Небольшая подборка стихотворений о стране, исчезнувшей благодаря черным марксистам, белым фарисеям-либералам и обыкновенным предателям.
Cry A Beloved Country…
Your grandeur and majesty transcend all affliction
Such freshness of creation in its purest form.
Rolling hills inundated with luscious colour.
Waterfalls resemble the purity of bridal gowns.
Tones of serenity mirror every inspiration.
Each day presenting an immaculate miracle,
Ever the changeless, and yet so distinct.
Your ambiance filters through with the awakening of the sun.
Breathing auras to images of perfection.
Gardens explode with cascades of colour.
Homes exhibit their uniqueness,
Owners pride in enhancing their surroundings.
Taking advantage of the privileges bestowed by their country,
Relaxing beside the rivers, picnicking at the Lakes.
appreciating the opportunity to play
every sport under the sun, throughout the year.
No seasons to prevent, no weather to hinder.
Luxury is this life yet down comes the country,
Crying at every turn, anger sweeps the land.
So bountiful, yet so baren.
Goodbye precious country, I bid you farewell……..
Once there was security to roam without a care,
Now we exercise precaution as we move about.
Children cry out in hunger,
Their tears so bitter and harsh.
Parents driven by hunger loot the land.
Oh to mend this despair,
Where will we go, what will we do?
How can we say goodbye
To this land that has become our spirit, our very being.
Will we leave, never to return?
Searching for answers, amidst the confusion.
Decisions ever pending why?
A land so full of splendour,
Fallen through greed and lust.
Cry beloved country…
We can do no more.
«The Selous Scouts»
I used to sit by the water’s edge and watch the campfire glow
And I’d listen to the night-birds cry and feel the breezes blow.
My belly full of the meat I’d shot, I’d sit for hours and muse
As the moon came up and the shadows changed to many different hues.
I used to roam through this country wide in search of game so fleet
And I’d listen to the lions roar as they too searched for meat.
I’d make my camp on the grassy plain or in the mountains tall
And I’d friends at every farm and store and every native kraal.
But now when I near a river’s edge or roam this country wide
I’ve a lot of men to back me, and I think of them with pride.
They’re a scruffy lot to look at, but they’ve a tracker’s skill;
They’re damned fine men in a follow-up, and damned good at a kill.
The Scouts they’re called, and well-named, too, for the man whose name they bear
Was the greatest hunter in this land, and these men fear no dare!
Foe the game they hunt is vermin that would pillage, plunder and maim.
And they do their job efficiently, with never thought of fame!
The Death of Rhodesia
It was not right that you should have died,
Because of those who never tried,
To stop the ingratitude of some,
Bent on taking from all and one.
It was not right that one with a common name,
Be allowed to besmirch your fame,
Thus bringing you to your knees in shame,
And griding your beauty with a chain.
A chain of horror and deceit,
Lies, corruption, cold and heat,
Death and maiming day and night,
Bring to some an evil delight.
It was not right, Oh Rhodesia fair,
The tyranny that you and I had to share,
Your body ripped by shot and shell,
With your dying sons fighting like hell.
It ws not right that they died so young,
Before from their bodies, seed had sprung,
To give you sons and daughters strong,
Loving you, to right a wrong.
It is not right what we’ve been told,
A graven stone image, a hawk not bold,
That to which we have now been sold,
Will be the name on the notes we hold.
It is not right, but there is naught that we can do,
Except in our hearts, keep our love for you,
Rhodesia, Rhodesia, to us you’ll never die,
As long as our eyes keep staying upon the sky!
Umtali So Brave
A circle of mountains standing high,
Reaching up to the Rhodesian sky.
In the valley down below,
They’d watched the town of Umtali grow.
It was a beautiful peaceful place,
But soon that would no longer be the case.
For on that fateful starry night,
The cowards came to start their fight.
The mortar bombs they did rain down,
On that little border town.
Deafening explosions in the dead of night,
Crying children as they hid in fright.
Emergency procedures we’d been taught,
And we comforted those who comfort sought.
And so it was that at the break of day,
There was just one thing for the people to say.
They said, «God must be on our side»
Because through it all not one had died.
And later that day they were in for a treat,
As the people of Umtali looked down Main Street.
They stopped in their stride and looked dumbstruck,
For there was Miss Clarke in an army truck.
And behind our headmistress and filled with pride,
The pupils of Umtali Girls High did stride.
Rhodesian Never Die we sang,
And through the valley our voices rang.
We sent our message loud and clear,
Their mortar bombs we would not fear.
And though they could try whatever they might,
We wouldn’t give up without a fight.
The following day with a roar in the sky,
Our air force planes above did fly.
They were off to Mozambique,
We knew it was revenge they’d seek.
And as they returned they did a victory roll,
Leaving the enemy to count their death toll.
They did it just for you and me,
They did it to keep our country free.
The bombs would continue for a time so long,
But with pride the people of Umtali stood strong.
And through it all together we stood,
Both young and old as only Rhodesians could.
And so on Rhodesia’s final day,
We gathered in our great school hall to pray.
For the last time our National Anthem we sang,
And up to the heavens our voices rang.
Then is silence we stood and cried,
On that day that Rhodesia died.
We all believed we’d failed in our quest,
We all knew we’d been betrayed by the West.
All the world leaders stood with pride,
On that day that Rhodesia died.
They congratulated themselves on a job well done,
As Zimbabwe was born with the rising sun.
And the drums beat so very loud,
As Mugabe addressed the eager crowd.
He said “we’ve won our freedom today”,
He said “I’m president and I’m here to stay”,
And he made wild promises about the way,
That Zimbabwe would change on it’s first day.
Towns were renamed and streets were too,
Every time an African leader passed through.
And the cheering of the crowd as they danced in delight,
As Mugabe lit the heroes acre light.
Mercedes were ordered they couldn’t have enough,
They knew they deserved them the fight had been tough,
The West would pay for them so they didn’t need to worry,
The aid was pouring in they had to spend it in a hurry.
Mugabe was important now, he’d even met the Queen,
And of the whole world there was little left unseen.
But still Mugabe felt ill at ease,
What if someone else his power did seize.
The Matabele leaders had to go first,
It was for their blood that Mugabe did thirst.
And the whites that remained were a thorn in his side,
What to do about them he needed to decide.
But what had actually changed in the ordinary mans lives?
As a future for their children they did strive.
Inflation had spiralled out of control,
And on these people it took its toll.
And when there was a rumbling of discontent,
It was always the army that in he sent,
He silenced the people who didn’t agree,
That he’d done a good job since Zimbabwe was free.
He had to find someone else to blame,
So he started his land seizure game,
So he’s kicked the white farmers off the land,
So many farms now idle they stand.
Farm workers jobs have all gone now,
And they wonder how they’ll make a living somehow.
And now as children starve and die,
The people of Zimbabwe hang their heads and cry.
Elections were held but what a farce,
The results were in before the first vote was cast.
And as food aid continues to pour in,
Mugabe commits the ultimate sin.
For as people get to the front of the queue,
They have to prove that to Mugabe they’re true.
For if they don’t have a ZANU PF card.
Then its empty handed that they leave the yard.
And the leaders of the world stand by and sigh,
As they see the people of Zimbabwe die.
Why can’t they admit that they made a mistake,
Why can’t they do something for Zimbabwe ‘s sake.
And I wonder what stories the old people tell,
Of the time before they were living in hell.
Of a time when work was plentiful,
And the children were happy and their bellies were full.
Of days before they lived under a dictator so cruel,
In the days before they fought for Majority Rule.
Hell by another name
In my throat — a Silent Scream
Of Horror and Disgust — for sights not seen!
I’ve read your words — I know they’re true —
Of what this devil has done to you!
The Death, the Fear, the Terror, the Blood and Pain
It’s back — again and again and again!
Won’t someone please turn on the light
Please end this bloody, endless night!
This Hell, this spiral of Hate and Desire
Continues to burn in Hell’s endless fire.
The nightmare doesn’t end — It’s just the same
The Rape, The Murder, The Beatings, The Pain!
Each Day is worse than the dawn before!
Your soul screams! You can take No More!
The Devil on the stage — So bold and proud!
Adorned by medals, he boasts out loud.
Promises to uphold the law and serve You well —
Yet he confines you to this living hell
Of Death and Hunger, Torture, Pain and Fear
Everything lost — Terror constant and near!
Your world turned mad — no longer sane —
ZIMBABWE — Hell by another name!
20 000…..Not just a number
Not Leagues Under the Sea
A sea of humanity,
People, Faces, Emotions!
No smiles — Beyond tears….
Their tears are dust in the sandy road
They have no where to go
No one cares…..
They are there — on the road.
No where to go — no roof
No bed, no food, no future….
Сергей Карамаев a.k.a. Tiomkin