#181 ·
THE BITTER TRUTH ABOUT THE VALLEY
I watch the sky over the valley
looking toward the old chapel spire
in the silence of the holy grounds
scented by frankincense and myrrh
my tears fuel this prayer
for the truth, if God grants us grace.
Goran Zekić, a man of noble spirit
was chosen as a new leader
he gathered the people from the rural towns
from those small outposts, all across the county.
He was their voice, three times sent forth
so the people embraced him close
to shield him from the new killers
those brutal remnants of the old regime.
But in the dawn of ninety-two
on that fateful May morning
as the red sun began to rise
they shot him through his brave chest.
He was killed by a chosen gang
of extremists and former partisans
the greatest criminals of our kin
heirs to bloodstained hands.
The ghosts of past dictators
horns don't lie, even when men do
because they shared a secret kiss
between the old radicals and the revolutionaries.
In the prisons of thirty-five
seeking to sanctify themselves against our people
they turned to the devil for help
to destroy the nest of eagles
the glorious lineage of our founding fathers
descendants of the great pioneers.
To Zekić, the leader of the valley folk
my comrade from the early days
I write this poem seeking the truth
who took your life, oh eminent son?
It was the grandson of an old insurgent
chosen by the July militants
a figurehead and pride
of the greatest traitors to our nation.
The villains, the corrupt, the henchmen
the shadows of the old guard.
Evil seeds are sown with even worse rot
so idiots lead the nation forward
criminal gangs of a certain generation
ensuring there is no salvation for us.
Doing evil while hoping for good
falling like flies, time and again
pushing our people toward ruin
dealing in terror and corruption.
Seeking fortune in blood money
while drinking the blood of brothers and sons.
Instead of praying to the Almighty
they sell weapons and drugs
from overseas militias and foreign lands
the blood money flows into our cities.
My brothers, there is no blessing
from such criminal hands and hearts
the dark leader prepares a grim ritual
as the devil neither sleeps nor dreams.
They train them in the mountain passes
caring nothing for honor or reputation
behind the backs of the regular army
the rogue elements and the militia.
With no dignity and no military honor
they rounded up many innocent civilians
killing them with hands bound tight
bringing shame upon our entire heritage.
Turning the victims into executioners
and turning our own people against each other
creating monsters and murderers
that is how traitors operate.
So we might be despised by the world
while the July loyalists walk the streets of Washington
there is no justice or court for them
as they sell everything for a quick buck.
Brothers, use your heads
reclaim the glory of your ancestors
let your faces shine bright again
by purging the gangs and the killers.
Arrest them and throw them in jail
so the honor of our people is restored.
Honor and integrity are above all else
remember those wise words.
As the old elder once said
about brave character and nature
during the trial of the great commander
at the white manor of the leaders.
How they used the governors and the chiefs
to avoid tarnishing their ancestral names
it is easy to execute one who is bound
but much easier to lose one's reputation.
And when brotherly vengeance haunts you
why does no one among you decide
to meet the commander on the field of battle?
For do heroes not sanctify themselves through courage?
Speak wisely, and you shall gain glory
and preserve the memory of the commander
now he is honored by ancestors and descendants
respected by all, regardless of creed.
I watch the sky over the valley
looking toward the old chapel spire
in the silence of the holy grounds
scented by frankincense and myrrh
my tears fuel this prayer
for the truth, if God grants us grace.
Goran Zekić, a man of noble spirit
was chosen as a new leader
he gathered the people from the rural towns
from those small outposts, all across the county.
He was their voice, three times sent forth
so the people embraced him close
to shield him from the new killers
those brutal remnants of the old regime.
But in the dawn of ninety-two
on that fateful May morning
as the red sun began to rise
they shot him through his brave chest.
He was killed by a chosen gang
of extremists and former partisans
the greatest criminals of our kin
heirs to bloodstained hands.
The ghosts of past dictators
horns don't lie, even when men do
because they shared a secret kiss
between the old radicals and the revolutionaries.
In the prisons of thirty-five
seeking to sanctify themselves against our people
they turned to the devil for help
to destroy the nest of eagles
the glorious lineage of our founding fathers
descendants of the great pioneers.
To Zekić, the leader of the valley folk
my comrade from the early days
I write this poem seeking the truth
who took your life, oh eminent son?
It was the grandson of an old insurgent
chosen by the July militants
a figurehead and pride
of the greatest traitors to our nation.
The villains, the corrupt, the henchmen
the shadows of the old guard.
Evil seeds are sown with even worse rot
so idiots lead the nation forward
criminal gangs of a certain generation
ensuring there is no salvation for us.
Doing evil while hoping for good
falling like flies, time and again
pushing our people toward ruin
dealing in terror and corruption.
Seeking fortune in blood money
while drinking the blood of brothers and sons.
Instead of praying to the Almighty
they sell weapons and drugs
from overseas militias and foreign lands
the blood money flows into our cities.
My brothers, there is no blessing
from such criminal hands and hearts
the dark leader prepares a grim ritual
as the devil neither sleeps nor dreams.
They train them in the mountain passes
caring nothing for honor or reputation
behind the backs of the regular army
the rogue elements and the militia.
With no dignity and no military honor
they rounded up many innocent civilians
killing them with hands bound tight
bringing shame upon our entire heritage.
Turning the victims into executioners
and turning our own people against each other
creating monsters and murderers
that is how traitors operate.
So we might be despised by the world
while the July loyalists walk the streets of Washington
there is no justice or court for them
as they sell everything for a quick buck.
Brothers, use your heads
reclaim the glory of your ancestors
let your faces shine bright again
by purging the gangs and the killers.
Arrest them and throw them in jail
so the honor of our people is restored.
Honor and integrity are above all else
remember those wise words.
As the old elder once said
about brave character and nature
during the trial of the great commander
at the white manor of the leaders.
How they used the governors and the chiefs
to avoid tarnishing their ancestral names
it is easy to execute one who is bound
but much easier to lose one's reputation.
And when brotherly vengeance haunts you
why does no one among you decide
to meet the commander on the field of battle?
For do heroes not sanctify themselves through courage?
Speak wisely, and you shall gain glory
and preserve the memory of the commander
now he is honored by ancestors and descendants
respected by all, regardless of creed.
