As willows weep along the walls
And fall mums start to bloom
The wind still echoes hallowed
From Nanking's souls of doom
With little food and daily raids
There was no safety zone
From genocide of men and
For none were left alone
Their butchered bodies
Lay piled in ponds and roads
In bloody streets a river there
Flowed heavy 'neath the loads
This holocaust was filmed that
Priest John Magee did plod
Now as his son he too could say
He "touched the face of God".
After that moment a gray dust covers all
Invading the senses, casting a veil of despair
The prince of darkness will have his due
Oh cry ye fools, of this hell be you aware....
And what of the poets with blood on their pens
Huddled in dark corners, trying to understand
Making rhymes for only the night wind to read
In the end a homage of heart to a beloved land.....
Stark winds blowing across the fields and streets
The grave of that honorable rabbi is covered with leaves
Very difficult to live up to such piety
But some grasp that the essence is what must be grasped
Instead of the "outer shell"
As I pick up a pen
to express myself
I must tell you
Fanaticism is not good - not good at all
(special thanks to a friend who shared this tribute to Solomon Mahlangu)
Solomon Mahlangu: My Blood will Nourish the Tree that will Bear the Fruits of Freedom:
Solomon Mahlangu was trained as an MK soldier with a view to later rejoining the struggle in the country.
He left South Africa after the Soweto Uprising of 1976 when he was 19 years old, and was later chosen to be part of an elite force to return to South Africa to carry out a mission commemorating the June 16th 1976 Soweto student uprising.
After entering South Africa through Swaziland and meeting his fellow comrades in Duduza, on the East Rand (east of Johannesburg), they were accosted by the police in Goch Street in Johannesburg.
In the ensuing gun battle two civilians were killed and two were injured, and Mahlangu and Motloung were captured while acting as decoys so that the other comrade could go and report to the MK leadership.
Motloung was brutally assaulted by the police to a point that he suffered brain damage and was unfit to stand trial, resulting in Mahlangu facing trial alone.
He was charged with two counts of murder and several charges under the Terrorism Act, to which he pleaded not guilty.
Though the judge accepted that Motloung was responsible for the killings, common purpose was argued and Mahlangu was found guilty on two counts of murder and other charges under the Terrorism Act.
On 15 June 1978 Solomon Mahlangu was refused leave to appeal his sentence by the Rand Supreme Court, and on 24 July 1978 he was refused again in the Bloemfontein Appeal Court.
Although various governments, the United Nations, International Organizations, groups and prominent individuals attempted to intercede on his behalf, Mahlangu awaited his execution in Pretoria Central Prison, and was hanged on 6 April 1979.
His hanging provoked international protest and condemnation of South Africa and Apartheid.
In fear of crowd reaction at the funeral the police decided to bury Mahlangu in Atteridgeville in Pretoria.
On 6 April 1993 he was re-interred at the Mamelodi Cemetery, where a plaque states his last words:
‘My blood will nourish the tree that will bear the fruits of freedom.
Tell my people that I love them.
They must continue the fight.’
Mahlangu died for a cause!
The Struggle Continues…
(special thanks to a friend who shared this tribute to Solomon Mahlangu)
not a Jewish lie
the Holocaust is for real
you can still hear screams
Analysis read—and wronged—and pulled
Lulled into our idealistic mess
Words no longer ours but hung distress
Farced in carnality—they are ruled
Soundness remains what we will believe
And all else is but tethered nonsense
Clinched tightly in unfriendly absence
Overcome in overwrought relief
The judges judge on behalf of tongue
When ears and eyes close achingly tight
And perhaps in woe we find them right
For witches sought and bound must be hung!
Lower than the softened dirt that cures
Where worms in halves blindly come to eat
The higher crush with tormented feat
And the suns scorch what is left of hers
Answers never tried—and cured to hide
They look to superior sources
The rotten are the strongest forces
Ripened and toughened with bequeathed pride
Contest: Metrical verse
Sponsor: Giorgio Veneto
A mountain of shoes,
Tower the valley of clothes:
Inspired by the Auschwitz Shoes
Southern love, Southern hate
they are the opposite of each other
I have memories of both in the State I love dearly.
Going back to a old plantation home in the South ,
as a child I played in the many Pecan trees , collecting baskets upon baskets of fresh pecans .
the smell of fresh pies , of pecan and rhubarb , oh my Mom took the prize .
One afternoon , School was out , it was in summer , reminisce of fresh lemonade
My Mother called my name 'child come in here now " in the middle of the day '
she many times called and I would hide in this paradise full of honeysuckle and pecans .
This time the tone was one of fear , and alert , "come inside Now"
I ran to the top of the old plantation stairs to my Mother .
I saw in the distance what seemed to be a parade in the day .
This time the parade was of people in "white sheets ' going door to door,
just like salesman they would knock , they would greet .
my Mother said " We have no time for this here " leave now , and leave fast. yours is only teachings of Discriminate .
she sent them quickly away , giving back the paper , the invite
These people dressed in funny white sheets .
only later I discovered what this was about
Your Parents do their very best , to keep any Evil out .
These people are not just from the South , they are all over the World
Leaving me that day with no doubt . Make the choice you have , we all do
Remember Gods Children are innocent , and many a color , they could be Blue ~
The time has come your passing has happened
Your desire to live was never dampened
The great Scottish debate for you to stay or go
I screamed yes, but the haggis of your heart said no
The split of our nation represents the split in my heart
But now the time has come and we must part
Much like our dreams of reaching the sixth form debate final
“Page 32” you crowbarred into conversation
infuriating Ash to the point of self-immolation
your self important boasts of superior knowledge
turned my my weakened soul into watery porridge
You were not a stereotype, despite what many said
Unlike most Scots, you ate more than simply fried bread
Your challenge with crackers so lascivious that I lost my thread
And since then I yearned for a way to do more than simple observe your bed
But your aggression was endearing, cutting and clear
Tearing opponents to shreds, speaking to all that will hear
But I was behind a glass wall, simply shedding a tear
As a limp invitation to a party was the closest I could near
I sit here now and remember our lark
Our time together, characterized by a battle with a shark
The verbal brutality was shocking that situation was stark
But your retorts were quick witted, but often loaded with snark
This took so long to write as my heart still bares scars
An open mouth like yours could give hour long seminars
Yet you still saved me from being bundled into one of Bennet’s cars
Yet I must hope that we meet again, underneath heaven’s stars
I traveled the world
And though it is vast
I still need a truth
That would always last
Studied some books
And know my mind too
The whole time God knows
Only love will do
Studied Religion and
Forever I found
Even God loves Love
On this I expound
My Mom in my life
Always there for me
Taught me that true love
Would there always be
Love doesn't judge man
And I'm very free
From color or type
Of good company
True love doesn't die
"Oh Love, you'll abound,"
Despite all the bad
You'll stand your ground
Love's the Law for me
We are always free
Love keeps me alive
This is Love's decree.