Yesterday, May 27, Sir Henry Kissinger turned one-hundred
It's now been forty-six years since he held public office
His astute, 'realpolitik' analysis is as bold as ever
He opened up China (1971) ~ yet the man is cautious!
"Mein Kampf" held the clue for you and Europe
You hoped Hitler would destroy Soviet Russia, then itself
Game Theory, realpolitik, so-called political scientists say, "realism"
O how many ways we refused to help Jews - US refused refugees till 1941!
Don't hate me: these are facts of history. All Gandhi & King ask: change!
NOTE: By 1939 Mein Kampf sold over 5.2 million copies and was translated into 11 languages. Think again if you assume some of these languages were Arabic and Zulu, Sanskrit and Chinese. Hitler was in prison in 1925 for attempted putsch against the government in Bavaria, but served 9 months of his 5 year term, during which he began dictating Mein Kamof to Rudolph Hess, fellow "nazi."
lonely as a dried up hero
legend only to the past,
as a world moved on
from foolish children’s faith,
energy of generations
arrives at perigee,
blown out like flatulence
snuck into polite conversations,
snide groupthink on
a notion of good sport
and fair play,
while eyes and hands
itch to turn main street
into charnel houses,
the foolish ones
barking dulcet tunes
get frog marched to the wall,
can it even be,
anymore with visions dead,
above in a hawk eye
clear cold wind and azure sky,
high over every thing, everything
the squabble, the blood
the raging teeth,
godless empires and ideal,
the line of never ending human hearts
blazed away,
flaring like desert sun,
burning,
shining like moon rockets
over the sea of tears below,
the very world gives off a sickbed air,
damned
damn
damn
the creator for demanding
to know ourselves
before we know forgiveness,
of chemicals,
of realpolitik,
of biocentric theorem,
a life,
like this republic,
if we can keep it...
gott mit uns.
Under the tree of learning
of another life, the primitive father arrives.
Casts a spell of wisdom, between sorrow and death
with a speck of tears in circle of beings.
But a rain-soaked serpentine path leads to a ravine.
A talisman reignites the fear of unknown.
Panic grips the roots, branches, green-leaved hopes.
Cambium stops working, cutting the flow of nutrients.
The lady of darkness descends on the boulders
of truth, piercing through the layers of light ruffling
the winds of change.
Devotees splatter the red wine on the cupped palms
of priest and ask, who was responsible
for long life of knife. No reliable intellectual
wants to become a bartender.
Nobody dares to play the Realpolitik.
SATISH VERMA
Wrangled truths consistently warn
wrinkled ideals persistently withdrawn
blatant bargaining the hopes of the new-born
banned are the muscle and the fighting brawn
Attained and sustained consciousness abide
ardent and absolute realities adorn
slowly creeping down an unforgivable slide
slated by an over souring scorn
Red and black bandanna's revered
riled and vile of a rebel royalty
land of lakes and volcanoes leer
lost in furore of a forgotten loyalty
Partitioned by purity of parity
pride of blood begins to pour
cloaked in the simplicity of clarity
correlated and formulated by the core
Democracy left hanging and dangled
demonstration of a presidential dud
messy, madness forged and mangled,
mired, muddy and muddled in mud.
(Sandinista realpolitik)
Under the tree of learning
of another life, the primitive father arrives.
Casts a spell of wisdom, between sorrow and death
with a speck of tears in circle of beings.
But a rain-soaked serpentine path leads to a ravine.
A talisman reignites the fear of unknown.
Panic grips the roots, branches, green-leaved hopes.
Cambium stops working, cutting the flow of nutrients.
The lady of darkness descends on the boulders
of truth, piercing through the layers of light ruffling
the winds of change.
Devotees splatter the red wine on the cupped palms
of priest and ask, who was responsible
for long life of knife. No reliable intellectual
wants to become a bartender.
Nobody dares to play the Realpolitik.
SATISH VERMA