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Poems By Poet Herbert Nehrlich  5/17/2012 9:13:14 PM
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  Best Poems From
  HERBERT NEHRLICH (04 October 1943)
 
 
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  209.     

Black Hole

....and falling toward the unknown, down, down.
Scaring last remnants of dignity out of me,
is this the end of the beginning, as
the Cantadora has whispered into my hair,
while kissing my face with wild abandon.
With kisses that reek of unused cobwebs and
long ago abandoned petunia patches.
'What beginning', I whisper back,
barely able to breathe, as her gnarled fingers
are choking me in midflight, with nails of vicious prominence.
If we are passing anything, it isn't going the same direction,
and a nagging ache of worry oozes out of my
innermost and secret places. 'Speak to me',
as she is still hanging on and I am no longer bothered.
,
'Facing this together', whisks by like a tuft of cloud,
and, with no warning, a wirr-warr of circles,
fluorescent, on fire, springs into our path, below,
we are descending into a welcome of vicious colours,
and the unmistakable dissonance of Death himself.

'Give in', 'let go', as her ample bosom,
now free of the torn garment, presses against my face.
'Yes', she breathes, unleashing a tongue
that darts into my ear, causing thunderous mayhem,
and as the circles gyrate ever more crazily,
she presses her loins against me, hot breath
into my face, burning loins, 'yes, you can',
as I shake my head, eyes wide open.
'Just as easy as underwater', 'You must, push,
the Black Hole is ours ', and we keep flying,
as her warm tunnel accepts me, claims me,
endless it is and deeper we must and we drop,
lower and lower at supersonic speed,
and now, near the end, surely,
blood runs down my face,
where she is ripping open my smiling cheeks
with needy nails, salt mixes with
old saliva and tears of abandon,
grinding, falling, rotating
in time with the approaching rings of fire,
as she squeezes to take my breath,
to replace it with hers, air rushes by,
as we penetrate new regions of barren fields,
and each other, as saliva and blood and skin
dries and is stung and abandoned.
And, at last, we can see the end of the journey,
darker, plunging, falling, head first,
falling, entangled, entwined, as reluctant one,
into the Black Hole, where all light vanishes,
all sound ceases, all movement ends.
It is the end of the tunnel with no light,
where our insides melt into liquids of fearlessness,
where our pleasure implodes into itself,
and where we have missed beam-up time.
 
Herbert Nehrlich

Read more: warning poems, journey poems, fire poems, together poems, hair poems, light poems, death poems, time poems, kiss poems, running poems, smile poems, spring poems
   
 

   
   
 

  210.     

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
   
 

   
   
 

  211.     

Boys And Their Spinach (Children)

All the kids sat down for lunch,
and the mother, also Dad
during meals this happy bunch
ate and ate. But Tim looked sad.

Spinach sat, all mushy green
on his plate, next to the meat.
A bigger pile he'd never seen
and was expected now to eat.

Dad insisted that all greens
must be eaten by his kids,
that included ugly beans,
bitter olives (without pits) .

But, since Dad was often flying
overseas to make his money,
Tim would sit there, loudly crying
'til his nose was really runny.

Mother, who was always busy
got a headache from the crying,
and it sometimes made her dizzy
(that's when Dad was gone, and flying) .

So, she did allow that Tim
trade his spinach for some Jell-O,
with his older brother Jim,
who was always a good fellow.

But, you children may have heard
that your food will make you grow,
and that Jell-O is dessert,
not as good as spinach though.

And what happened after years
of Tim's body getting Jell-O,
he stayed little and Dad's fears
his hair would turn canary yellow,

did sure come true, so listen, guys,
Popeye was really big and strong.
The spinach gave him eagle eyes,
all because, for years (that long)

when he was a little man
he would always clean his plate,
and he was a spinach fan,
that's why his muscles looked so great.

It's up to you. If you would like
to grow into a fine young man,
and be the fastest on your bike,
have great big muscles 'cause you can

you'll need to always eat your greens,
including spinach and green bugs,
and broccoli, cabbage and beans.
Green-eating boys get all the hugs.
 
Herbert Nehrlich
   
 

   
   
 

  212.     

Braces For Faces

A dentist must adjust the wires
of braces with his stainless pliers.
The radio now is wireless
which leaves us simple folks to guess
that it will surely come, the day
when wires can be thrown away.
Which then would lessen (praise the Lord)
the image of a circuit board.
 
Herbert Nehrlich
   
 
 
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Poems By Poet Herbert Nehrlich