"blitzkrieg" poems
Touch it: it won't shrink like an eyeball,
This egg-shaped bailiwick, clear as a tear.
Here's yesterday, last year ---
Palm-spear and lily distinct as flora in the vast
Windless threadwork of a tapestry.
Flick the glass with your fingernail:
It will ping like a Chinese chime in the slightest air stir
Though nobody in there looks up or bothers to answer.
The inhabitants are light as cork,
Every one of them permanently busy.
At their feet, the sea waves bow in single file.
Never trespassing in bad temper:
Stalling in midair,
Short-reined, pawing like paradeground horses.
Overhead, the clouds sit tasseled and fancy
As Victorian cushions. This family
Of valentine faces might please a collector:
They ring true, like good china.
Elsewhere the landscape is more frank.
The light falls without letup, blindingly.
A woman is dragging her shadow in a circle
About a bald hospital saucer.
It resembles the moon, or a sheet of blank paper
And appears to have suffered a sort of private blitzkrieg.
She lives quietly
With no attachments, like a foetus in a bottle,
The obsolete house, the sea, flattened to a picture
She has one too many dimensions to enter.
Grief and anger, exorcised,
Leave her alone now.
The future is a grey seagull
Tattling in its cat-voice of departure.
Age and terror, like nurses, attend her,
And a drowned man, complaining of the great cold,
Crawls up out of the sea.
41.9k
The Japanese attacked
British and Dutch colonies
In southeast Asia
Japanese landed on the southern island of Mindanao
And the west coast of Luzon
On the 24th of December
They landed on the east coast of Luzon
The allied forces withdrew to the Bataan Peninsula
For three months they held the Japanese troops
On the Bataan Peninsula
On the fourth of April
Allied forces were attacked again
Five days later the allied forces surrendered
Of the 12,000 Americans
Captured on Bataan
Only a third survived the war
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 7:46 PM UTC
Dear Poet Friends, Here is a poem by a young Canadian poet named Darien, which I found while browsing the Net! I would like to share this with you as a prelude to my poem about the 'Rise of The Third Reich', - which I hope to post on this Site shortly. Thanks, - Raj Nandy, New Delhi
World War II - ADOLF ******
by DARIEN, Aug 21, 2006
Austria raised a man so vile and vicious
His life was dark, callous and malicious
Passions of hatred engraved in his mind
As he plotted to create his own mankind
A soldier for Germany in World War One
War to end all wars had only just begun
The National Socialist Party appeared fast
Their numbers grew rapidly as time passed
Charismatic oratory and propaganda his tool
False promises made, people he would fool
Were Nazis the one to bring hope? Perhaps
Without their help Germany would collapse
The Reichstag Fire would be a stepping stone
Germany's President died, he took the throne
He became the fuhrer leader of all Germany
And would start the worst war of the century
War had been started with a Nazi-Soviet pact
Together with Russia, Poland they attacked
England and France were not ready for war
Marching of Nazis soldiers was not ignored.
Mussolini became his ally and supported him
For all other countries their chances were slim
Many countries were defeated in a few days
the Fascist and Nazis would give him praise
Blitzkrieg was a strategy that worked most
In defeating all his enemies he came close
The Nazis would spread all across Europe
But it would be at Stalingrad they would stop
Communist regimes were one group he did hate
Yet it was the Jews he would try to annihilate
In all cruelty, bloodshed, war would soon end
There was still so much for people to defend
On V-Day he saw all his armies demolished
****** and fascism in Europe was abolished
World War Two ended the areas were secure
From that evil, monstrous beast Adolf ******
- By Darien. (Canada)
..........................................................................
Sep 22, 2018
Sep 22, 2018 at 11:11 AM UTC
****** thought it was a concept novel.
But wrong he was.
India knew Blitzkrieg long before ******
In ancient dramas like Mahabharata,
And of course the older Ramayana,
The epics are replete with incidents,
Or rather determining acts of battle,
That determined the course of time,
Armies attacked the relaxing armies,
Changed the outcome of war.
So was the ancient Indian ideology.
Jan 21, 2016
Jan 21, 2016 at 11:48 AM UTC
6% alcohol content
In the bathroom binge drinking
Again Beer,
Cigarettes have always been a vice and
Bourbon Blitzkrieg!
My friend once ****** on a statue
of The ****** Mary but
Blood is not suitable for children cause
Macaulay Culkin scares the living ****
outta me and I
Desperately want another kiss
from that baphomet I met in Brooklyn
SHADABOOM!
“English ************ do you speak it?!”
Marsellus’s soul was in that briefcase but
He don’t look like a ***** praying to
birthday cake, Praise the Lard!
Whiskey tastes sweeter with honey and
another night down, another **** in my mouth
In case of flame(er), beat him.
Off with the good book because
GodisdeadandsoamI
Jan 7, 2014
Jan 7, 2014 at 5:41 AM UTC
prepare for the high gates to fall.
for the great bowl of us
to submerge under stolen soul waves
& atomic guts.
the seven year tribes; or
fissure of statehoods and broods and brother against brother.
end drenched in whisky blood,
& desperado cheese.
fungus.
[the rebellion kids] with their drums and sling-shots,
get their throats cut in the open street sweet heat
& blitzkrieg.
all first-born hearts plucked
from atop the great pyramid, preserved, and in
frosted time-capsules.
yet the leopards remain healthy.
while cities plunge into putrefaction &/or
radioactive ****
from **** to corner to tomahawk
in skull death note.
beaten back to the parking-lot of a best western;
in the battle of sacramento;
is an ammo-less infantry drummer,
& a bleeding medic.
they laugh and snap morphine tips
in the revelry of their final formations.
moon crescent
slows and all the woods liven with flocks of small children.
they live on plant sugars, wild
mushroom and boiled water.
they hide in caves of ancient etch;
old time-gone man & woman & buffalo.
they hunt owls with homemade crossbows
& cook the meat on holy spits.
grinding the little bones
into tincture rubbed beneath their eyes.
this, to exhume an astral essence.
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 4:56 AM UTC
Her eyes,
Sunken, blue
With edges of ruddy green,
Of olive, kelp, fatigue,
A certain muddy camouflage,
Bright with purpose,
Ambition and fierce urgency,
Set their twin star sights
On me and I learned a new
Word that day—
Surrender.
I fell into formation,
Saluting her stars in the fullest light
Of the falling day.
I learned how to survive
Under such searing heat
And became intimate
With sneak attacks,
Friendly fire, sudden blitzkrieg
And the nuclear winter,
The dark sheet,
Of sorrows unveiling.
Jun 8, 2012
Jun 8, 2012 at 8:15 PM UTC
Hey crow! Where Venus infers such that glass is TheHollow shell of tortoise blossoms oozing the Nyrous tips of incredulous sorceries, felt from oozing blue tears. The shapes are scented for you, the wands of new beginnings that carry you on. Leopards. Sunrises. Footsteps and madmen. Blitzkrieg harkening the weather's ovivorous lightning bursts to shake one's ears. White-colored hermine heroines throttled and wet with shades of gear. Small ranchito shrubs goose-pimple my skin, my hide; and shake this moon. Sway, into the early sun. Burning close to me.
Apr 10, 2016
Apr 10, 2016 at 3:22 PM UTC
Her eyes,
Sunken, blue
With edges of ruddy green,
Of olive, kelp, fatigue,
A certain muddy camouflage,
Bright with purpose,
Ambition and fierce urgency,
Set their twin star sights
On me and I learned a new
Word that day—
Surrender.
I fell into formation,
Saluting her stars in the fullest light
Of the falling day.
I learned how to survive
Under such searing heat
And became intimate
With sneak attacks,
Friendly fire, sudden blitzkrieg
And the nuclear winter,
The dark sheet,
Of sorrows unveiling.
Sep 7, 2013
Sep 7, 2013 at 2:56 PM UTC
your fall for me was like the blitzkrieg:
fast and effective,
avoiding a war of attrition.
you destroyed me,
my command,
my control,
my communication to my soul
Apr 22, 2013
Apr 22, 2013 at 1:38 AM UTC
One kiss, and an explosion occurred.
Neither expecting this, yet nothing different
would we prefer.
I didn't fall for you gracefully,
but the siren's call of your soul to mine
was a blitzkrieg attack.
And honestly, I'm looking forward
to never going back.
For you, sir, have filled me wholly,
completely my voids,
and sealed shut every wound.
Every heart beat boomed in my head,
drowning the sounds of all else
the moment I knew for sure
I had found it, found you.
Without trying, I came unfrozen
as your voice caressed me.
My breath arresting, hitching,
I knew then, I know now-
I want you to be
my always and forever,
my happily ever after.
Jul 26, 2014
Jul 26, 2014 at 4:18 PM UTC
Her eyes,
Sunken, blue
With edges of ruddy green,
Of olive, kelp, fatigue,
A certain muddy camouflage,
Bright with purpose,
Ambition and fierce urgency,
Set their twin star sights
On me and I learned a new
Word that day—
Surrender.
I fell into formation,
Saluting her stars in the fullest light
Of the falling day.
I learned how to survive
Under such searing heat
And became intimate
With sneak attacks,
Friendly fire, sudden blitzkrieg
And the nuclear winter,
The dark sheet,
Of sorrows unveiling.
Apr 11, 2013
Apr 11, 2013 at 12:42 PM UTC
I ****** on the tips of your fingers,
you pinned me hard,
upon my chest you bit me,
"Keep it like a memory."
I will, I will,
I hold you up,
my divinity,
my epitome,
my tv screen,
my future enemy.
I undressed you in blitzkrieg,
you made it even with one blink,
upon my back you scratched deep,
"Keep it a secret."
I will, I will,
curtains always,
my prescription,
my cancer,
my ****
my favorite season.
Oct 30, 2010
Oct 30, 2010 at 2:36 PM UTC
Bullets, bombshells, boots,
blasted buildings, broken bones.
A blitzkrieg bombing.
Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 5:01 PM UTC
I want to dig my nails – no longer ravaged by my teeth
Into my life.
I want to see the zest spray onto my chequered shirt
And hope there is something sweeter inside.
I could go out tonight
And drink until the gag of beer seizes my throat
And causes me to cling sagely to the bathroom tiles.
Until I feel the Earth’s axis shudder
And those plates of rock rumble together in an endless Blitzkrieg
In the centre of the world.
These pseudo suicidal thoughts permeate,
Like an artist painting his meticulous masterpiece
Next to a vat of scarlet paint or lighter fluid.
I could go out tonight
And take a pill until the pound of my heart
Causes my eyes to open
And see past the blackness of my life.
I can dance double-time in an endless ocean of strangers
In the centre of the world.
Oh, I could take a scalpel
To every freckle on my skin,
Before I realise we all burn in the sun.
Sep 29, 2012
Sep 29, 2012 at 5:50 AM UTC
I love someone I do not know
Yet the love continues to show
He conquers the walls of my brain
And invades my thoughts
What is this blitzkrieg rain
My mind has caught?
My first impression
Was a deep depression
As I began to notice
There was no solace
After he shot his rocket launcher
At my heart's monster
There's no way to console me
When his forces control me
My mind is under assault
He's laying siege to my vault
Synapses in my brain firing like a gun
All just to convince me he's the one
My mind is senselessly skewed
By the possibility
I hope to be of the select few
That tests his virility
My fortified castle is falling
Before my one true calling
When his inscription
On my prescription
Is a prophecy
That's mocking me
The uncertainty
Starts hurting me
So I surrender my throne
To be his queen
At least I'm not alone
And we're a team
Jan 21, 2018
Jan 21, 2018 at 5:04 AM UTC
Be mindful of the gap between
the stapler and tape dispenser.
That my boy,
is where evil breeds hate.
Bacteria waiting for the right moment.
A sickly blitzkrieg.
We are alive,
here in the office,
Looking for the next paid holiday.
One that will come too soon.
Forgive me for rambling,
it is what I do best.
Alone in my thoughts
and feeling like I am back home.
The road to ruin.
How can I help you today?
Oh,
I can't really do anything for you.
I do not care.
I respectfully request that you stop.
This poem will ruin your day.
I would feel bad.
Let's forget this ever happened and
get back to what we do best.
Staring into space and hoping it reverses.
Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 2:15 PM UTC
Papa passed away in June
By January the farm was gone
Somber soundtrack of a weekend
in Athens
Blowing through my brain
Blitzkrieg
Unannounced, Uninvited
Blazing bright blue
Like your pleading eyes
On your deathbed
Like the sky,
Above the farm
Over the tallest evergreens
Playing melodies of grief
Feb 15, 2022
Feb 15, 2022 at 10:02 PM UTC
What do you see in me?
Every time you like a picture of me?
Is it just another pretty face you wanna put to your waist when you PM or do you seek eternity?
I'm told that everyday,
It's always just about my pretty face.
I get it three sixty-five,
I swear I can read minds
I hear it all the time
You think this is news to me?
You're speaking a lot of spirituality
Talking a lot, like you figured everything out about me.
Why don't you finish this conversation real late then without me?
I don't owe no one an apology.
If responding is an obligation consider this revelation
another blank page in your outdated patriarchy.
Do you actually believe in me?
I need more than a compliment,
I starve empathy
Are you a real human being ready for my beat
Or fiend ready to devour me?
I'm not afraid of men who can eat.
I'm afraid of a man I attract with no means.
I'm scared of someone who leaves when the table is set and doesn't eat anything.
I need somebody that isn't afraid of me.
A real head holder,
I don't want anymore fake supporters by likes and boasters.
I need completion and that's my biggest complexity.
Will you always pay attention to me?
Even when I say repeatedly, "I think I'm ugly?"
I have all these anxieties that build walls to society
I need love one second but the next second I can hate everybody
Do you still like me?
Are you willing to take a step with this girl in the darkness under electricity?
I need more than love I need all of your energy.
No more smiles with no teeth.
No one liners that are bold and weak.
If you want me,
fight for me
but this war could be over before the blitzkrieg.
This is just me.
My heart has a lock connected to a short chain
and opens to one key
I don't make copies!
There's one way in
and one way out.
Tell me what you see now...
Mar 21, 2018
Mar 21, 2018 at 5:22 PM UTC
Her eyes,
Sunken, blue
With edges of ruddy green,
Of olive, kelp, fatigue,
A certain muddy camouflage,
Bright with purpose,
Ambition and fierce urgency,
Set their twin star sights
On me and I learned a new
Word that day—
Surrender.
I fell into formation,
Saluting her stars in the fullest light
Of the falling day.
I learned how to survive
Under such searing heat
And became intimate
With sneak attacks,
Friendly fire, sudden blitzkrieg
And the nuclear winter,
The dark sheet,
Of sorrows unveiling.
Feb 8, 2013
Feb 8, 2013 at 1:50 PM UTC
I'm just your cigarette.
Burn me away.
Inhale my toxic fumes.
Fed to the ashtray.
Cooler than nicotine.
Coarser than sand.
Softer than velvetine.
Blood on my hands.
Lungs overwhelmed by the blitzkrieg.
Breathe, if your conscience allows.
Das Blut des Bündnis aushusten,
Leide, du schreckliche Frau.
Menthol defies your betrayal,
caffeine defies your shot nerves.
Tobacco curbs your addiction,
cancer is what you deserve.
Feb 15, 2018
Feb 15, 2018 at 12:04 PM UTC
The pigeon, what a dull and beautiful bird
Living on the edge of the knife, unknowingly
Staring death in the face, daily
Threatened by man, beast and rapture
Does it know love, laughter or life?
Does it know fear, pain or strife?
Beautiful in its dullness
An object of fascination and detachment
Beauty is in the eye of the mundane
You smile idealistically
We talk like liberals and laugh like friends
Under lazy heat and ripe conversation
If only you could see the grey I could see
But then again, if I am the only one who can see it
I must be special
Dust and mud turn to fine red wine in your glass
Smooth surfaces and large mirrors to admire each other
Sunshine, nostalgia
And all pretty makeup
Words ebbing off your dry deadbeat tongue, so insatiable
A scene picturesque, idyllic
Boring
Enough of that jazz
Hey-oh, screeching viola's and Sanskrit texts
Urge me to prophecy
Our journey begins in a Kenyan airport
African night flight
Plane spiralling into a chasm
Until it crash lands in a dusty maroon desert
A barren wasteland
The locals grin a foolish grin
They want to eat me for dinner
(That's offensive, isn't it?)
(Well, if you think that's offensive, try this)
I'm a stormtrooper, I'm a ****
I can show you all the hate in the world
I have experienced hardships beyond belief
From my perfectly comfortable suburban dream
I have the window seat on every plane
And I use it to pretend to be lost in thought
Blitzkrieg hail pours in snarling squadrons
Down from the sky
Hand in pants, I play the fantasy in my head
The trick to this is that nothing is real
And nothing is personal
For if I could truly comprehend horror
Oh boy
I'm so glad Nazi's aren't real
Aug 13, 2019
Aug 13, 2019 at 3:40 PM UTC
Do we ever really mean it
with temper stripping us down to our most
animalist
sadistic
I did not mean that, poem of mine I showed you last night
what read simply bled
Last night, contemplating accidental mescaline trips
loves
loss
life death
becoming master of this illusion
We are the generation which creates itself
I am my years in Chongqing
Where my heart heeded me not court the innocent
Chinese
beautiful
flower of a ******
My heart could not resist the fling
Monster
Foreigner
Devil
Oh! How my tormented conscious screams!
I am
my months
In Greifswald
Moin
Moin Moin
out back of Mensa Club
my head met an angry boot
thud
I let out my cruddy caterwall
*****
************
****
******
Come here I will ******* **** you!
I am held back from further humiliation by the furer followers taken for my stitches.
made a scene at the police station.
I get what I deserve in my American varsity jacket I stole from my father, vintage. I was an easy target it is not far fetched I get a blitzkrieg on my head.
I am my posh time in London
In Hampstead I swirl sangria
discussion David Downs and
which works are his strongest
In Chelsea I walk around
boxer shorts and pajama bottoms
getting k-holed with the
bottom feeders all ****** on
frosty jacks
7 a.m.
I am ready for heaven
my world swings before me,
swaying... silently.
A dead man hangs
swoosh swoosh
falling
from the gallows
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 10:00 PM UTC