Long Nazis Poems
Long Nazis Poems. Below are the most popular long Nazis by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Nazis poems by poem length and keyword.
This article is about the avant-garde poet, playwright and memoirist. For other uses, see Otis Trench, Brent Scorn, Lydia Fox, C. Günter Marrow, Elzbieta Bienga (disambiguation).
Zoltan Goliath (?????? ?????) has long been considered an enigma; elusive and indistinct with an uncertain heritage and vaguely defined borders. His past is shrouded in mystery, myth and legend. He is believed to have started life as a shallow, hard-boiled stereotype of a cynical private investigator in a trashy dime store crime novel, but he stuck to his guns and eventually metamorphosed into a tragically complex and conflicted character in an obscure psychological drama that was burned by the Nazis on the Opernplatz in 1933; now he’s all smoke and ash, indecipherable. He is rarely seen in public and often makes it a point to have his own obituary printed in certain small town newspapers. He is rumored to possess a large collection of rare idioms as well as many volumes of arcane criteria. There is good reason to believe he spent some years at sea aboard a tramp steamer smuggling contraband to the underdogs during the Cold War, his travels being extensive. None of this can be verified, however, since Mr. Goliath is notorious for agreeing to meet for interviews, only to send a chimp wearing a deerstalker cap in his place, or other some-such nonsense.
In 1989 I rode the duty train with covered windows across the East German countryside, forewarned not to look outside. I arrived in that island of freedom, which was surrounded by oppression, tyranny, and more tank divisions than NATO had in all their armies combined. Kids were hammering pieces off the Wall and giving them to tourists; I pocketed a few a boy gave me. Passing through Checkpoint Charlie, I saw my first live Russian soldiers, guarding their monuments from what they referred to as the Great Patriotic War. Their goosestep style of marching was slower than the Nazis from forty-five years before, but just as menacing in its precision--perhaps even more so, with that arrogant hesitation when their boots reached the highest point. Before seeing East Berlin, communism and socialism were just words with an uneasy threat implied....but afterwards
The Wall had come down,
But the Russians were still there.
Lost in history.
In old Europe, heretics were burned at the stake,
For having wrong opinions was a fatal mistake.
And in some countries, blasphemers aren't free,
You can't go against the sacred, whatever it may be.
Young Nazis with armbands walked down a Vienna street
One pointed a gun; some would turn white as a sheet.
Karl Popper was interested in truth, but the point was moot
The Nazi told him "I don't argue, I shoot!"
(Chorus)
The radical falls into a hole and speeds down,
Positive feedback, interlocking lies can make his old self drown.
He comes out the other side, but not the same,
There’s no arguing anymore, he won't play that game.
Charlie Kirk believed in debate and said, "Prove me wrong."
But Tyler went down a rabbit hole, heard the wrong song.
He said Charlie was a "hater," but hate's where Tyler went,
He shot Charlie dead at a debate event.
Why should anyone argue? We all know we're right.
Your points are sacred; opponents must take flight.
Conservatives aren't fascists, but if you claim they are,
You start acting as a fascist, force becomes a guiding star.
In North Korea, the wrong idea is a lifelong stamp,
Free thinkers and their relatives end up in a work camp.
Criminals don't argue with their victims; reason isn't the goal.
Now self-righteous youth are taking that role.
It doesn't look good for Generation Z,
Many believe ideas that won't let them be free.
The future of the globe may be a crimson tide
I hate to think what lies on the other side.
From Poland hailed your Uncle Max, who in matters of manners was a bit lax,
While from France came Aunt Belle, whom I thought was really quite swell.
Next up from Russia was Cousin Boris, whom I always confused with Nephew
Morris;
And then from Germany came Aunt Gitel, whose fingers fairly flew o'er
her fiddle.
After that from Lita came Uncle Beryl, whose fistic prowess put enemies
in peril.
Of course, from Ukraine came Cousin Emma, whose soup was the crème de
la crema.
It's our duty to recall Uncle Saul, though no one knew where he came from
at all
And finally, from Prussia, poor Aunt Masha, who subsisted for years on
potatoes and kasha.
What's this? You say you don't know any of these relatives at all?
Neither their names nor those of their children can you recall?
Then furrow your brow and bestir your brain; just don't be appalled:
Uncle Max may have been from Krakow, but his skeleton was prematurely
interred by the Nazis at the death-camp of Dachau.
Cousin Emma was from a wealthy family in Vizhnitz, though her fiery
cremation was reserved for the ovens of Auschwitz.
And pretty Gitel, who grew up in the small village of Dulmen, was gunned
down in the caverns of Bergen-Belsen...
So much for our family tree.
Had grandpa not fled to America by sea,
One of those dead branches above
Would surely have been me.
HOLOCAUST MEMORIAL DAY -- 73RD ANNIVERSARY -- APRIL 12, 2018
NEVER FORGET!
Russian soldier, welcome.
You now stand to discard the rule of logic,
welcome to our home, our oblast.
You are welcome to register at the city hall;
fellow tourists with arms, ready to maim, shoot, and kill,
destroy everything, out-Nazi the Nazis.
We know you’re innocent, cannon fodders for your tsar;
we hold him responsible but not you,
for skinning the innocent.
You stand to learn we’re not enemies,
only neighbors who wish to live free;
we’ll name our streets after you if you
follow your human dignity, if you
refuse to fire, disobey and be free.
Russian soldier, justice is more powerful than the weapon,
truth more dear to God than power.
You’re welcome to explore our city and
check in for the night, just stay indoor in
curfew hours.
Welcome to our brave city, writing new
its future epigraph.
Your invasion plan is up in smoke;
it is now your turn to strike
a unilateral withdraw.
Better read history of WW ll!
Racism, plus fear of a bug were
quite effective then, too.
Malaria was created, and placed
in mosquitos.
Hoping to wipe out populations in toto.
Heinrich Himmler used Catholic priests?
On which mosquitoes did so happily feast.
Who, then, brought COVID to many nations?
I think you know the answer.
A nation of beasts!
Like the Nazis, they used a biblical
method. (Plague of Locusts)
To have you live in fear,with your
happiness out of focus.
It has cost nations, much loss,hysteria,
And lockdowns are a sensation.
Politicins holding the key to grotesque relationships.
Turning us into a social distancing nation.
Having fearful people walk this earth, wearing
Petri dishes, called masks?
Inhaling their own bugs,till their very till their
very last, precious, breath!
A grievous, lied about infamous task.
Dare you not live in fear, to elected wimps.
Nor their laughing co- leading wimp-o-lets!
Filling your coffee mug daily
Telling you untruths!
Saying, "this is as good as it gets."
7/1/2021
6:30am
Edited
No soupmail, please. Mine is
dysfunctional. Pangie
Just say no and stop the liberal progressive socialist agenda dividing our country, or any other country! Simply based on the CRT (Critical Race Theory)!
It will further divide the divided states of America based upon race. Resulting in our categorizing and restricting any positive and healthful relationships based upon our skin colors. Turning us into enemies!
It will really pit the brown and the black people against the yellow and the white people! Leading up to and resulting in more racial based wars on the streets of our major and later on minor cities across the forty eight states of America just for starters!
It is the elected school board members that are fostering the CRT! Plus they are sponsoring X-rated books as part of the school curriculum's. Already parents in Virginia and the rest of the country are fighting against the CRT! Threatening to recall the school board members; who have sold out their souls to the devil himself!
The parents and their children throughout the United States are using their social media platforms in order to protect their K-12 aged school aged children!
They are relying upon Christian television stations such as the 700 hundred club to get their vital messages across to the rest of America! Whatever is happening in Virginia will not stop in the state of Virginia! Americans do not want a Socialist nation! They want their freedoms!
Unfortunately the Millennium generation of people born between 1980- 2000 are falling for the lies those liberal and progressive politicians are actively promoting. Also generation Z college age students have socialist instructors spoon feeding their socialistic ideology propaganda!
Where is the communist propaganda political machine located? It's central headquarters is based in the Red Chinese Communists party! Which seeks to place the entire world under the oppressive tyranny of the Bamboo Curtain! Global international enforced slavery labor camps making the Nazis look like choir boys because of their intensified cruelty and torture!
Let us face it America and the Western democracies! Red China wants to bankrupt you, black male you and kill you. And place all of you under its Bamboo Curtain! They are the common global enemies of the world!
Sincerely,
Roxanne Lea Dubarry
Roxy Lea 1954/209
Roxy 1954/ October Country
June 24, 2021
In the quiet twilight, we gather here today,
To honor my dad, remember him, and pray.
From the promised land, he flew with no regret,
To the fifties U.S., a different mindset.
In the old world, he wore many hats, even a soldier,
Now a young man on a Greyhound bus, bound for Boulder.
"Mariah," the bus played as they rolled along,
He remembered Mount Moriah and mistook it in the song.
He told us the U.S. had been great, yet he was sad,
Perhaps because we didn't know what we once had.
He worked his way through the U of C,
Studying the holistic subject of geography.
Dad became a professor; I watched the applause,
At conferences, everyone knew who he was.
A geographer who explored every field,
Endless books in his study, a vast horizon revealed.
Our summers in New England and the West,
The mile-square farm on Black Hill Road was the best.
Swimming holes, blackberry bushes, mountain hikes,
Exploring dirt roads on three-speed bikes.
But time went by, good came, but so did pain
People seemed so plastic, no anchor kept them sane
The sixties began the process, self-image changed,
A once-great country now became deranged.
Geography was deemed passé, no longer in fashion,
Radical winds swept through college halls, a destructive passion.
A compass spinning wild, the intellectuals sinned,
He wondered if Mariah still named the wind.
In older lands one friend had fought Nazis and Communists too
You wouldn’t think it to look at him, but it was true.
Dad joined with him and others to stem an intolerant tide,
A battle of course doomed, but at least they tried.
While we're still standing here, memories endure,
A young man's arrival, his heart remaining pure.
He's gone now, but he didn't cave, he made his stand,
In the old and then in a new Promised Land.
Zionists have been hunted in High School halls,
Jews huddle in fright as mobs bang on the walls.
What would he have felt, to see democracy’s shame?
Though I know he lost I’m proud he ran the race all the same.
In 1944 or so,
The Nazis did deliver
A group of Jews in Hungary
Into the Danube River.
They lined them up and shot them dead -
Not one did soldiers save -
A Jew was not considered worthy
Of a normal grave.
Before they shot them, one command
Was, "First, take off your shoes."
The shots rang out and that was all
Remaining of the Jews.
Today in Budapest, you'll see
Lined up along the shore,
A lot of beat-up shoes in bronze
To stay forevermore.
And looking at those shoes, you'll find
The past has come alive.
The Jews who wore them somehow
Beat the odds and still survive.
Memorials have power if
They don't let us forget,
And those shoes by the Danube
Left me strongly in their debt.
He came from Bangladesh, on the official business
of pursuit of happiness, with only a suitcase and a family of three
settling in Coventry and working at the hospital next to the big cathedral
that survived Nazis' bombardment, being a scholarly man he read lots of history and was enchanted by Rumi's poem, wondering if in his next life he could be a wandering sufi, whirling in praise of god. Life was easy until the outbreak
and he exceeded himself helping patients, some of whom came too late to be rescued and some who came just in time to be put on the ventilators, until they were overwhelmed and patients crowded the hallway, coughing and moaning in pain. But, he came from Bangladesh remind you, where scarcity is the norm and will to survive pretty high, so he set upon himself to
save as many as he could until that dreaded afternoon when he was faced with the stark choice no doctor should ever be presented: to choose between an elderly and a young woman, both in dire need of the last remaining ventilator. Between the two, the woman was sicker, was unmarried and no family to feed, and the guy was a recent widower with four children who depended on him.
Agonizing the good doctor kept asking for advice and, simultaneously, wrote down his metrics and assigned a value to factors such as age, survival chance, and the like, but the decision-time was near at hand and no time to lose, in the end it was a flip of the coin and he opted for the woman, who died nonetheless as did the older guy, agonizing the doctor's conscience to the point that in examining the next victim he removed his mask.