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Best Poems From
HERBERT NEHRLICH
(04 October 1943)
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301.
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Orgasm
He was at a point
where
the word imminence
came to his mind,
the latter being on
half-mast
due to
a carnal pre-occupation
with sacular production
of androgens
and spermatozoa fishies,
rising
as they are
known to do
to meet up with
prostatic lubedeegoo
in the U-tube
in preparation
for expulsion
and beginning
of
exploratory voyage
all of which
set his
epidermis on fire,
hyperactivated
his histamine pod,
sent a tingle to each toe
separately,
caused a moderate
but sustained
contraction of
all gluteal fibres
not performing thrusts
and
sent waves of
Nitric Oxide
to create
bilateral tumescence
dropp the little hood
over her cute sentinel,
and announced its
liberation by
a veritable volley
of wild and voluptuous waves,
inundating his SELF,
and welding the entireties of
two right hemispheres
firmly together.
He did manage,
being a Latin
as well as a Roman Scholar,
to utter,
while clinging bilaterally again
to her twins,
the famous
Veni,
Vidi
Vici.
And VENI
had covered much of her
which was,
after and to his
great relief,
a great
and sensuous sensation
not to be missed
and soon to be
repeated.
Herbert Nehrlich
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302.
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Pallbearers
Inside the box of cypress pine
(they say that worms won't touch the stuff) ,
exactly at the dot of nine
six friends from school, who huff and puff
and whom no force would pull asunder,
companions on this final trip,
they say good-bye and put me under,
the box sinks slowly, like a ship.
Each of the bearers surely ponders
about the time and how it flew,
and with a fleeting shiver wonders
if God might give the faintest clue
on who'd be next to take the dive.
Will it be Fred who smokes cigars,
or Albert, who is kept alive
by daily visits to the bars?
In any case, this honour service
that men are called upon to give
makes many people very nervous,
as everybody wants to live.
To solve the riddle for us all
I tool the liberty to buy
down in the city, at the Mall
six hourglasses, it's no lie.
I wrote the names upon them clearly
of those six friends in glowing ink,
the purpose being, I would dearly
be in the know. I further think
that I can get prepared that way
to welcome each by his own name.
They come for an extended stay
which, in the end, is all the same
as something called eternity.
Though no one grasps it all at first,
that we are gone, done in, yet free,
so, as the mental bubbles burst
they settle in, accept their fate.
It helps alot when they are greeted
not as a devil but a mate,
it makes you calmer, less defeated,
so, when my box then runs aground,
I set the gadgets in position,
the sand will trickle without sound
into the bottom glass partition.
So, now you know if you are asked
to do last honours for a man,
your fate will soon become unmasked
by the deceased because he can
predict, as I have clearly shown
the death of you and your five mates,
it's something heretofore unknown
and, thus, potentially creates
a shortage of those volunteers.
So, may I ask you for your pledge
to keep yours shut when someone nears
his hours hov'ring near the edge.
But, if you don't obey appeals
like this one, you will be the chappie
to see a need for coffin wheels,
though it won't make me very happy.
For centuries pallbearers did
their duties as it was expected,
and when the call came no one hid
so, if at last you are elected
forget about my hourglasses.
Down here, it's something I can do,
and as they rest their sorry asses
I'll be the first to have a clue.
Herbert Nehrlich
Read more: fate poems, sorry poems, school poems, city poems, happy poems, people poems, death poems, running poems, friend poems
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303.
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Pantyhose Puzzle
Here's a puzzle in poetry prose
take an average pantyhose
if you wanted to hide
real critters inside
can you make me a list of all those.
Little piggies, count ten
add two calves without pen
charleyhorse without gas
and a very big ass
and a pantyhose isn't for men.
Herbert Nehrlich
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304.
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Persistence
A humming sound, though almost still.
Something he'd never heard before.
The likes of it! Oohm, oohm, and scary,
he could not find it in his mind,
his comfort yielding to frustration,
when so far up the old shit creek,
once dunked, twice dripping, also smarting
from nagging curiosity.
And inner voices aim to badger.
Oh yes, the hubby mantis lusted,
then only said, 'What the....', no less,
when finely chiseled hands proceeded
to tear his handsome head clear off.
The rest was blatant mystery,
though not to him because of timing
and public utter headlessness.
So, is this the ideal weapon,
sophisticated warfare tool,
and activism driving waves
of sound that can't be recognised,
yet hums persistently in dissonance.
Humming is best, as frank pulsations
would signal familiarity.
How often, after all, does one
encounter Nature's hummingbird?
And when it happens, ooohm, ooohm, ooohm,
well, what the heck, what do you know?
So you start looking, hoping, praying,
for perfect versions, yours at last.
You muster patience, stick around
'til someone quickly tears yours off.
And afterward, some sordid creature
will likely have their way with you.
Until that time, however, know
it's still your game of heads or tails.
Herbert Nehrlich
Read more: nature poems, smart poems, hope poems
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