They raised their arm in Nazi salute,

in childish effect, the stupid vanity

driven action of the absurd

and the easily led, upon the beauty

of St. George’s Hall and my body

shivered with the cold of a February day

in which had turned sour; in which took on

a desperate meaning

as we are once more confronted

by the idle in thought few,

by those that pander to the flag

and who don’t understand

its consequence and the reasons

for making sure they are to be seen

as boys, idiotic boys whose mothers

never told them that to raise

a salute in such a way was to imply

that they just didn’t belong to

the Human Race, that their humanity

was forever scarred.

Then, to wear a mask, to hide

behind a blanket of abuse

and smashed bottles, installing fear

in good people is how it always starts…

 

Ian D. Hall 2016