He stood at the podium,
a storm wrapped in a suit,
spitting slogans like bullets
into the open wound of a nation.
Truth became a hostage.
Facts were bent,then broken.
History shook in its boots
as deceny was dragged from the room,
one tweet at a time.
......
He did not arrive with silence.
He came with noise,
a clamor of certainty
in place of thought.
Walls rose,
not just for borders
but between people,
between truth and spectacle.
Democracy,
......
A golden tower rises,
not from merit,but illusion.
He speaks,and the crowd sways,
not from wisdom,but spectacle.
Facts bruise his ego,
so they are cast aside
like leaves in a storm
of self-declared greatness.
......
Het begint niet met schreeuwen
maar met blikken die te lang blijven hangen
vragen die geen nieuwsgierigheid dragen
maar oordeel,verpakt in beleefdheid.
Je loopt door straten
alsof je geschiedenis op je voorhoofd draagt,
alsof elke voetstap echo's wekt
van namen die vergeten moesten worden
maar nooit werden vergeten.
......
I bought a shotgun at a flea market without knowing that it was used to commit a horrible crime.
The former owner used the shotgun to kill an entire family and I was about to have to do hard time.
The police came to my house and confiscated the shotgun.
They thought I was the guilty party, they thought I was the one.
The entire world turned against me, I was a person who billions of people hated.
People said that I should go to the gas chamber and if I did, it would be celebrated.
Even though the public had turned against me, I convinced the police to have doubts.
I told them over and over that somebody else was the killer and they decided to check it out.
They found the real killer and it wasn't long before he was placed under arrest.
The cops showed him the bodies of his victims and he broke down and confessed.
......
A golden tower rises,
not from merit,but illusion.
He speaks,and the crowd sways,
not from wisdom,but spectacle.
Facts bruise his ego,
so they are cast aside
like leaves in a storm
of self-declared greatness.
......
He stood at the podium,
a storm wrapped in a suit,
spitting slogans like bullets
into the open wound of a nation.
Truth became a hostage.
Facts were bent,then broken.
History shook in its boots
as deceny was dragged from the room,
one tweet at a time.
......
He did not arrive with silence.
He came with noise,
a clamor of certainty
in place of thought.
Walls rose,
not just for borders
but between people,
between truth and spectacle.
Democracy,
......
Het begint niet met schreeuwen
maar met blikken die te lang blijven hangen
vragen die geen nieuwsgierigheid dragen
maar oordeel,verpakt in beleefdheid.
Je loopt door straten
alsof je geschiedenis op je voorhoofd draagt,
alsof elke voetstap echo's wekt
van namen die vergeten moesten worden
maar nooit werden vergeten.
......
Hulle het nie weggekyk nie,
maar ook nie regtig na my nie.
Oë soos mure,
wat niks sê nie
maar alles weet.
Geen woorde is gespreek nie,
tog het ek gevoel
hoe sinne
in my rug geskryf word.
......