Who Remembers the British?

Who Remembers the British?

Who remembers the British?

And the homes they surrounded,

The kids they impounded,

The cheer they ungrounded,

The trumpets they sounded for the death of the Boers

Or scores more whom they doused in the drouth of the Indian south

With a mouthful of wrath and snaths in their hands

While attacking the stand of the Kenyans they planned

To incinerate man by a man

For contesting their bans on possession of land,

To disseminate hate and to iterate spates and profusions of lies, tremendous in size,

For crooks in their guise of “benevolent” tries?

Who remembers the Nama whom the Germans then seized,

Or the boys whom they hung or the girls whom they teased?

Who remembers the homes that the Belgians burnt down

Or the towns they “defanged” or the minors they drowned?

Had they a tic or a joke for a laugh?

A tune for a rhyme, flirtations perhaps?

Did their sons then become their outlets for vengeance,

The prey of their morbid and sordid intentions?

Like the Nazis aggressing against children of France

Who matured to sustain the colonial stance

Of De Gaulle and the wall between Arabs and whites

And to side with the brutes in intractable fights?

Like innocent Jews of Iraq, all beset

By their state, to escape

In a push to the west

Just to enervate kin of the caliphate,

Mates of the mosques, whose young girls lie awake,

And whose strength they abate,

And who plead for a fate of deliverance from hate?

Like the kin of Rhodesia, assaulted and framed,

All faulted and maimed,

By the villains who trained Ian Smith and his chain

Of commanders

Insane off their power,

Inane as they glowered

At blacks whom they hacked, whose rickety shacks

They all floored just to whore off the exploited and glum,

Who avoided the sum of evil’s lessons acquired

Just to sire a war and inspire the gore of Mugabe and more of his cronies galore?

Who remembers the Shah and his deals with the West,

Or SAVAK and its flock of assailants abreast

Firing at sons of the Islamic revolt

Whose neurotic adults were despotic to jolt

Mr. Rushdie for “lying” (defying their cult)?

Who remembers Mubarak and the heroes he smashed?

Who remembers El-Sisi and the pundits he trashed?

Who remembers Islamists between them who thrashed

The “iconoclast bastards” resisting their grasp?

Who remembers the smirks of the British at sea

Whose depredations in Madras forced hundreds to flee

And shattered the arts, then flattered the hearts

Of the greedy and seedy set to profit off tea?

Who remembers the thugs caning children to ire

Who emerged on their own to set townships afire?

Who remembers the Burkes and their friends of the day

Whose prudence was apt and whose push for a say

Against imperial and serial adventures and frays

Set a tenor of reason for thinkers “astray”?

Who remembers the humble who were quick to malign

The haughty attempts and the tawdry events

Set to remake the world via shoddy design?

Who remembers the Gandhis, Dorothy Days and the haze

Of prolific, pacific, and inspiring ways

In which the elders among us taught that war is a curse,

An affront to the order and jocularity’s mirth,

The seedbed of torture and a disabling push

For profits for rogues like Thatcher and Bush?

Who remembers the singing for peace for a day,

Who remembers the Bubers and the sunshine of May?

Who remembers that fruit of knowledge’s wealth

That violence, in silence, begets more of itself?

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Posted in Peace
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