Songs of Life
The Catholic , Gypsy and the Jew
The Dark Ones relished the flames and the fever.
Silent eyes stood seeking out from the pallor depths of sunken sockets searching for the reason, for understanding.
Standing at the wire with numbers tattooed on squalid wrists hinting at the order in their demise.
From a simple idea to a horrid deed the plight of millions did progress.
What insanity allowed the self-proclaimed chosen ones to pursue the path of purity, a contagion within a perverted reality?
What awe we were held in, in trepidation we stood as men bequeathed a bond of hate upon our souls.
We lament, we lament.... From a simple thought such evil did arise.
From what mothers' breast did it suckle milk?
It grew on the blood of righteousness feigning legitimacy for past sins.
No shame for the ignorant as millions died while cheers for Gods support were heard outside.
In majestic parade the will of history was presented.
In vain, in vain.... they rose to the occasion while we, yes we struggled to envision the source of our lament.
What sacrifice we allowed and at what cost the souls cried forever lost, the will to fight, the will to survive.
Yet they left behind a remembrance still alive.
Some old, some young, some in between were left when hope was gone, it seemed that all was lost when their hearts were gone.
Gas and flames, gas and flames.... they waited for the final release.
What tonic exists that can soothe the pain?
Why won't the memories fade, the images still sharp as they cut through the fabric of the mind?
When we walk through the gates, eyes sunken in empty lifeless faces stare, each reflecting the crimes committed in the name of God and country.
A reminder of the life that existed in simpler times when men shared a common bond of trust only to have their beliefs shattered.
What does it matter?
Tears of shame, tears of shame....Do we really care to revisit our failures?
The only truth left behind is that it can happen again if we fail in our vigilance.
Their pain cannot be shared or understood, and only hypocrites burn candles to illuminate the past as a way to avoid the future.
While we bask in self-righteousness, erecting monuments to our memories,
Evil walks the earth in splendor.
Do not forget, do not forget....
(This poem is dedicated to Wanda and all other poets who would remind us of the horrors of our pasts to provide for a better future. If we don't recognize Evil it will continue to walk among us. We cannot stop it until we realize that our evil is just as bad as the other guys.)
By rcpollitz © 2000 rcpollitz (All rights reserved)
Silent eyes stood seeking out from the pallor depths of sunken sockets searching for the reason, for understanding.
Standing at the wire with numbers tattooed on squalid wrists hinting at the order in their demise.
From a simple idea to a horrid deed the plight of millions did progress.
What insanity allowed the self-proclaimed chosen ones to pursue the path of purity, a contagion within a perverted reality?
What awe we were held in, in trepidation we stood as men bequeathed a bond of hate upon our souls.
We lament, we lament.... From a simple thought such evil did arise.
From what mothers' breast did it suckle milk?
It grew on the blood of righteousness feigning legitimacy for past sins.
No shame for the ignorant as millions died while cheers for Gods support were heard outside.
In majestic parade the will of history was presented.
In vain, in vain.... they rose to the occasion while we, yes we struggled to envision the source of our lament.
What sacrifice we allowed and at what cost the souls cried forever lost, the will to fight, the will to survive.
Yet they left behind a remembrance still alive.
Some old, some young, some in between were left when hope was gone, it seemed that all was lost when their hearts were gone.
Gas and flames, gas and flames.... they waited for the final release.
What tonic exists that can soothe the pain?
Why won't the memories fade, the images still sharp as they cut through the fabric of the mind?
When we walk through the gates, eyes sunken in empty lifeless faces stare, each reflecting the crimes committed in the name of God and country.
A reminder of the life that existed in simpler times when men shared a common bond of trust only to have their beliefs shattered.
What does it matter?
Tears of shame, tears of shame....Do we really care to revisit our failures?
The only truth left behind is that it can happen again if we fail in our vigilance.
Their pain cannot be shared or understood, and only hypocrites burn candles to illuminate the past as a way to avoid the future.
While we bask in self-righteousness, erecting monuments to our memories,
Evil walks the earth in splendor.
Do not forget, do not forget....
(This poem is dedicated to Wanda and all other poets who would remind us of the horrors of our pasts to provide for a better future. If we don't recognize Evil it will continue to walk among us. We cannot stop it until we realize that our evil is just as bad as the other guys.)
By rcpollitz © 2000 rcpollitz (All rights reserved)
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The Catholic , Gypsy and the Jew
The Catholic , Gypsy and the Jew
