Marching in with heraldic flags of Stallions
68 virgin men entering the shadow land of
the cape flats
untested troops with shivering spines and
and polished batons
Commissioned to contain the barbaric world
of the desperate
to protect a 350 million rand investment
of a glossy enamelled mall of buying desire
keeping a visible line of admittance for those
that quenched their lust with credit or cash
drawing the muscle border of private property
keeping out the rabble and those with dodgy eyes
me a mere soldier, captain of discipline knew no
economic motivation or feelings of the missionary
keeping to the principles of war and conduct
of armed forces, only offering the sharp end of the sword.
Halting the hungry, desolate loitering beggars
Cuffing thieves, pick pockets and robbers
Hunting down hijackers and subduing
the anger of gangster attacks.
Business was booming with a million feet a month
treading the beauty of the Promenade.
The virgin men became broken as a pair of trampled
Shoes, creased with lines and sun burst broken faces.
Gunshot wounds
Knife stabs
White knuckle assaults
Losing allot of epaulettes under those white bloodied broad sheets
Lying quite still and booking them absconded till Armageddon
End of business and a collection of twenty company issued shirts
discarding the days one, splattered with the testimony of a hard day
before leaving visiting the prison and hearing out of that harvest the thundering
moans of despair and remorse.
I arrive at home and wish for the welcoming embrace of wife and
Child
“How was work today “my wife would ask
I would say “just a normal day, no incidents “
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem