Poetry – Following Orders

Following Orders

Just following orders

In their crisp uniforms.

For a career and a paycheque

They’d sell their vey souls.

Without mindless goons

Doing what they’re told,

Obeying all commands,

Carrying out their roles.

No tyrant can hold power,

No despot gain control,

No fascist power

Can ever reach its goal.

Just following orders.

Opher 29.1.2021

Everywhere I look around the world I see evil people and draconian laws being propped up by a bunch of faceless riot soldiers in helmets and body armour, clutching guns and batons, firing tear gas and water cannon, firing bullets, beating people senseless.

Everywhere I look they are dragging off bloodied protestors into trucks, into jails, into torture chambers and graves.

They put on their uniforms and lose their minds.

Fela Kuti called them zombies.

They are worse than that – I think they enjoy the power, the freedom to be brutal.

Every dictator is dependent on their armies of goons – just following orders.

Poetry – Pinochet


When a dictator speaks

Everyone takes notes

But does it pay?


When a torturer

Applies the leads



But can you make it pay?


If I had my say

It’s as clear as day

There’s no way

You could make it pay


When a murderer

Uses a bucket of shit

And holds your head

Under it

On your say


Can you live with it

That way?

Opher 4.9.99

This is a poem that suggests that we should bring all the world leaders who have practiced war, genocide and torture to justice.

Nobody should be immune from justice. The tyrants and torturers should be hunted down and put on trial for their crimes.

The United Nations should be the world court. The charter of Human Rights should be sacrosanct.  No exceptions.

Pinochet was put in place by the CIA. They overthrew the elected government of Allende because they considered it too socialist. Pinochet proceeded to arrest, torture and execute all who stood against him or offered criticism, including the Folk Singer Victor Jara who was brutally tortured.

Pinochet was supported by Thatcher. He should have been put on trial and locked up.

There are thousands of similar tyrants and torturers who need to be brought to justice. There should not be anywhere safe for them to hide.

My one hope was that their conscience must plague them. They are human. No matter how desensitised they become, no matter how justified they feel, there must be a small voice that needles them with the shrieks of the tortured.

On those dark nights do they have nightmares? Can they ever be happy? Does it ever pay?

That’s what I put in this poem.