The omen
I saw men thrusting a bayonet and knife
through the enemy
as though life was meaningless
and killing with a rifle,
an armoured car’s gun
and war devoured
the enemy and the innocent
local population
and the madness and mystery
of having blood
on your hands
was like a omen
and a token
of more killing to come.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Related quotes
Kill Somebody
This is a rifle, this is a gun
This is for killing and this is for fun
This is a rifle, this is a gun
This is for killing and this is for fun
This is a rifle, this is a gun
This is for killing and this is for fun
This is a rifle, this is a gun
This is for killing and this is for fun
When the boys cry, in the morning light
And they take their guns and leave their girls and step outside
And they all feel blue, ´cause theyre waiting still
For the enemy on the other side theyre going to kill
You better kill somebody, you better kill somebody
You better kill somebody, you better kill somebody
You better kill
When the bombers come, with the rising sun
And the dreams of glory and blue eyed heros all have gone
On the other side sits the enemy
And Im sure he wont invite for a cup of tea
song performed by by Fury In The Slaughterhouse
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Somewhere Near The Lomba River
The guns of enemy tanks are flashing
like bolts of thunder while I am glancing,
the night air is full of the smell of cordite
and luckily those shots are passing
while the armoured car draws to a sudden halt
for its gun to take aim and on my lips I taste salt
before the armour piercing shell is fired
and at a direct hit around me the crew exalt
before at speed we move on
and some more enemy Cuban soldiers are gone,
are burnt in the fiery hell
while my heart, my brain feels like stone.
An enemy shell strikes another armoured car
like a exploding flaming star
and I can smell torched human flesh,
while I wish to be away very far,
to be away from killing
and this chilling
kind of machination of machines and men
who at each other are firing
but to survive we battle on right through the night,
are still trying to find some more enemies in the broad daylight,
find two abounded stationary pristine enemy battle tanks
from which the enemy had run in fright.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The havoc of war
a Smoking and burning
enemy battle tank
stands stopped in its tracks,
like a metal coffin
with its occupants
still hatched in.
a BRDM enemy armoured car
is encased by leaping flames
and the phosphoric burning smell
is churning in my guts.
Some dead Cuban soldiers lay
cut from the stem
mangled in blood and guts
and the machinegun is still chattering
and I wish to be,
in another place and time
than to be a part
of this slaughtering.
a Bleating Gemsbok rushes past
trying to outrun the flames,
that leap through the field
while the machines of war
brings death to the living.
Shot after shot is fired
at killing range
and it’s hot and deafening
inside the Ratel,
but the wind
brushes through my hair
where I stand
in the top hatch
and trees and bushes
sweep past
as if screened in a movie house.
Enemy armour keeps exploding
and my voice sounds strange
and unfamiliar to me,
while I give directions
for the next killing.
poem by Gert Strydom
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One night I dream
One night I dream
about ratel armoured cars
that looks different
and are almost as impenetrable
as American tanks
and can shoot accurately further
than G-6 howitzers while moving
and can drive right through
landmine fields
and we are fighting
in a enemy territory
There are enemy weapons
burning everywhere
and their aeroplanes
are grounded in rows
and when we win
I have already for a time
being wishing for it to end
as I am fed up with war,
killing and people that suffer
but this dream
and many others
that really happened
stays with me.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Conscience
The soldier’s conscience was troubling him,
the enemy was foremost in his thoughts.
Day and night he questioned his decisions
whilst mentally and physically he fought.
One early morning as the sun climbed the sky
he made sure his back faced the sun.
with bayonet fixed he stabbed his shadow
all day and until the moon did come.
The day left him exhausted, tired and hungry,
but convinced he’d beat the enemy within.
But the next day his conscience had returned
with the message that killing was not for him.
poem by Orlando Belo
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Why?
If I could paint
I would paint a portrait
of a shot out Ratel armoured car
standing in a landmine field.
Out of which the smoke still rises
And I would print in defencelessness
with every brush stroke
of armoured steel failing
against projectiles
and then becoming a coffin
and enemy soldiers standing grinning
with teeth brilliant white
and bones of fallen comrades
that tried to stop a horde of barbarians
and hyenas and jackals standing drooling
and vultures turning in the sky
and in the background till the horizon
enemy tanks, armoured cars
and men would lay shot to pieces
with pools of blood, intestines
and shot of legs and hands
and the title would be: Why?
poem by Gert Strydom
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Bin Laden does reprehensible activities, and we should surely take care of that by killing him as soon as we can. But he's not an irrational man. He's a very worthy enemy. He's an enemy to worry about.
quote by Michael Scheuer
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Shes Just Killing Me
Also released on the from dusk till dawn soundtrack.
Everything about her was natural
Everything about her was cool
But Im a little partial for beautiful girls
Even if they blood runs blue
I think I see her
I think I want her
I think I love her
Shes just killing me
I think shes killing me
Her castanets are enormous
Her bongo beat absolute
And when she doin midnite performances
Shes got a secret somethin to boot
I think I see her
I think I want her
Oh, I think I love her
But shes just killing me
I think shes killing me
Miss satanic pandemonia
Dont get any lower or slower
What you see is what you get conmigo
And the bonus of an albino boa
I think I see her
I think I want her
Yes, I think I love her
Shes just killing me
Shes just killing me
(thats some time I had)
I think I see her
I know I love her
Yes, I might love her
Shes just killing me
She wanna be killing me
(suck my blood)
song performed by by ZZ Top
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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The night is full of brown Ratel armoured cars
The night is full of brown Ratel armoured cars
and Olifant tanks
that drives and rolls in on the ground
and salvos from rocket launching trucks
that draws arcs
and in the distance howitzer canon reports
in volleys
and when a light flare suddenly falls
it is as if the bushes are teeming
with enemy tanks and armoured cars
just where I look
and it looks
like the day of judgement.
Projectiles find their targets
and canister-shot comes down exploding thundering
and it’s an apocalyptic night
for some of the enemy
who are burning,
scorched and blown to smithereens in their armour
and when a tank
suddenly appears out of the bushes
there is a hell of a red thunderclap
as a shot from another Ratel hits it deadly
and I realize that even here
a person’s time is measured out
and around me there are fireworks
like stars falling from the sky
while we stop and aim
the following killing shot.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Smile Of An Enemy
The smile of an enemy
makin me think it's the
end of me
Fearful to the core of heart
is that smile of an enemy
feels like I can't run
feels like I can't hide...
from that smile of an enemy
Is my life written in stone
by my enemy?
The smile of an enemy
has taken over me
and I can't do a damn thing
about it
or can I?
Who's hands are over
the smile of an enemy?
Who pulls the corners of
his mouth makin my enemy
smile at me?
I have to put my hands over
his mouth
My hands are now over his
mouth
He is not smiling at me now
He is smiling at my hands
over his mouth!
And he can't do a damn
Thing about it
I have taken away the smile
of my enemy
His smile that scares me so
are in my hands now
poem by Brenda Poole
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A woman unconscious
The enemy were almost at the door,
coming with tanks, armoured cars,
rocket launching trucks,
helicopter gunship, fighter jets,
with supporting Cuban troops
under Russian command
and day after day
I prayed for it to end,
for the killing of them, to stop,
where my Ratel armoured car
send tank after tank and many more armoured cars
with phosphorous shells
straight to hell
and by calamity the future changed,
turned into a different world,
changed from the one
scared of them, dropping the annihilating bomb
of millions of people being killed and dead
and at home, the welcoming did not come
at my return
and your were not there,
were killed in a car accident instead,
were for a time unconscious
in a white hospital bed
and the evidence of how cruel
the world can be
still walks with me,
while life goes on.
[Reference: A woman unconscious by Ted Hughes.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Living With The Enemy
I gave you all that you wanted
and still you come back for more
You say that you're brokenhearted
but then you walk out the door
Maybe it is time for us to say goodbye
Where are the tears you never cried?
Hey baby what you got on your mind
are you looking for some sympathy?
I can tell you if it's a truth or a lie
'Cos it's just like living,
living with the enemy
You got me going in circles,
I'm slowly loosing my head
What did I do to deserve this,
you make me wish I was dead
Tell me I'm wrong and I'll be on my way
See you around another day
Hey baby what you doin' tonite?
Are you giving me the perfect dream
I'm so tired and I don't wanna fight
'Cos it's just like living,
living with the enemy, enemy
Living with the enemy, living with the enemy, enemy
Living with the enemy,enemy
Living with the enemy, living with the enemy, enemy
song performed by by Ozzy Osbourne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Afghanistan
He said, that Allah had cursed thrice Afghanistan;
cursed it with those curses, which all evil men
see as their life’s blessings:
first, He gave them the opium poppy:
so that if they chose, an easy wealth
would kill their fellow men all round the world
with its addiction; which they themselves could claim
was not at all their fault..
and easy wealth would give them time
for Allah’s second curse: the manly thrill
of fighting and of killing; to pursue which,
one must invent an enemy; then,
an enemy invented, enemy he must become;
and so, the whole world now an enemy..
the third and the most dreadful curse
cannot be named or be described..
secret; awful; deadly; all-consuming:
hidden in the hearts of holy hypocrites.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Timebomb
If God would be a liar
He would be just like us
We think he knows of madness
Who says hes got to be real
We cant wait another day
Where do we go from here
A sin is not the only way
But thats how it seems to be
We are timebombs- cold killing machines
We are timebombs- cold killing machines
The world is spitting fire
On sun and moon and stars
It cant be our desire
Writing the rules on the wall
We cant wait another day
Where do we go from here
A sin is not the only way
But thats how it seems to be
We are timebombs- cold killing machines
We are timebombs- cold killing machines
We are timebombs- cold killing machines
We are timebombs- cold killing machines
We cant wait another day
Where do we go from here
A sin is not the only way
But thats how it seems to be
We are timebombs- cold killing machines
We are timebombs- cold killing machines
We are timebombs- cold killing machines
We are timebombs- cold killing machines
song performed by by U. D. O.
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Good Times Are Killing Me
The good times are killing me.
Here we go!
Got dirt, got air, got water and I know you can carry on.
Shrug off shortsighted false excitement and oh what can I say?
Have one, have twenty more "one mores" and oh it does not relent.
The good times are killing me.
Kick butt buzz-cut dickheads
who didn't like what I said.
The good times are killing me.
Jaws clenched tight we talked all night,
oh but what the hell did we say?
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
Fed up with all that LSD.
Need more sleep than coke or methamphetamines.
Late nights with warm, warm whiskey.
I guess the good times they were all just killing me.
Got dirt, got air, got water and I know you can carry on.
The good times are killing me.
Enough hair of the dog to make myself an entire rug.
The good times are killing me.
Have one, have twenty more "one mores" and oh it does not relent.
The good times are killing me.
Shit-kicker city slickers who all wanted me dead.
The good times are killing me.
Get sucked in and stuck in late nights
with more folks that I don't know.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
The good times are killing me.
song performed by by Modest Mouse
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Under a African sky
The sun burns furious
and the harsh reality,
of a live in the semi desert
of the Kalahari
is set in my mind.
There are some bushes
growing in this arid land,
with red sand
stretching as far
as the eye can see,
but they are riddled
with large white thorns.
A Group of bushmen trackers
are gathered round a fire
and are drinking tea,
near to the huts
where they live.
It’s time to go and we set out
into the bush,
with two trackers
running in the lead.
One is carrying my R5 rifle
and we follow
in a fighting formation,
with armoured fighting vehicles
and armoured cars.
The LMG becomes heavy
in my hands
and sweat are running
down my cheeks.
Every hour or so
the trackers are changed
and we keep following the tracks,
for hours without end
and then reality is frozen.
Rpg-7 rockets whistle past
and the sound of enemy
AK-47 rifles and mortars,
are almost everywhere.
We return fire at dark dots
and every moving thing
becomes prostrate
and the dead enemy are gathered
and I feel like puking;
and some troops are smoking
and it’s just another day
under a African sky.
[LMG=> Light Machine Gun]
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Killing Time
(originally recorded by sweet savage)
Sound of gunfire comes through the night
Killing and hatred, its a terrible sight
Reports come in of the heavy attack
Message is seen, were moving back
Preparations are made for the journey back
Its a survival, supplies are packed
No more nights in this eternal hell
Destination is simple, we move out
Killing time - you left from the line
Killing time - your turn to kill
Killing time - what do you say?
Killing time - aha, killing time
And he knew what he needed to keep us alive
No time for cowardice, kill and survive
Like a killer kid with a switchblade knife
Nasty word, hell take your life
The silence is over, they attack again
Killing and hatred drive me insane
Reports come in of a heavy attack
Message is seen, were moving back
Killing time - you left from the line
Killing time - your turn to kill
Killing time - what do you say?
Killing time - aha, killing time
Sound of gunfire comes through the night
Killing and hatred, its a terrible sight
Reports come in of a heavy attack
Message is seen, were moving back
And he knew what he needed to keep us alive
No time for cowardice, kill and survive
Like a killer kid with a switchblade knife
Nasty word, hell take your life
Killing time - you left from the line
Killing time - your turn to kill
Killing time - what do you say?
Killing time - aha, killing time
song performed by by Metallica
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Forever young
I saw boys driving away to war
in a Ratel-90 armoured car
and they were well trained,
ready for action
and called up for military service
against their will.
Two smiled and a few
waved goodbye
and there was dirt
in my eyes,
when my armoured car
caught speed.
Enemy battle tanks were everywhere
and we fought right through the night
and with first light
an armoured car was stuck
in a mine field
and they were hoping for the best
but the worst was there
and shot out they paid the cost.
Although the enemy
paid a much higher price
and lost,
it’s like yesterday that they
waved goodbye
and sacrificed in vain
their lives for people
that does not honour them
and remain forever young.
poem by Gert Strydom
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