They Hide Behind Their Kind Of Democracy Poem by Gert Strydom

They hide behind their kind of democracy,
where the barrel of a gun, a gleaming knife
or knobbed baton speaks an own language,
to affirm the rights to life and possessions

while using human rights and socialism
to mask their much more darker demonic ways,
they break down culture, languages and religion
playing on the destructive need to possess

while scrapping merit, honour
and integrity along the way,
while opening the country’s borders
for every criminal in Africa.

They live in well-protected palaces,
with people serving and following
them like gods,
while they decide over the lot

of minor nations,
declare that AIDS does not exist
and make false promises
about farms and houses to their followers

while they are chasing after money, power and esteem
and herding women into their polygamist harems,
while a whole country is caught in the matrix
where robbery and killing is at the order of the day.