The light has died off –
last plant up in flames,
last generator below the gauge.
From Paris to
Brussels to
Berlin,
sky still paints red in the blaze
of hate.
The fiddle broken in two,
the player is dead too,
and the only music
- still sounding ‘cross all the acres -
is a drum.
Some still struggle:
the police to hold the line,
the army to fend off decline,
and the extreme to drive some way the swine,
but we know how it is:
our injustice done right in the streets,
(What do they want, these foreign hordes?)
(Why do they carry chains, Molotovs,)
(Iron stakes and all their weapons?)
our might done wrong at their feet
(Is it really us they dare to touch?)
truly there is no hope
(Do they want to be us so much?)
in Black Europe.
(Listen to the sound on the streets and in the ghettos)
(Listen to these mercenaries, stone throwers, pyromaniacs)
(Listen to the unnamed barbarians, traitors, the rebel)
(Listen to the roaring of this fearsome force)
(Under their flag of victory and freedom)
(It’s never too late, it’s never too late)
(Let’s go! Listen, listen it’s never too late)
last plant up in flames,
last generator below the gauge.
From Paris to
Brussels to
Berlin,
sky still paints red in the blaze
of hate.
The fiddle broken in two,
the player is dead too,
and the only music
- still sounding ‘cross all the acres -
is a drum.
Some still struggle:
the police to hold the line,
the army to fend off decline,
and the extreme to drive some way the swine,
but we know how it is:
our injustice done right in the streets,
(What do they want, these foreign hordes?)
(Why do they carry chains, Molotovs,)
(Iron stakes and all their weapons?)
our might done wrong at their feet
(Is it really us they dare to touch?)
truly there is no hope
(Do they want to be us so much?)
in Black Europe.
(Listen to the sound on the streets and in the ghettos)
(Listen to these mercenaries, stone throwers, pyromaniacs)
(Listen to the unnamed barbarians, traitors, the rebel)
(Listen to the roaring of this fearsome force)
(Under their flag of victory and freedom)
(It’s never too late, it’s never too late)
(Let’s go! Listen, listen it’s never too late)
Author notes
The bracketed () text is taken from Laibach's song "Francia"
EDIT: I'd like to point out, just in case.
That I am no more racist than Laibach is natsionalistic and Hitler was an artist (an old joke).
In a list
A contest entry
- Free verse poems .. by Manoj Sanyal.
450 points, ended August 7, 2007, 21 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 8 of 8
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Ad for a former fan of Laibach, I must say I'm impressed. You've managed to express yourself well and bonus-points for showing a courage to make a Nazi out of yourself. ;D
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Different
Different. So I will give it 3 applause's for that. Very very powerful piece this is. Strong imagery too. Dark and foreboding.
All the best
Wayne


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I really didn't see the point of this. Who or what is or are Laibach? And who is the tuneless git talking over the horrid music? And why the grainy images of urban rioting? Oh yes, an Hitler was actually quite a good artist.
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O' my' this is one powerful piece you have penned my friend and the video out standing...I am very impressed! Thank you so much for sharing this with me


l


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Jokes apart...I must say that you have expressed well.
good luck
1 - 8 of 8





