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Best Poems From
HERBERT NEHRLICH
(04 October 1943)
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89.
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Bad Judgment
A fake who had run into strife
re-appeared as another man's wife.
Name is August oh yes?
And a female, no less
go and f**k yourself, get a new life!
They will never allow him to come
to their party, he's simply too dumb.
Not a talent of note
it is curtains she wrote
and for you, there ain't even a crumb.
He attended his own circumcision,
his strange father had made the decision.
From the day this took place
it was simply a case
that he lacked even simple cognition.
Though he ventured to where they do write.
Thought that poetry might need a light
not a single soul read
what came out of his head,
he was neither too handsome nor bright.
Well, he could not believe that they would
that they might and that (really!) they could,
so he crashed through the gate
when a fellow said Mate,
we cut balls off of every hood!
He assured them he was not a felon
or a fiddler, his name would be Helen.
But they cut off his tail
in the Worcestershire Jail
and the rest of it, well..I'm not tellin.
Herbert Nehrlich
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90.
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Big Ben
In the shadow, downwind from the men
walks a stout and bright fellow in line
as he listens to sounds of Big Ben
he discards all his hopes to the swine.
In a mix of self-pity and reason
he aspires to give up his will,
to his soul (and her heart) it is treason;
he remembers his Hamburger Hill.
All he needs is the love of her caring,
it will fix the autonomy,
let us slay that sly beast for his daring,
his obsession with misery.
Let him ask what makes people survive,
where the flower is hiding its face.
One will breathe with contempt if alive
all while dressed in the comfort of lace.
Herbert Nehrlich
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91.
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Birthday Wisdom For Gregory
A birthday comes but once a year,
the day remains the same.
But let me make it crystal clear:
When they picked out your name,
they wisely mapped a life for you
so that you'd comprehend,
the birthdays HE has given you
must tally in the end.
Herbert Nehrlich
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92.
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Botox
I have, he said lost all my sense of humour.
Perhaps I did, my Lord, perhaps I did.
It is what drove me, do not question this,
but once the gods decide it is their game,
all that remains would be, a silly botox smile.
Herbert Nehrlich
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