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Best Poems From
HERBERT NEHRLICH
(04 October 1943)
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417.
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A Brilliant Poet
He suffered from a phlebolith,
a rather nasty fusion,
a gray and stringy, foamy pith
it caused a great delusion.
He thought he was a gifted boy
but to his consternation
the only person to enjoy
his immature narration
was mother who, between TV,
soap operas and Springer
read all his so-called poetry
and raised her ladyfinger:
My son, the poet, bless him God
some day will have the masses
come running just to hear his odd....
and sit there, on their asses.
In awe they'll be, and rightfully,
such talent, such devotion!
I think that I may go and pee
into the Southern Ocean.
Herbert Nehrlich
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418.
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A Bumblebee Turns Gay
There was a little bumblebee
he went down on his bumble knee
and told the queen that he was gay
this message caused her much dismay
new friend remarked 'you humble me'.
The queen said, listen, bumblebee
I will not let you wander free
your work is here and you must breed
to plant in me that precious seed
lest all your steps a stumble be.
So bumblebee did stumble free
got off his little bumbleknee
and hand in hand with his new lover
took to the air, briefly to hover
their wings a constant mumble, see?
And both our poofter bumblebees
had taken with them rumble keys
the queen sent kamakazi drones
to apprehend and smash their bones
so they became two tumblebees.
Herbert Nehrlich
Read more: work poems, friend poems
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419.
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A Bumblebee's Sweet Destiny
A bumblebee had hitched a ride
by hanging on the starboard side
of Russia's pride, the Aeroflot
right near the engine where it's hot.
The captain got her in the air,
flew straight into the sun's hot glare.
And then they climbed into the sky
to heights where normal creatures die.
The bumblebee had been a shade
of gray and black, like gatorade.
But soon, when covered with fine ice
resembled modified white rice.
The frost cut into his thin skin
and quickly travelled further in.
And once the plane reached altitude
the stowaway, still cold and nude
pledged to his God that he would be,
if saved, a better bumblebee.
But God had heard this song before
and did not trust them anymore,
regardless of their place of birth
or what their role was on this earth.
They lied, all critters and their masters
in peace and threatening disasters.
Please save me, was the standard plea
it was to be or not to be.
But after God had done his deed
they all returned to human need
who would forget their obligation
and practice wanton fornication.
The bumblebee who had good ears
still hung there, though consumed by fears,
when engine trouble hit the Boeing
it was a question now of knowing
what happens when they all just die.
The bee then heard the pilot cry.
And soon, the bird had to descend
no power meant a bitter end.
The bumblebee let go and flew
right past (he saw the frantic crew) .
With wings designed for tempered flight
he soared, it really was a sight!
But when he reached four hundred knots
he heard, and felt the heat of shots,
He saw them now, all hunting duck
well, I'll be damned, they've gone amuck,
they might just hit me in the head
and I will surely be quite dead.
His wings were burning from the speed
the belly skin began to bleed.
So in an act of desperation
he used some clever gravitation
and grabbed a bullet, thirty-eight.
It was in an ascending state
and hit its target in the chest,
right through the mallard's silver crest.
Inside the heart it was quite pleasant,
it smelled of duck, perhaps of pheasant.
The bumblebee revived its blood
and then they landed, with a thud.
He stood, expelled by the contraction
called ventricle ejection fraction.
And as he stretched he heard a noise
and then a hunter's frightened voice.
The plane was now a fireball
and passengers and crew, they all
just perished in a blessed minute.
'Thank Destiny, I wasn't in it.'
As you can see, this tale is odd.
The bee, rejected by his God
had found a friend in destiny
and God had lost a bumblebee.
Herbert Nehrlich
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420.
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A Business Deal
Things did look good,
the reasonableness
was palpable that day.
Only that fellow Murphy
and his blasted Law
had infiltrated the territory
and breached perimeters
that should have been taboo.
And so I signed the papers,
and was assured the mechandise
with all the trimmings would arrive
to be received with joyful heart
in just a week, so praise the Lord.
And when I left he'd stayed behind
to do his dirtywork and throw a spanner
into the works, all unbeknownst to me.
The merchandise arrived, so I was told
but would be late by two, three days,
there was a tiny glitch that needed fixing.
It turned out differently, my friends.
The glitch was major and I ascertained
what had been happening, in dark of night,
such a defect and all the tampering with it
did make it unacceptable, that much was clear.
What followed was a skirmish, followed by
more of the same, each with more fire,
and when the war was over in a week
it first appeared unclear as to which side
had won the mother of all battles here,
it was the day that all the ammunition,
all bullets had been spent and hit their targets.
That day will be tomorrow, it's a Monday,
the aftermath of Father's Day, for dear old Dad.
Herbert Nehrlich
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