Copy of Damian Robin: Party Terrorists

Disguised and tooled-up army terrorists

Floor trapped citizens and lash their wrists.

Police in protest clothes mash down the young:

Trojan houseflies on a honeyed tongue.

Wild triad sticks swish tee-shirts wet with cries,

Innocents in subways caught by spies.

At pressure points sit Hong Kong socialists

Ticking wishes on the Party list.

Damian Robin: Killing for That Task

Your communism is the silence of the cage

Your freedom's immature at 70 years of age

Your mob is garbed in padded uniform and shield

Smoke bombs damage eyes directly and bleed tears

Your hammer sticks are what your paid-for demons weald

Your bullets and your water cannon can't wash years

All in the name of keeping power in a mask

The same as 70 years of killing for that task

Damian Robin: Young Enforcers

Fresh-faced behind a screen of sweat and grease,

The ones who joined to earn and keep the peace;

Young enforcers with their orders stamped

Fast and hard to keep their free thoughts cramped.

They hardly see through smoke and masks the eyes

Of other young ones who they don’t despise;

Have more in common with than is allowed;

More kindred spirits than an angry crowd.

Damian Robin: We Watch the CCP Watch Hong Kong

The Party lines up troops

Who itch and sweat.

They know that armed-up numbers

Are no threat.

They can't hold promises

Unless they're yours.

To break your laser spirits

They break laws.

A fifty year change-over

Was the quote

To keep your currency

And let you vote.

They've strung up candidates

With Party spam,

Hold puppets miming sheep

Led by a Lam.

The commerce you create

They syphon off

And force-import their damp

And sicking cough.

You put your bodies

On the border line -

Draw blood between the beast

And what will shine -

Between democracy

And dullard hate -

Between old decency

And dragon state.

Your voluntary, focused

Bravery

Breaks through the teeth

Of dragon slavery.

The good are charged inside

With saving souls

That will extinguish

All the dragon's coals.

Our eyes and bones are far

From Hong Kong streets,

But mentally our shoulders

Feel your beats

Defending freedom of

The civil mind,

Protecting both yourselves

And Human Kind.

Damian Robin: Keep Shooting

The P.L.A. manoeuvres threats close by,

Shadow boxing in the public eye.

Across the river – Hope behind a mask,

Tear bombs muffled in a metal flask*.

Dark Party poison oils your Hong Kong home:

Sin’s molasses squeezed through honeycomb.

They want your infrastructure swamped by clans

Not democracy’s cool-headed fans.

They'd strap your water flow and gag your throat;

They'd make 'The China Sea’ their castle moat;

They’d drain you dry, they’d dam your food supply –

If only friends with lenses weren’t close by.

Automaton police in bulbous clothes,

Bludgeon truncheons up through Hong Kong’s nose.

Umbrellas liquidate the lethal dose

For there are friends with lenses standing close.