In the lush beer gardens of New Berlin,
fräulein Democracy dalmatian died
giving birth to a litter of surrogate lies
Fourth Reich Vandals with mongrel desires,
now on a demolition blitzkrieg breathe
Wehrmacht vapors rising volcanic once again
Perfidious voices carried on a turbulent wind —
Fake news is the re-animated Goebbel slogan
being heard in the New Frankfurt ear taverns
Patented lies vilifying objective truth:
The Fourth Estate being labeled an enemy of the State ...
Stalinist propaganda spouting again clone foaming
Fear and conquest are the twisted twin belching ...
Capriciousness and bloodlust are Mind Kontrol policing
the corridors of discourse with concentrated stifling
Goebbel voices handcuffing the free press,
as the ministers of disinformation
feed citizens fermented swill that kills republic freewill
Jail those who dare choose to oppose ...
make them who dissent silently disappear
Kill every thought that don’t conform or give consent
Buried boots from a sordid past are marching once more,
drunkenly singing “Blood and Soil”
Prepare to be ere morality outgunned by the hateful noise
Categories:
stalinist, evil, history, holocaust, wisdom,
Form: Tristich
Is the world shrinking into an Orwellian nightmare
Where we are controlled and no longer dare
To be different from others in this world
With what the Internet and Facebook says is what is held
And leaders who look to control us to take over this media
With Presidents taking to Twitter to feed it ever greedier
Kim Il Jong becomes Big Brother in a Stalinist shadow
Where he wants the world to finally to him bow.
© Paul Warren Poetry
Categories:
stalinist, world,
Form: Ballad
The fault line streamed from the Nazi state,
The Jewish Shoah, Holocaustic fate.
Mongolia, Croatia, and Belarus,
Humanity had no excuse.
Rwanda, Burundi, and South Sudan,
The full scope of terror's sad sway,
In Cambodia they pointed their fingers
To where the horrid 'Killing Fields' lay.
The dire purges in Mother Russia, by the brutal Stalinist guild,
Ancient Turkey, the Ottoman Empire, so many Armenians killed,
And legions of Greeks to their deaths there went,
Assyrians too, until nearly spent.
The fault line leaves remains that burn,
We see them ever, and then,
The hard way is how we have to learn,
Over and over again.
The fault line runs on steel rails across the "American" land,
A tomb, a gloom, an iron doom, for my wife's native band.
Categories:
stalinist, death, future, grief, history,
Form: Rhyme