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The writing is on the wall

Now the writing is on the wall
and with the umpteenth killing
a know leader is dead
and dishonoured in hatred

and now the king ask for tranquillity
as if “give me my machinegun
and a bullet for a Boer
and kill a farmer, kill a white”
has no consequence

and I wonder what he wants to do
with his machinegun

(and at the court
blacks cheer killers as heroes)

or is the plan
to kill us one by one quietly?

Or is he begging for a chance
to let the army loose
on white people?

Is he still too stupid
to read the writing
of another blood river
coming almost unstoppable?

poem by Gert Strydom
Added by Poetry Lover
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