Terrible mathematics (in answer to Koos A. Kombuis.)
By man’s own actions
the world has become dreary
and sly foxes sneak around
among the rubbish dumps
but my people
have a covenant with the almighty God
who mercifully rescues them from distress
and everyone that follows Him is chosen.
By man’s own ingenuity and profit mongering
there are natural disasters waiting,
the unrest of the sea is instigated
while factories fill the air with smoke
and according to the word of God
He is the source from where selfless love comes.
[Reference: 1999½ by Koos A. Kombuis.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Related quotes
By man’s own actions (in answer to Koos A. Kombuis)
By man’s own actions
the world has become dreary
and sly foxes sneak around
among the rubbish dumps
but my people
have a covenant with the almighty God
who mercifully rescues them from distress
and everyone that follows Him is chosen.
By man’s own ingenuity and profit mongering
there are natural disasters waiting,
the unrest of the sea is instigated
while factories fill the air with smoke
and according to the word of God
He is the source from where selfless love comes.
[Reference: 1999½ by Koos A. Kombuis.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Smoke and poker (parody
(with apology to Koos A. Kombuis)
in the lane of the light
we go into the location
and there create family
on beds with blankets without sheets.
[Rook en poker (Smoke and poker) by Koos A. Kombuis.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Forced Song (parody)
(with apology to Koos A. Kombuis)
Like a tart
in hungry weeks,
I yearn to reel
– with a flowering girl-
with pornography
in children’s libraries
my members and I
are stinking rotten
like my god Hitler
that lives with me in Soweto,
like honourable gentlemen
visiting a in ghetto
heavy and bulky,
I am writing in a hurry
even when I bump my head
just as it pleases me.
[Reference: Kwang-gesang (Kwang hymn) by Koos A. Kombuis.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Like a light coming in darkness (in answer to Koos A. Kombuis)
Like a light coming in darkness
I am waiting on You my God
to lead me to the right road
languishing for Your words and commandments
and ask that You do not look past
people that mock You openly
and amusingly serve Satan
as if their destiny in life
are in their own hands
and I need You to fill my lamp
and ask for Your forgiving of them too
and forgive the whole lot of them
that do not have a clue of who and what You are
and if it’s possible lead them from the darkness.
[Reference: Kwang-gesang (Kwang song) by Koos A. Kombuis.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Afrikaner genetics (in answer to Koos A. Kombuis)
Maybe wild trees grow
the yards of your ancestors,
their worth have become nothing
like stale salt,
their faces are yellow
and most of them are squint,
they walk without words to nowhere
but I have a God that stands with me
and my ancestors,
with brave men that do not disregard their duty
who do not imagine them above others
who had chosen their wives
out of a people that God himself planted
and your insults of my people and me
make me raving mad, worse that just angry.
[Reference: Afrikanergenetika (Afrikaner genetics) by Koos A. Kombuis.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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The approaching day of judgement (in answer to Koos A. Kombuis)
Make a big mockery and laugh
about the approaching day of judgement
as if the destiny of man is a myth,
when the almighty God comes at His time in power
people will beg mountains to fall on them,
when his dire thunders flash everywhere
and graves open,
you will stand before the creator of the universe.
[Rook en oker (Smoke and ochre) by Koos A. Kombuis.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Sunday afternoon at the monument (parody)
(with apology to Koos A. Kombuis)
My love and song is totally wrong
not like something out of Afrikaner blood,
my love and song is for everyone
who undress for me, who eat with me
and fold open at a picnic
in the shades of the language monument rock
to my thanks my love and song proclaims me as the boss
it is refused in this country
with smells on the wind
and by laymen on sidewalks
with their prayers
my love and song is for everyone whom I like
but without a church or a law;
just where I am going, without suspicion and totally immoral
– casual and with ceremony -
my love and song is fragrant, like cheese you can smell it from far
and my fingers dance
on my small cellular phone.
[Sondagmiddag by die monument by Koos A. Kombuis.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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For too long I am waiting (in answer to Koos A. Kombuis)
For too long I am waiting
caught in a anthill,
that people call an apartment,
where everyone lives for himself
as if the others do not exist
and music bleats right through the night,
people of another race shamelessly
cavort, whore and drink.
For too long criminals stare at me on the street,
Zimbabweans, Tanzanians and people
from right across Africa sniggers
as if my music system, DVD player and TV
in the lounge belongs to them
and hit with lashing tongues
in French and Portuguese
which here is totally foreign
and I have got to look if an AK-47
is pointing at me
when I drive with my car from the garage.
For too long I receive foolish electronic mails
and SMS’s on my computer and cellular phone
from a certain political party,
as if these people in a way
have an interest in my jobless situation
while in parliament
they do not oppose affirmative action
and my last cents left my purse.
I despise the rubbish
on the front papers of newspapers
and do not want to know
how the president’s seventh wife looks like
while my whole country
is falling to pieces bit by bit
and the Afrikaner is systematically mauled
with poverty waiting
and like a total idiot
is totally unaware of it
until catastrophe hits him.
Knights swear at others on the road
and have relationships with each other’s wives
while they live only for the here and now
and Philistines from right across Africa
surge in millions
and overnight become citizens
with greater and better rights
and to nowhere else
they are going to drive me out
even if they write abusive names
and who now what
in graffiti writing
while every morning, afternoon and night
I lift my eyes to the almighty God.
[Reference: Psalm 150 (b) by Koos A. Kombuis.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Open letter (parody)
(with apology to Koos A. Kombuis)
Are you still living?
Do you sleep peacefully during the day,
while at the work being totally nuts?
Without being able to do a single stitch?
In the battle you fight
against everything that is orderly or looks white,
in back street
at your whorehouses?
Is there a little bit of dust
in your kitchens or behind your cupboards?
Is your black PA full of emotion?
Do you sit comfortable on the porch?
(Mind it, with too many ignorant people you have got trouble,
that lets a company go down and makes people call on God.)
If you do not care and have wiped
all the murders from your hands
or do really understand
or sell it like a burlesque on television
and without people knowing it are resting
while unholy fire burns in your beds,
you can break eleven commandments
and put guns to the heads of people
while you kick them
against their shoulders saying:
“Good, we will go further,
this is how it’s supposed to be
when some winters come to the white man.
Take everything and invade without mercy
even rob the poor and the drunk,
even insult an envoy of Bill Clinton
while spit runs from your mouths.”
(but be very angry
and killers and thieves without any ambition.)
Do you political role players
really find equity for the injustice and crime that are gnawing?
Can you instigate the masses still further?
(for heaven’s sake)
“Does God not hear our prayers? ”
[Reference: Ope brief aan die body corporate (Open letter to the body corporate) by Koos A. Kombuis.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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A three double session on a Sunday in Cape Town (parody)
(with apologies to Koos A. Kombuis)
I
My heart wants to sleep tonight
with dull tiredness
and my wavy tool
is having trouble.
Everything is squandered, degenerates
from the girl at the red traffic light
till the platonic smiles
of the two dolls in the guest room.
If my winds would just stop turning!
I would with earthquakes stir their salad!
from the Cape Town women on the waterfront
everywhere there are neon lights flashing
messages that I am celibate
and full of expectation.
Al my gates are closed.
I let no maids in.
The party of two has already left,
went to the house of another rich jolly guy
I am full of my own knowledge.
I sneak past the refrigerator
wishing the weekend’s hangover away.
In the suburbs I do not have a horn.
II
All my friends have a session.
Everybody is half way mad.
Everybody asks girls to undress.
Everybody is mad with a small town sex hormone.
Only I am more desperate.
I do not get a girl in the street.
All my friends are undressing the whole time
and at times have to leave a girl behind for commitments.
Everybody that does not know and can’t even guess.
Although I look endowed in the right way.
I am really endowed.
I am really wired desperate.
I do not get a girl in the street.
When the front bell rings
I am closing inside.
I am a ducktail without vitamins.
For hours long I bake food and cake.
The neighbours compete to be my friends
and come from far.
They say I am celibate.
I do not get a girl in the street.
III
I wish that I had been locked open,
rather in my parents house
between singing girls with condoms,
eatable girls.
I wish I had been at the end of my struggle
right next to the garden gate,
while a love girl jogs past.
I am endowed and have a struggle.
My fascism does not draw applause anymore.
I have served everyone. Nobody is as low as I am feeling.
I am devoted to sex
and cripple with delirium.
– Be silent my friend, while I am getting an urge.
There’s a big fire in my loins
while girls are avoiding me.
[Reference: Driedubbele depressie op ‘n sondagnag in Kaapstad (three double depression on a Sunday night in Cape Town) by Koos A. Kombuis. ]
poem by Gert Strydom
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While the summer sun burns fiercely over us (in answer to Koos A. Kombuis)
While the summer sun burns fiercely over us,
we are already living in the Promised Land,
we are on no meandering road
that runs into the desert
as long as our eyes are focused
on the Lord
and we constantly trust Him.
We are in no desert
although foreigners crowd at our gates
and by criminal misdeeds
are transforming our Eden
into the portals of hell
and the God that we follow
has previously rescued our fathers
and He hears the prayers of everyone,
has got the omnipotence to act
against the mammon
that draws up in hordes
in the new morning.
Every day it’s His pure light
that still constantly falls on us,
even when there is darkness
that now is at the order of things
and as long as we are living,
the hope remains that the almighty God
will bring His salvation like before
and we find our hope and trust in Him
and He draws his laager, His crowd of angels
around the house of each one
who trusts in Him and are awaiting His salvation
and let there burn flaming torches
in the churches of the night,
there is a new morning
on which we are waiting praying.
[Reference: Die kerke van die nag (The churches of the night) by Koos A. Kombuis.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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The monster
Some people believe
that in everyone’s heart, blood and body
there is a monster
and Raka unaware is present
as if deep in us
darkness is overwhelming
and are just waiting
on a destined time and opportunity
to mercilessly strike out
but I rather believe
that the Spirit of God
live in many hearts
and in words and deeds
at times are present in man.
[References: Die mens van God (The man of God) by Ina Rousseau, Gee jou hart vir Raka (Give your heart to Raka) by Koos A. Kombuis. Raka (epic poem) by N.P. van Wyk Louw.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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America, the Truth
George Washington
did not part the Red Sea,
and lead us into the
Promised Land...
God, not even a white God,
did not tell us to...
slaughter the Native Americans,
and take their lands by force!
we are not the 'chosen people'!
we're just people, people
like all other people
around the world!
first, and foremost,
we are citizens of the world.
any blessing we have received
comes with the responsibility
to share it with the world...
not to force our idealogies
whether for profit or pride...
if we stand for freedom,
it means freedom for all...
regardless of color, creed,
or nationality...
we cannot rise any higher
than our actions...
cannot liberate without
first liberating ourselves...
cannot build a future
without including all
of humanity, great and small!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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There also is the plight that comes from natural disasters; these natural disasters could be alleviated or dealt with; we only need some time to do it.
quote by Bhumibol Adulyadej
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Today... 'The Word
Word of love and the Word made flesh
Word incarnate forever blessed
Word of life and the Word of light
Word of power and Word of might.
Word that was spoken, Word of the Lord
Word of the Law and the Word of God
Word of peace and Word eternal
Word of truth and last Word of all.
Word of wisdom and the Word of healing
Word from heaven, a Word so appealing
Word fulfilling the Word of prophecy
Word of the Spirit and Word of destiny.
Word of exhortation and Word of grace
Word of encouragement and Word of faith
Word of promise and a Word of insight
Word from the beginning and Word of delight.
Word of knowledge and a Word of boldness
Word of peace and the Word of righteousness
Word of the covenant and Word of love
Word of the Father from heaven above.
(see also the additional information in the Poet's notes box)
Marriage has a unique place because it speaks of an absolute faithfulness, a covenant between radically different persons, male and female; and so it echoes the absolute covenant of God with his chosen, a covenant between radically different partners.
quote by Rowan D. Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If you keep straying with unhappiness (in answer to Koos A. Kombuis)
If you keep straying with unhappiness
and take the beauty out of everything
are looking for evil in everything
your life turns into a miserable story
you are wandering through the desert
where your tears disappear,
you are scorched
while the sun is shining overwhelming for others
you find thorns on the most beautiful flower,
are already old, before age sets in,
as if you are cursed by a spell
that gives words even if your are dumb
and you break Afrikaans down to clay,
as if nothing have to remain of that language and people
and you take LSD and who knows what
to find life in something
and to you life is a lost dream
as if it is allotted to another man, another guy
and your trousseau and love is buried
where nobody can explore
and you are in your own whirlpool.
[Atlantis in jou lyf (Atlantis in your body) by Koos A. Kombuis.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Hash
Siege and distress,
Hash and prolonged disasters!
But name me youe wages and i will pay it,
And my own household will belike your home.
Strips,
Exposed,
Peeled;
Surrounded in the common hands of love,
And with hash and proplonged disasters! !
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Farms and ranches contend with much more than quarterly reports and profit margins - the weather can wreak havoc on their quality of life and economic viability. When natural disasters strike, we must do all we can to assist the backbone of our economy.
quote by Ruben Hinojosa
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Prayer for a ruined earth
I. You that are almighty
At the beginning You that are almighty
spoke mighty words,
reaching Your hands out to the darkness
and defined the existence of all things
letting light come out of total darkness
with the first morning breaking
causing stars, comets and planets to break free out of nothing
and with Your immeasurable power and knowledge
caused life to come forth from the nought
forming man to your own image
and long before this,
even before the fall of man, forgiveness already existed,
You had already decided
in love for the sake of man, on Your own death sentence.
II. You left the wide world to the care of man
You left the wide world to the care of man,
to maintain, to care for it
but in every word and deed man only wanted to profit
with that which declares his glory
and he treated the earth as if it is substitutable
stripped the sea, chopped the woods down
and to man the earth was no heritage
he caused the atom to escape from its nucleus
thought that like a god he was treading in Your steps
chased after unknown devastation,
saw the hydrogen bomb explode with a bang,
dared the destruction of everything living
and on a ruined planet man is trapped,
in a world where everything is starting to hang in balance.
III. Still we know
Still we know that Your almighty hand
rest on all things
and You are aware about a world that is declining,
are aware about evil and hold everything in check.
Out of You who once made our paradise perfect,
there constantly flows wonderful light
while You watch the words and deeds of man,
keeping our existence in equilibrium.
You prepare the way in advance for every human being
and where man fails
destroys each other, cursing one another,
You have already prepared the outcome in advance
and still You determine over the lot of every man and thing
and in wonder we are waiting on Your return.
[Reference: Gebed vir die aarde (Prayer for the earth) by Johann Lodewyk Marais.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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