim Murphy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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