Flames

I see flames coming out of a Ratel IFV
and how smoke vapours rises from it,
while its shot out
where its captured by a minefield.

Bleeding and burning comrades die
and their names and faces,
are burnt into my mind.

Even if I rise my eyes
to the heaven
I still cannot understand
till this day,
why some had to pay
such an expensive price
and precisely what their lives bought.

Its something to die in honour,
but another thing to life
in a country

Even Though

Even though a new government
is in place,
in Soweto, Alexandra and Mamelodi
there are still hungry children
playing in the streets.

Even though BEE and opportunity
knocks on every black mans door,
hungered out dogs
still prowl the streets
and gangs of criminals
do not have respect
for any law at all
and steal and kill
and society in a way
is much worst than it was before.

Even though black politicians rule
the Filemons, the Thabos and most
other black men
still do the jobs
that they did before
and most of those
that now work for the government
do not know
how to work at all.

Even though mister Nelson Mandela is free
and in Dar es-Salaam
a statue of a black man
breaks its chains
and freedom is proclaimed
to be everywhere in this country,
freedom does not really matter
when a nation still lives in poverty
and corruption makes some people
more free than others
know how to be.

20th century

Farms are burned down to the ground
and cattle slaughter just there in the fields,
while a super power forces women and children
into concentration camps to kill them there.

Railway tracks run crisscross over the country
and galloping horses and oxen pulling wagons
are replaced by roaring cars, lorries
and motorbikes
and people follow technology
as if its the new god.

When the stock exchange folds
people jump from the windows of buildings,
while they are out of their wits,
as if they have got wings.

Germans march past
and thousands in crowds
are giving a sigh heil salute

and in a peculiar way stay ignorant
about millions of Jews that are robbed
and killed,
as if they did not exist.

Bombers let bombs dropp like rain
on Britain and rockets
hit London almost unstoppable

and in the icy Russian winter
the Germans are reminded that they are humans
and from Stalingrad they are driven back

until the Russians claim some of Berlin
and half of Germany
as their domain
and almost every women there gets raped

and America drops the bomb on Hiroshima
and another time on Nagasaki
and their enemies are molten, burned and radiated

and after this war jets cross the skies,
rockets go to the moon
where man stands like a god.
 
Its the age were young boys
are shot into peaces in Vietnam, in Namibia
and Angola are sent to war,
where people loose respect for God
and try to solve everything with science,
where man becomes godly in his own eyes

and I wonder what the almighty God
thinks about this
while man is turn the earth to ruins
and are filling the cup
of the wrath of God?

A Brave Boer Boy

At Italeni the bushes come alive
and abound with a horde of Zulus,
of which the spears glitter
and some are at the peak
of a hillock
and others on the plane.

Blood and fat
are spread over their faces
and they are raging
and in a blood thirsty trance
and scream luring
and tipple with a ritteltit war dance
and clubs and shields,
are thrown into the air
while spears flash into the air.

In the cloudless blue sky
an eagle flies past screaming,
while Boer horsemen
are riding past with guns at the ready.

Father and son gallop next to each other
and the hoofs of the horses hang thundering,
as far as they go.

When the first Zulus are in striking distance
they fire at them
and the front warriors fall
and the rest turns about
and run into the bushes
and cliffs.

The commando breaks into smaller groups
and the fleeing Zulu impi
are followed
and Dirk rides side to side with his dad,
to help the Malan brothers
where they are trapped in the cliffs.

Suddenly a whole impi of murderously mad Zulus
are around them
and Piet Uyss gun
is jammed
and he stops to fix it
and out of the air a spear falls
that penetrates him.

He tell his men to ride away
but Dirkie wants to stay
and he rides only a hundred steps away,
when he hears the war cry
of  a lot of Zulus
that storm to his father.

Horse and son becomes one
and horse and son
burst galloping through the Zulus
and he shoots three down,
but he is murderously
speared from his horse
and one flintlock gun that breaks
cannot stop a horde of spears.

Father and son lies together
while a Zulu impi
dances with joy up and down
and in the bright blue sky
an Eagle screams while it passes
while death
embraces both men.

At times when a storm
rises over that long hillock
people hear horse hoofs
rushing over the earth
and a rifle that thunders,
while shadows
threaten and creep nearer
and the cry of an Eagle
sounds over the cliffs.

A Flower For The Night

In the garden we sat watching the stars,
talking softly, intimately while she smoked
and the cigarette glowed red
with her perfume and its flavour
mixing on the evening air
and around us there were flowers
opening everywhere
and some had large cups, others hanged
with petals in strings
in different hues from white, pink,
red to crimson, violet and blue.

There is a flower (whose name I know)
who showed me the most beautiful petals
and bloomed one night
in a bed besides me
in sheer nudity
with perfection in ever aspect of her body

while the full moon rose almost silver white
on a cloudless night
she was soft, firm and tender
and her lips sweet and hot
and I could not resist her,
the intimacy, the tenderness
and the love that she brought.