Fairy Tales Poem by Gert Strydom

As a child I did think:
when I am grown up
I will change the world,
will easily change the things that are wrong

and the fairy tales of bewitched women,
about parents that do not care,
the cruel wolf
will then disappear.

I will give catapults, pellet-guns
and bicycles to children,
will teach them to love nature
so that they will know wild flowers and fruit

but growing up came too quickly
with the government
calling me up to the defence force,
where a rifle was pressed into my hands
and I was send to dangerous places

where the enemy did bring destruction about
with AK-47's,
RPG-7 rocket grenades
and landmines,
did aim at me to kill

and my children were rebellious,
did shoot at the weavers in the garden,
did break the forks of their bicycles
by driving up and down sidewalks,

did play rugby at the sought after school
in the best teams,
but did right there
buy drugs from the drug-peddlers,
did leave the school at times

and the world did change as if it was loosing its head,
did become much worse that the previous fairy tales
with black robbers that are robbing, torturing,
raping and murdering everywhere.