Nazi time
Uniformed men with ice blue eyes, marched
Up and down the street, bomb fell, earth shock
And I was two years old
An officer with steel rimmed glasses and a cruel
Smile, said: this child is blond and has blue eyes
I clicked my heel, sucked my thumb
Mother, took to singing sentimental lieders
They gave her an iron cross, while dreamed
The kindergarten’s infant Fuhrer
To my regret, peace broke out and life was
Lull again, till I was circumcised and went
To live in Haifa, where I could pee over a new
Wall, which made me a natural leader of men.
How it began
Men in green uniforms
ice blue eyes and leathery lips
saw me in the crib
and declared this child
is an Aryan
I clicked my heels and
sucked my thumb
Mother took to singing
sentimental lieders
and received the fab
iron cross
I became the kindergarten's
Fuhrer
To my regret, peace broke
into my dream
I circumcised
we moved to Tel Aviv
the rest is history
Thank you God
That I’m always a student
I abhor
The slaughters of the babies
Toddlers were killed dead
Young boys and girls were shot dead
Pregnant women were stabbed dead
That’s terror
Young men were executed
Young women were raped and killed
That’s horror
Women weren’t spared
Sick women were beat
Old men and women
Weren’t exempt
No error
Fuhrer is alive
Terrorism
Is not dead
Students have conscience
Leaders lie
The buildings are pulverized
Treaties ain’t for all
Blame a few
Murder is no joke
That’s death
True free speech
Is dead too
Students have conscience
They are always right
They make sense
They protest
No justice
Here on earth
No freedom
We wonder
We ponder
We differ
They conquer
Like wild beasts
There’s no peace
Terror, horror and revenge
I remain an alumnus.
Copyright © April 2024, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
Out of the night a black vice POTUS,
a cry of hope from poll to poll-
wrapped in our flag we know they loath us
and our unconscionable goal.
In the fell clutch of discrimination
we hear them wince and cry aloud.
Within our bludgeoning, christian nation
their heads are bloody, ja, und cowed.
Let them sulk in their vale of tears
We’ll never let them turn the page.
No prospect of getting four more years
finds ,and shall find us howl with rage.
Again we’ll make our country great,
what matter we lose our nation’s soul?
He is the master of our fate—
wir gibt unser Fuhrer ganz kontrol.
I am the empire state
Building opens.
I am Nazi Germany
Invades Poland.
I am the 21st amendment
Ending prohibition.
I am Life magazine's first
Addition.
I am the Star-spangled banner
National anthem.
I am Lindbergh's son kidnapped,
No ransom.
I am the great dust bowl
Event.
I am Franklin Roosevelt as
The President.
I am the Golden Gate Bridge
Is complete.
I am John Dillinger gunned
Down in the street.
I am the San Francisco
Ballet opens.
I am Amelia Earhart flies
Across the ocean.
I am Alcatraz opens it's
Doors.
I am Hitler becomes Fuhrer
And starts the wars.
I am Alcoholics Anonymous
There is a better way.
I am the FBI born,
Hoover seized the day.
Turbo1904
We stand on the brink of a savage day
Astounded by the onslaught of fighting
In Ukraine, a beautiful land, so far away
Where the fires of cannon are igniting
Flames of hatred, fear, and mistrust
As the free world stands by in horror,
While a dictator satisfies his greedy lust
Like a modern-day reincarnated Fuhrer.
The best course of action seems hazy
But we’re told everything is on the table
To send American troops seems crazy,
Still, we must respond as we are able.
Perhaps warning of the long-term effect
This incursion upon innocents warrants,
We can, hopefully, impress upon the tyrant
We will punish his disregard for respect.
It seems a small, insignificant response
But we have the power to cripple his might
Let him not take what appears nonchalance,
For his nation will suffer a crippling plight --
Ostracized by all peace-loving nations,
Strapped for needed materiel resources,
Unable to trade for the necessary rations
Essentially embargoed from available sources.
written February 26, 2022
The shot and shell falls down
And the soldiers hugs the ground
They call to one another clear
Are you safe now the battle’s near
But one lies on his back quite still
A bullet has struck and it kills
He takes his last breath and sigh
A German soldier for the Fuhrer dies
At home parents hear their dreaded story
Their son has died where is the glory
The Nazi state sends out a card
To temper their grief is so hard
Written on the card is a Christian cross
With the Nazi swastika in the centre embossed
And a prayer to the Lord is written
The family has made a sacrifice so smitten
I wonder how could they use a cross and a prayer
When they murdered millions without a care
For a Nazi organisation in the Second World War
And ask God for guidance, love and more.
© Paul Warren Poetry
Sitting in the snow, I look at the holes in my boots. My toes are frozen solid as I stare at the winter sun that shines against my reddened face. I have no food, no ammunition, I have nothing but death. The air is full of smoke and the horrid stench of decay, even in the dead of winter the smell permeates my nose like fire. Most of my comrades lie lifeless in pools of coagulated blood or have turned to statues of ice. We tried to retreat but the Fuhrer ordered us to fight until the last man. Stalingrad must be taken at all cost, flucht nach vorn! Sadly, the front has become the nail in our coffin. Frost fills my lungs as I hold a dried Edelweiss flower I brought from home in my burning cold hands. I hear the rusty tracks of T-34's in the distance, the shelling grows stronger now. Gazing towards the west, dreaming in crystal blue, I am on the path to great enlightenment beyond human understanding. The Edelweiss I hold blows away in the Russian wind....
Eva Braun was a flexible kid,
Athletic, and puppy love loyal.
She played in the background, kept pampered and fed.
Frau Goebbels instructed her morals.
Eva Braun war ein sehr hübsches Mädchen
Who basked in the light of her Fuhrer.
She lapped up the Kool Ade and swallowed her guilt;
Never spoke to a Nuremburg juror.
Eva Braun was a practical girl
Who knew how to butter her schnitzel.
She silently offered her cyanide vows
While her bridegroom was kissing his pistol.
The Porter’s terms
Are highly irregular today
It’s Theo Chocolate nibs
Playing the stark domme fuhrer role
Submitting this docile subject
Into crazed tyranny
Only appreciated by the gullet
Impatiently waiting for its helping
Scores of thieves
Affixed in parallel thoughts
And steely fortitude
Look to match the ABV
Doled out like welfare noodles
With invigoration and words
Caught at each fourth interval
Symphonies breaking among
Someone’s cerebral cortex
As a Marley descendant triggers
Our descent into somewhere wonderful
And nowhere in particular.
(2/25/18)
Chancellor Adolf Hitler
Quite dumb with girls when he was littler--
But in Nazi's prime, came sultry Eva
Messed-up like Fuhrer, she became his diva!
Educate Me with Humor--Leader Clerihew
Contest of Andrea Dietrich 1/25/2019
......................
Eva Braun was Hitler's lovely mistress for years.
Though both had eccentric, bizarre characteristics,
Eva's loyalty to Adolf till their last days made him
decide to marry her in a civil wedding.
He rode his dismal horse
all day and night
and to the grave of ashes.
A life
and less than a life
Fantasies
crept up like flaming fire.
Even der Fuhrer was amazed.
Like many of low esteem
he flaunted his braggadocio,
pounding it in
as with a steel hammer.
Valentines Wishes On Dresden
Awakened before sleep had settled in
she peered out to the night of Dresden's way
and though her hero had no war to win
she blew a kiss to him, as if to say
"mein Fuhrer, this, your Fraulein dreams of you
and vishes you could feel this love of mine
I've done most everything a girl could do
but foolish, hope to be your valentine."
And then the bombs fell from a troubled sky
as if mere kisses from the Butcher's lips
before she'd even ask her Heaven why
her world was blown apart by groaning ships;
the understanding of it all is rare
in part because the world just doesn't care.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa the doylestown poet
Snow falls on the brittle leaves of birch trees,
their branches miraculously overlooked by the December wind.
It makes a sound like the marching feet of scary Germans rushing through Poland.
Snow, mixed with freezing rain,
falls hard on the roof of an unheated barracks in Auschwitz,
filled with men and boys in pajamas.
It sounds not unlike the far-off thunder of the radio in the commandant’ s house,
the angry voice of the Fuhrer.
Snow, descending from the sky like shaved ice, on a brittle day,
5 maybe 8 degrees.
It covers the makeshift roadblocks in the streets of Warsaw,
making little mountains — so pure on the outside but fetid, rotten, corrupt beneath the fine powder.
This snow,
this ice falling to the ground,
sounds like Russian boots jumping over the mountains.
Rain in Gdansk,
a fine mist,
the smell of the sea.
It covers the streets, where men whisper things that will someday be heard
and old women fall on their knees to pray the Rosary.
This rain,
it smells of freedom.
DRESDEN, GERMANY February 13, 1945
Pathfinders lit the night to show the way
for bombardiers too hungry for the word;
as Dresden's dark was made as light as day,
all hearts were stopped before the blasts were heard;
and as the din was heard by all their ears
the sound it made was not reality
but far removed from all the hopes and fears
and what they thought would never come to be.
They loved the Fuhrer -- sin enough for all
to die the fiery death of sweet revenge
brought on by those who had enough of gall
to drop their loads in wartimes heated binge!
And when the fire consumed all that it could
the winter of their lives was understood.
© ron wilson aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet.
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