The righteous ones

[DieterM]

We stomp, stomp, stomp down many roads,
And we have many faces.
Ill-matched we seem,
But our purpose is the same.
We fight your filthy freedoms:
Of speech, of press, of faith.
We call you narrow-minded,
You who are not of our mind.
We name you bigot and intolerant,
We spit on your democracies
And take humanity as an insult.
It’s schools we hate, and brains,
And we abhor vaginas, penises,
And couples holding hands.
We throw new tea into new ports,
We march against false marriages,
Proud and bold,
burn flags, behead the messengers.
If needs be, we’ll rewrite our Books.
We do not sing, we do not draw,
We only march and howl.
We don’t debate, for we’re the only ones
Who know what’s right or wrong,
And you had better learn our ways,
Because the only foreign language that we speak
Is bombs and guns.
To those who don’t obey,
We send out fourteen-year-old-girls
Girdled with nitroclycerine,
And we will sell your wives,
Your daughters and your sisters
Like cattle.
Amongst you, we have potent allies:
The silent nodders,
The “but”-sayers,
All who believe that those we kill
Deserve their fate, their doom.
And when we scream the name of God,
We mean ourselves. Ourselves alone.

[Hawkman]

Stop. Close your eyes. Take a deep breath. Look for that quiet space - reach for the void. Find a moment of stillness. Paint pictures. Don't just yell what's on your mind. Remember. Remember what a poem is. Convey feelings, emotions and images, tastes, smells sights and sounds that give the reader pause and make him think. Show, don't tell.

Now start again.

Live and be well - H

[YesNo]

I don't think the problem is between showing and telling, but with the grievance message. Although it describes righteousness, it attempts to generate a counter-righteousness in those opposed to the "we" in the poem. That's the problem.

One of the messages that Lee Jampolsky mentioned in "Walking Through Walls", which I am currently going through, is to hold no grievances. I think this would apply to characters in fiction and poetry as well.

[Delta40]

what I get is a personal perception of what extremism looks like. A foot trying on a different shoe.

[DieterM]

I admit, dear Hawkman (btw, spell correction still wants to transform you into a fierce Hackman, lol), that this is not one of my best tries. FYI, most of the lines bubbled up in my mind Saturday night, somewhere between midnight and two o'clock, when a silly neighbour making too much noise woke me up. The line kept turning in my head until I finally found sleep again—hence the anger.

This said (and even if maybe it's of no interest to you) this poem is, I think, much too brainy to be a good poem. You're right, there's no emotion except (self-righteous) anger and, as YesNo wrote, grievance. Before attempting to write I should have waited for that moment of "void" you refer to in order to be capable of finding the necessary "distance" (I hope you get what I mean) for writing poetry about the matter at hand.

And yes, Delta, it's me as a foot trying on a different shoe. I always try to understand why others act and react the way they do, even when it comes to extreme acts. Maybe this is my limit? I've never understood and probably will never understand (physical) violence. Would you believe me if I said I've never ever fought a fight, physically I mean, in my whole life? Not even as a kid. I have destroyed things (I remember an ashtray flying through my bedroom because I thought that would ease my frustration and anger; of course it didn't), but I've never laid hands on anyone.

Now, I could erase this poem as some others do when they're not satisfied with the result. Well, I won't. Three of you have reacted and commented, therefore I deem it impolite to take out what you've so kindly reacted to/commented on.

PS: still am feeling lots of anger, even two weeks after the horrid deed. But well, can't fight my horoscope, now, can I? It warned me that I'd be a very angry not-so-young man until June. Please bear with me—but I know I can count on you ;-)

[free]

The content sounds scary, but the style is in accordance with it. Like a march against the described - a hidden message of the poem. Well done.