Hate

Hate.

Torch light flickers over university grass,
where imposing bronzes are as hollow as their deliberate message,
rewriting history and celebrating ignorance,
demonising orange pickers and glorifying slavers.

Blood & soil chants,
fat Nazis in combat pants,
fake fatherland hero’s,
cowards in cheap swastikas,
shaming Old Glory with runes of death,
grasping at history which never was,
for a future that will never be.

From Omaha beach to Virginia,
people died to resist the last tidal wave,
these thugs always so quick with a list,
automatic rifle army surplus lynch mobs,
longing to burn flesh instead of crosses.

Failed weekend warriors,
praying to Jesus while spitting on Jesús,
beer bellied Teutons emboldened by arch degenerates,
wizards, grand dragons and clowns,
the manipulation of the poor and ignorant by the most deviant rich.

In a garden store Nuremberg rally,
desperate for their boot to find somebodies neck,
to stand for a moment above another,
for that instant feel so superior in a miserable wasted life,
in fevered white supremacy dreams.

Fascism emboldened, suited and booted,
standing in rows on ordinary streets,
militias in chest rigs armed to teeth,
decrying all signs of past progress,
dragging the world back to the past,
when segregation was instituted and apartheid was openly preached.

2 thoughts on “Hate

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