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Through the eyes of a Field Coronet (Epic)

Introduction

In the kaki coloured tent in Umbilo he writes
his life’s story while women, children and babies are dying,
slowly but surely are obliterated, he see how his nation is suffering
while the events are notched into his mind.

Lying even heavier on him is the treason
of some other Afrikaners who for own gain
have delivered him, to imprisonment in this place of hatred
and thoughts go through him to write a book.

Prologue

The Afrikaner nation sprouted
from Dutchmen,
who fought decades without defeat
against the super power Spain

[...] Read more

poem by Gert Strydom
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Andrew Jones

I hate that Andrew Jones; he'll breed
His children up to waste and pillage.
I wish the press-gang or the drum
With its tantara sound would come,
And sweep him from the village!

I said not this, because he loves
Through the long day to swear and tipple;
But for the poor dear sake of one
To whom a foul deed he had done,
A friendless man, a travelling cripple!

For this poor crawling helpless wretch,
Some horseman who was passing by,
A penny on the ground had thrown;
But the poor cripple was alone
And could not stoop--no help was nigh.

Inch-thick the dust lay on the ground
For it had long been droughty weather;

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poem by William Wordsworth
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As Previously Advantaged, Now Disadvantaged

we are humbly sorry that our ancestors
sailed with ships from Europe
to discover other continents,
putting their intelligence and advanced
technology into good practice,
discovering the Cape of Good Hope
and developing this country
to the best of their ability and knowledge
while your ancestors migrated from the big lakes
in central Africa, under chief Dlamini
from eMbo killing the other local inhabitants
as far as they were going,
even wiping them out after they had settled.

We are humbly sorry that our ancestors
took you from the bush, tried to teach you
Christian values and a Christian religion,
instead of worshiping to ancestral spirits,
dead stones of which you believe the silence
have greater meaning and more depth

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poem by Gert Strydom
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Take It Back

By: jimmy buffett, matt betton
Open season on the open seas and
Captain says no prisoners please
Skull and crossbones on a background of black
We aint stealin were just takin back
Chorus:
We aint stealin were just takin back
Very simple plan of attack
Its our job and a labor of love
Take it home to the up above
We aint stealin were just takin back
Very simple statement of fact
Call it pillage or call it plunder
Were takin it back from them boys down under
Hit us hard, took our treasure
That was the worst thing they could do
It will be our great pleasure
To take it back from that captain kangaroo
Yo ho ho, and a bottle of suds
Its a pirates fight we choose

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song performed by Jimmy Buffett
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The Pillage Hangman - Parody LONGFELLOW - The Village Blacksmith

Under a spreading chestnut tree
The village smithy stands;
The Smith, a mighty man is he,
With large and sinewy hands;
And the muscles of his brawny arms
Are strong as iron bands.

His hair is crisp, and black, and long,
His face is like the tan;
His brow is wet with honest sweat,
He earns whate'er he can
And looks the whole world in the face
For he owes not any man.

Week in, week out, from morn till night,
You can hear his bellows blow;
You can hear him swing his heavy sledge,
With measured beat and slow,
Like a sexton ringing the village bell,
When the evening sun is low.

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poem by Jonathan Robin
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To admit there is no god is to provide free license to pillage and rape with clear conscience.

quote by Eli Khamarov
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Industrial Meltdown

birthplace birthright
is entire earth sphere
global village pillage

is threat to race survival
global warming tidal
ice melt hurricane floods

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Dictatorships do cut down on rape, and pillage, not to mention sexual harassment, by the simple expedient of sending people to labour camps for life or cutting off their hands without a trial.

quote by Barbara Amiel
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The Granite Mafia

The people were chased out of their village
for the granite barons, stones to pillage
from the deep of the earth
by the mafia with mirth.
Lands of the cops were grabbed to stop tillage.

The people fled their homes fearing slinging bombs
and the workers who tress-pass in houses without norms.

poem by Rajendran Muthiah
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Marauders

We were like marauders rushing to a raid.
To pillage, plunder and take,
From each other in those days.
In a conquest to just feed lust,
With an unbearable urging,
To strip and quiver bare.

Bragging which acts we would perform,
Before done.
And teasing with our eyes,
Of what could be expected.
And then we slept in mid-caress holding.
Too exhausted to live up to the hype.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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