"Not to be Done by Man-Made Epidemics of Shame… We Vote for What is Beautiful!" [2002] by Sir Steven Ilchev

Not to be Done by Man-Made Epidemics of Shame…

We Vote for What is Beautiful!

{Steven Ilchev, 2002}


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'When you walk through a storm

Hold your head up high and don't

Be afraid' {Hammerstein}


To Holly Wells, Jessica Chapman and Milly Dowler
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Thinking you could sort of railroad young

And aggrieve the weepin' old, well you

Done it but not annihilated the spirit of simple innocence,

O Soul-tumbled cowards flying higher now!


Lowest be your heads when you look yourselves

In lakes marbled in the honest tears of those beautiful

Unforgettable children of ours whose lives were

Not led in vain… they enriched our scopes with the playful

Golden grain… zooming in their mica-silver eyes, unstained


No, they didn't play in vain… three bright children

Whose tender hearts belonged to sweetness so alive and independent

A glory-hound madman couldn't thwart, not even with a blasted sword -

Dishonourable in these infanticide epidemic stains of giant shame


You swiped their looks out of here but not their magic touch

With moments that pass we believe in the salvation of this crippled world,

Crippled by Grim Reapers so worldly they settle on our doorstep, they turtle

Along but their time will be dressed in tatters for we ain't gonna be done

By man's epidemics of shame… we opt to vote for what is

Plain beautiful… this day, the next and beyond!


Three lovely girls, you touched the world's collective heartbeat gong

Symbolizing passion for nonchalance in childhood's perfect garden

And the sweet song of carefree laughter will tinkle all around as that

Lovely affectionate mum-and-dad hug will always live on for you


Cowards… you may be almost-takers, successful in your echoing

Sickness-mind-motivated bells of shallow glory but our

Girls will not be goners ever, for we shan't forget them

In our album of beloved thoughts and as we snub your epidemic, vile

You'll be the sorry sight that lies awoken in forgotten mud

So faraway indeed it wouldn't matter…


O, I will ask our shattered, wounded world to hold the

Human hand, to bring it ever closer to our children's

Hearts and minds and let me lead this kiss that sets

The feelings free… the feelings of compassion

So needed in these catastrophic times… believe!


I kiss you, children… will you kiss them with me too?

Of course you will! You are all so lovely and living can really be

A conglomeration of unchained splendour, tearful

And laughter-pampered


Today I let out my tears, my worn-out muscles

Flexing to save the most beautiful particles

Of us we've opted to vote for! Will you cry

With me, then? Will you let cry with me and

Not feel the least bit ashamed?