Machete salutations sweat
The rims of blades.
Sparks sprinkle fire-spittle
On the confused breath of hostile fumes
Branded Death.
Brines grow on festered fringes
Dappled with pestle-prints of
Silence,
Yet Death is borne on yawning.
......
They reside on the other side of the city
They bathe in the quiet and still fertility
They own yard-keepers and docile servants
Dogs, cats, hyenas and precious plants.
They breathe the camphorated air like us
Swallow the transparent and abominable dust
Cross over and fall in the muddy rivers like saints
Like our siblings living under the tiny tents.
......
Stalking the corridors of life,
Black, frustrated minds
Scream for release
From Christian racist moulds.
Moulds that enslave
Black independence.
Take care! White racists!
Black can be racists too.
A violent struggle could erupt
......
When, long ago, the gods created Earth
In Jove's fair image Man was shaped at birth.
The beasts for lesser parts were next designed;
Yet were they too remote from humankind.
To fill the gap, and join the rest to Man,
Th'Olympian host conceiv'd a clever plan.
A beast they wrought, in semi-human figure,
Filled it with vice, and called the thing a Nigger.
A country divided
Depressing but true
Leadership wanting
By both Red and Blue.
Faction's aplenty
Each shouting loud
The noise overwhelming
Fomenting the crowd.
......
Machete salutations sweat
The rims of blades.
Sparks sprinkle fire-spittle
On the confused breath of hostile fumes
Branded Death.
Brines grow on festered fringes
Dappled with pestle-prints of
Silence,
Yet Death is borne on yawning.
......
These are Holocaust poems and translations by Michael R. Burch.
Epitaph for a Child of the Holocaust
by Michael R. Burch
I lived as best I could, and then I died.
Be careful where you step: the grave is wide.
......
These are Holocaust poems and translations by Michael R. Burch.
Something
by Michael R. Burch
for the children of the Holocaust
Something inescapable is lost—
......
Broken glass shattered on open floor,
Glass thrown out the door.
Broken glass that breaks more the lighter you tread,
Glass that doesn’t fit society’s dress.
Broken gelass,
Broken glass that people admire like art,
Glass with pieces made to be scattered apart.
Broken glass that longs to be whole,
Being black is being born into a broken mould.
All of us should know by now that there’s one race:
The Human Race. Narcissism and nepotism
Are destroying the very febrile fibers of our society
Greed and narrow-mindedness, at an increasing space
Are eroding our soil like mites devouring the mechanism
Of our ingenuity. This is odious. What a sad and sorry pity!
Freedom is about being at liberty to do things on our own
Freedom is about being in control of our destiny
Freedom is about using our God-given talent to be
And to do whatever inspires us at dust, at dawn
......