Anders Brevik, Mass Murderer

Norwegian architecture (Photo by Damon Zaidmus from Unsplash)

(In 2011, Anders Brevik, a fanatical far-right fanatic murdered dozens of peaceful young people camping on the island of Utøya.)

Anders Breivik

Was he a monster, an ogre or a psychotic

Or was he just insane, very mentally sick

Born with bad genes, receiving orders from the voice

Kill, kill, kill, spill blood, you have no choice?

Or did he like Jack the Ripper or Norman Bates

Stand no chance against the dictates of the fates?

His own mother could not stand the sight of him

She loved him or hated him on a random whim

A difficult child herself, was found to suffer

From borderline personality disorder

She looked on her pregnancy with unconcealed dread

And often told the boy she wished that he were dead

Growing up even when hurt he never cried

He never showed joy, or laughed, never even tried.

Of emotional engagement he was devoid

His love of cleanliness and order was unalloyed

At fifteen he was fined for the racist graffiti

He had splashed over the walls of the city

He became obsessed with the threat of Eurabia

A notion rooted in Islamophobia_

Espoused by Trump, Le Pen, Bannon and Orban

Who proposed, on immigration, a complete ban_

The betrayal by the liberal left of Europe

To the Arabo-Muslim world with the sole hope

Of ensuring the smooth flow of precious oil

Found in infinite lakes in their undersoil

And the billions of cubic metres of gas

They claim to be bountiful gifts of their Allah’s

Breivik’s hatred of all things Islamic

Made him feverishly paranoid and manic

His murderous attacks must have been years in the planning

Each step carried out with precision and cunning

He founded a computer programming company

With the sole purpose of making loads of money

Which he knew he’d need to finance his devilish schemes

He was a man who knew how to tailor his dreams

He joined a shooting club so he could buy guns

Anything he needed, to deal with the bad ‘uns

He bought a small farm in a remote location

To avoid scrutiny and observation

For what he had in mind he needed tons of nitrate

He bought the fertiliser (and got a rebate)

He now had everything to put his plan in action

The know-how, the ingredients, the weapons.

On the fateful day he detonated a device

Next to prime minister Stollenberg’s high-rise

Resulting in eight Norwegian lives lost

Then from the disaster scene he vanished like a ghost

And re-appeared on Utøya with machine guns

Determined to scotch the Labour party’s young ‘uns

He had held the leftist party responsible

For creating the chaotic and flammable

State Norway was in by its reckless policy

Of letting foreigners settle in the country

His aim was to shoot the budding socialists

As a warning to the world’s anti-fascists

He and like-minded defenders of the white race

Will not stand idly by and accept the disgrace

Once on the island he began his shooting spree

He shot the youngsters indiscriminately

Killing sixty-nine teenagers, the youngest fourteen

Wounding dozens, none of whom he had ever seen

That he was a true monster and not really insane

Can be seen by his desire to inflict more pain

Running for their lives in utter confusion

The youngsters sought safety in nooks and crannies

Behind rocks and stumps and barks of trees

When at last they heard a reassuring voice

You’re safe now children, the police is here, rejoice

And with relief they crawled out of their hiding shelters

To come face to face with Breivik’s frenzied splutters

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Prizewinning playwright. Mathematician. Teacher. Professional Siesta addict.

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San Cassimally

San Cassimally

Prizewinning playwright. Mathematician. Teacher. Professional Siesta addict.

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