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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Related quotes
I see them dancing around fires
I see them dancing around fires
with panga-blades in place of spears
while they are holding a séance.
More wood is thrown on the fire
while a wizard throws out his knuckle-bones
and the fire flares up with a bright ardour.
More brewed beer is poured and downed
and some more are being brewed
and the old spirits are called to appear.
Under the glowing of the golden moon
they later stand in rank and file
and pangas are put into the fire
to get magical power
as the white man has to bleed
and must be exterminated.
Who can still stand on his knees,
with eyes lifted to the Creator
while they sing Nkosi Sikelel iAfrika
asking for His blessing?
poem by Gert Strydom
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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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Taw Shi
The desert wind
From the East
Binding us together
Oh...oh...oh...oh...
Dance for me Taw Shi
The day has come to prove
To prove your love
Forever
Oh...oh...oh...oh...
Dance for me Taw Shi
Among the two
I prefer you
I want to see you
Set fire to the night
Among the two
You must come through
Oh let me see you
Set fire to the night
Oh...oh...oh...oh...
Dance for me this dance
Oh...oh...oh...oh...
Chant with me this chant
So follow me
Across the sand
To where the music's playing
Oh...oh...oh...oh...
Dance for me Taw Shi
The sands will blow
A thousand years
The rythm still remains
Oh...oh...oh...oh...
Dance for me Taw Shi
Among the two
I prefer you
I want to see you
Set fire to the night
Among the two
You must come through
Oh let me see you
Set fire to the night
Oh...oh...oh...oh...
Dance for me this dance
Oh...oh...oh...oh...
Chant with me this chant
Oh, oh YAH YAH
TAW SHI WA NADAR
Oh, oh YAH YAH
TAW SHI - YA YA YA
TAW SHI - YA YA YA
I want to see you
Set fire to the night
TAW SHI - YA YA YA
TAW SHI - YA YA YA
Oh let me see you
Set fire to the night
TAW SHI - YA YA YA
TAW SHI - YA YA YA
I want to see you
Set fire to the night
Oh, oh YA YA YA!...
song performed by by Ofra Haza
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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They came in the middle of the night (in reply to Daniel P. Kunene)
They came in the middle of the night
in a huge crowd, almost like a lynching gang
the type who previously had torched,
burned their own alive
and in their hands were panga-blades,
spades, crowbars, pistols
and AK-47 sub-machineguns
and then there were the younger ones
who carried assegai spears and knives
and they were there to destroy home and hearth
to wipe the white farmer from the earth
singing: “a bullet for a white”
and had formed up like a ancient impi
in full might
and they assaulting the farmer, his children and wife
while shouting:
“Amandla! Amandla! Ngawethu! ”
and took law into their own hands,
robbed, tried to rape, to kill
while receiving an inhuman thrill from it.
[Reference: Do Not Ask Me by Daniel P. Kunene.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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There’s a black child (in answer to fanie olivier)
There’s a black child
finding his way with goats through the cliffs
and his hair is blown in the wind
while grasses are braiding galloping around his feet.
He knows of the urge to want more,
how to take with force,
to draw his cross on the ballot paper, to say his say
and his feet walk on a dusty road
and in the dark night some of the tribe
gather around the fires, where spears are being melted
leaders armed with rifles arrive, who talk about plundering
torture and murder
and they are laughing as the war is over,
on what their hands fall they can take,
when suddenly they strike
a shaking white woman is raped
and there’s darkness hanging black over the country,
a darkness that no light can pierce,
with black faces smiling
in a circle around the fire.
[Reference: “by ruacana” (at ruacana) by fanie olivier.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Not with a machinegun, but with a pen (in answer to Breyten Breytenbach)
Not with a machinegun, but with a pen
I write this prayer
since Your might is greater than any weapon:
What am I able to tell You, Jesus Christ,
almighty Creator, God and upper Lord,
I who are only an Afrikaner in my forties,
since You know every thing, even before it happens
and there’s nothing that I can teach You.
How my country was taken away
by people who pray to ancestral spirits
(who probably are demons) ,
that a man with more than one wife
sit in the highest chair,
that I still pay taxes
when and where I have a job
and that it is difficult times
and work is very scarce
for a white man.
Would I have to tell about a government
that sings give me my machinegun
and a bullet for a Boer
and kill the farmer,
kill the white
as You know every thing.
That my people were disarmed
by the government
and by barbarians
are hacked into pieces
with panga-blades and axes
like you were sacrificed
and even in death
they are humiliated
by pulling their pants down
like You had to hang naked on the cross,
that women are raped
as if every white woman
is a sex slave
belonging to the hordes
that they still throw knucklebones
and think that it brings them invincibility
and freedom from blame.
l’Envoi
All that I am really asking
is that all of these deeds
and the things that they do, say and sing
go into the cup of Your wrath
and please help
my people and me
to serve You better
that the wide world
(like with our ancestors)
can see Your might and salvation.
[References: nie met die pen nie maar met die masjiengeweer by Breyten Breytenbach. Murder on Eugene Terreblance. Murder and violence on white people.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Blood River (In Answer To Don Mattera)
Maybe forever the blood river remains red
as a token of the thousands killed,
who came to destroy, plunder and pillage
while they madly were beating their war drums
like they did to Piet Retief and his men,
but by His almighty hand God intervened,
helped a tiny band of civilian men
with flintlock weapons to defeat
the tens of thousands who rushed with assegais
and killing batons upon them
and when the British army faced the same enemy
years later with Martini-Henri rifles at Isandhlwana
and with many more men formed an unbreakable square,
that square buckled, was swept away
while death came to them
but still thousands of white people in South Africa
are raped, tortured to death and plundered
as if barbarianism still remains,
as if a pact with the almighty God
means nothing, while black men
trample the freedom of others
and rob what they do possess.
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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Because We Are In Love
We as human beings always fear of death
Although there are scary times in life
That we do pass through humbling by
There are times that make us die while we are still alive
There are aches in life make us die
Yet every single second thousands and thousands of times
But what is that great reason that keeps us hung up to life so tight
Still makes me admire
Even in our hardest times we never give up trying
We stand up to continue living
Even when we are down in knees
Ah incredible we are, we human beings
We are in love with life
We are the real heroes
Because even though all these wars, around
With all these heart aches
We still try to put on a smile
Disregarding our tearing hearts inside
We keep trying to fix the disasters surrounded us
Even though we know there's no possibility but we never lose faith
We repute ant gather our broken parts together
We insist to survive just because we are the real heroes of this life
Yes we are strong enough to survive living
Because we are in love with this life.
poem by Sossi Khachadourian
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Today's plight
Nobody is to be blamed for today’s plight
We have adopted the course not so right
We are enemies of human race and mankind
People have gone blind and remained unkind
Don’t shed a tear over deteriorating condition
We are the person providing ignition
Adding fuel to fire and curse the fate
The common sense has not come even late
You will find many faces filled with hate
How will you evaluate them at any rate?
Everything has been decided at gun point
There is no worth argument to prove point
You will find same scene
Law and order violated very often
Man kills man and loot the property
Is this not against the will of almighty?
Nature is killed and so the forests
No birds even find refuge in nests
They have no place to live in
The locals people are subjected to p plights or have been
No religious places are safe
The followers are shot at the gate
Some of them meet death while praying
The bullets are mercilessly sprayed
It is curse and nothing else
The situation all over is tense
Ask not any more mercy for the cause
We do not deserve it, because
You have more men to be fed
As they are wrongly believed and led
Let us knell down and pray sincerely
Then only something will be if offing divinely
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Blackened
Blackened Is the End
Winter it Will Send
Throwing All You See
Into Obscurity
Death of Mother Earth
Never a Rebirth
Evolution's End
Never Will it Mend
Never
Fire
To Begin Whipping Dance of the Dead
Blackened Is the End
To Begin Whipping Dance of the Dead
Color Our World Blackened
Bustering of Earth
Terminate its Worth
Deadly Nicotine
Kills What Might Have Been
Callous Frigid Chill
Nothing Left to Kill
Never Seen Before
Breathing Nevermore
Never
Fire
To Begin Whipping Dance of the Dead
Blackened Is the End
To Begin Whipping Dance of the Dead
Color Our World Blackened
Blackened
Opposition...Contradiction...Premonition...Compromise
Agitation...Violation...Mutilation...Planet Dies
Darkest Color
Blistered Earth
True Death of Life
Termination....Expiration...Cancellation...Human Race
Expectation...Liberation...Population...Lay to Waste
See Our Mother
Put to Death
See Our Mother Die
Smouldering Decay
Take Her Breath Away
Millions of Our Years
In Minutes Disappears
Darkening in Vain
Decadence Remains
All Is Said and Done
Never Is the Sun
Never
Fire
To Begin Whipping Dance of the Dead
Blackened Is the End
To Begin Whipping Dance of the Dead
Fire
Is the Outcome of Hypocrisy
Darkest Potency
In the Exit of Humanity
Color Our World Blackened
Blackened
song performed by by Metallica from ...And Justice For All
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Fire's Dance
Please, Spare me of this fire's dance,
It takes you up and puts you in a trance,
Love is lost in a war of lust,
Loving me would mean distrust,
Distress, Oh put the fire out,
I can't have you ever,
Not in the Fire's Dance.
Now it's not foolish to say 'i love you',
But in the fire's hands it comes back to burn you,
I can't trust the fire,
I can't have you in the fire's dance.
poem by Rachel Perry
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Almighty God, creator of everything (in reply to Breyten Breytenbach)
Almighty God, creator of everything,
let me ask in Your holy name
that the unrighteousness that is happening,
now draw Your attention
that the names, the occurrences, the whole lives
of everyone who is oppressed
become written in Your immortal book
give the opportunity for a life to us, that we also
may earn a living, also may have a place
in our country and are not be trampled upon
by people who want to rob, the little that we have
that we have earned with difficulty
and protect us; shelter us
in your laager, with fire
that You draw around us, around our properties
and let we forgive them,
who are sincerely striving for our destruction,
who do not grant us employment,
are trampling upon our human rights
and let the forces of evil flee away from us,
let evil succumb to Your Godly power
since the whole world belongs to You,
every government, country and kingdom
is under Your sway
and may we remember like our fathers,
how faithful Your Godly salvation is,
may our lives be just as sincere
and may the wide world see us
as people of integrity
but more than this, more than the salvation
that You are bringing,
let we testify about Your endless love,
bend our knees to only You.
[Reference: 7.8 Onse milde God van alles wat soet en mooi is (7.8 Our generous God of everything that is sweet and beautiful) by Breyten Breytenbach.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Freedom's Dance
As in the desert,
A sand blows,
It's eastward wings carrying it's wonderous jewels
A lady, dancing no less, her face that of a thousand queens,
Drawing all those about into her deep cavern of mystery,
Her fiery presence both a blessing and a curse,
For there before you now stands the dancer of life.
No lines shall be cut, No rules shall be decided
A wind shall shape the gentle curves,
And water shall give it's shine
As the fire within glows brightly, herself a lady of time
Swords flash in the setting sun,
And veils twirl around her,
A commotion caused over her openess, her trueness
A woman, a woman, not to be free
Not to be opened, not to be seen
No, No, this is not how to be!
She shall not hidden, nor given as a bride
But open her soul, and hold out her pride
There is a dance, a dance to be free
I speak of this dance,
Because between you and me,
It's the dance of the ancients, and the dance of the new
Of the old and the young,
It's the dance of many a tongue,
For this is my dance, my chance to be free
And open and happy, and truely be me
poem by Jessica Millsaps
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I'm On Fire
Sparks are flying and I'm on fire.
I can't see through the smoke and I'm on fire.
I can't breath, I can't think
Because I'm on fire.
It hurts but it's warm and it's beautiful
You're feeding my fire
My fire of love
And I'm burning alive
And I'm loving everything about you
From how you make me feel to the flames glowing around me
But you're killing me in this heat
Can't you understand that fire is wonderful and terrible?
Can't you save me from falling further under the flames' embrace?
Can't you see I'm on fire?
poem by Tsunami HiroshiSu
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Harvest For The World
Gather everyman, gather everywoman
Celebrate your lives, give thanks for your children
When will there be a harvest for all the people
When will there be a harvest for all the world
Harvest For The World
All babies together, everyone a seed
Half of us are satisfied, half of us in need
Love's bountiful in us, tarnished by our greed
When will there be a harvest for the world
A nation planted, so concerned with gain
As the seasons come and go, greater grows the pain
And far too many feelin' the strain
When will there be a harvest for the world
Gather everyman, gather everywoman
Celebrate your lives, give thanks for your children
Gather everyone, gather all together
Overlooking none, hopin' life gets better for the world
Dress me up for battle, when all I want is peace
Those of us who pay the price, come home with the least
Nation after nation, turning into beast
When will there be a harvest for the world
song performed by by Isley Brothers
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Umgababa
Now I see
two people walking on the beach,
touching each other
with hands intertwined
gurgling and giggling
like two smitten teenagers,
kissing on a dune
and right there
in mid afternoon
swayed by lust and non existing morals
breaking chaste tradition
on the second dune
as if they are the only ones there
and blessed by the sun.
[Reference: Umgababa by Dikobe wa Mogale.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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The dog of God
No pet that ever plays around
and lays its head
down on a prayer mat,
or hunting dog that sniffing
follows the track,
rather he is a wolf
that rips apart in hate
when he gets the sent of blood.
Still, certainly he is unique
armoured like a dragon
with fire that devours
when he opens his mouth.
How many girls
did he fry as witches
and for how many men of God
fire was his resort?
Even for Jeanne d'Arc
that with help from above
(or so she believed)
tried to rescue her nation,
there was no absolution
and fire was his word and law.
[Reference: Die hond van God by NP van Wyk Louw. “Domini canes” – “The dogs of the Lord” – is how Roman Catholic Dominicans are known and to whom the leaders of the Inquisition primary belonged. This verse illustrates how easily man can make mistakes, where the church and state are one. Who reads this verse as an assault on the Roman Catholic Church misinterprets it.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Blood River
They came in thousands
and their spear points glitter,
while the sun’s first rays
folds over the plain.
In the laager the men are drinking coffee
and are eating biltong and gather,
to read out of the bible
and to pray
and make a holy oath and covenant
with the Almighty God
to stop an overwhelming foe.
Out of the fog they rise
and the impi forms
in into all its battle lines,
like a storm sea
of which the waves gather ominous
to smash to pieces.
At every wagon there’s thorn branches
and four hundred and seventy Boer farmers
stand with their flintlock guns,
while the women and children
are melting lead at the fires
and they wait fearless on the enemy.
Their war cries hangs chilling
and Abatagati resounds
like thunder out thousands of mouths,
while the impi
storms in a killing frenzy to the wagons
and spears like a swarm of bees
fill the air
and descent deadly.
Shooting and loading
are repeated without end
and rifle barrels get red hot,
while thousands storm almost unstoppable
to spear and bash dead.
The Lord hears
and thousands are stopped
in their tracts
and before the dark night comes
the river’s water is blood
and on the battle field
three thousand Zulu warriors are dead
and Umhlela and Dambuza
and their whole impi,
is destroyed
and there is nobody
to return to Dingaan.
[References: Abatagati=> Kill the magicians. Dingaan=> Zulu king. Umhlela and Dambuza=>Captain’s of Dingaan.=> Dingaan’s generals. Impi=> Zulu army. At Isandlwana 1329 British soldiers died en and at Rorke's Drift eleven people were declared heroes and still they could not stop death against the Zulu impi. Only three Boer Voortrekkers were wounded at Blood River and they had faith in a Almighty God.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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