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Best Poems From
HERBERT NEHRLICH
(04 October 1943)
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389.
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You Wait
I shall, some foggy day, commence
the march to your Canossa, quick of stride,
and when I get to within inches of your fence
I'll plan the little deed, to take your hide.
And cut into small strips your DNA,
with care I shall then yield the stainless blade
it is the Devil's method, if one will not pay,
reserved for members of the Scum Brigade.
Night falls each day and vultures like sunset
they'll fight each other over every piece,
it is a fitting recognition, one to get
in place of any glory, such as verdigris.
There will be dust and dirt, the excrements of time,
though none will give you welcome, none at all.
You chose to live a life of smut and crime,
and it was left to me to make you fall.
They would not beam you up, even to Hell,
the universe denied you any space,
you had no human substance and no shell,
and no one will recall your swinish face.
Herbert Nehrlich
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390.
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You Wash
I saw you
by the mountain stream,
at dawn.
You stood
and simply washed,
while pale-faced twins
regarded me,
who was
well hidden
in the forest's trees.
My heart stood still,
fell into silent mode,
so deep in love
that it can never
be undone.
It's been
a thousand dawns
that I have stood
to see you there.
In love but filled with fear.
While you,
oblivious to me,
just stand there,
in the icy waters.
And simply wash.
Herbert Nehrlich
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391.
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You'd never guess
Last night I wore my purple dress
the doorbell rang, you'd never guess
who walked in with a bunch of flowers
and all his charismatic powers.
Let me describe him, here's a clue:
His hair is silver, almost blue.
They say he has a crooked schlong
an eager one, don't get me wrong.
I'm not the target any more
his wife, they say, is still quite sore.
Well, this is crazy, here we are
and he unwraps this black cigar.
Moves closer, smiles his smile and winks,
I wonder if he really thinks...
but I must tell someone, confess
because, well, um, you'd never guess,
he smelled like a distillery
my thoughts were all with Hillary.
His cell phone rang, he grew a frown
and whispered 'Darling, dropp this gown',
Oh, no, I shall do no such thing
with any man who wears a ring,
But then he talked of good old times
how everyone commits those crimes,
and that he loved me as his honey
and did I need some extra money.
'I have a slushfund with no less,
a million dollars from the mess
when we were finished with our tour
I did alright there, that's for sure.'
And in the blink of his blue eyes
before my brain could realise
he moved around like a Houdini
undressed and put on a bikini.
I tell you, it was quite a scene
the man was wearing greenback green.
The garment had been stitched together
a thousand notes and one lone feather.
But what amazed me, can you guess
a body part, shaped like an S
was pointing now in my direction
no way it could escape detection.
As you would know, I was quite nervous
since he had brought the Secret Service.
They briefed me now, called me Monique
all classified. I felt so weak,
then they went out but would you guess
he grabbed me quick, ripped off my dress!
That did it, what a clumsy jerk,
and now his Heini went beserk,
I prayed so God would intervene
when rescue came onto the scene.
While I was fighting off the beast
there was a knock, it was the priest.
Had come to pray with him and bless
his tool, made up of stem cells, yes.
I then decided that this mess
was weird enough, you'll never guess
what happened then, blink of an eye,
that's just before I went bye-bye.
The priest had taken off his habit
and donned two ears, those of a rabbit,
the two of them sat close together
and now perused that ostrich feather.
I pinched my buttocks just in case
I had been dreaming of this place
and found that this was real life,
I hurried home to my sweet wife.
She uses a much better brand
and buys them in the Fatherland.
'Cigars', she says, 'of quality
come from a country that is free.'
And Cuban sticks are way too humble
you touch them and they start to crumble.
A White House intern won't play chess
but, then again....you'd never guess.
Herbert Nehrlich
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392.
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Young Farmers
I'd spent so many summers on my uncle's farm
and loved to feel the roots of rightful, old tradition.
Our day began when Mr. Sandman passed and the alarm
was getting ready to convey programmed decision
to him, my rival brother and myself at 1/2 past three.
We did the chores involving the menagerie
of cows and pigs and horses, chickens, geese.
Who all had spent the night to manufacture and then drop
their multicoloured excrements up to their knees.
We laboured, mucking with enthusiasm and non-stop.
Sucking the morning's freshest, slightly soiled warm egg
before the real breakfast of much hearty nature beckoned,
fresh cream drawn from the silver separator keg
and ham and sausages, fatback, we always reckoned,
that, if the Life of Reilly needed new inventing
it would be found with ease on our favourite farm.
And. come to think of it, bet anyone, the devil, on repenting
his evil life, would gladly, happily fall for the charm
of country life in nineteenfifty, when the world was good,
when greed had stayed in castles and in Roman spires,
when man was kind to man and knew he would
be well and happy, healthy, free to sire
enduring decency in future generations.
And those, my friend, those were the days,
when basic goodness never rested on sensations
of goods and services and prostituting yeahs and nays.
Herbert Nehrlich
Read more: greed poems, brother poems, evil poems, future poems, silver poems, nature poems, happy poems, friend poems, life poems, world poems, horse poems
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