Soviet Union Poems

Flying Is For The Birds

If all goes well
airlines will sell
seats by the pound
the less you weigh
the less you pay
to fly the world around
and yet
if a commercial Russian airliner jet
unfortunately
crashed into the sea
would there be
Aeroflotsam on the ocean
fragmented and floating free?

It's a riddle
inside a mystery
wrapped in an enema
from 1939 Soviet Union history.

Russian wine

Russian wine

It must have been a winter when the old tanker
sailed through the Dardanelles into the Black Sea
that was full of ice flakes 
the tanker was loading black gold at a town I have forgotten the name of, but I recall how spare the street
lighting was on a wide boulevard 
We found a restaurant in a stern-looking building
possibly built with  Stalin as architect, we had caviar 
and drank excellent white whine
the nomenclature sat there in their suit that 
appeared to have too much fabric, friendly
 sorts who smoked all the time
The dull Soviet Union still existed in its dullness
and general sadness that is over now, people 
who makes good wine can't be kept down

Ukraine Russia

Ukraine or Russia 

I was in the Soviet Union once, sailed through the 
the Dardanelles into the Black Sea into Ukraine
The center of the town, a pompous avenue void of cars
Loudspeakers played military marches to strengthen the bond between the ruled and the rulers
The older seamen were looking for prostitutes, but there were none, it was a drab place that appeared as if it was grieving 
It was a bit hazy, (I was so young,) I think we were at a naval club both men, and hefty women who wanted me to sit on their lap, they also gave me white wine, very sweet cakes, and a cigarette with a long paper filter.
The next I knew we were in Island, a wintry chromatically democratic land, where white wine was illegal.

My Mother the Communist

My mother was brought up in an orphanage because her father
a confectioner became an alcoholic and lost his job, ended
up looking for work when ships came in and needed dockers 
to unload the cargo.
My mother, although working class, was well-read but also
a bit eccentric, she had come to the erroneous conclusion
that only communism (equality in her mind) could bring peace.
It was in one of the papers she read I learned about 
Roosevelt’s knowledge of the Japanese Pearl Harbor attack.
I was about twelve years old when she dragged me to 
a meeting where two Russian “workers” would attend.
They painted a wonderful picture of life in Russia and
showed still films of happy workers at tractor plant extolling 
the wonder of the communist regime.
They also showed us the homes of the workers and later
how happy the land workers were breaking out into dance
in their national dress.
I was very young at the time but was not sold on this display 
of happiness, mother said I had no imagination.
My mother continued to believe in communism until
the Soviet Union invaded Hungary in 1956.

Ten Days I Remember

December 5, 1941 - the day I was born
December 7, 1941 - Pearl Harbor attacked
June 2, 1953 - Coronation of Queen Elizabeth II
November 22, 1963 - Assassination of John F. Kennedy
July 20, 1969 - Armstrong and Aldrin set foot on the moon
August 9, 1974 - Richard Nixon resigned the presidency
November 9, 1989 - Berlin Wall came down
December 25, 1991 - Collapse of the Soviet Union
September 11, 2001 - Attack on the World Trade Center
January 6, 2021 - Insurrectionist attack on U. S. Capitol 

Written September 11, 2021

Rescue Mission

RESCUE MISSION
+263775414102

My people 
Are drugged 
to a slumber sleep.
Those wide awake,
Have become puppets
To the diabolic puppet masters.

I am a commander
To an army of words
Ready to be diplomatic.
One touch and the ink spills
As pen and paper bring them to life.
Am on a rescue mission, all by myself.

I got lines
on a mission.
To build 
and to destroy.
Representing
heaven and hell.
Of course, i am a poet
Ready to charge with anger and hate

My mind is deadly;
I can bring the Soviet Union
to it's knees.
If you want me to,
I can cause chaos,
Or promote world peace.
My words are highly ranked 
 With military nuclear warheads.
Am a poet and that alone, draws the verdict.

Ukraine

I saw a video on FB of a group of Ukrainians singing at an airport.
As I watched them sing, I felt their pain and whispered a prayer.
I am not certain that I have ever known or met a Russian.
On the contrary, I have met and known many Ukrainians.

Many Ukrainians came to our city when the Soviet Union fell.
We called them Russians but were quick to learn that there was                          
a difference. Today I learned that 'Kiev' is of Russian origin while             'Kyiv' is from the language of Ukraine. In my mind and in my heart,                       it shall be 'Kyiv', and may they be what God made them to be.

I believe in the sovereignty of nations and have never known                              
a dearer people. Ukraine's national flower is the Sunflower.                            I pray that the Sun (Son) of Righteousness will beam
down upon Ukraine and give her justice.

May Kyiv's bitter nightmares turn into sweet dreams.
And may The Prince of Peace 'still' her troubled waters.

030922PSCtest, 'Kyiv' Contest, Kai Michael Neumann

Eisenhowers Warning

Eisenhower’s Warning

The brightest grad students from M.I.T.
atomic physicists with soaring ambition
were hired by the armament industry
to design bombs with doomsday precision

China’s top students with noble ambitions
physicists under secret instruction
were assigned by senior army technicians
to design bombs of mega-mass destruction

Brilliant young physicists from Moscow U.
were ordered to a munitions camp
to help make the Soviet Union anew
by building super H-bombs with Putin’s stamp

So, remember before our mutual annihilation:
To get a good job—get a good education!

Beware of the military industrial complex  —Dwight David Eisenhower

Written 3/1/22

A Golden Age

A camelot on the horizon, ending a Viet Nam war, fallen walls and Soviet Union collapse,  while the people dreamed on, in the midst of food shortages, starvation and death, loss of home and hearth and the promises of change amidst the Afghan push and independent rule for land and possessions, tighting the hold over the popukace.

 People though, are creatures of habit, wealth comes at a cost, then power and greed seek more control until... one party rule without obstacles alone survive the intimadation and lie, truth ground to dust, given in to the ruling class, the loudest voice, self centered, preserved by the dollar sign, the elephants in the room.

A golden age, full of golden dreams and hopes of golden years,
promiseof streets paved with gold inlays and paths worthy of taking,
possibilities that faded with the times, mere memories now
of what could have been, would have been, should have been
had we only stayed the course.

My ramblings on the changing times.

To Holocaust Survivors In the Former Soviet Union

You worked so hard but just exist.
Your high school grad dates you just missed,
evacuated from Ukraine.

In Russia’s army to resist,
you fought the tyrant Hitler’s reign.
You worked so hard but just exist

on meager pensions. You subsist
by choosing food or meds, that’s plain.
No other kinfolks to assist

in taking care of you in midst
of tears and shakes of flashback strain,
you worked so hard but just exist!

Although you made your job’s A-list,
you now wear rags, your joints in pain,
no other kinfolks to assist.

Your teeth all gone, in life’s mean twist,
these lines remain your grim refrain:
You worked so hard but just exist,
no other kinfolks to assist.


To help elderly Holocaust survivors in the former Soviet Union, visit the website of the International Fellowship of Christians and Jews at ifcj.org.

The Failed Revolution

The failed Revolution

In my childhood´s town, there was a blue neon sign
On top of a five-level building, “Jesus Saves”.
I asked my mother what “saves mean.
Souls, she said without looking up as she was reading
the communist manifesto dreamed of the day when workers would take over the factories
and throw the obese capitalists into prison.
She tried to emigrate to the Soviet Union. but she was turned down
she had no skills other than putting sardines into tins.
Mother made gruel that day, and I was allowed to scrape the brown sticky residue in the pot.
A famous over-rich capitalist sits in jail in Siberia
He has the internet and can talk to his friends. I wonder what
my mother would have thought of this.
He had been found guilty of stealing his oil
to avoid taxation. 
No, not, the revolution mother was dreaming of.

Baku

Baku 


In Baku ( the then Soviet Union)
I found the individual Russians a friendly people
we drank white wine which was a bit sweet
but otherwise tasted good.
The restaurant looked like 1930 had a white table clothes
of course, Lenin and Stalin were looking at us 
either as a bust or a picture.
The suits the men wore was also 1930ish but so what
we didn´t have to pay.
The Russians liked to hear theirs was a wonderful country
as I indeed did in, say, Texas wonderful state
and was told the blacks were all communists
Strangely enough, I was more frightened in Texas, so many
guns in holsters.
The individual Texans were polite, well-armed men often are
and we drank lone star beer served cold.
The British took years before serving cold lager. 
I live in Portugal now, a good place but I wouldn't say I like the unholy alliance between politicians and the business class.

The Old Soviet Union

The old soviet-union 

It must have been winter when the old tank skip
Sailed through the Dardanelles into the Black sea
Which was full of ice flakes.

The ship was loading oil in a town I have forgotten
The name of, but I do remember it was sparse 
On-street lights had a wide boulevard and few cars.

We found a restaurant in a building the looked
An office block, we ate caviar and drank white wine.
A place for the Nomenclature in ill-fitting suits.

The old soviet - union still existed in all its dullness
And general sadness, which I think is over now
people who make good wine can’t be kept down.

Next Chapter

Innocent product of the 50's, baby-boomer
Soviet Union, nuclear bombs, duck and cover
Peace, love, rock and roll, they killed Kennedy
Vietnam many gone but not forgotten
Met a girl, love, marriage, children
Work, career, struggled, built a home
Said goodbye to Mom and Dad
Raised kids, in love with grandbabies
Enjoying the fruits of my labor
Eagerly searching for the next chapter in my life

Story of My Life In Ten Lines Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Silent One
11/30/19

The First Voyage

The first voyage
 
My mind goes back
To a faraway place when I joined
My first ship as a mess-boy.
How sick I was, throwing up
My supper.
There was no reprieve
get on with your job, boy.
I did, but remember the ghastly
the smell of soap suds.
The ship was going to Baku
Then a part of the Soviet Union
And the black sea wasn’t black
But full of ice.
The town of Baku was sparse
On streetlight but safe
A kind solder followed us around
We drank white wine, and I threw up again.
Memories last long I never drink
White or sweet wines.

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