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Best Poems From
HERBERT NEHRLICH
(04 October 1943)
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1837.
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Money, Honey
I know, my dear, I told you that I love you,
you hold my hand now, lucky me, as I lay dying,
the other one is in the grip of those who would lay claim
to having known my most elusive little secret.
I did conform, my dear, to all expected standards
your dad was adamant that money was the cure
of all the evils and the undecided matters
he threw it nilly-willy to the silly locusts.
And here I was, my dear, you looked like that great face
whose photo had been plastered on banknotes,
how can you blame me now in hindsight for the loss
I knew but nothing of investments and finances.
All I have left is what I see here on my pillow
a flabby body with no tits, but bushy hair,
I checked this morning with the banker and am sorry,
there has not been a resurrection there today.
So, if I told you that I loved you, I was drunk.
I cannot be the one that you desire now.
And if you weep to get your way with me I say
it's only money that will get adrenals going.
Can you imagine me, the wizard of the odds
make love to you if they have sent a note to you
that says dear customer, don't bother to come back?
So please forgive me if i take my mammoth asset
to other pastures where rewards are worth their time,
I wish you luck, however, and a Latin lover
one who has never known the platitudes of time.
Epilogue:
He did not die my friends, he went to his close neighbour
who held his hand and then decided all was safe.
They're still together after many moons of loving
she had no money but the balance was from heaven.
Herbert Nehrlich
Read more: money poems, sorry poems, loss poems, today poems, together poems, hair poems, heaven poems, time poems, friend poems
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1838.
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Monsieur Filou
I shiver when I think of you
the awe I feel, the dill I am.
So, from afar I watch,
take in each move
each fleshy groove
the lanolin of lamb,
crank up the dial by just one notch
it spells filou, Monsieur Filou.
What can I do, who can I be
to wrap myself, with pointed knee
around your Majesty's plumage?
I'd pay, and play, I'd pray and say
whatever the montage,
forget the crew, there's only you
who'd offer me a way.
So, let me tell
I wish you well,
but I am always near.
Send thoughts to me
and know I shall
find one discerning ear.
It now is WE,
Monsieur Filou,
a matter not for you.
Herbert Nehrlich
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1839.
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Monsieur Gustave Cazin
He looked upon the finished tower,
at dusk, as in this sacred hour
the city lights reflect so loudly
and silent bats are flying proudly,
the structure was a masterpiece.
Gustave went down on his French knees
to thank le Dieu for inspiration,
allowing him infatuation
to build this wonder of the world.
When in his head a gremlin curled
iself and wrapped its closest neighbour
inside its claws, then stuck its saber
into the heart of all sane thinking.
He smelled the fear of slowly sinking,
his vison blurred and sparks ignited
those structures, previously delighted,
and within seconds, battlecries
hurled echoes out through both his eyes.
He staggered slowly to the lift
to now ascend what his mind's gift
had built and happily presented,
(and no one knew he was demented) .
The view from there, like any height
inspires awe and sometimes fright.
A step too far, its brash demands
to bring what now he understands
a closure to his undertaking.
The time is now, he is awaking.
To not run out of what man needs,
the catalyst for all his deeds,
he takes a last gigantic breath,
lets go of it to meet his death.
Herbert Nehrlich
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1840.
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Monster (Asocial Children)
A coward was asleep in bed
his eyelids heavy just like lead.
A monster came into his room
and promised loudly doom and gloom.
He dared not look, this fellow Howard
and so the monster killed the coward.
Herbert Nehrlich
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