PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Here I roost in Pretty-ville;
not much hue allowed.
They prefer it hushed and still,
no color in the crowd.

Fans whir, keeping heat away.
That TV does remind
of half-century sullen days
passed on, not left behind.

Oh, what atrocities and lies!
Insidious rhetoric has been spewed.
Mein Kampf’s shadow does not die.
Malignity----it grew----

A black man leads with courageous sight.

He is crushed by an Aryan curse.
Heroes of the airwaves fight,
untimely hauled by hearse.

Slayers are jailed, put in the earth.

They rise stronger and spread their blight.

Another Dolfie has been birthed,
after his dad helps end the Reich. 

Oh Fatherland, swept away,
where are you? Here’s a clue:
He rules oppressingly each day
from Pennsylvania Avenue.

“……Five minutes ‘fore you’re on the air……”
“Laura, is my tie on straight?”
He practises his benevolent stare
for consumption of his hate.

"Hello,My fellow americans."
His puppets dance about.

He plans our destinies,
while sucking our kitties out.

A risen Vlad, he aims to bleed,
decimating far and near;
till wailing, kneeling, facing east, cry:
 “Allah!  Save us all down here!”

How did we doom our children after?
He was enthroned by those
who trust a well-dressed adder
--I, too, I do suppose.

I slept so briefly for a time,
four horsemen riding through my mind.
Apocalyptic vision growing,
I could see Der Fuhrer, strolling
by alabaster mansion, eating
Turner’s Bible----early stages----
"Megiddos away!"----salutes his greeting,
humming  “Eidelweiss."

Fran Hinke

Revised 5/21/2019