There Is Far Too Much Disintegration (In Answer To T.T. Cloete)
There is far too much disintegration,
ruination
that now occurs in our country
and much too scared
for the killing, raping and crime
we search for accessibility
to a place to also make a own life
while our humanity is being lost somewhere.
Far too many people being begrudged
the right of making a life while other stream in,
as foreigners who get citizenship,
while they are able to begin their lives,
while criminals reign supreme,
own gain
eats like a cancer on the government,
while we have to forget the better times.
Still we do believe in an almighty God
that holds His hand
over the destiny of nations, leaders;
in pain and mourning,
in suppression that circles out wider,
we still stay trusting
that a much better day still has got to come
and lie all of our cares only on Him.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Totally Lost
I
With someone new to adore,
you are constantly
haunting me
as if at times you can penetrate through death
but sometimes I know that I am fabricating it
and for years you are out of my life
but sometimes I cannot get you out of my thoughts
before you jump into my heart again
as if you are not peaceful
on the other side
and in my sorrow and in life's coldness
I am stranded here
and you find no kind of relief
in the late night's big silence.
II
In the late night's big silence
my thoughts are at times with you,
while the big separation brings a chill
while I keep clinging to memories.
You are much too far from me
and your whole humanity
cannot stay here,
and it appears at times when I read your old letters,
when you are like a flower to me
that could grow in the earth of my soul
but death has divided us
and untimely you were pruned away in your prime
and still your absence cuts through me like a raw cry,
sometimes it's much better not to know about you.
III
Sometimes it's much better not to know about you,
to totally wipe out that which was between us
to forget the memories and passion
as if nothing had been
to cause your presence to eternally fade away,
to let each memory slowly pine away,
to stop me from daring in my dreams
to search for you to appear
and I am in a world where yours are divided from mine,
where I have got to keep to the here and now,
where I have to know that we are in separate places
and I am aware of this reality
that destiny cruelly rips lives apart with her claws;
my whole world was where you went
IV
My whole world was where you went
and in you I found my rest and joy
while you were with me as my darling
but life had devoured it far too suddenly
while my existence was anchored to you,
while our things was limitless deep
and we both were trusting on God
while now alone I search for answers,
where without you I see a new tomorrow,
while suddenly pain cuts unexpectedly through me
and I in despair try to cling
to the little that remain of you
and forever we are separate from each other,
you are buried in your coffin and I know sorrow.
V
You are buried in your coffin and I know sorrow
and no stranger asks about you or walks past,
there are people dressed in black
everywhere in the church around me
and everyone is disenchanted
where they are mourning
and it's as if nothing can break through the darkness
that appears about you a pretty girl, already a woman
and suddenly the minister starts talking at the front,
the sexton walks to the back and asks: 'who is lying here? '
his voice resounds through the whole church
and he gets no answer.
The service passes much too quickly;
I feel like I can fight against God.
VI
I feel like I can fight against God,
I cannot really know,
why some people lead longer lives
and for others life is measured out into darkness,
still less I know for what I am searching,
something stays just out of my reach
as if it is involved with the things that are happening
and just when I look it's already gone,
it's just beyond the bright blue
as if I am living with an incomplete purpose
where I am almost seeing it, it's almost in my thoughts
but I cannot see or feel it
and I know that something terrible is wrong,
where everything eventually becomes chaos.
VII
Where everything eventually becomes chaos,
where the whole world are waiting on disintegration,
I wonder what makes me languish
for new life, for the rain that pours down?
What lets me hope that very soon
a glorious age, a glorious day will appear
on the other side of the dark night
while everything around me with time collapses?
Now I hope to have someone else again,
that your life and hours of pain disappear
and again I want to begin with someone anew,
while I stay trusting that the answers lie in the hands of God,
while I believe that the sun will shine on me again
with someone new to adore.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Pretoria (in answer to Mongale Serote)
You are like a father to me,
and probably I will not find
a more honourable father
than that which I have in you
where you stand strong, with well-planned streets,
great learning at your schools and universities
filled with churches, with God loving people
with a holy place
on the hill, commemorating the struggle
of a nation, against nature,
against savage human beings
and even the British Empire
and the salvation by the hand
of the almighty God
and with the statue
of fearless uncle Paul Kruger
still facing north.
My military service and my second job
and most of my employment
was knotted to you
and you determined my destiny
in the halls of government
and now father, you frighten me
with syndicates of foreign criminals,
making you their domain,
with drugs and prostitution
offered on your streets
and you wear expressions that brings fear
and threat to me,
being driven from my job
by new laws,
where through affirmative action
you see other people as your own,
even black foreigners from other lands
and now to you I am nonexistent
and now I have left you, have gone from you
to try and make a living
and yet like all father’s
I cannot replace you
and long to be at your side.
[Reference: Alexandra by Mongale Serote.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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The White Man Blues
An AK-47 submachine gun shoots stammering,
a rocket propelled grenade whooshes past
and I am in the middle
of another country’s civil war
shooting off short bursts, trying to stay alive
while forced into military service
by the government
and this day could be my last,
but it’s ok as I am still alive
and praying to an almighty God.
Having lost two cars, in less than a week
from theft by some black hooligans
who thinks that what you own
belongs to them
from which the insurance absolved themselves,
having lost my job by affirmative action
and only receiving a few months salary as pay
with all the fringe benefits being cut away
with the wife and her kids walking out
into the arms and the charms
of her new boyfriend
and in Soweto and wherever
the gangsters and politicians live, they know,
they wait and try to relieve me
from my humanity
and to turn me into a ravenous hating thing
and it isn’t news to them
they see my plight
as they are causing it
and even the government holds out its hand
for taxes when and where I have a contract work
but it’s ok as I am still alive
and praying to an almighty God.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Have I got to close the books?
No bad weather,
murderous natives
or even the British Empire
could stop our ancestors
to make a place
their own
at the southern end
of Africa.
Till on a day
some strange people rule
that has no concept
of that which is high and holy,
and tread every thing
with time into ruins
and believe that things are better
while criminals are stealing cars,
robbing banks, murdering people
and steal just where they can
and deceivers sit in parliament
and work are reserved
for only some.
Have I now also
got to close the books,
and leave the country forever
and climb on a jet plane
and make another place
with foreigners
my own
to have a life again?
poem by Gert Strydom
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A God Of Pain
Oh Lord, it seems to me, You are a God of pain
without which some people say there is no gain.
There is only so much that we creatures can bear
and it’s sometimes I wonder if You really do care.
Throughout the world You’re generally loved, hated or feared
and there are certain times when You are very strongly jeered.
Most people have a hard time making up their mind about You
because of the trials and tribulations that You put them through.
It seems strange and true to say that with Your almighty nature
You somewhat force people to bend to Your imposing stature.
To impress on them that You’re the Only One they should please
You have to prepare and teach them all how Your Will to appease.
Is it because of You’re being Immortal and All-knowing and we are Your heirs
that You subject us all to such rigorous training to overcome illusion’s snares?
One only has to reflect on the lives of Your so-called True Sons of the past
to realize the suffering and attainment their example on humanity has cast.
If I sound to be a little cynical towards You and seem to complain
how could You be so insensitive and not help me get rid of my pain?
Though ignorant as I am to One Who is great as You’re made out to be
please show a little more compassion to those who are helpless like me.
As life in this world demands so much of our time
is it forgetfulness of Thee that You consider a crime? !
This whole world is a cruel proving ground to one higher above
and yet it has been spoken or written that You are a God of love!
If I don’t seem to see the bigger picture now of what really goes on
then You’re held responsible for allowing this situation to drag on.
And even though You have given Teachers to show people the way
the illusion is still so strong that most get caught and lost in the fray.
Remaining a while here where they play out either minor or major roles
being only a matter of time before they too become aware of their souls.
When after much disappointment and suffering that You seem to mete out
they gradually realize by pain that this world is not what life is only about.
___________________________________ ___________________
poem by George Krokos
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At times I wonder2
At times I wonder
what the Almighty’s plan
with my life is
At times its as if
destiny has its own way
with my life.
I still try
to make the best
out of every situation
and to stay free from the onslaught
Still there’s an unknown way
that lies ahead of me
and at times it unfolds
and my Master
makes wonderful things
happen at His time.
[Reference: “God has a plan with our lives that He has not made known yet. For this reason every holy day is filled with astonishment and waiting.” Phillips Brooks.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Our Indian politicians
Clad in white clothes from top to bottom,
These bright smiling faces are the symbol of our politics,
They determine the destiny of our country,
They are worried over the country's progress
As well as their commission,
They get in the work budget,
They are busy in siphoning off people's money.
Their exterior is very bright
But the interior is very dark,
They are eating away the country
As the white ant
eats away the wood.
They are hounds in the guise of
goat,
Who eats away its own little ones.
Their palatial residence,
Their fleet of luxury cars,
Are evident
Of their illegitimate earnings,
They can put even their country at stake
To serve their petty interest.
They make people fight
In the name of religion and region,
But all is not alike,
There are few among them who are really
Concerned for the future of the country,
The country is progressing by means of such leaders,
They have love and care for the country,
They are always ready to make sacrifice for the mother land,
But their number is so low that we could count them on fingers.
poem by Mohammad Akmal Nazir
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Tis Destiny
Though many may see it in a different way
'Tis destiny in our lives that does have the say
Our life journey our journey to destiny
To fame and to riches and to poverty.
'Tis a fact that the greatest are mortals and facts never lie
And from the day we are born to the day that we die
Destiny on our lives a huge part does play
'Tis destiny decided that I pen this today.
Many who believe in life choices will tell you that your life journey you decide
Those who ignore that you need to have luck on your side
They see your station in life as of your making not of circumstance
And they scoff at any mention of destiny or chance.
The town's wealthiest person in his fiftieth year was buried today
'Twas cancer he died of in a slow painful way
This was not of his choice of that most would agree
A slow painful death part of his life's destiny.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Rights Of Mankind
sometimes we run across things in life
that we don't understand.
that is when we ask for GODS hand.
like what is the purpose of war?
and what are we dying for?
we see people dying every day.
some by accident, and many become prey.
prey to the gangs, the criminals, the predators too.
so what in the world, are we supposed to do?
we put our faith in the laws that we have created
but! most of these laws are a bit belated.
this is when we ask the LORD for his guiding hand
to make us strong, and to take a stand.
we gain knowledge in every way
with each and every passing day.
little bits of information, here and there.
that we pass along for others to share.
the young people say that they have no life
how could they, when they always fight.
this is the world that we live in
full of crime, full of sin.
we have the opportunity
to change all this, by taking control
of our destiny.
'that is how it's got to be.'
let's open the road to communication
and talk with friends, family, relations.
let us become a family of one
fighting for the right of all mankind.
'don't you think that it is time?
poem by Louis Rams
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The Second Coming (Cavatina Sequence)
(after William Butler Yeats)
Anarchy, mere madness is loose,
a president
for life is enthroned (while voted out) ,
an incident
of total corruption occurs daily,
not diffident
a country is laid waist, in merriment
brought to an utter impoverishment.
His fifth brigade cleans Matabeleland;
killing, raping;
farmers are driven from their property
just escaping
with their bare lives from some murderous crowds,
with mouth gaping
he smiles on the conquest of fertile farmland,
causing famine, in victory holds up a hand.
While havoc reigns some blood flows everywhere,
chaos is spreading,
the opposition is sent to prison,
he is leading
the country to ruin, its falling apart,
its degrading,
it looses all kinds of decent order,
some millions flee south and cross the border.
Without any conviction destruction
is on the earth,
while people want to rob, rape, pillage and kill;
are told from birth
that they have been robbed from a future,
anger they girth;
pray to their ancestor spirits for war,
surely God will now be coming once more!
[Reference: 'The Second Coming' by William Butler Yeats.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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South Africa Is Also My Country
From my birth South Africa is my own country
and my people can flee to an island
but my own culture and language stays holy
although this place is not safe,
I still trust on a much higher hand,
from my birth South Africa is my own country.
From my birth South Africa is my own country
even if the struggling government gives me resistance,
do oppress me with unfair laws,
even if nothing can stop the disintegration,
even if I am not safe against the onslaught,
from my birth South Africa is my own country.
From my birth South Africa is my own country,
even if some act with effrontery against my people
I come from a noble heritage,
I am proud on my Afrikaner lineage,
even if people and buildings are set alight,
from my birth South Africa is my own country.
From my birth South Africa is my own country
with no other place I have such a deep bond
and even if here I will never have any job,
I believe in God and a Christian church,
God himself still keeps my ways intact,
from my birth South Africa is my own country.
poem by Gert Strydom
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But how long will this peace last
The night that peace comes
torches are launched into the sky
like stars
to glide hanging to the ground
and as far as I look
I see fireworks near and far,
but how long will this peace last?
Nelson Mandela walks out of jail
and there are people cheering
and dancing from joy
and some think
that now they are totally free,
but how long will this peace last?
His rainbow nation disappears
into the naught
and although the sun still shines
work are reserved for some
and people begin to leave the country
while others from all over Africa stream in
and South Africans are jobless,
but how long will this peace last?
There are incapable people getting positions
and the country goes years back
and murder and killings
are totally out of control
and the police are powerless
to stop it,
but how long will this peace last?
The government takes legal firearms in
while crime spreads wider
and the state are trying to control lives
more and more
and corruption, fraud, rape,
murder and robbery
happens every day,
but how long will this peace last?
l’Envoi
The slaughter of black on white
and robbery are urged on
and reverse racism
talked good
and the country is in chaos
with incapables controlling it
and the dilapidation nobody can stop
but how long will this peace last
before the country
gets another hell of a war?
poem by Gert Strydom
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An elegy for South Africa
Weep South Africa
as you are no longer my country
and I live here
as if I am
from another planet
as part of a small minority
in a country where dark Africa
declares murderers as heroes
and act like barbarians
and dance and scream.
At a time the orange, white and blue
streamed proud over you
and people at work,
school to parliament
bended their knees to God
who was their supreme leader
right through hordes
at blood river,
the onslaught of the British Empire
and with God on our side
we would quarter
for nobody and nothing.
Our own culture flowered,
children went through schools
right through university
to distinguish themselves
and you could even leave the doors unlocked,
could make a living somewhere,
the police were a servant and a friend
and we under our own rule.
How many times our ancestors
tried to teach other people of God,
distributed medicine and food
and we even faced
the communists and Cubans in Angola,
till on a day a man
for the wide world a hero,
out of our own ranks betrayed his brothers
and he laid the whole country lame
and didn’t sell it out,
but rather gave it away.
Today incompetents are everywhere in control
of state departments
right through into the parliament,
money is squandered,
a whole generation
through their own choosing
did not receive any school education,
whites are affirmed and impoverished by the law
and criminals and foreigners stream in
from all over Africa
to start a new life here.
Today another Afrikaner son is slaughtered
(one of more than three thousand) ,
what happens tomorrow and the next day?
[Reference: Murder on Eugene Terreblance. General condition in the country.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Let South Africa be our country again
Let South Africa be our country again
and South Africans from all over the world
stream back,
to dream here like before,
to hope, to wish
of a place
not bordered of by burglar bars
where people can stay free
before God and man.
Let merit and respect be present
and people receive what they deserve
rather than expecting affirmative-action
and mercy from others
and the whole world
and like in the past
let us successfully do our own thing.
Let opportunities really exist
to be free in work,
living and association,
to study in your own language,
let us pull the teeth of the dogs
that rips others apart to rule,
of might that shatters the weak.
Let the animal inside us die
and we really become people
that does not burn each other,
crush and vituperate
and in groups jeering urge the killing on
and do not rob, but work
for the life that we have got.
Let we break the chains
of people ruling
with profit, might
and work people into the ground
and misuse others to gain prosperity.
I am the white Afrikaner that had to fight in war
and now are unemployed and hungry,
while I have a university degree.
I am the black man that without education
have to dig holes and man garbage trucks
and conclude my life in a shack.
I am the coloured that always stand between all groups
and do not know where I belong
and rather gather in gangs.
I am the South African that life
drives down the whole time
and have to pray all the time,
to know how to carry on.
l’Envoi
Still, I am the one that dream
of a country free from crime,
where everybody have equal opportunity,
where rape, corruption
and lawlessness ends
and where South Africa is our country again.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Scared
I'm scared of life and what i'll become
I'm scared of not being able to go on
I'm scared of what will happen
I'm scared of your reaction
I'm scared of letting go
I'm scared of what i don't know
I'm scared of losing you
I'm scared of being used
I'm scared of being hurt beyond repair
I'm scared of whats out there
I'm scared and so alone
I'm scared and searching for a place to call home
Will you hold me and fight away my fears
Will you tell me it's gonna be okay and wipe away my tears
Will you hold my hand as i walk through the dark
Will you stay and not leave or break my heart
Will you be there to pick me up when i fall down
Because i really need someone right now
poem by Jean Pullman
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Where do I fit into it all?
I have seen
brave men passing me.
Men who were composed
when death came agonising by
and stuck to the training
taught before
I have seen men believing
that victory belongs
to those that really dare
and snatching immortality
from the claws of death
against an outnumbering foe.
Still the meaning of it all
isn’t clear to me
and what battles and wars won
really bought?
I have seen good men
giving up their lives here
and sick of the impact of crime,
loosing hope for a future,
going away to stay
in another country.
I have seen wild men
making a life
out of whatever
destiny bestowed on them
and living it up
before the years
of old age could come.
I have seen grave men
calculating the cost
of investing in a desperate society
and deciding that all is lost
and withdrawing their investments
to make other opportunities
their goal.
I have seen great men
building up their lives
and starting new careers
from the ruins
of bankruptcy and unemployment
and against unfair laws
and black economic empowerment,
prospering from the lessons learnt
from life.
The question remains with me:
where do I fit
into it all?
poem by Gert Strydom
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Daily You Protect
Daily You protect, You are our defence,
daily Your almighty hand is stretched out
as Your love surrounds us selflessly, Lord,
although at times we are covered by sin
still You draw the lines of our lives much wider
as You have paid the ultimate price,
and You are with us at every dangerous place
as we wait on You to come and fetch us,
You can stop all pain and darkness
and all of nature sings to Your glory.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Interrogate It!
Gods have interrogated you after so many crimes,
The real door is to us the burden to be disallowed.
A bridge must be crossed, and to alleviate this suffering
The reality of a gate in the next life is supreme.
Killing is an art to fight for the defence of this life,
Loathing and despairing is an exact science.
I have seen deities requestion and reiterate,
But the gods are the better helpers for your life
And your existence as criminals is rife.
The godliness is to disburden the crime-rate,
This in itself is luxury, for all your own disgust.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Notes About The Situation In Our Country
(in answer to Johan Steyn)
I. In the times that we live
In the times that we live
darkness sometimes gets the upper hand,
with tragic things happing in this country
while we still strive for a better place
we go into a life
where innocence is missing and we are off guard
stripped from opportunities and halfway beached
where we have to live in the bustle
where people are killed, tortured and robbed,
where the ruling party is singing inciting songs,
where we cannot decide on a plan of action
and even being humane is curtailed
while the harsh reality penetrates
that alone we cannot stop the overwhelming enemies.
II. During the night we hide in yards that are wired with electricity
During the night we hide in yards that are wired with electricity,
behind walls and steel palisades,
taking notice of the neighbourhood,
making daily adjustments to our lives
and when car hijackers strike at us on the road
we pray and hope to survive,
we let them just go on
while we are dumfounded by fear
and some of our family members and friends are tortured to death,
are raped and robbed while the police cannot stop these crimes,
but we encourage each other and tell one another
that every thing is all right and things are totally out of control,
but Satanists behead people
and there are criminals walk away from raping children.
III. People of our friends and family with qualifications are without work
People of our friends and family with qualifications are without work,
while it is now almost impossible to find something,
with jobs being restricted to black people by affirmative action
and so time passes, years pass
while impoverishment sneak in among white people,
with people begging and looking after cars on the street,
with hundreds of uneducated people getting jobs
and somewhere everything honourable
has been lost with time
while misfortune and decline is appearing everywhere,
we hear about the wretched lives of others,
people come with a confession
that life has caught them off guard,
with their existence only hanging on a thin thread.
IV. When we laugh it only hides bitterness
When we laugh it only hides bitterness
the blue sky, flowers in our gardens pass us,
we hear of some more Afrikaners dying on farms
and in towns and slowly but certainly the destruction spreads.
Out of despair husbands kill their whole families and themselves
(shot after shot resounds)
from them who still have firearms,
after the new laws.
The black government is afraid, that we will resist them
and arrests people left, right and centre
who they see as terrorists
and hold them forever and a day
while the planters of bombs
sit blessed in parliament.
V. There are some people that lay their hands on liquor
There are some people that lay their hands on liquor
and live as if everything is just for today,
they fornicate with the wives of others,
trampling their own people into the ground,
walk over each other to get somewhere in life
or to chase after money
and we live in times of great darkness
where love for the fellow man, awe and respect are missing
where children bear false witness against their parents,
(when they themselves do criminal deeds) ,
turning against their own culture, people and even religion,
using drugs, are fornicating while at school
and overnight our world has changed
to a place where crime and darkness has the upper hand.
VI. Even God is on sale
Even God is on sale
and people jump up and down in churches,
trying to feel the presence of God
in a experience religion
where everyone places his own things in the trolley
as it fits him,
grouping around somewhat in darkness
forgetting to consult the Holy Bible,
Jesus Christ is declared to be only human
and a relationship with him
by some is seen as absurdity
that only people with superstition do
and some wants to trample Satan himself under their shoes
while he is walking free next to them.
VII. Now we wonder from where this decay comes?
Now we wonder form where this decay comes,
while our world suddenly is turned upside down?
With the new government the school structure has been changed,
the cane has disappeared from the classroom, respect has walked out
and religion, the trust in an almighty God,
an own culture, the urge to follow own values,
to speak our own language and to retain a own identity
and the commandments of God has been systematically substituted
by human rights, children’s rights and the following
of a science where humans through theosophy
and new age doctrines are seen as equal to God
where man becomes a god in himself
and now suddenly we see darkness
when the darkness and decay is everywhere.
VIII. We cannot exist in darkness
We cannot exist in darkness,
we have the witness of our fathers, from a time when escape was impossible,
where God in a covenant Himself stood with them
and still everyone is protected by the mighty hand of God,
He draws His laager around everyone that fears Him,
who faithfully keep to the words of His holy word
and still we have got to be brave
in this time where we witness the destruction of our brothers
as God Himself stays true,
His kingdom cannot waver or crumble,
even when the thickest darkness folds around us,
nothing can wheedle us away
from the salvation that God is going to bring,
even if it looks as if darkness is stretching wider and wider.
[Reference: Kanttekeninge by ‘n vers van Brecht (Marginal notes at a verse of Brecht) by Johan Steyn.]
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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They Won't Want To Go Back
While we live our lives as best as we can,
There are those who couldn't care less,
The criminal fraternity do what they like,
We're left to pick up the mess.
Soft justice favours the criminals,
While the victims are the ones left to rot,
To turn the tide the other way,
A hard lesson needs to be taught.
Take the murderers they don't give a damn,
Jail for them doesn't hold any fears,
Three square a day free drugs and no rent,
Then back out in just a few years.
There are those who advocate killing us all,
Yet these terrorists are now cowering in fear,
Saying please don't send us to the U.S.of A.
We'd much rather do our time here.
The rapists and thief's who couldn't care less,
They'll do it day in and day out,
They show no remorse for their victims,
Then ask what are we all about.
If they mug an old man or a women,
Which results in their violent demise,
They will not be charged with their murder,
For their lawyers make out it's all lies.
We are now running scared of the criminals,
The do gooders have them in their sights,
There's money galore to be made from these thugs,
It's the innocents who have no human rights.
Society now favours the criminal,
They're much better off than us,
When we ask why there's no retribution,
We're told to stop making a fuss.
They now live in five star prisons,
We want more is what their lawyers shout,
The more we give them the more they demand,
No wonder they don't want to come out.
Soon they'll be appealing their sentences,
Telling us we need to be tough,
They're enjoying prison life so much,
Their sentences are not long enough.
The do good brigade fall over themselves,
Criminals aren't bad they'd have you believe,
While criminals make them lots of money,
They'll continue living to deceive.
These poor souls need everyone's sympathy,
For their crimes they are never to blame,
This attitude is why they don't give a damn,
Then go out and do more of the same.
They tell you they had a bad childhood,
They were given a really hard time,
The hardships they've had to endure in their life
Is why they were drawn into crime?
They wouldn't know a hard time if it hit them,
But they're brainwashed that's what to believe,
They've wanted for nothing all of their lives,
Yet the victims are the ones left to grieve.
There are people who've fought in bloody wars,
Those who have worked all their days,
They had rationing and living with nothing,
They were never part of the criminal craze.
It's now time to get tough with these scumbags,
Soft soaping them is one major gaffe,
If they knew they'd be properly punished,
They wouldn't be so quick to laugh.
They need to know that when they're caught,
Their punishment will be severe,
No remission or an easy life,
That must be made crystal clear.
They must pay all their own legal fees,
That will stop their endless appeals,
No drugs or mobiles, no satellite T.V.
Fed with the most basic of meals.
One hundred years for murder,
No mercy or any parole,
They'll endure hard labour until they are dead,
There'll be no repose of their soul.
Trafficking drugs you'll be jailed for life,
You can't say you were being led,
You're responsible for your own actions,
You've created the walking dead.
Raping, burglary and knife crime,
Will be treated in much the same way,
If you're willing to commit the offence,
Incarceration is the price you will pay.
Paedophiles are truly a breed apart,
For them no mercy should be shown,
They must rot in jail until they are dead,
Punished for the seeds they have sown.
When they learn we mean what we're saying,
They'll beg us to cut them some slack,
When our prisons become a deterrent,
you can bet,
‘' They Won't Want To Go Back ‘'