The Case For Revenge Against Ulrike Poem by Stephanie0Nadine Kjaerbaek

Walk into segregated, strange corners
In company of prostitutes
Rich girls gone destitute
In the sight of foreigners
Wonder about the warnings
While doing nothing
with the impulse of those
in search of an endless something
A ship that sails without a destination
A train that aimlesses crisscrosses a nation
Words on the street form modes of communication
For those harassed in the name of intimidation
Without any other avenue or backalley for honest acclamation
The broken relationships like cars with flat tires
Parked in a ditch along the highway with the flashing hazard light
That was somebody's life beneath the faded moonlight.

Like Ulrike's cause without a cause
There is nothing to seek and avenge
They take your own brain away
When you've got nothing left to say
In a cell hanging by a noose
Without a single word to say
She had her life on her terms, her way
With neither promise nor compromise
Divorce papers, intimidation
Failure at an education
When alive, the system doesn't care
And when dead, you provide amusement
For the researchers whose tolerance wears.

Dearest, why don't they free the slaves
Or do they just beat them against the law
Whenever they speak of their rights and misbehave
The grave of Channing
Can you be a pacifist and a terrorist, really
Ulrike read in the reading room
The symbols upon the walls.
She called out to her intellectual lover
and he left with her, she hoped that was all.

A ship found him after he was targeted
She left by train with the knowledge.
that he aimlessly wandered nation-to-nation
words on the street
behavior patterns of communication
for those who are harassed
by the name intimidation
without any more avenues
or the backalley's straight applause
She broke the ties such as cars with flat tires
In a trench along the roadside flashes a red light
Someone contemplated life under the stain of moonlight
as Ulrike 's revenge, without just reason.

there is nothing to ask them
when she took her revenge against them
they took away her mind
With the writer's publication taken away,
she had nothing left to say.
in cell it all depends on the contact
without even a single word to tell
her life on her terms, to which the road shall not prevail.

When nobody promises nothing
No compomise made
Divorce papers seem frightening
like the failure to educate.
When alive, the system doesn't care
With the dead, the grave provides pleasure
The interrogator's tolerance wears off
like cheap perfume from the pharmacy.

When the moderates die at the hands of the oppressed,
The fanatics gather in their martyrdom, nihilistically depressed
and claim they fight the good fight for justice as retribution
With their militancy and arms up for distribution;
And they suppress the others who did not know
about other ways of the wise who chose the way to go;
Revolution has no end, it ends itself and comes back
to haunt the fanatics and aid them in their own end.
And they some innocent along with them.
What are they to release the slave
or whether they have only beat them against the law
every time they talk about their rights and go on the rampage
on the grave of Channing
you can be loving in peace and not in terrorism, really
Ulrike called the reading room
She saw her favourite fascist symbols on the walls.
She called her intellectual lover
He came out with her, she hopes that it was all.