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Best Poems From
HERBERT NEHRLICH
(04 October 1943)
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77.
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Chemistry Lab
Pilshoffer was the name
of our old teacher,
'twas chemistry that made him
what he was and clung to.
Made up of strictly chemicals,
like atoms, molecules
and many, as yet unknown
exotic particles.
The place one would expect
to find his soul had been
completely taken over
by aromatic clusters
of blue aldehydes.
He needed no botox,
as all expression had been
deep-frozen so long ago.
And in his smelly, fizzy,
gurgly, bubbly, yet so punctual life
he smiled just once.
It was just moments
prior to the great event,
when this obedient student
blew up the Lab of Chemistry,
but hadn't meant to, really.
Herbert Nehrlich
Read more: teacher poems, smile poems
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78.
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Chernobyl Volunteers
The Kommisariat decreed
that someone volunteer
to call for volunteers.
Chernobyl was a mess
and messes did not happen
inside the Soviet Union.
So, in due course they came,
with shovels, picks and spades.
Olive green shirts and boots
of imitation leather, black.
They worked their shifts,
all for the Fatherland,
or, as they called it, Mother Russia.
The Kommisar congratulated,
on Saturday, the gang of twenty-five.
He also demonstrated the new mask,
the one the Kremlin had procured
for those who led the people.
A document had been prepared,
a couple dozen times plus one.
It stated 'Hero Of The Soviet Union',
so many shaky fingers folded up
the papers as they had to now recline
and rest their weary, radioactive bones
until the strength would once again return.
The papers were enclosed inside
the hemlock coffins, the next day.
They had the names imprinted,
thus could not be used again
for those who waited at the gates.
The happy volunteers, for Mother Russia.
Herbert Nehrlich
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79.
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Desert Fox
I am like Rommel.
The desert fox
who ended up
as fall guy in the war
between the vanity
of Adolf Hitler
and the necessity
to let the masses
eat sausages
and drive the new
and fancy People's Car.
The reasons for
a similarity
that may be obvious
to no one but myself
remain a closely
and forever
guarded secret,
I say Basta
to the peasants
and the vultures
who had me covered
on the ground
and from the air.
You've been disabled
and squashed
like one of those
let's say those pesky
useless and recalcitrant
and smelly bastards
of chitin and of crap
and no significance.
I fry my egg now
on metal made by Krupp
extremely heated,
and wipe the sweat
of desert thoughts
off weary bones.
The biggest battle
one which will
without a doubt
decide the fate
of all the deserts
and all people
is yet to come.
Herbert Nehrlich
Read more: car poems, people poems, fate poems, war poems
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80.
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Dolly The Sheep
Dolly was her name.
She was a sheep.
Some asinine
and arrogant filou
had started up a game
of can we screw and keep,
have a genetic line
superior to any zoo.
But Dolly faltered,
some things were not
and could not be
up on the up
when it was altered
and Dolly's life was
yes, 'twas cut
they prayed, said
over runs the cup
and then she died.
But someone lied.
It had been all along intended
to put her down for science's sake
and fourteen laws, newly amended
would give the world a needed shake.
So IVF and other tricks
will still be there for those who will
take peace of mind compared to NIX
and Dolly died. She'd had her fill.
Herbert Nehrlich
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