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Two New Poems

164 words

To Apeneck Sweeney

In what you write and ask
I smell the reek of herring,
matzo balls . . . Your task
is subtle, almost daring,

to feign to be a kook,
“a white supremacist.”
No random or stray fluke
is your each phrase, the gist

of which is to smear us
in the foul broth and mire
of each Talmudic word.

But no, you won’t steer us,
only kindle fire
in photos grey and blurred.

22 November 2017


Ratko Mladić

Shout Ratko, shout out loud in court.
Shout at the judge indifferent
to Europe’s fate. Another horde
invades her shores and all dissent

ends with a sentence and a cell.
Shout Ratko, watch the old streets burn,
watch the cities go to hell.
In Brussels they refuse to learn.

Pity our mothers, wives and daughters
left to fend off “refugees.”
The crescent’s come across the waters,
like the plague or dark disease.

Shout Ratko, shout out loud in court.
The rich in spirit judge you lord.

22 November 2017

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  1. nineofclubs
    Posted November 23, 2017 at 10:27 pm | Permalink


    On TV they’re saying that times are still tough;
    we all have to do more with less
    And you hear us complain but they never explain
    How the fuck we got into this mess.

    The Morning Show says that free trade is the thing
    But I’m not sure if Kochie’s aware
    That the factory’s gone and like old mother Hubbard
    My cupboard and stomach are achingly bare.

    Jeff Kennet’s on now and he says it’s our fault
    Our wages, conditions, or both
    But they’ve thought up a plan that will turn it all round
    We’ve just got to have faith in ‘growth’

    On TV they’re saying that racism’s wrong
    and migrants are needed you see
    To pump up demand for new money and loans
    And rescue our economy

    But back on my street that’s just not how it goes
    What’s lost is too great to describe
    Replaced by the Babel of multitude tongues
    I long for my own true white tribe

    On TV they warn about radical talk;
    I turned the thing off I confess
    ’cause what I think is true; they have no bloody clue
    How to get the fuck out of this mess.

    • nineofclubs
      Posted November 23, 2017 at 10:49 pm | Permalink

      Mladic is worth listening to. A socialist nationalist (but not a Nazi) who faithfully served his people and was crucified for it. Encouraged by Western powers to restrain Islamic fundamentalism, then taken down for his methods. Presumably the correct approach to Muslim radicals is to talk tough, but then allow hordes of middle eastern immigrants in to ‘reduce wages pressure’ or some such. Poor commie Ratko, he just never got it..

    • Leo Yankevich
      Posted November 24, 2017 at 1:36 am | Permalink


      There are some good phrases and lines in your poem.

      I particularly like:

      “That the factory’s gone and like old mother Hubbard
      My cupboard and stomach are achingly bare.”

      • nineofclubs
        Posted November 24, 2017 at 2:04 am | Permalink

        Thank you. There are a number of Australian references but I think the meaning is clear enough. Jeff Kennet is what Americans might call a cuckservative. Kochie is a media corporate sock puppet.

    • nineofclubs
      Posted November 26, 2017 at 1:14 pm | Permalink

      Thank you Pietas. If Dr Seuss were alive today, I’m sure he’d be gratifyingly appalled by the analogy – and the fact that he’d been mentioned on Counter Currents at all. At school (many decades ago) we were required to memorise poetry by people like Henry Lawson and Banjo Patterson. Their use of rhyme, metre and alliteration predated Seuss and have stuck with me, I guess. Thanks again. I appreciate your kind words.

  2. Posted November 25, 2017 at 4:27 pm | Permalink

    Your poems have been an inspiration to me personally and caused me to write more.

    I’m trying to start a New Right poetry blog at hopefully you and any Counter-Currents readers who see this will check us out!

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