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Best Poems From
HERBERT NEHRLICH
(04 October 1943)
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205.
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America, The Good Neighbour
It is time that I speak up for what they call America
for a people not appreciated much,
they are generous to all and help the needy near and far
millions gladly felt the good old Yankee touch.
There is Germany and Britain, and Japan and Italy
they were showered with those dollars and forgiven
many debts were cancelled all to end their self-caused misery
new investments, new economies were driven.
While some debts remained in place and should be honoured as of right
it is clear that not one country pays a dime,
you would think that just the interest would be given without fight
but the world does not regard this as a crime.
It was nineteen-fifty-six and Vive La France was near collapse
guess who came to prop her up in those dark days?
Yes it was the helpful Yankees, while De Gaulle was taking naps
but the money disappeared into the haze.
Look at earthquakes in those regions where the people are so poor
who will hurry to the places and assist,
yet tornadoes flatten cities in the homeland every year
any helpers must have faded in the mist.
When the Marshall Plan pumped billions into countries destitute
there were smiles of gratitude on every face
yet today their papers write about the decadent dispute
and are calling them the warring tyrant race.
Look at planes that fly those people in convenient and safe trips
to the places where the world looks not like home
should you hear the names of Boeing, DC-Ten on foreign lips
on the way to a now free and prosperous Rome?
When the railways broke in Germany, in France and India
they were rebuilt by Americans, my word,
when they did collapse at home, in Pennsylvania
and New York no single miracle occurred.
No one lend them even one lousy caboose.
I can name five thousand times when old America would act
while the rest of our great world were in a snooze.
Take an earthquake on the coast, and with little left intact
who of all the mentioned countries would be seen?
I could go and tell you more but maybe all will get the gist
that Americans have always been too keen
to be nurse and, yes policeman while the envious souls get pissed
so America, you ought to stand up tall.
No one stands with you in times when there is need for a strong shoulder
that could help you and prevent that some might fall
I have seen you go alone and with your goodness move the boulder
while the sneering and the whistling could be heard.
And today, courageous people, you are faced with a new foe
that will plant your precious boys deep in the dirt
once again the world is watching and enjoying their own show
screaming insults, throwing rocks at simple folks.
It is not the Ma's and Pa's or all their offspring that is bad
and there really is no room for your poor jokes.
It is George and Donald and some others who've gone mad
as the devil of Big Greed has grabbed their hand.
Uncle Sam and his mean henchmen need to go inside a cell
so the people can get back their promised land.
And I pray for my America, Get Well.
Note: This was inspired by the radio address of Gordon Sinclair,
a Canadian, in the seventies. I kept the title as well
Herbert Nehrlich
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206.
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Are My Test Results Back?
His operation had been a success,
a student nurse arrived with sponge and soap.
He slurred his speech, 'hello my dear, God bless.'
She knew he was still under all that dope.
'I'm here to sponge your legs and arms and then your back, '
she whispers, reddening, to which he then replies:
'Please tell me if my testicles are black? '
She hesitates, then looks him in the eyes.
She pulls the covers from his legs in one swift move.
Grabs hold of all his most essential, precious ware,
inspects the balls and referee, also the groove.
'No sir, ' she whispers, ' they are coloured pretty fair;
you must be groggy from the op still but to think
that they would change while you were under the old knife
to raven black from velvet soft and pretty pink
please be assured, they will be longing for your wife.'
'I thank you kindly, ' he replies, 'for this sweet touch
I have not felt such pleasant feelings in some time,
I do appreciate your hand so very much
and may I add that all my gear is in its prime.'
And then he asked her, with a touch of burning need:
'would you give me now the answer I still lack:
Leave your hand there, it is healing me, indeed
Are my test results, the urgent ones, now back? '
Herbert Nehrlich
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207.
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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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208.
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Biology Lesson
The student asked, 'what is it then',
the answer came as it must come.
So here's a little lesson:
A naked mass of protoplasm,
not animal nor really plant,
called proctoctists, and they hang out
in nether regions, thus the name,
Proctologists beware.
Their proper name is molds of slime,
or slime-molds, are they coprophagic?
They eat bacteria, fungi, but prefer
decaying matter like the dung
of bovine creatures, soft and warm,
thus coprophagia does apply.
They creep, a sign of low-life trait,
now classified as Eucarya,
which should not be confused at all
with similar religious names.
So, here you have, in one nutshell
or shall we call it ball of slime:
The molds form spores, which quickly spread
become amoebas, turn to slime.
Most slime is now considered as
obnoxious to the human eye.
Herbert Nehrlich
Read more: animal poems
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