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Best Poems From
HERBERT NEHRLICH
(04 October 1943)
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277.
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Payback
Once in his life, his breath was free
a beating heart, it knew its place
the knowledge of identity
was etched upon his weathered face.
The gods had given him the keys
to open most, though not all doors
one day, when praying on his knees
a shiver swept a million pores.
He felt the plunging knife go deep
just briefly glancing off the spine,
his heart attempted still to keep
internal peace, he fell, supine.
It took the shoes, the dirty socks
all clothes, a watch and from his pocket
the bonds, the notes and all the stocks
then ripped the chain that held his locket.
The hair and eyebrows, glasses too
it slipped into the new I.D.,
then dropped the body at the Zoo
where laughter welcomed misery.
So soon forgotten, left behind
the future only counted here
and see, the people all went blind
toward the past and all its fear.
It looked the same, and walked with pride
(both eyes though had a nasty stare) .
So life would be a pleasant ride
each one would have a smile to share.
Its chest had swelled and as it strode
and of his step a spring took hold
still looking for the Mother Lode
and pressing on, weighed down by gold.
The coup had brought this monster riches,
the law was his, none had the right
no shysters, preachers, horny bitches
would dare to shade his shining light.
Then darkness came, sent down by God
he cleared a loganberry hedge,
and for a moment found it odd
that there was nought beyond the ledge.
A scream was heard throughout the land
and to this day, when darkness falls
you listen and you understand
from far away, a voice that calls.
Herbert Nehrlich
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278.
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Personal Injury
How clumsy I had been.
For me, the strapping athlete,
to fall inside the supermarket.
Feet up, right near the cucumbers
and with a gaggle of tomatoes,
a cache of brussel sprouts,
twelve hundred leaves of iceberg,
and Bimbo with green apron,
all looking on, observing, on edge
of breaking out in raucous laughter.
The smirk was building now,
so, with a funeral director's face,
I picked myself off the slick floor,
composing all the systems as I rose,
and then pronounced, and just in time
as the greengrocer manager arrived,
full blown and chalk-white devastation
in a face that knew, this was the USA.
'It's a P.I.', I said and all knew what I meant.
Herbert Nehrlich
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279.
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Playing Again
Imagine, if you will, this scene:
There's five foot fourish Mister Bean
announcing jokes for Halloween.
Now we all know he's hardly mean
but rather strange and always keen
to wear the look of Mr. Sheen
as fighting fit and rather lean.
This fellow somewhat entertains,
for which one needs no real brains.
He travels on those British planes
where Pommy pilots take the reins.
He goes to supersized great pains
to spend his loot (ill-gotten gains) ,
and never eats bread made from grains.
Herbert Nehrlich
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280.
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Poetry Competitions
When bullies in the schoolyard play
and throw their egos in the fray
it soon becomes quite evident
what Sigmund of Vienna meant.
I see I'd better take my leave
before some little devils weave
a net to catch my nasty tongue
or they decide that I be hung.
My friend the old Bavarian shrink
just never asks what I would think
He cautions me to stay with peers
and buy my grievances at Sears.
Before I close may I observe
that my own mother had the nerve
to say 'stay out of that there forum'
but vist places of decorum.
I secretly am quite convinced
that she, whose words are never minced
is now regressing to an age
where anger, scorn and wanton rage
appear to feed inside the mind
JUSTIT-IA, though well confined.
Revert I say but count me out
I shall remain a walkabout.
Grown men will never act like kids
they know of Freud and its and ids.
Like all of us, we like our toys
and when we play, we play as boys.
Herbert Nehrlich
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