Iron Hand by Andre Izaaks
(Mariental, Namibia)
Disgruntled, dismayed in hopeless despair
Surefooted the mob makes its way.
Disowned by the masters who now run the town
The struggle kids have something to say.
(Mariental, Namibia)
Disgruntled, dismayed in hopeless despair
Surefooted the mob makes its way.
Disowned by the masters who now run the town
The struggle kids have something to say.
Destination; a bacon-strip of red, black and blue
The party some say you can trust
The demonstrators beg to differ somehow
'Said they've been treated unjust.
Suddenly they're there;
Batons, clubs, the boys in blue
There to keep the order
An old instruction, nothing new.
The kids though are restless
Fed-up with the status quo
The Force draws live ammo
Suddenly all gung-ho.
Pandemonium ensues
Both sides at full blast
Going at each other
Onlookers stand aghast.
Amidst the chaos and mayhem
A casualty, someone said,
Behold, when the dust had settled
One of the struggling lay dead.
A commission of inquiry
Walters is tasked to probe
The police shrugged shoulders
Been playing rope-a-dope.
The verdict is scathing
Beyond belief almost
Struggle kid Frieda
Was shot dead by a ghost.
Disappointed,
Justice perceived disjointed
Reviews suddenly not rave
What will be the saving grace for her children
In the land of the brave?
© André Izaaks 2015
This poem was published by Book Buddy Namibia with permission granted by Andre Izaaks of Mariental, southern Namibia, with whom sole copyright rests. This poem was published on this platform subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, published, plagiarised or otherwise circulated without Andre Izaaks' prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on subsequent readers and digital consumers.
For comments and inquiries: andreizaaks@gmail.com
The party some say you can trust
The demonstrators beg to differ somehow
'Said they've been treated unjust.
Suddenly they're there;
Batons, clubs, the boys in blue
There to keep the order
An old instruction, nothing new.
The kids though are restless
Fed-up with the status quo
The Force draws live ammo
Suddenly all gung-ho.
Pandemonium ensues
Both sides at full blast
Going at each other
Onlookers stand aghast.
Amidst the chaos and mayhem
A casualty, someone said,
Behold, when the dust had settled
One of the struggling lay dead.
A commission of inquiry
Walters is tasked to probe
The police shrugged shoulders
Been playing rope-a-dope.
The verdict is scathing
Beyond belief almost
Struggle kid Frieda
Was shot dead by a ghost.
Disappointed,
Justice perceived disjointed
Reviews suddenly not rave
What will be the saving grace for her children
In the land of the brave?
© André Izaaks 2015
This poem was published by Book Buddy Namibia with permission granted by Andre Izaaks of Mariental, southern Namibia, with whom sole copyright rests. This poem was published on this platform subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, hired out, published, plagiarised or otherwise circulated without Andre Izaaks' prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on subsequent readers and digital consumers.
For comments and inquiries: andreizaaks@gmail.com
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