"lebensraum" poems - Hello Poetry

There's this doll you know: got delivered to my home today, it's all part of a disturbing game and I found a key in its mouth: it starts by sending what we lack most in our lives. Broken illumination as the fan flits; Two naked girls started it all: except for bikini bottoms, knitted in national flags, waving down a truck on a bridge across the Dnieper. Roll over the tanks! nobody wants war: Except our masked friends, my maidan hero your naked Fascist, self-defending Lebensraum? Gas them, gas them, coz, we don't want war. Got some butterflies to catch; Tryin' to catch them since the good ol' hippie days. It's them naked girls that started it all: Havana girls, there's pipe loads of gas that's at stake, drill drill off Alaska, Palin!

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Apr 14, 2014

Apr 14, 2014 at 2:26 PM UTC

prabhu-iyer

Butterflies to catch

There's this doll you know: got delivered to my home today, it's all part of a disturbing game and I found a key in its mouth: it starts by sending what we lack most in our lives. Broken illumination as the fan flits; Two naked girls started it all: except for bikini bottoms, knitted in national flags, waving down a truck on a bridge across the Dnieper. Roll over the tanks! nobody wants war: Except our masked friends, my maidan hero your naked Fascist, self-defending Lebensraum? Gas them, gas them, coz, we don't want war. Got some butterflies to catch; Tryin' to catch them since the good ol' hippie days. It's them naked girls that started it all: Havana girls, there's pipe loads of gas that's at stake, drill drill off Alaska, Palin!

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I don’t play my mandolin everyday anymore, let alone my guitar or tin whistles I can’t let this die I listened to 7 year old Japanese math rock and want just a speck of that An identity where I can sift right through all this mediocre destruction all around No one even has the gall to admit they’re killing or the decency to even cover it up anymore They videotape themselves dancing and murdering kids for lebensraum then turn around and say “no we’re not” I’m tired of surface level house maintenance followed by immobile phone scrolls I’m looking for that lesson we’ll all learn after finally going too far I won’t play the victim or the hero no more I did my part and now I’m too old I need deeper art to escape samsara for good and maybe that’s the best I can do comrades I’m sick of details grown so scattered and thin My whole past feels like entrails smeared across vast deserts There used to be rainforests here but now it’s hard to find the pictures Just when things almost get too competent and nice they let decadence do its worse out of fear that the improvements would make goods and services too cheap not to be free Socialism’s bad for business owners so we lay off the workers and overcharge even more Let the octogenarian billionaires buy up more water and air to keep the fellas in the favelas gnashing and grim Bunker complexes, spaceships, missiles coated in spent uranium; these are all more important than starving children Why do the poor keep having poor kids? Still a conundrum We gave them a chance to compete some ephemeral time ago and they blew it What can we do? We tried to teach a man to fish… Imagine Jesus Christ just giving folks fish and bread for nothing in return?

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Jan 26, 2024

Jan 26, 2024 at 3:27 PM UTC

kageysage

Eveline was Tired

I don’t play my mandolin everyday anymore, let alone my guitar or tin whistles I can’t let this die I listened to 7 year old Japanese math rock and want just a speck of that An identity where I can sift right through all this mediocre destruction all around No one even has the gall to admit they’re killing or the decency to even cover it up anymore They videotape themselves dancing and murdering kids for lebensraum then turn around and say “no we’re not” I’m tired of surface level house maintenance followed by immobile phone scrolls I’m looking for that lesson we’ll all learn after finally going too far I won’t play the victim or the hero no more I did my part and now I’m too old I need deeper art to escape samsara for good and maybe that’s the best I can do comrades I’m sick of details grown so scattered and thin My whole past feels like entrails smeared across vast deserts There used to be rainforests here but now it’s hard to find the pictures Just when things almost get too competent and nice they let decadence do its worse out of fear that the improvements would make goods and services too cheap not to be free Socialism’s bad for business owners so we lay off the workers and overcharge even more Let the octogenarian billionaires buy up more water and air to keep the fellas in the favelas gnashing and grim Bunker complexes, spaceships, missiles coated in spent uranium; these are all more important than starving children Why do the poor keep having poor kids? Still a conundrum We gave them a chance to compete some ephemeral time ago and they blew it What can we do? We tried to teach a man to fish… Imagine Jesus Christ just giving folks fish and bread for nothing in return?

43

Electronic karma spills unnoticed, neon in the streets of concrete and oil only to be dissected by the ********** legs. I see streams of soil eroding whereas you live free from worry because we view time differently and incur incrementally indifferent sins assuredly. I am eschewing violence with the slow quiet chewing of cheek and a slight leak at the seams like violet light creeping from the night club, a signal for the heated rubbing hub of energy to come from behind the heavy door, and skin deep what is my steady humming roar.

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Mar 19, 2011

Mar 19, 2011 at 11:24 PM UTC

B_Lid

Lebensraum.

Electronic karma spills unnoticed, neon in the streets of concrete and oil only to be dissected by the ********** legs. I see streams of soil eroding whereas you live free from worry because we view time differently and incur incrementally indifferent sins assuredly. I am eschewing violence with the slow quiet chewing of cheek and a slight leak at the seams like violet light creeping from the night club, a signal for the heated rubbing hub of energy to come from behind the heavy door, and skin deep what is my steady humming roar.

17

It is nights like this with the air hot and till that they come for you. They cannot be seen looking directly on, but with the head canted sideways you know they are there in the shadows at the far end of your eyes. They sit perfectly still, wings folded at parade rest and ready to work, veterans of these dark hours, trained and blooded and with a desire to have no feelings about doing the job right. No animosity, totally professional quick, competent escort staff they are, it might be said, in the boutique-packing-to-go-now side of the business. We are all going to the same destination: plush cushions, snacks on porcelain plates delicate porcelain cups too. Here with our name bar codes, our history in tie-on tags, the reasons why…… Factory Returns, Out of Warranty Time Expired, Use by, Discounted to Go, it’s all written and in an account somewhere. And when we are assembled and ready to leave, The door at the end of the hall opens and is tested, It is one way only and shuts with a metallic snicker and has no inside handle which you might try if you had second thoughts about this trip. There are no second thoughts, no thoughts at all and no regrets too late for that. It’s like queuing for Wimbledon, gentility and good will to the last, the memory of the taste of strawberries and cream in your mouth as you go on your way out and up for an ever endless lebensraum.

0

Jun 13, 2016

Jun 13, 2016 at 5:15 AM UTC

daniel-pierre-mcclenaghan

Recycling Is So In For an Expired British Soul (C of E only)

It is nights like this with the air hot and till that they come for you. They cannot be seen looking directly on, but with the head canted sideways you know they are there in the shadows at the far end of your eyes. They sit perfectly still, wings folded at parade rest and ready to work, veterans of these dark hours, trained and blooded and with a desire to have no feelings about doing the job right. No animosity, totally professional quick, competent escort staff they are, it might be said, in the boutique-packing-to-go-now side of the business. We are all going to the same destination: plush cushions, snacks on porcelain plates delicate porcelain cups too. Here with our name bar codes, our history in tie-on tags, the reasons why…… Factory Returns, Out of Warranty Time Expired, Use by, Discounted to Go, it’s all written and in an account somewhere. And when we are assembled and ready to leave, The door at the end of the hall opens and is tested, It is one way only and shuts with a metallic snicker and has no inside handle which you might try if you had second thoughts about this trip. There are no second thoughts, no thoughts at all and no regrets too late for that. It’s like queuing for Wimbledon, gentility and good will to the last, the memory of the taste of strawberries and cream in your mouth as you go on your way out and up for an ever endless lebensraum.

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