Can the works of love
Live in the fog of fascism?
In the boiling vapours of hate
Which seep into the fabric of harmony
Where no green hills nor panoramic views
Can compete with the symmetry of Hitler’s plazas
And the waving bands of swastikas
At times I blink twice, even thrice
at Chicago, a city that used to be nice
where I grew up in a lower-middle class milieu
but never was discriminated against as a Jew …
Today I live in an upper-middle class part of the city
and what folks shout at me is not very pretty
Swastikas drawn on our schools, even attempts at murder
An Israeli friend just visited us ~ what she witnessed unnerved her
THE LION IN THE WINTER
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
May, nineteen-forty~
France bleeds out,
a crimson tide.
jackboots goose-step across Europe,
a continent silenced
gagged by swastikas.
They thought him broken~
the old lion, his mane frosted,
a relic of an empire,
a voice too gravelly,
a toothless roar,
too old.
September bleeds
into a desperate autumn.
He sees the maps,
the relentless gray advance~
the English channel
a fragile moat against the tide
of Reitstiefel und Hakenkreuze.
He stands,
a lion in the winter,
and roars:
“We shall fight on the beaches,
we shall fight on the landing grounds,
we shall fight in the fields and in the streets,
we shall fight in the hills;
we shall never surrender.
His words, like granite,
hang in the air,
thick with battlefield smoke
and hope~
hurled against the storm,
a lifeline thrown to a teetering nation.
The island stands,
Churchill’s darkest hour,
forged into a beacon.
Reitstiefel und Hakenkreuze. (army boots and swastikas)
People of Isreal the true
isrealites my own family
persecuted branded with
swastika during WW11
my pop hid Jewish people
from Hitler the use of the
swastika the taking of a
religious symbol used to
cause harm for the Jews
my prayers are with the
Jewish families Jewish
memorials are in place
for anyone in need of
comfort and healing
awareness saves lived
stop branded Isrealites
stop persecution of Jews
I am reminded of thee
cruelty and killing
of Jewish infants
reach out support our
Jewish communities
People of Isreal listen
People of Isreal pay attention
People of Isreal dance
People of Isreal shout for Joy
Swastikas hurt
And so the soup’s, coming to a boil
Very difficult, not to get embroiled
Rumour has it, Hitler’s on the rise
Goose stepping, in poetic disguise
Jackboots kick open, doors of rhyme
Acrostics embed, swastikas sublime
Vaxxers accused, of a new blitzkrieg
Covid deniers, offer vapid intrigue
Enigma encoded, in sonnets of fear
Lady Haw Haw, sobs crocodile tears
All together poets, salute Sieg Heil!
Conspiracy theories, jabs are on trial
Contagious haikus, causing upset
Biden instigating, everyone’s death
God’s gone paranoid, so we’re told
Playing both sides, to steal our souls
Armband stars, equal covid passes
Monoku writers, killing the masses
Limericks are evil, piled full of poop
No place for crap jokes, tainting soup
Poets reincarnated, in nom de plume
Childish dark magic, one has assumed
So do ends, always justify the means
In war and pandemic, mania’s routine
By
David Kavanagh
Well! sycophantic misanthropist, verbose agitator of spite
Club footed whore master, couldn’t goose step for his life
Malicious propagandist, spreading hatred in every breath
His wife willing disciple, poisoned their 6 children to death
Demanding patriotic nationalism, big speech carcinogenic
Snickers in vehemence, sardonic grin, genocidal eugenics
Never dirtying his hands, an aryan superstar, not by blood
Master race aspirational, looks into the mirror then shrugs
Doctor of nihilistic supremacy, swearing hypocritical oaths
5 ft 4” gigantic paradigm, inferiority complex, slow growth
Promising victory up to the last, faithful to his fuhrers flag
Cowers from nearby artillery, blasting Swastikas into rags
Hiding amongst his sewer rats, goes insane down a bunker
Mixing morphine with champagne, to alleviate going under
Saved the best cocktail for last, cyanide and bullet casings
Fitting end to crawling malaise, and cockroach infestations.
Biting Satire Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
24/02/2021
Glorious memories
Soldiers playing football
Across the battle lines
So fortunate they were
Two teams and round leather
Apocalypse as the referee
A bunch of poppies
Rosaries and prayers
Wooden cross the reward
If they were lucky
When I was a child … I got
An orange and a piece of coal
Never mind bullets and shrapnel
Stupidity is gloriously invincible
Swastikas have many disguises
Now drink your milk and eat your greens
The country needs your cannon fodder
Sleep quietly sweet child and dream
25th November 2019
My husband's gym, a block away,
And which he goes to every day,
Was vandalized; an email sent
Explained the vandal's sole intent.
The locker rooms were crudely marred
With swastikas; there was no guard
To monitor the locker floor,
For there was not a need before.
This crime of hate is sad but worse,
Within a membership diverse,
It's awful knowing there are those
Who'd sink to such appalling lows.
They'll paint the walls, remove the stains
But likely there will be some strains
Among the members, wond'ring who's
The culprit targeting the Jews.
What’s the color of forced migration pain?
Ask a black person in America,
and you’ll get fifty different slave answers
What’s the silent sound of invisible chains?
Fifty killahurts of black ...
Aryan brotherhood iron swastikas uniting
What’s the latest “pull the trigger” hate spin?
Fifty states of fascist terror —
Goshen ghettos under daily thought policing
Who got their Klan thumbs
pressing heavy on the justice scales?
Increasing the widow population of the cemetery cells
Who got their hooded hands
casino slot turning the roulette wheel?
Decreasing the charitable portion of the orphan meals
America’s moral debts are in the red
Haughty heifer blame your mounting troubles
on the poor black scapegoats instead
Fifty shades of dark overcast gloom
hanging over the branches of the oak tree
Liberty got locked in a buried room
waiting for captivity’s end to be set free
Fifty shades of rejection in vessels of doom
Thirteen colonies
of spotted lepers will be coming home soon
Fifty shades of black ...
let the moon eclipse the sun
Fifty shades of stars ...
let the striped prisoners run
I saw Nazis march yesterday
upon the streets of Charlottesville.
And, with swastikas on display,
crazed clansmen chanted blood will spill.
I saw Satan grinning with pride
at racial slurs shouted in hate.
And, bigots standing by his side
help the violence escalate.
I saw torches light up the night,
snaking through the black neighborhoods.
And skinheads looking for a fight;
all that was missing were white hoods.
I saw white supremacists, proud
of drawing blood and spreading fear.
And a car plow into the crowd,
its intentions made all too clear.
I saw President Trump place blame
on both sides for this killing spree.
And, a shocked nation reel in shame
at how prejudiced he could be.
I saw the projected end of
tolerance and democracy.
And, mantras of hate replace love
with smugness and hypocrisy.
Quatrain
8/13/2017
ŠKOCJAN CATFISH
In such a fresh and Springtime morning rain,
all melting snow drips slowly in the dark
of secret caves, a world of hidden pain
where hides the sin of time's eternal mark.
There's chiseled Swastikas as yet unseen
their twisted lines drawn from all human greed,
awaiting time, where hope has never been;
their gift of light becomes their only need.
this is Slovenia, known to no one's eyes.
where swim the blind of waters as they grow,
their life devoid of sight, and hearing lies,
where dark is all of life they ever know.
Here waits the march of death, the way of man
still deaf and blind and waiting for a plan.
© Ron Wilson aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet
The black pawn
Eats alone in his own
Dark corner
White pawns with swastikas
Hound him on the chessboard
It was a fateful era for the Jews,
when their tears, blood and fate
was manipulated by the Nazi.
They found anything Jewish to be damned
and wrong, forcing thousands of Jews to exile,
and millions to their deaths.
The Nazis didn't bat their eyelids as they poured gasolene on
little children piled up together in a barn,
as they shouted and cried for help.
At random Jews were selected, and lined up to face
the firing squad in Swastikas;
their blood flowed into pools, trenches and streets,
haunting the spirit of justice in Europe.
Concentration camps, torture and executions
are the only things that the Jews knew,
as they wondered what wrong they did, God
creating them to be who they were.....
HOW CAN YOU LOVE A BUTTERFLY?
Tis Satans call to claim the mind
of anyone who cares to find
the way to death and so eternity
the wages for lifes greatest tragedy
and questioning of lies that be.
What evil waits--you never know
until your hearts have made it so
brought on by greed of those who just don't care
who'd never do the same, not on a dare!
Tis not a sin to lead you there.
They'll tell you any sort of lie
for their own cause, don't ask them why
lest you be branded racist through and through
and blinded to what ever they might do
accused, you only close your eye!
The childrens minds are where they seed
to change young hearts to what they need,
but something's gone wrong in their direst plot
for truth is still a thing that's always sought
when history's written from a greed.
How does a person feel a lie?
How can you love a butterfly?
How do you know deep in your heart and soul
that all the things you're told aren't always so?
And Swastikas may fade, but never die.
© ron wilson aka vee bdosa
HOW CAN YOU LOVE A BUTTERFLY?
Tis Satans call to claim the mind
of anyone who cares to find
the way to death and so eternity
the wages for lifes greatest tragedy
and questioning of lies that be.
What evil waits--you never know
until your hearts have made it so
brought on by greed of those who just don't care
who'd never do the same, not on a dare!
Tis not a sin to lead you there.
They'll tell you any sort of lie
for their own cause, don't ask them why
lest you be branded racist through and through
and blinded to what ever they might do
accused, you only close your eye!
The childrens minds are where they seed
to change young hearts to what they need,
but something's gone wrong in their direst plot
for truth is still a thing that's always sought
when history's written from a greed.
How does a person feel a lie?
How can you love a butterfly?
How do you know deep in your heart and soul
that all the things you're told aren't always so?
And Swastikas may fade, but never die.
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