Daddy...can you hear me...
don't you hear me...?
I think I'm trapped
in the riddles of a dream
for mum and you I see
alone in a chapel
without me
and I call out your name
but you don't hear me
although you told me
I did it over and over
when the dark knight
entered the room
with a sharp sword
and I screamed your name, Daddy
and the dark knight panicked
because he knew
you would be there
and in his panic
his sharp sword
nicked me
but I heard the sinews,
flesh and veins tear
and the cool sword
scratch against my ribs...
I started blowing bubbles
which the dark knight
pricked and pricked
and when they burst
I heard your name
but you never came
(Hiermee 'n bietjie konteks:Ag, jy weet mos maar hoe dit gaan - die afgryslike moorde op die drie dogtertjies in Southport en die daaropvolgende oproer het my gedagtes nog gekwel toe die muse my besoek met die saadjie "in the unlikely event that we ever meet again in eternity's aeons of time, I want to ask you daddy, what did you do...?", maar dit het toe uitgekom soos op Mierleeu.
'n Pa of gemeenskap wat onder sulke omstandighede nie gewelddadig in opstand kom nie, verdien dit om van die aangesig van die planeet te verdwyn.
As mense nie bereid is om vir hulle kinders en kleinkinders te VEG nie, is hulle nie werd om 'n nageslag te hê nie.
Dit gee nie voor om enige meriete te hê nie en is 'n momentopname van my emosies op daardie tydstip - heftige gemoedsbeweging in snelskrif geskryf. Ek dink Chris s'n is soortgelyk, maar nie daarom waardeloos nie.)
