Awaiting execution (in answer to Dikobe wa Mogale)
Somewhere in a semi dark room
right next to the gallows
a man daily awaits his doom
and obscurely destiny
reaches out its fingers
clamping like a knot around his neck
and although his hands
is red with blood,
he is stained by a terrorist act
he feels free
as if the slaughter
of a innocent white citizen
or a group at that
was done in just cause
and moments pause
as death hangs in the air
and he can sense
its intimate presence there
in Pretoria central prison
and his soul already rots
from the innocent blood
lying on his conscience
and a thrill goes down his spine
while a prison door slams shut
and death is somewhere
almost forever far too near.
[Reference: crucifixion by Dikobe wa Mogale.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Blood Stained
Atrocities
Made every day
Religiously
Their sins
They hide
Can never disguise
Blood stained hands
Blood stained times
Blood stained deeds
Blood stained lies
They wage their wars
Such profiteers
Will nail us all
Their crimes
Concealed
Despicably reveal
Blood stained hands
Blood stained times
Blood stained weapons
Blood stained lies
They fire at will
Intent to kill
They have no conscience
They have no conscience
Ethnic cleansing nothing more!
Blood of nations blood of war
Turn blind eyes
From all your crimes
You bare our souls
Show no remorse
You cannot wash
The bloodstains off
They turn their backs
While others
Commit grisly acts
Were scared
For life
By politicians greedy
Blood stained hands
Blood stained times
Blood stained weapons
Blood stained crimes
Blood stained lands
Blood stained minds
Blood stained deeds
Blood stained lies
And while such predators
Stalk this earth
Disguised as saints
They kill our faith
Obsessed by greed
Lying through their teeth
They cannot wash
The blood stains off
song performed by by Judas Priest
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Death’s Too Near
Death, you’re standing rather near!
Don’t you understand the fear
You trigger deep within my soul–?
The terror sprung by such a ghoul
Of dark and hideous hue!
Now you’re rattling on my door!
I’m sure I threw you out before –
Methinks you really need to learn!
So leg it please and ne’er return
To haunt me ‘gain, now shoo!
Gain a sense of social pride, and
Keep your bearing far and wide –
Perform the deed when I am done –
Be free and loose to have your fun
When I’m too frail to turn and run,
But now I’ve living to do!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010
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Death, death, nearing death, death, death nearing death
Death, death, nearing death, death, death nearing death
Death, death, nearing death, death
Death, death, nearing death
Death, death, death
Death, death
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Death, death
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Death Room
As I lie
in the prison room
of death
I feel
The sweet pleasures
of forced suicide
going through my vains
As I close my eyes
and take a breath
I know
it will be my last
I lie here
I die here
an innocent man
Then I hear a knocking
on my heavens door
The crow
She has come for me
To take my soul
and set me free
As I fly through
the valleys of peace
I know at last
My soul is free
Inspired by house of stone
By Eric Cockrell
poem by Dave Alan Walker
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Locked Inside Your Prison
Your love is like a prison wall
And its getting higher
I get so far and then I fall
I cant get through the wire
Oh oh oh Im locked inside your prison
Oh oh oh Im locked inside your prison
Its as though Im doing time
And you wont free me
Let the punishment befit the crime
And say you need me
Oh oh oh Im locked inside your prison
Oh oh oh Im locked inside your prison
Save me save me cant you see Im innocent
Turn the key that will set me free
Please let it end oh let it end
Oh oh oh Im locked inside your prison
Oh oh oh Im locked inside your prison
Save me save me cant you see Im innocent
Turn the key that will set me free
Please let it end wont you let it end
Ill dig a tunnel to your heart
Let me remind you
Even gonna tear the walls apart
Until I find you
Oh oh oh Im locked inside your prison
Oh oh oh Im locked inside your prison
song performed by by Cliff Richard
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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L8,2212
There is a door which you open
you enter, and then it closes you
behind you
forever,
there is no force here,
but only volition,
you enter it
with all the warnings,
that the
possibility that it will close forever
has been told to you
over and over
again,
somehow, you do not make it a problem
you like a closed door, and you hate it
when it opens,
you love it when it is closed forever,
the room is nice
there is a certain loveliness
in there,
it has shiny floors,
it has a bright ceiling,
the lights are lovely,
like stars
in an open dark sky
the air is fresh,
the walls are comfortable
who wants to take an exit?
no one.not you.
when the door knows this, it will open
forever,
it decides to open for you
and it will tell you to go out and be
an outsider again and
be gone
for good,
you insist that you own this room now,
that a closed door is not a serious matter
and there is no way that you have to
go out
or be ousted,
the door has a stair with strong hands
and it will drag you out
it will pull your hair and drag your body
like hell
the door has learned its lesson
when the room is not a prison to someone else
there is no use keeping him there forever
for in truth the reason of the door's
existence
is to make you feel the prison and to suffer
and you know your lesson too well
there is no prison to a mind that is an open window
there is no suffering
to a lover of suffering
you see, it takes a little reverse psychology
for closed doors to open
for men to know that suffering is not suffering
at all
when one loves is tripping
when one thinks
otherwise
when one loves whatever happens
when one accepts
the one that is there and not look for something
that is always missing
why go for the unreachable?
why suffer for long?
life is life, and death is death
you are here, grab this here.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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In Death, My Final Part
A tower grim; a glowering darkness,
And only brown of red the other hue
– I saw it in the distant eyes –
And yes, He knew, but focussed only
On the mortal soul of mine –
After all, He had a role to play,
And wine: my shivering blood to quaff!
If only I could Him betray –
To break the seal of destiny;
Escape the lone cacophony
That emanates from wailing minds!
Damn the fate of His – it awes and blinds!
But oh! the mighty hammer strikes a toll;
The slow approach of Him upon the knoll
Commences exudation of a dying heart.
Endorsing all, I honed my final part.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
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The final part
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Disingenuousness
Here lies another box for nature,
Carbon ready;
Black to eyes down here,
Where death is at its job.
Up there you’ll hear a rhythmic sob
Or two from living yet-to-dies –
A humming lacrimoso –
It all but cleans the eyes:
Forget it –
The dismal show of grief –
Life is only chemistry –
Our stay is only brief.
It’s we who hype it up!
Diaphragms jerk again;
The jet monotone of hearses
Feeds the disingenuousness
Of undertakers –
They seem to stare at something up ahead –
For them, it’s in the blood,
To taxi off the dead.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
The March of Death
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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It's Death Again
It's Death again - He's always there -
Watching, waiting - e'er the stare!
Every time I look behind
Or reach to pull the window blind,
I catch a glimpse of grubby hood -
A little clue to where he stood;
The glint of light that caught the scythe.
Perhaps if I could pay a tithe…
But O! no use, he'll never go.
The adamant phantom; don't you know
He will but wait until it's time
For me to hear His fateful chime? -
The toll that claims my destiny,
To Hail: 'You're next, it has to be…'
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
The Reign of Death
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Gallows
When you were talking about purity of
Platelets
I was thinking to let the blood flow.
How easy it has become to kill now?
Is it not homecoming of the violence?
You were looking for a method to execute
yourself
and I was searching for an answer to
become free from bondage of self-contradiction.
The veins are bulging on my hands. Death
will not be happy to see me. The blood
has already frozen.
From your side and from world’s view
the ending of conscience is the right thing
But I squirm and I scream,
gallows are forever.
poem by Satish Verma
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Baptism of fire (in answer to Dikobe wa Mogale)
Even when you cast glowing iron
into spears and sharpen them,
draw the blades
of your panga-swords,
ram magazines into your pistols,
into AK-47 assault rifles,
dance around fires
trying to ensnare ancestral spirits
chant the songs of killing
and begin to hate,
curse the anvil of unity
and decide to be free
from every living white human
and bring death and anarchy
as a harvest of the fire
and continue the endless killings
I will still bow down
on my knees
and pray to the almighty God
even if in the presence
of my enemies,
even if thousands gather as foes
and trust that He will deliver me
and every single person
of my nation.
[Reference: baptism of fire by by Dikobe wa Mogale.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Death and I
When death comes
I’ll need not love –
Consumed,
No wreath or dove
Could offer me salvation,
Not when I’m no more.
A weathered stone will bear my name –
Identity of once a being
Living out existence in
A world of risk, and never seeing
Sense of why we’re here.
My genes will die away thro’ child –
Hue of eyes and hair, the way of thought,
Will quickly dim with generation –
Bow to future dominance –
Memories of provenance
Resigned to curious few.
When death comes
I’ll need not grace
Below; no grieving face
Will call my resurrection,
Not when I’m at ground –
Death and I so bound.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011
D eath Crawl
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Witnesses Of Justice
They say they saw
Then they go and lie
Put people in prison
for a crime
Why would they lie
Is it in their mind
How can they live
knowing this
Has their soul
got a conscience
Will it eat them away
until one day they will have to say
what they saw that day
Maybe they are traumatized
by dismay
But it doesn't mean
they have to put innocent people away
The lies must stop
Why should the guilty get away
While innocent people
rot away
poem by Dave Alan Walker
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Blessed are those (in answer to Dikobe wa Mogale)
Blessed are those
who jumped at Cassinga,
courted death while outnumbered
by the enemy and Cuban battle tanks
and are still living
to tell the story
blessed are those who are killed, slaughtered
in the thousands on there farmsteads,
while the police
do not tract down the killers
and these killings continues
to still go on
blessed are those who are burgled, hijacked
and raped
in the cities
and are still living
while every criminal in Africa
floods in to the country
blessed are those who choose
to remain here as white citizens
while being oppressed
by the laws laid down
by the current government
and are left without income
by the effect
of affirmative action
and who still believe and pray
while their days drag on aimlessly.
[Reference: blood of the martyrs by Dikobe wa Mogale.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Rain, rain falling
Rain, rain falling
from a thunder clad sky
with rockets, projectiles and blood
and the oncoming enemy
almost everywhere
in ironclad armour
coming to the day
of their slaughter
receiving sizzling thunder
to the tune
of howitzers, rocket trucks,
armoured cars and tanks
and rifle machineguns
and the Lomba River runs red
while there’s havoc everywhere
and the venom of vomit
fills my mouth
while I struggle to breathe
in the face
of annihilation
of a deadly enemy.
[Reference: Rain by Dikobe wa Mogale.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Sunrise over Edenvale
In Edenvale the summer breeze
shivers through some willow trees
and the morning sun sizzles
hot red in the east
like coals flaring up
from the large tin drum
and the night is gone
where some early workers
are warming their hands
where the night lies spilled
like the burned out white ash.
[Reference: sunrise over edenvale by Dikobe wa Mogale.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Written In Red!
Pages of history of man kind
Are written red,
Those who thought their blood,
As blue as sky or as blue as deep ocean,
Wrote the pages in Red and every page is full of bloodshed!
Hungry people weep for even glass of water,
And even for that they had blood to shed,
Innocent plants or innocent grass die,
When two elephants fight for supremacy!
They never care how many innocent may die!
Great heroes are made on the number of men they despatch to hell,
Saying patriots have heaven in their fight!
They are heroes like matadors at the cost of blood of an innocent bull!
Otherwise they are as you and me except that cruelty,
Men the made several men to shed blood, in the name of woman,
May it be sita, may it be Padmini
Or may be Helen of Troy,
All men were treated like toys
By a that a few mad boys,
To have their woman back,
Or defend their action,
All religions have their history written in red,
May it be books that are from God,
Stained with red, God signed it with blood,
Put the rubber stamp of quality with bone and flesh,
Every nation is having its own fountain of blood shed!
power hungry need only to shed crocodile tears,
Or just present awards and reward,
Those who safeguard
and died to save them!
May it be Ashoka, may it be Idi Ameen
or may be Churchil, or may be Gandhi,
Or may Lincoln or Changez Khan
Only they were famous due blood shed!
May it be history of continent or that sub continent
Only a story written in blood, On human skin and with bones as pens!
May it be any ' -ism ' or may
Politics in spain or Britain,
Equally dangerous are these..
Power or woman,
Ambition or nation,
Whether terrorist or counter terrorist venture
Police or politician,
Every history of massive wealth,
Or a piece of land
Religion or culture, blood is That red ink with pages of history is written only in red!
poem by Ramdas Bhandarkar
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Buddha witnessed the Killing Fields
The sharks torpedoed my escape
The vultures volleyed fire on my hut
Shield was I for the animal
Bait was I for the beast.
No paths to run
No place to hide
For every inch of earth was mined
Classrooms were razed
Clinics were shelled
Flooded was the soil with streams of blood.
No mercy the animal deserved
Terror was he, feared no death,
Robbed was his honor even in death
Courage was in their veins
Violated were the fem-fatal
and so was the innocent femininity
Bullets knocked even the cubs
The beast had a merry day
Cannibals had a hearty feast.
Neither dharma prevailed
Nor truth triumphed
Innocent blood drowned the earth.
Shook hands with the beast
Blood soaked are my hands
And every faith aided the beast.
No mercy I seek thee from
No course I inflict thee on
For, Buddha witnessed the Killing Fields.
poem by Thavaseelan Gopinathan
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A Fresh Endeavour
So now I've taken leave of life,
I thought you'd like to know, I still
Possess a mind in love, oh wife;
A soulful eye to catch a show of
Silent beauty – ever yours;
An ear to pick the metaphors
Of tonal dance in words you say,
Grasp a thought in verse you pray
Inside your head, bemused of mind,
Softly mournful, intertwined with
Understanding tears.
I'll drift a whisper o'er to you
To tell that I am quietly calm;
Keeping time till your adieu
To flesh, upon the carol of a
Psalm of consummation. Now!
A fresh endeavour – we're forever
One together, resting yonder,
Cross our open plane of blue.
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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Breathstealer; the shade
Walking on night walking on air
stalking the moon and sailing through windows
weightless yet fair floating death without a care
having no compassion no empathy not a soul would dare
to defy the quick formless death...not a soul...
no medicine, no kind word, no comfort may console
one who has been claimed by the dark
one who bears his mark
to he i prophecy doom
he kisses ears with angelic voice, yet demonic...
the body dead not by choice that once ate those words... just a clump
no memories no soul all these rag dolls thrown asunder
the greatest murderer, stealer of souls invading each room
each kill breeds bloodlust the smell of death, thrill of the hunt
his job is done,
flawless, as he steals breath and soul
flawless, as he kills, all planned out, like a movie stunt
so horrid...there is no way, it cannot be real! no one taken whole
this creature, this shadow, this phantom, has come to claim another soul
this shade, at a car crash, the innocent unsuspecting. creature wanting to kill
wanting to spill fresh blood and steal more life bathing in the blood spill
flawless again as he danced on air whispering a curse,
in the broken window he groped closer darkness incarnate
darkness come to claim this one girl
she sat there and read a book
he gave her one look and just then and there the room froze
this phantom evil soldier crept ever closer, the girl now frantic closed eyes
looked down and.... a strange light began to appear and set was the stage
and suddenly a bright light and righteous rage it burned into the darkness
fleeing away, but not so quick not beaten
pooling all his strength the breathstealer took a stab, the white figure...
a strange substance dripping out, grimacing and grunting in pain he then
did raise his mighty sword and let it down with shout
this shade was no more defeated by an innocent girl, but it was time
for her, light incarnate moving forward.... sublime
the figure this angel this warrior this savior held out his hand
and the girl took it as they floated up together to go to His land
poem by David Knox
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Untie The Knot
Like a pair of open wings, you bind me,
To a world, I helped you build around me,
Our gilded cage has turned into a prison cell,
Like a dream when it dies becomes an empty shell.
Untie the knot, the hold over me
you got
Untie the knot, the hold over me
you got
Like a slave who's bound in chains, a broken man,
Like a pain no one could ever understand
That's the spark that lights the fire deep inside
As long as you ain't no blue
in my sky,
Untie the knot, the hold over
me you got
Untie the knot, the hold over
me that you got
Set me free from these chains,
The time has come to
rearrange our destiny
Untie the knot, the knot,
Untie the knot, untie, untie, set me free, set me free.
song performed by by Bad Company
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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