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Saddam Hussein execution video link plus a description of the video (the notorious unauthorised cellphone video) and, additionally, three poems about Saddam.
The first poem is about the execution. The second poem is a praise poem for Saddam Hussein. The thir poem is a consideration of Saddam's historical significance. Read and enjoy! |
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An anonymous person posted a link to the Saddam Hussein execution video at the foot of a blog page on which I said I had not, so far, been able to find the video online. Tuesday 30 January 2007 I found a couple of minutes to go have a look at the video. In the video, you get to see Saddam Hussein with the noose round his neck. The video also covers the moment at which the trapdoor falls away and Saddam drops to his death, a shock of noise accompanying this. The link to the video was working okay as of January 2007 and is as follows: http://www.crisismesh.com/2007/01/01/saddam-execution-video/ If the material is still online then clicking on the following link will take you there: This is an extremely murky video, in which we see Saddam intermittently swimming into focus. Much of the video shows a world as cryptic and as hard to interpret as the world which I typically see, when the light is poor, with my damaged eyesight. I had to watch it a couple of times to get a grip on the situation, by which time I had figured out that the guy who is making the unauthorized cellphone video is standing below the scaffold. He is looking up at Saddam and is trying to focus in on him. It's not easy, so, a lot of the time, we're looking at stairs, presumably the stairs which lead up to the scaffold. Meantime, we can hear what's going on in the background. While the video quality is wretched, the sound quality is pretty good, and it is the sound which really takes you there. Considered as radio drama, this is not a bad video. In the lead up to the moment of execution, there is a certain amount of shouting, and I believe that what is being shouted out is the name of one of Saddam's enemies, the name being used to mock Saddam as he confront his death. However, though there is some shouting, the crowd is not really raucous until, with a crashing sound, Saddam abruptly drops to his death, at which point the crowd roars with a huge excitement and gets much, much noisier. Whenever Saddam is in view, he is seen minus a hood, true to the soundtrack of an earlier video I saw, apparently some kind of official execution video, one with no voices in the background, a video which claimed, in an English-language voiceover, that Saddam had refused to wear a hood. That video, the first Saddam execution video that I saw, was a kind of Ministry of Truth version posted on a French website. It tells us that Saddam is going to be executed "with one camera rolling." The Ministry of Truth, which moves fast when it wants to, has already elided the cellphone's truthtelling video from the historical record. In the world of lies, there is no shouting in the background. Also, we do not see the actual moment of the execution itself, therefore we get no sense of the annihilating brutality of an execution. In the uncensored world of the cellphone video, we definitely hear the background shouting, but then it dies down. Everyone is waiting for the moment of the execution, and so they quieten down, though they never become entirely silent. Then Saddam crashes into his eternity with all the violence of a train wreck, and it at that point at which the crowd really starts sounding like a mob, a rabble. It is as if Saddam's achieved death had made them angrier rather than appeasing them, and, across the language barrier, rage can be detected. Rage, or, perhaps, an orgasmic triumph. The video quality is too poor for me to be sure of Saddam's emotional state, but my own take on what I've seen, viewing it three times, is that Saddam, seen with the hangman's noose round his neck, betrays no particular expression. To recap, then, in the build-up to the drop, there is some semi-orchestrated shouting, then the shouting dies down, and then, abruptly, Saddam drops, snatched downward with cartoonish suddenness, his death a convulsive annihilation. Saddam positively explodes into death, and that is when the audience really goes ape. Watching this video was the first time in my life that I've seen a hanging, and this is one piece of video that I won't forget in a hurry. If you want to watch the video, and if it's still online, then my advice would be to take the time to study the CLICK TO PLAY MEDIA graphic before launching the video. Orient yourself. On the left, the stairs. Top right, a kind of box structure with a haze of light inside, maybe a neon tube. In the foreground, an inscrutable object which might possibly be someone with close-cropped hair and with one ear catching the light. Now, the boxy structure is where Saddam is standing, and it is that structure which the phoneman is trying to focus on. Eventually, he brings us face to face with today's star attraction. Got the layout? Okay, click to play! What follows is a poem, one of three poems about Saddam in my poetry collection GENGHIS LOTUS POETRY COLLECTION. The other two poems are a praise poem for Saddam Hussein and a consideration of Saddam's ultimate historical significance. And who am I? I am author Hugh Cook, born in Britain, educated in New Zealand, and the author of, amongst other works, the fantasy series Chronicles of an Age of Darkness. The death poem which follows is written, like it or not, in a spirit of respect. |
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The death of Saddam Hussein Was not a final encounter With the Big Zero. It was not the mandated death, The state's dispassionate administration of the law, The reduction of the target to a cipher. This was carnival, Crude circus, Rough, riotous, up close and personal, The onlookers geekish, Jeering for the chicken's head To be ripped off raw and bleeding from the neck. He died, Under the circumstances, As well as anyone could. A lynch mob's nigger, But he had sufficient of the crowbar To slang back undaunted. "Is this how a man acts?" That, I read, was his question. Of the mob, the answer is no. Of the man who died, A yes. He found In the defeat that he so richly deserved A final victory of sorts, I think. A victory Which he also deserved. |
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May be photocopied for classroom use |
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A praise poem for Saddam Hussein, written when the author was high on drugs, a daily dose of sixteen milligrams of dexamethasone, prescribed to shrink any tumor, the assumption at the time being that brain cancer had returned.
In this situation, when you're between a rock and a hard place, who are you going to choose as your role model? Bart Simpson? Michael Jackson? Madonna? "Stay the Course" George Bush? When the need was there, the hero who was immediately available was Mr Bad Dude himself, the infamous SH. Hence this praise poem, written straight, without irony. |
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Saddam is guilty. The acid baths were real. Terror knows no greater reign than this. From what we see we know his death is rightful And one man on this planet knows how to die. He's going down to doom and surely knows it, Squeezed out before but this time dies for certain. A cockroach beneath the deadweight of the jackboot, He panics not and never chooses flinching. His barbed wire soul can handle this alone, Declines to yield and does not seek to whimper. Without a rock he somehow finds his footing, Steadfast against the planet and the court. Doom is a death to shout at, minus hankie. Death is a road to walk with head held high. After the wars, the tortures and the rapes, He's passed beyond repentance or redemption. Sole function, now, to face the court and die. And be my leader. Saddam, my man, I'll take you as my angel, Dark lord of mine for this my darkest path. |
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May be photocopied for classroom use |
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A poem about Saddam Hussein's historical significance, a piece of poetry written by a cancer patient / cancer survivor with thoughts of his mortal end on his mind.
This poem is a death poem, one of the death poems in the GENGHIS LOTUS POETRY COLLECTION. The author hopes that these death poems will serve as a small contribution t othe ars moriendi, the art of dying. |
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It is all Water under the bridge by now. Andy Warhol's medical misadventure Has long since been forgotten. The hospital may, Or perhaps may not, Have been at fault. I pass no judgment. Here on the dark side of the moon The restaurants, Once certain of their profit, Lie vacant to the windless realms of dust. Invisible behind the lunar mass The planet Earth is minus cappuccino, The olives eaten and the last baklava finished. It is more than a thousand centuries Since latex last had use. In Pompeii's reburied streets Nobody is busy at the dictionaries. IBM is over. And Google? Gone. Great things have perished, Though the planetary ocean still persists, And still holds sway. The Great North Sea, A lesser water, No longer remembers its ice. The trilobites are still, Unfortunately, Extinct. Rome, like Warhol, has lapsed from view. Caligula Is no longer the toast of Broadway. Messalina's antics No longer have the attention Of the chattering classes. Madonna No longer has a shrine in Babylon. The great Kenyan city of Obama is no more. Five thousand million years from now The sun, Exhausted, Will go out. What happens then is, At this date, uncertain. |
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May be photocopied for classroom use |
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Read Hugh Cook's Collected Poems Online |
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short poems |
school poems |
city poems |
nature poems |
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war poems |
cancer poems |
death poems |
assorted poems |
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Table of Contents poems |
Hugh Cook |
lulu.com/hughcook/ Hugh Cook |
Hugh Cook |