"panzer" poems - Hello Poetry

You do not do, you do not do Any more, black shoe In which I have lived like a foot For thirty years, poor and white, Barely daring to breathe or Achoo. Daddy, I have had to **** you. You died before I had time ---- Marble-heavy, a bag full of God, Ghastly statue with one gray toe Big as a Frisco seal And a head in the freakish Atlantic Where it pours bean green over blue In the waters off the beautiful Nauset. I used to pray to recover you. Ach, du. In the German tongue, in the Polish town Scraped flat by the roller Of wars, wars, wars. But the name of the town is common. My ****** friend Says there are a dozen or two. So I never could tell where you Put your foot, your root, I never could talk to you. The tongue stuck in my jaw. It stuck in a barb wire snare. Ich, ich, ich, ich, I could hardly speak. I thought every German was you. And the language obscene An engine, an engine, Chuffing me off like a Jew. A Jew to Dachau, Auschwitz, Belsen. I began to talk like a Jew. I think I may well be a Jew. The snows of the Tyrol, the clear beer of Vienna Are not very pure or true. With my gypsy ancestress and my weird luck And my Taroc pack and my Taroc pack I may be a bit of a Jew. I have always been scared of you, With your Luftwaffe, your gobbledygoo. And your neat mustache And your Aryan eye, bright blue. Panzer-man, panzer-man, O You ---- Not God but a ******** So black no sky could squeak through. Every woman adores a Fascist, The boot in the face, the brute Brute heart of a brute like you. You stand at the blackboard, daddy, In the picture I have of you, A cleft in your chin instead of your foot But no less a devil for that, no not Any less the black man who Bit my pretty red heart in two. I was ten when they buried you. At twenty I tried to die And get back, back, back to you. I thought even the bones would do. But they pulled me out of the sack, And they stuck me together with glue. And then I knew what to do. I made a model of you, A man in black with a Meinkampf look And a love of the rack and the ***** And I said I do, I do. So daddy, I'm finally through. The black telephone's off at the root, The voices just can't worm through. If I've killed one man, I've killed two ---- The vampire who said he was you And drank my blood for a year, Seven years, if you want to know. Daddy, you can lie back now. There's a stake in your fat black heart And the villagersnever liked you. They are dancing and stamping on you. They always knew it was you. Daddy, daddy, you ******* I'm through.

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29.7k

Sylvia Plath

Daddy

You do not do, you do not do Any more, black shoe In which I have lived like a foot For thirty years, poor and white, Barely daring to breathe or Achoo. Daddy, I have had to **** you. You died before I had time ---- Marble-heavy, a bag full of God, Ghastly statue with one gray toe Big as a Frisco seal And a head in the freakish Atlantic Where it pours bean green over blue In the waters off the beautiful Nauset. I used to pray to recover you. Ach, du. In the German tongue, in the Polish town Scraped flat by the roller Of wars, wars, wars. But the name of the town is common. My ****** friend Says there are a dozen or two. So I never could tell where you Put your foot, your root, I never could talk to you. The tongue stuck in my jaw. It stuck in a barb wire snare. Ich, ich, ich, ich, I could hardly speak. I thought every German was you. And the language obscene An engine, an engine, Chuffing me off like a Jew. A Jew to Dachau, Auschwitz, Belsen. I began to talk like a Jew. I think I may well be a Jew. The snows of the Tyrol, the clear beer of Vienna Are not very pure or true. With my gypsy ancestress and my weird luck And my Taroc pack and my Taroc pack I may be a bit of a Jew. I have always been scared of you, With your Luftwaffe, your gobbledygoo. And your neat mustache And your Aryan eye, bright blue. Panzer-man, panzer-man, O You ---- Not God but a ******** So black no sky could squeak through. Every woman adores a Fascist, The boot in the face, the brute Brute heart of a brute like you. You stand at the blackboard, daddy, In the picture I have of you, A cleft in your chin instead of your foot But no less a devil for that, no not Any less the black man who Bit my pretty red heart in two. I was ten when they buried you. At twenty I tried to die And get back, back, back to you. I thought even the bones would do. But they pulled me out of the sack, And they stuck me together with glue. And then I knew what to do. I made a model of you, A man in black with a Meinkampf look And a love of the rack and the ***** And I said I do, I do. So daddy, I'm finally through. The black telephone's off at the root, The voices just can't worm through. If I've killed one man, I've killed two ---- The vampire who said he was you And drank my blood for a year, Seven years, if you want to know. Daddy, you can lie back now. There's a stake in your fat black heart And the villagersnever liked you. They are dancing and stamping on you. They always knew it was you. Daddy, daddy, you ******* I'm through.

80

To taste the bittersweet nectar of thy lunar lips. Lie me hope, sing to me the song of the helix. Proffer me the chance to breach thy bastion, encompass thee in my love and compassion. Sanction me to be that one whispering love stories in thine ear while bathing in the Aurora Borealis dazzling and clear. You and I, a rickety tent and a love nothing less of heaven sent. In mine heart thou shalt forever remain. My panzer maid grant me...the fall of rain.

0

Sep 29, 2016

Sep 29, 2016 at 11:28 AM UTC

james-adrian-jones

Smitten

To taste the bittersweet nectar of thy lunar lips. Lie me hope, sing to me the song of the helix. Proffer me the chance to breach thy bastion, encompass thee in my love and compassion. Sanction me to be that one whispering love stories in thine ear while bathing in the Aurora Borealis dazzling and clear. You and I, a rickety tent and a love nothing less of heaven sent. In mine heart thou shalt forever remain. My panzer maid grant me...the fall of rain.

11

You do not do, you do not do Any more, black shoe In which I have lived like a foot For thirty years, poor and white, Barely daring to breathe or Achoo. Daddy, I have had to **** you. You died before I had time—— Marble-heavy, a bag full of God, Ghastly statue with one gray toe Big as a Frisco seal And a head in the freakish Atlantic Where it pours bean green over blue In the waters off beautiful Nauset. I used to pray to recover you. Ach, du. In the German tongue, in the Polish town Scraped flat by the roller Of wars, wars, wars. But the name of the town is common. My ****** friend Says there are a dozen or two. So I never could tell where you Put your foot, your root, I never could talk to you. The tongue stuck in my jaw. It stuck in a barb wire snare. Ich, ich, ich, ich, I could hardly speak. I thought every German was you. And the language obscene An engine, an engine Chuffing me off like a Jew. A Jew to Dachau, Auschwitz, Belsen. I began to talk like a Jew. I think I may well be a Jew. The snows of the Tyrol, the clear beer of Vienna Are not very pure or true. With my gipsy ancestress and my weird luck And my Taroc pack and my Taroc pack I may be a bit of a Jew. I have always been scared of you, With your Luftwaffe, your gobbledygoo. And your neat mustache And your Aryan eye, bright blue. Panzer-man, panzer-man, O You—— Not God but a ******** So black no sky could squeak through. Every woman adores a Fascist, The boot in the face, the brute Brute heart of a brute like you. You stand at the blackboard, daddy, In the picture I have of you, A cleft in your chin instead of your foot But no less a devil for that, no not Any less the black man who Bit my pretty red heart in two. I was ten when they buried you. At twenty I tried to die And get back, back, back to you. I thought even the bones would do. But they pulled me out of the sack, And they stuck me together with glue. And then I knew what to do. I made a model of you, A man in black with a Meinkampf look And a love of the rack and the ***** And I said I do, I do. So daddy, I’m finally through. The black telephone’s off at the root, The voices just can’t worm through. If I’ve killed one man, I’ve killed two—— The vampire who said he was you And drank my blood for a year, Seven years, if you want to know. Daddy, you can lie back now. There’s a stake in your fat black heart And the villagers never liked you. They are dancing and stamping on you. They always knew it was you. Daddy, daddy, you ******* I’m through.

0

Dec 7, 2014

Dec 7, 2014 at 2:45 AM UTC

jana-chehab

Daddy by Sylvia Plath

You do not do, you do not do Any more, black shoe In which I have lived like a foot For thirty years, poor and white, Barely daring to breathe or Achoo. Daddy, I have had to **** you. You died before I had time—— Marble-heavy, a bag full of God, Ghastly statue with one gray toe Big as a Frisco seal And a head in the freakish Atlantic Where it pours bean green over blue In the waters off beautiful Nauset. I used to pray to recover you. Ach, du. In the German tongue, in the Polish town Scraped flat by the roller Of wars, wars, wars. But the name of the town is common. My ****** friend Says there are a dozen or two. So I never could tell where you Put your foot, your root, I never could talk to you. The tongue stuck in my jaw. It stuck in a barb wire snare. Ich, ich, ich, ich, I could hardly speak. I thought every German was you. And the language obscene An engine, an engine Chuffing me off like a Jew. A Jew to Dachau, Auschwitz, Belsen. I began to talk like a Jew. I think I may well be a Jew. The snows of the Tyrol, the clear beer of Vienna Are not very pure or true. With my gipsy ancestress and my weird luck And my Taroc pack and my Taroc pack I may be a bit of a Jew. I have always been scared of you, With your Luftwaffe, your gobbledygoo. And your neat mustache And your Aryan eye, bright blue. Panzer-man, panzer-man, O You—— Not God but a ******** So black no sky could squeak through. Every woman adores a Fascist, The boot in the face, the brute Brute heart of a brute like you. You stand at the blackboard, daddy, In the picture I have of you, A cleft in your chin instead of your foot But no less a devil for that, no not Any less the black man who Bit my pretty red heart in two. I was ten when they buried you. At twenty I tried to die And get back, back, back to you. I thought even the bones would do. But they pulled me out of the sack, And they stuck me together with glue. And then I knew what to do. I made a model of you, A man in black with a Meinkampf look And a love of the rack and the ***** And I said I do, I do. So daddy, I’m finally through. The black telephone’s off at the root, The voices just can’t worm through. If I’ve killed one man, I’ve killed two—— The vampire who said he was you And drank my blood for a year, Seven years, if you want to know. Daddy, you can lie back now. There’s a stake in your fat black heart And the villagers never liked you. They are dancing and stamping on you. They always knew it was you. Daddy, daddy, you ******* I’m through.

80

I’m in a vicious state of mind, no siren calls to stem the putrid inferno burning my mind to charcoal, petrifying it to unblemished obsidian. Words of love don’t reach me, silly human endearments bore me, touch me and I’ll slice your hands off. It’s not good, they tell me. But I will build my armory. Until this warped, traitorous world can be wrenched, twisted, hammered back into hinges, that I have complete control of. Silence... Finally Testament of a panzer maiden

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Dec 12, 2016

Dec 12, 2016 at 12:39 PM UTC

Zarain

The quiet

I’m in a vicious state of mind, no siren calls to stem the putrid inferno burning my mind to charcoal, petrifying it to unblemished obsidian. Words of love don’t reach me, silly human endearments bore me, touch me and I’ll slice your hands off. It’s not good, they tell me. But I will build my armory. Until this warped, traitorous world can be wrenched, twisted, hammered back into hinges, that I have complete control of. Silence... Finally Testament of a panzer maiden

16

You do not do, you do not do Any more, black shoe In which I have lived like a foot For thirty years, poor and white, Barely daring to breathe or Achoo. Daddy, I have had to **** you. You died before I had time-- Marble-heavy, a bag full of God, Ghastly statue with one gray toe Big as a Frisco seal And a head in the freakish Atlantic Where it pours bean green over blue In the waters off beautiful Nauset. I used to pray to recover you. Ach, du. In the German tongue, in the Polish town Scraped flat by the roller Of wars, wars, wars. But the name of the town is common. My ****** friend Says there are a dozen or two. So I never could tell where you Put your foot, your root, I never could talk to you. The tongue stuck in my jaw. It stuck in a barb wire snare. Ich, ich, ich, ich, I could hardly speak. I thought every German was you. And the language obscene An engine, an engine Chuffing me off like a Jew. A Jew to Dachau, Auschwitz, Belsen. I began to talk like a Jew. I think I may well be a Jew. The snows of the Tyrol, the clear beer of Vienna Are not very pure or true. With my gipsy ancestress and my weird luck And my Taroc pack and my Taroc pack I may be a bit of a Jew. I have always been scared of you, With your Luftwaffe, your gobbledygoo. And your neat mustache And your Aryan eye, bright blue. Panzer-man, panzer-man, O You-- Not God but a ******** So black no sky could squeak through. Every woman adores a Fascist, The boot in the face, the brute Brute heart of a brute like you. You stand at the blackboard, daddy, In the picture I have of you, A cleft in your chin instead of your foot But no less a devil for that, no not Any less the black man who Bit my pretty red heart in two. I was ten when they buried you. At twenty I tried to die And get back, back, back to you. I thought even the bones would do. But they pulled me out of the sack, And they stuck me together with glue. And then I knew what to do. I made a model of you, A man in black with a Meinkampf look And a love of the rack and the ***** And I said I do, I do. So daddy, I'm finally through. The black telephone's off at the root, The voices just can't worm through. If I've killed one man, I've killed two-- The vampire who said he was you And drank my blood for a year, Seven years, if you want to know. Daddy, you can lie back now. There's a stake in your fat black heart And the villagers never liked you. They are dancing and stamping on you. They always knew it was you. Daddy, daddy, you ******* I'm through. -sylvia plath 1932 -1963

0

Sep 23, 2015

Sep 23, 2015 at 3:00 PM UTC

stereophonic

Daddy - Sylvia Plath

You do not do, you do not do Any more, black shoe In which I have lived like a foot For thirty years, poor and white, Barely daring to breathe or Achoo. Daddy, I have had to **** you. You died before I had time-- Marble-heavy, a bag full of God, Ghastly statue with one gray toe Big as a Frisco seal And a head in the freakish Atlantic Where it pours bean green over blue In the waters off beautiful Nauset. I used to pray to recover you. Ach, du. In the German tongue, in the Polish town Scraped flat by the roller Of wars, wars, wars. But the name of the town is common. My ****** friend Says there are a dozen or two. So I never could tell where you Put your foot, your root, I never could talk to you. The tongue stuck in my jaw. It stuck in a barb wire snare. Ich, ich, ich, ich, I could hardly speak. I thought every German was you. And the language obscene An engine, an engine Chuffing me off like a Jew. A Jew to Dachau, Auschwitz, Belsen. I began to talk like a Jew. I think I may well be a Jew. The snows of the Tyrol, the clear beer of Vienna Are not very pure or true. With my gipsy ancestress and my weird luck And my Taroc pack and my Taroc pack I may be a bit of a Jew. I have always been scared of you, With your Luftwaffe, your gobbledygoo. And your neat mustache And your Aryan eye, bright blue. Panzer-man, panzer-man, O You-- Not God but a ******** So black no sky could squeak through. Every woman adores a Fascist, The boot in the face, the brute Brute heart of a brute like you. You stand at the blackboard, daddy, In the picture I have of you, A cleft in your chin instead of your foot But no less a devil for that, no not Any less the black man who Bit my pretty red heart in two. I was ten when they buried you. At twenty I tried to die And get back, back, back to you. I thought even the bones would do. But they pulled me out of the sack, And they stuck me together with glue. And then I knew what to do. I made a model of you, A man in black with a Meinkampf look And a love of the rack and the ***** And I said I do, I do. So daddy, I'm finally through. The black telephone's off at the root, The voices just can't worm through. If I've killed one man, I've killed two-- The vampire who said he was you And drank my blood for a year, Seven years, if you want to know. Daddy, you can lie back now. There's a stake in your fat black heart And the villagers never liked you. They are dancing and stamping on you. They always knew it was you. Daddy, daddy, you ******* I'm through. -sylvia plath 1932 -1963

81

i wasn't quantifying, i can succumb to the parasite, which means that i either die, or the parasite dies with me; might as well call that a five o'clock shadow.- i have my insanity plea, what do the contending parties' have? an assumption? a Cluedo guess-grime rather than guess-work? no wait, make that a **** South Korean was the size of South America? i wish it was, taxes inconclusive? might posture for a yacht... and t-total a banana republic for all legitimate purposes for a shopping spree on coca - or is that's how taxing is done in this fair and decent country of Scandinavian restrictions concerning the feeble minded daddy-fuck-cares? Thailand was always the option with the quasis, ball sacked and tit-wanked-able: like am Englishman in Thailand, wanky-faced, with the Jersey Boys were moving beyond the Orwell parameter, i say Panzer, you tell me the **** brigade; you tell me pretty boys, you regurgitate me the ******* Bubonic Plague! am i understood?

0

Jun 11, 2016

Jun 11, 2016 at 8:49 PM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

conversation albino

i wasn't quantifying, i can succumb to the parasite, which means that i either die, or the parasite dies with me; might as well call that a five o'clock shadow.- i have my insanity plea, what do the contending parties' have? an assumption? a Cluedo guess-grime rather than guess-work? no wait, make that a **** South Korean was the size of South America? i wish it was, taxes inconclusive? might posture for a yacht... and t-total a banana republic for all legitimate purposes for a shopping spree on coca - or is that's how taxing is done in this fair and decent country of Scandinavian restrictions concerning the feeble minded daddy-fuck-cares? Thailand was always the option with the quasis, ball sacked and tit-wanked-able: like am Englishman in Thailand, wanky-faced, with the Jersey Boys were moving beyond the Orwell parameter, i say Panzer, you tell me the **** brigade; you tell me pretty boys, you regurgitate me the ******* Bubonic Plague! am i understood?

1

the **** euthanasia scheme would suit people like me with a dermatology problem, wouldn't it? i'm up for it to be re-introduced with those nappy-soaked tears of motor-neuron-disease wheelchair bandits... **** you not i'm all up for the hospital beds to be serving Panzer brigades... they can claim the god of warring for all i care... just get me off this aquatic asteroid pronto! **** your little excuses for slip-ups, get, me, off, this, ******* asteroid! i've seen women begging for a curb on their reproductive capabilities after Chernobyl, don't entice me with *** changes you ****** entitled: supra-feminism... eat your foetuses after they passed capital punishment against my life in the bedroom of some egyptian peasant... as i'll say only once: if you're going to **** me... **** me properly, so, that, i'm, dead! i don't have time for living it out as a ******* what now? no ***** yep... the man is gonna sing an opera à la castrato to the tunes of Michael Jackson.

0

May 6, 2016

May 6, 2016 at 10:29 PM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

pronto!

the **** euthanasia scheme would suit people like me with a dermatology problem, wouldn't it? i'm up for it to be re-introduced with those nappy-soaked tears of motor-neuron-disease wheelchair bandits... **** you not i'm all up for the hospital beds to be serving Panzer brigades... they can claim the god of warring for all i care... just get me off this aquatic asteroid pronto! **** your little excuses for slip-ups, get, me, off, this, ******* asteroid! i've seen women begging for a curb on their reproductive capabilities after Chernobyl, don't entice me with *** changes you ****** entitled: supra-feminism... eat your foetuses after they passed capital punishment against my life in the bedroom of some egyptian peasant... as i'll say only once: if you're going to **** me... **** me properly, so, that, i'm, dead! i don't have time for living it out as a ******* what now? no ***** yep... the man is gonna sing an opera à la castrato to the tunes of Michael Jackson.

23

stara prawda... to tylko nuda; coś więcej? eh... chyba emerytura - tak na policzku braku aesthetics na tle cegieł - bo to ha ha dla "uczonych" z prostatą na telefonach niby jak kupcy z arabii jest równe sezon z wybrykami szeików kórw i koni - ale nie jest tłem z czołgami Tiananmen - o tyle blisko by dać wywrot historii wspomnieniem słowo Panzer: nad dot com boom słownictwa; jak ten noworodek lewicy szczy w portki bojąc sie ozora powiękrzenia zasobu słów!

0

Apr 9, 2016

Apr 9, 2016 at 8:08 PM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

old truth / noworodek lewicy

stara prawda... to tylko nuda; coś więcej? eh... chyba emerytura - tak na policzku braku aesthetics na tle cegieł - bo to ha ha dla "uczonych" z prostatą na telefonach niby jak kupcy z arabii jest równe sezon z wybrykami szeików kórw i koni - ale nie jest tłem z czołgami Tiananmen - o tyle blisko by dać wywrot historii wspomnieniem słowo Panzer: nad dot com boom słownictwa; jak ten noworodek lewicy szczy w portki bojąc sie ozora powiękrzenia zasobu słów!

17

your heart is a violent gang prowling the streets after dark mine is the bird that once sang covered in blood & curious marks when my bird and your gang collide there isn't an obvious winner neither regard the rules or, by them, abide both will eat your family for dinner jet black boots and thoughts to match your legs are barbed-wire baseball bats i never asked if there was a catch and now my legs are scared little cats but inside me sleeps a bomb it doesn't tick, but it's always rolling like a panzer tank emitting a sad song i press a button and we both go strolling everything is nothing but everything is showing

0

Jun 23, 2016

Jun 23, 2016 at 5:55 PM UTC

john-vd

panzer tank

your heart is a violent gang prowling the streets after dark mine is the bird that once sang covered in blood & curious marks when my bird and your gang collide there isn't an obvious winner neither regard the rules or, by them, abide both will eat your family for dinner jet black boots and thoughts to match your legs are barbed-wire baseball bats i never asked if there was a catch and now my legs are scared little cats but inside me sleeps a bomb it doesn't tick, but it's always rolling like a panzer tank emitting a sad song i press a button and we both go strolling everything is nothing but everything is showing

17

we swam for joy all summer long lived in the lake contesting dive rank who had the wettest cannon ball broadest swan sharpest jack the underwater distance competition! you sink like a stone shovel your feet into the muck crank like a panzer through honey eighty seconds later pop up way out there our twelve year old bodies cavorted slithered swam through rising storms and setting suns summer put there for us to inhale then pound on one another like gorillas suddenly it was back-to-school while we were learning to borrow a one our minnow natures died

0

Apr 8, 2017

Apr 8, 2017 at 4:42 PM UTC

jack-ritter

Water

we swam for joy all summer long lived in the lake contesting dive rank who had the wettest cannon ball broadest swan sharpest jack the underwater distance competition! you sink like a stone shovel your feet into the muck crank like a panzer through honey eighty seconds later pop up way out there our twelve year old bodies cavorted slithered swam through rising storms and setting suns summer put there for us to inhale then pound on one another like gorillas suddenly it was back-to-school while we were learning to borrow a one our minnow natures died

22