When eight policemen flocked around me
When eight policemen flocked around me
stood firm against me and tried to take me
power came from You
when the lot of them grimly
stared at me, as if this isn’t also my fatherland
and in my own country I do not anymore feel at home,
but I was aware of Your saving hand
with their intimidation and rumbling voices
even their mockery and hands on me
was already ruined
as they are only insignificant humans
and because I was without guilt
the lot of them had to let me go
and when thousands rise against me, they will also perish through You.
[References: Police intimidation by Gert Strydom. Deut 28: 7 and Psalm 91: 5-8.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Related quotes
Police intimidation
Today while in Springs
walking on the sidewalk
on my way to home
there was a police roadblock
put up right over the main road
just at Werda School
where you leave the shopping area
where eight armed policemen were standing
and when I got a call
from a wrong number
the one in the middle of the road
rushes to me; saying that I have taken a photograph of him
and the whole lot of them close around me,
I am even grabbed
with a hand into the back of my pants
that holds onto my belt,
I am searched
with hands being put
into my pockets
and my two cellular phones are taken
whereupon I say to them
that I have broken no law
and I am taking record of police intimidation
and a black police captain
(if military ranks are the same)
grab onto my arms holding them
and say that he is going to lock me up
and he stands so near to my face
that I am able to smell his sour breathe.
Whereupon I say to him
that I have broken no law,
that he has no grounds for arrest
and that touching me
is as good as assault
and then a white policeman
with two stars (a military lieutenant’s rank) walks nearer
and the captain let go of my arms,
some of the group gathered around me stands back
but the one at my back
is still holding on to me
with his hand on my belt
into the back of my pants
while another one
is busy going into the data
of my cellular phones
and the white one threaten
to assault me,
to hit me into a hospital
and I say to him
that surely in his eyes
it is illegal to tape
this conversation that they must let me go
as I have not broken any law.
Then he says if I again
spit him in the face while I talk
he will hit my teeth out of my mouth
and I say that the one holding me
is already assault
and that I will let them lock him up
in his own jail, if he touches me
and he says that he will not
touch me even with gloves
and that man stands so near to me
trying to intimidate, that I can smell him
and it smells as if for a whole week
he did not bath
as he is stinking of rotting sweat.
Then they want to know my name
and address from me
which I refuse
to give to them.
Then the white lieutenant says
that it is illegal
not to give my particulars
and I to him
that they do not have the right to it
as I have broken no law
as I am wondering
if the lot of them
want to come and assault me
in the middle of the night or something?
Then he says: “you that have swallowed
a whole law book, you know
that you have to give
your name and address.”
Then I say again
that I have broken no law
were just passing
and I am tacking record of police intimidation.
Then the white lieutenant says
that I do not even know what my name is
also in what street I am walking
and exactly in what town,
at what place
I am in the world.
The black policemen
stand laughing
as if it’s the joke
of all jokes
and I say that I want my cellular phones back,
that they cannot come
and steal them from me
and he threatens again to hit me.
When they can get no photograph of them
on my cellular phones
they give my cellular phones back
and the white man that they call adjutant threatens
again to assault me
and says away with you
that I must be on my way
and says record this now
and I will hit you like thunder!
Then I say that this type of thing
only happens in a police state
and that they are Gestapo
busy with police intimidation
and that I am going to publish this incident
and they laugh at me.
l’Envoi
Now I wonder as a citizen,
who pays my taxes
when and where I have a job,
what rights does the law representatives claim
to themselves
and how good, are they at their jobs?
The two cars that had being stolen from me
have after three years
not been found back
and this lot is fast
to stand and threaten with assault
and I scoff at them and know my rights,
but three thousand farmers have been killed
and where are their killers?
Surely walking around freely?
Surely one can only expect an incident like this
in the new South Africa
where things are only going
from bad to worse.
[This incident happened on Saturday 11 December 2010 at 09h15.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Today I am sixteen again
A statue stands at the gate
of the school,
marking a place of distinction
where children get the highest grades
in the country
play rugby, cricket
and golf at international level.
Today I am sixteen again
and have to go home
as the school has been closed
because of intimidation
by union thugs, from a union
to which the teachers here
do not belong.
Five minibus taxis’s stopped
in the school yard
and black adults got out,
threw bricks through windows,
set the rugby, hockey and soccer fields alight
by splashing gasoline
and the police do not intervene.
The principal is scared
about our safety
and although the teachers here
are not on strike,
school has been cancelled
and the country is going to the ground,
falling to pieces
while a union is striking.
poem by Gert Strydom
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I am proud to be white
My two dogs patrol the yard
from side to side
and walk along the wall
with the street
to and fro
as if they at any moment expect
a threat
or armed invasion
and I have moved the mailbox
for the poor postman
to do his duty in safety
and it’s quite clear
that lawful authority
is decaying
and the country is more insane than mad.
Black policemen walk eight
next to each other in a shopping centre
and even when I stand pressed
against a shop’s window
to avoid them
they still bump into me
and when I let them know
that the walkway doesn’t belong to them
with a submachine gun
they turn to me
because I am white
and this intimidation I laugh off
even when I have to
give a statement
for my stolen car
to the gate guard
on the outside of the police station.
So near to a black police state
I have not yet seen
and still for this nonsense I am not afraid
and know my rights and the law
and these people will never know
how much I love my country.
I am proud to be white
and my language, culture, norms, values
and humanity differ so much
that I never
want to be another colour.
Even when I am now
a third rate citizen in my country
which claimed
military service from me
where there are discriminated
against my human rights
and where from time to time
I am without an income and a job
since I serve an almighty Lord
who sets governments up and let them fall
and who gets solutions out of impossibility.
[Reference: Lawful authority decaying: “Ethnic hatred is the result of the terror that arises when legitimate authority disintegrates.” Michael Ignatieff: Blood and Belonging Croatia and Serbia.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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The accused
Suddenly policemen surround me
standing around me in a circle
with hands taking hold from the back of my pants
handcuffs locking around my wrists and tightening twisting.
heatedly I try to proof my innocence
but the persecutors say what they want to
and look staring at me
that I myself feel the guilt lying on me;
more so when others surround me in a cell
trellis-grate after trellis grate bangs shut around me
and I know that I am a patriot,
from being small walked on that way
but nobody wants to or can bring a charge against me
they just want me to see the might that the police have got.
poem by Gert Strydom
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When I Opened The Door (List)
When I opened the door
I found:
four police cars (with flashing lights)
one police car (of which the siren was screaming)
nine policemen (at the garden gate) ,
ten of the neighbours (that were watching) ,
two dogs (that were roaring protecting)
three lightning bolts (that followed shortly after each other)
some rain pouring down (that was wetting everything)
one policeman (that was shouting)
and the reason for all of this:
you had laid a false charge.
poem by Gert Strydom
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apj Indonesia’s Torturous Democracy?
Indonesia is a sprawling
archipelago nation
of 237 million people.
Indonesia emerged
from decades
of dictatorship
as recently as 1998.
Indonesia continues
to make
strides toward democracy...
however a weak
limp legal system
continues to be
a hot black spot.
torturing suspects
'the norm' in Indonesia
routine police perks
routine law enforcement
torture suspects convicts
extract corrupt confessions
“Indonesian law enforcers
routinely torture suspects
and convicts to extract
confessions or obtain
information... beatings,
intimidation and rape are
so commonplace they are
considered the norm.”
Jakarta-based Legal Aid Foundation Report
Restaria Hutabarat said the group's report
found police beatings intimidation rape
are commonplace considered routine norm
“few victims believe
they have the right
to lodge complaints”
police intimidation beatings raping suspects
few terrorized victims lodge complaints
Boy Rafli Amar will make changes if necessary
Indonesian National Police Spokesman Col. Boy Rafli Amar
said he would study
a 21-page legal report
would make changes
in the force if necessary.
Make changes in
the Police force
if necessary?
Beatings raping suspects
is not urgent grounds
for necessary changes?
Beatings raping
innocent people
is not a serious
crime when wearing
a badge of immunity?
Are police perks
more honourable
than paying a prostitute
in the world's
largest Islamic nation
a nation shamed?
Source: Associated Press, Jakarta | Fri,12/31/2010 12: 24 PM | Headlines
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The peace cannot last
The peace cannot last
and it’s already ruined
as if war like a lightning bolt
is looking for a place to strike.
Thousands of my people have been murdered
and somehow humans
have lost their humanity
and have become mad, worse than animals
and blades are sharpened,
there is waited on a moment
to strike at, to kill
and to take the possessions of other people.
Some of my best friends have immigrated
and here I am staying
and what if this thunderbolt now hits me?
poem by Gert Strydom
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King Of Intimidation
Spoken : the women of this family seem to feel that they owe it to the men
Of the family to look relaxed, rested, and attractive at dinnertime.
For you they live in a quiet monastery
For you they wear whatever you want them to as long as it is short
They count to ten when you tell them how to drive
And when theyre afraid they let you speak for them
All hail the king of intimidation
Mocker of good christian behavior
For you we wax, we scale, and chicken our legs
For you we chew our nails if we had any left buy fake ones to do it
We counted to 10 temporarily
And it was somethin about how you talk down to me
All hail the king of intimidation
Mocker of good christian behavior
The roles of compromising for the family, you dont want some
Theres only so much we can do to make your dress short
I am single
I am weary
Youre just jealous
Youre just confused
Youre just hungry
Youre in sin now
Youre not happy
You are petty
All hail the king of intimidation
Mocker of good christian behavior
He knows not of what he has wrongly done
Forgive his ignorant behavior
You are tortured
You are captured
You are busted
We were silent
You were tested
You knew better
You are lonely
Was it worth it?
La,la,la
song performed by by Alanis Morissette
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Before the altar of life
Before the altar of life
He stands with a bowed head
and nail marked hands spread wide.
Some prayers rise up to Him
and in the souls of others
there’s some cry out that He hears.
He stands there longing for the breaking day
when He will wipe all tears away
from the cheeks of those that follow Him
He was once clothed
in humanity and now is at His place
at the right hand of the Almighty One.
“See my blood and offering, ”
says He to His great Father
while they measure the insignificant lifes,
words and deeds of man.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Intimidation
The lion looked with such a look,
That's called your deepest fears...
And with your courage that he took,
Bravado disappears!
Have you the strength to move your hand?
Or lift your arm above?
Or is your movement slowly planned,
As timid as a dove?
Have you the power left to run,
The stamina to flee?
Or is the battle lost not won
And his the victory?
So many questions fill your mind...
The lion gives you time...
Just think of what he has outlined,
This super cat sublime...
He licks his lips while you're perplexed,
This prince of past pursuits
And thinks of what will happen next,
While you shake in your boots!
Intimidation, that's his game!
It's how he gets his kicks!
He lacks all conscience, knows no shame
And you've run out of tricks!
It's time to pray! God knows your need!
Ask Him as Daniel would...
For God helped Samson to succeed,
To do the feats he could.
A humble plea's more powerful
When God is on your side!
Let God grant you a miracle!
His arms will open wide...
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Intimidation'.
poem by Denis Martindale
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We have a president who stole the presidency through family ties, arrogance and intimidation, employing Republican operatives to exercise the tactics of voter fraud by disenfranchising thousands of blacks, elderly Jews and other minorities.
quote by Barbra Streisand
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The military police
One afternoon
just after returning from work
there was a knock on the front door
and three military policemen
with flat orange hats,
and orange arm flashes
demanded to come in
and wanted to search my place
as somebody had told them
that I was a friend of someone
for whom they had an arrest warrant
for not turning up to camp
and the simpletons thought
that I was hiding him.
Being in the citizens force,
I intensely disliked the military police
and knew that he was quite safe from them
and showed them the gate
which made them really angry,
but they were furious
when I told them that I knew
where to find him
and that they could go
to the local police station
where he was on duty.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Psalm 37:24
"Though he may stumble
he will not fall, for the LORD
upholds him with His firm hand."
Psalm 37:24 New International Version (NIV)
haiku by Marius Alexandru (February 2020)
Submitted by anonym
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Madonna (new version)
I thanked the gods for you
and you were Madonna beautiful to me
as if something holy
radiated from your heart.
Your golden eyes
could look deep into my soul
and you could understand me
for who and what
I really am.
You could put your fingers
to strings and brushes
and the most beautiful words
could go out of your hands
and your sparkling voice
stays forever with me,
but Madonna,
you are gone.
Now I know that John Keats
and AG Visser
would have understood how it feels
when a princess
whom you tried to build a life with,
decides that she does not
like you, neverless love you
and I wonder
if there’s still a heart beating
Madonna, in your breast?
[References: La belle dame sans merci by John Keats, La belle dame sans merci by AG Visser, La belle dame sans merci by Gert Strydom and No red rose by Gert Strydom.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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Blockhouses had been erected right over the country
Blockhouses had been erected right over the country,
farms had been entered and burnt to the ground,
Livestock and animals had been slaughtered
and women and children were rounded up
and interned into death camps.
Young boys
were set against white walls
and firing squads
was set against them
and a super power
clenched its fist around this country
and stood gigantic
against every Boer farmer.
l’Envoi
That time will be forever black
in history
with the misdeeds of the British
that is well known
and the ruination of a nation, arousing from it
where women and children perished as targets
at the commands of Horatio Herbert Kitchener.
[Note: My own great grandmother died in a British concentration camp and my great grandfather was sent by the British to St. Helena as a prisoner of war and as a result of this, my grandfather(Gert Strydom) grew up in a orphanage.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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apj Indonesian National Police Spokesman Col. Boy Rafli Amar
police intimidation beatings raping suspects
few terrorized victims lodge complaints
Boy Rafli Amar to make changes if necessary
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
Source: Associated Press, Jakarta | Fri,12/31/2010 12: 24 PM | Headlines
poem by Terence George Craddock
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apj Jakarta-Based Legal Aid Foundation Report
Restaria Hutabarat said the group's report
found police beatings intimidation rape
are commonplace considered routine norm
Copyright © Terence George Craddock
Source: Associated Press, Jakarta | Fri,12/31/2010 12: 24 PM | Headlines
poem by Terence George Craddock
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I am from Pretoria
Notwithstanding the way
that the country and world goes,
I still want to stand for many years
in the streets with purple-blue
Jacaranda trees.
Let my friends go and live
in London, New York,
Amsterdam and Sydney
but in Pretoria I earn my keep
and no other city
calls me away from my fatherland
since only Pretoria
is right for me.
I am from Pretoria,
a place where princes stay
and if you go to Pretoria
you will find many Afrikaner princes there.
In Pretoria noble Afrikaners are everywhere
and they build their lives
in the right way
and like their ancestors,
still cling to the hand
of the Almighty God.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Cul de sac
At the parking
of the Ok-bazaar / Shoprite in Springs
a one-way street runs out
straight into a traffic light
that cuts a T
into two directions.
This morning the traffic light
is blocked
by a crowd of rioters
that comes from the right side,
from where I want to go.
The police block the road
to the left with a car
and some policemen walk along
with the uprising.
There’s a foreman, instigator
or head man
walking in front
and he hops up and down
and shouts something to me
and he comes straight in my direction
and it looks as if the devil is in him
with a crowd
of revolting barbarians following him.
Nobody is going to drill me
with bags of rubbish
and tree branches
or throw pieces of glass
in front of my tyres
and the light is red
and the rioters are half mad
and my motorbike has a lot of power
and its boss cannot wait.
The policeman says stop
but can hardly
look out for himself
and what about me?
I drive past
going straight for the leader
and give a lot of gas,
my motorbike
can cut fine corners,
although it’s past the back
of a police car.
poem by Gert Strydom
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New Generation
People raise your voices, dont get caught in that mess
Like a fly in a spiders web, is it true more is less
Herded like a happy flock to the big t.v. slaughter
Why dont you break that leash, said the heifer to the sheep
Its a new generation
Its a hallucination
Its a mystic vibration
Its just intimidation
Its the will of the people
Its the church with the steeple
Its the sacred devotion
To an unhealthy notion
People raise your voices, dont get into that trap
If your friends and your neighbors push
Why dont you push them back
Dont you think the time has come
To stand up and be heard
Aint no use to try and wait
For the magic word
Its a new generation
Its an infatuation
Its a beautiful body
Both erotic and deadly
Its the fear of the future
Its just surgeons and sutures
Its a spandex obsession
Its a lasting impression
Do you feel the power
Do you feel the power
Baptized in electronic water
Prodigal sons and beautiful daughters
With smiles and bows and rosy cheeks
And the righteous bath
Death to the freaks
Do you feel the power
Do you feel the power
From the man whose voice sounds reassuring
Completely firm and so alluring, likes hes lived a thousand times before
And seen the world from shore to shore
With the calmness and tranquility that oozes credibility
With the wisdom and the confidence that seem to scream out common sense
And it makes you feel just like a babe
Daddy holding you tight and safe
Hush babe everythings all right, daddys gonna stay with you tonight
Now hes got you by the balls, he can sell you anything at all
From morality to diamond rings to genocide to magazines
From religion to cosmology to the end of a democracy
Its a new generation
Its a divine inspiration
Always ready to follow
Ever willing to swallow
All the doctors prescriptions
All the mystic inscriptions
Its the spandex obsession
Its a lasting impression
Its the calm meditation
Of a tranquilized nation
Its a hallucination
Its a new generation
song performed by by Oingo Boingo
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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