(A psalm for the psychopaths)

Loose the anchor
Loose the tongue
Losing faith
one by one
Not in those
they call the brave
Not in markets
they call free
But in their dreams
of sovereignty.
Choose they may
to sleep or eat,
While they slay
all whom they meet.
Standing, chanting
Banners waving
In chorus singing
with delight
songs of killers
in the night.
Jericho whose walls
should fall
releasing knaves
to enslave them all
Where once Wayne
in re-runs captured
Long since Beyoncé
fuels their rapture.
A mass dissembled
A class irate
Would vainly save
their ship of state.

Dr T.P. Wilkinson writes, teaches History and English, directs theatre and coaches cricket between the cradles of Heine and Saramago. He is also the author of Church Clothes, Land, Mission and the End of Apartheid in South Africa. Read other articles by T.P..