Dry hot desert landing ground for demons, a park for them to play.
Over the sand and into a straw hut goes the head of an RPG.
Leaving little trace of three big friendly families.
Leaving whole villages to fry in a pan.
Of janjaweed oil, genocide in Sudan.
Into the victims skulls the arabs tore,
Merciless annihilation for the negros of Darfur.
Taste the dripping blood from the machete.
Red stains across the plains temporarily wet.
AU soldiers observe, losing their sanity in dainty killing pens.
Important, special people talk in theory at the UN.
Another ten thousand chew bullets and blades, hot black breakfasts.
Demons for a party, a magazine empties into a childs head.
No tears for him but some extremists cackle.
killing squads arrive with a distinct diabolical rattle.
The important well dressed, noble, UN officials with certificates all wonder.
If they could just avoid acting, like their great job in Rwanda.
Raped and disembowled, young women howl.
How civilised we all are, soon we´ll forget.
Their lives erased, from our precious minds and t.v sets.
(UN did nothing while suadanese africans were wiped out by their north african/arabic counterparts, the UN´s failure to act in certain cases brings us to doubt it´s very purpose. I will never forget what happened to those people and the people of rwanda and how disgusting it was to leave them to die, i´m sorry if this poem offends you.)
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