Sunday, May 11, 2008

Modern Times

It is said we live in modern times,
In the civilised year of 'seventy-nine',

But when I look around, all I see,
Is modern torture, pain, and hypocrisy.

In modern times little children die,
They starve to death, but who dares ask why?
And little girls without attire,
Run screaming, napalmed, through the night afire.

And while fat dictators sit upon their thrones,
Young children bury their parents' bones,

And secret police in the dead of the night,
Electrocute the naked woman out of sight.

In the gutter lies the black man, dead,
And where the oil flows blackest, the street runs red,
And there was He who was born and came to be,
But lived and died without liberty.

As the burocrats, speculators and presidents alike,
Pin on their dirty, stinking, happy smiles tonight,
The lonely prisoner will cry out from within his tomb,

And tomorrow's wretch will leave its mother's womb!

Bobby Sands, died May 5th, 1981


  1. Wow he really packs a punch in this one. It reminds me a bit of Ani Difranco's "Self Evident". It seems one's best poetry comes out of pain most times.

  2. Quite, Janice. And times keep being modern. Just replace'seventy-nine' with '2008'.

  3. Sands was truly a man of immense conviction and this poem gives evidence that he was so completely in tune with his thoughts and principles.

    This meticulously, apt judgment of the world as he knew was no doubt bought about by the pain that he physically suffered.

    What is even more painful is that the world is unlikely to ever change.