Cronulla Says "Eureka" (The Story Untold)

Ben

The following is an extract from along work by a young Sutherland Shire poet..

Wheels of momentum steel and fire,
Caged in a prison of time,
Unknown to the day in Jesus,
In clothes not worth a crime;
Conforming the world of a rotten law,
Primitive and outdated in time,
Confused in the might and power of war.

Eternally dammed under a haunting
Written hand - in a manual before born,
Cursed to live a wasteful life untold,
Bowing heads of a thorn.
Ordered by belief, no feelings of thought,
With freedoms of a slave,
Brought about by altered wisdom,
Lonely and confused unworthy to save.

Mohammed's men amounted fifteen,
Armed a march to Cronulla's Beach,
In the new land travelled, all must
Perish and burn in dieing blood of a leach,
It was a planned conquest to
Weaken the Australian sole,
Force us in to a shell of fear,
Shattering dreams of a whole.

Will we fall or will we rise -
A choice of life and death,
We must stay together firm and strong,
Squeezing lives for breath;
For the soil in which inherited,
Will be stolen by Satan's believers,
Preaching peace and wisdom, acting another,
These are the true deceivers.

An army waited upon the beach,
Judged by them to be their's,
Victims were targeted for termination,
As it was scanned for icon wears,
Between the flags cheerful faces were
Enjoying a day in the sun,
Kids playing like Bradmen and Bowling like
Warne was all so bright and fun.

Three Lifesavers young and pure at heart,
Just finishing their work hours,
Patrolled the beach with honour,
In their yellow and red powers;
The flags flew safe and secure,
Towards the paradise it knew,
Belittled by the worries of the
Nightmare near to brew.

A blooded sword was followed by path,
By Lifesavers chainless and free,
Waves crash and roared surging louder
And stronger to give warning of the three;
And of the bloodshed on the rise,
To stab ones heart and nation -
As a sleeping enemy left awakened,
I fear of all in relation.

Their innocent eyes and steps were clearly monitored,
As a battle ground had been chosen;
Enemy eyes locked on burning hatred and disgust,
Awaited the coming war standing frozen -
Confused of a blood stained track,
Suddenly the guards were surrounded,
With no where to run but back.

Enemy movements were of machines, rattling
Gold chains to the beat of the drum of war,
The great wall of Islam was raised,
As cold shadows cast to the floor,
Exits now blocked, choices were
Made to kill or to be killed;
Funeral cheques were written,
And to mother they be billed.

In English hacked and broken,
Like a tree by lightning struck,
These periods of custom spitting,
Were sure to make one duck.
"Get off our beach, this is our beach,
We own it!" the Lifesavers were told;
This sacred sand, sells for a price not sold,
And can never be bought to hold.

For even the most capable of men,
Were sure to meet their days end,
With odds stacked against five to one,
Outnumbered and unarmed to make amend.
With each fateful blow and knock, a knife
Sharper then the gates of hell ripped through,
Poisoning patriotic hearts and minds,
Hunting for vital organs lurking deeper true.

Homepage