Tsenerene
Go and See - Tsenerene
07/09/08 21:19 Filed in: Poems
Go and See
Tsenerene
shoosty 2007
dedicated to Leon Schagrin,
survivor of Auschswitz
I saw soldiers march into my town and want to be one.
Go out and see for yourself.
I have new roommates, guests thrust upon my home, I like them.
Go out and see.
They have rifles and let me play with them.
Come out and see they are well made not like farm tools.
Soon they leave. I will miss them. We became friends.
If you hurry you can see them leaving toward the Russian “front”.
I saw new soldiers come and visit with shiny boots and medals.
They look smart as fresh paint
Come out and see.
These soldiers are like werewolves, they change from human to animals whipped by Cerberus a dog with many heads.
They don’t like me, or my family or my friends.
I never see them laugh ‘cept in a condescending way.
You should see, if you don’t you might not believe me.
I heard a shot and now when I wake up I don’t hear Old Blue, the rooster, anymore.
I wonder if the monster, Cerberus, gobbled him up feathers flying?
If I come and see it might be me next time.
The monster is frenzied,
I guess blood does that flowing from a harmless pet.
I heard shots like others hear a summer storm.
Repulsed they make me see. I have been chosen not for any other reason ‘cept I look more like them then my brothers and friends. I have been chosen because I am 13 and don’t know any better. It helps to have a horse and a wagon. I don’t complain ‘bout my back just my stomach.
I wish I was asking you to come and see a little paradise, my family eating and laughing.
Go and see
It’s cold and grey. The monster grunts and commands “Pick up the mess my rifle has left”. No thought that it is flesh and bones. “Pick up the mess now”
If you don’t know one will take their belt off. No one will ask you twice. You have been chosen to pick up the mess or become part of it. Your choice. Your free will to live or die. Empty shells that used to be my neighbors lay waiting.
Come and see
Insanity is the monster. It kills only to count. Just numbers. The war machine is run by accountants using deadly currency. Just Numbers.
It says schizophrenically “Tomorrow will be a great world, just today we need to clean up with our rifles.” The prayers of those people are like daggers that laugh at us like we are powerless. It hurts to be ridiculed. We must eradicate them they are not like us. “Tomorrow is what we live for, your children”. The monster commands “Kill thousands and have the little beggar boys clean up your mess”
He has a shiny red wagon. I mean wooden and sturdy with a good horse. One day all the children of the motherland with have red wagons not wooden sturdy ugly ones. “first you must do what I ask” the monster groans with efficiency. A machine gun laughs finally – finality – the final solution for your laughing at me. “Now clean it up!”
The monster speaks short sentences. I don’t even think it thinks. How could it? If it could if would turn its cleaning tools upon itself. Unthinkable what it is doing. Where is Cerberus? How can we stop him we are unarmed?
Who will kill him and release these painful souls contorted for all time by there actions? Then can never return to family and friends. There worst enemy a simple mirror. If they look in the mirror they will not see anything, monsters, ghosts. If they happen to catch a glimpse of themselves they will not believe what they have become. Kids themselves on a few years ago.
Go and see.
I was once told to go to the headquarters. The head of Cerberus in my small town. It was not a head at all just a pus filled sore far from the barking monster.
Keep your shiny boots on. Good homeland boots thank G-d I have these to keep me far from the vermin. He thinks to himself, smitten.
Lucky he has no mirror or he might not see a face. But his boots are shiny and he keeps them polished. Cerberus and his friends like polished boots better to command its headless hordes.
You can’t come and see. They have only beckoned me, a 13 year old driver with a strong back and a sturdy cart.
The night is cool, refreshing. Good to cure open sores.
The “pus”-with-boots barks at me. Its Cerberus speaking from 100’s of miles away. The “pus” is not human he can’t even look in the mirror.
We go for a ride. Clop, clop goes the horse. He is a good horse. The fresh air could heal a sore… but not this one. This one is infected far too deeply. It’s in the body and most of the mind. Not much left. We see my friends, no not friends just two teenage girls, walking. We give them a ride. Maybe they can help to heal the “pus.”
The “pus” hates itself. Cerberus says “find me 10,000 souls, I am hungry and only eat souls, they are not like us, they are not human” said the three headed dog. “I will reward you with a bone or you can join them, your choice, your free will. Just don’t look in the mirror (Because it will be empty)”
The girls laugh and smile, we give them a ride. Maybe the giggling will jiggle something human. Maybe there is hope. Two couples mismatched “Pus”-in-Boots and Fairy Goddesses giggling.
“Drive” barks the distant head Cerberus with shiny boots, “up that road”. I don’t like it.
Come and see … Father, Mother, Sister, Brother, Neighbor, and Time Traveler – that’s you reading my story. Come and see for yourself.”
Laughter, the faceless monster has names I know them but I am just 13 a child, a driver, a strong back. I do know them and will never forget. I have to hide my knowing to survive.
Come and see. You must! You owe it for generations to come.
Everyone must learn the truth about this factory of killing.
The laughter stops abruptly, the monster starts cleaning. The girls become just bags of bones. The monster was out for a cool night stroll with my horse and me practicing de-humanizing. I am 13, a child. I have a strong back they bark to put it to use.
The road I don’t like leads to the Jewish Cemetery.
What a strange driver I am. Too many one way trips.
I visit here often. Being young I get stronger my emotions turn to leather.
Come and see
Tsenerene
shoosty 2007
dedicated to Leon Schagrin,
survivor of Auschswitz
I saw soldiers march into my town and want to be one.
Go out and see for yourself.
I have new roommates, guests thrust upon my home, I like them.
Go out and see.
They have rifles and let me play with them.
Come out and see they are well made not like farm tools.
Soon they leave. I will miss them. We became friends.
If you hurry you can see them leaving toward the Russian “front”.
I saw new soldiers come and visit with shiny boots and medals.
They look smart as fresh paint
Come out and see.
These soldiers are like werewolves, they change from human to animals whipped by Cerberus a dog with many heads.
They don’t like me, or my family or my friends.
I never see them laugh ‘cept in a condescending way.
You should see, if you don’t you might not believe me.
I heard a shot and now when I wake up I don’t hear Old Blue, the rooster, anymore.
I wonder if the monster, Cerberus, gobbled him up feathers flying?
If I come and see it might be me next time.
The monster is frenzied,
I guess blood does that flowing from a harmless pet.
I heard shots like others hear a summer storm.
Repulsed they make me see. I have been chosen not for any other reason ‘cept I look more like them then my brothers and friends. I have been chosen because I am 13 and don’t know any better. It helps to have a horse and a wagon. I don’t complain ‘bout my back just my stomach.
I wish I was asking you to come and see a little paradise, my family eating and laughing.
Go and see
It’s cold and grey. The monster grunts and commands “Pick up the mess my rifle has left”. No thought that it is flesh and bones. “Pick up the mess now”
If you don’t know one will take their belt off. No one will ask you twice. You have been chosen to pick up the mess or become part of it. Your choice. Your free will to live or die. Empty shells that used to be my neighbors lay waiting.
Come and see
Insanity is the monster. It kills only to count. Just numbers. The war machine is run by accountants using deadly currency. Just Numbers.
It says schizophrenically “Tomorrow will be a great world, just today we need to clean up with our rifles.” The prayers of those people are like daggers that laugh at us like we are powerless. It hurts to be ridiculed. We must eradicate them they are not like us. “Tomorrow is what we live for, your children”. The monster commands “Kill thousands and have the little beggar boys clean up your mess”
He has a shiny red wagon. I mean wooden and sturdy with a good horse. One day all the children of the motherland with have red wagons not wooden sturdy ugly ones. “first you must do what I ask” the monster groans with efficiency. A machine gun laughs finally – finality – the final solution for your laughing at me. “Now clean it up!”
The monster speaks short sentences. I don’t even think it thinks. How could it? If it could if would turn its cleaning tools upon itself. Unthinkable what it is doing. Where is Cerberus? How can we stop him we are unarmed?
Who will kill him and release these painful souls contorted for all time by there actions? Then can never return to family and friends. There worst enemy a simple mirror. If they look in the mirror they will not see anything, monsters, ghosts. If they happen to catch a glimpse of themselves they will not believe what they have become. Kids themselves on a few years ago.
Go and see.
I was once told to go to the headquarters. The head of Cerberus in my small town. It was not a head at all just a pus filled sore far from the barking monster.
Keep your shiny boots on. Good homeland boots thank G-d I have these to keep me far from the vermin. He thinks to himself, smitten.
Lucky he has no mirror or he might not see a face. But his boots are shiny and he keeps them polished. Cerberus and his friends like polished boots better to command its headless hordes.
You can’t come and see. They have only beckoned me, a 13 year old driver with a strong back and a sturdy cart.
The night is cool, refreshing. Good to cure open sores.
The “pus”-with-boots barks at me. Its Cerberus speaking from 100’s of miles away. The “pus” is not human he can’t even look in the mirror.
We go for a ride. Clop, clop goes the horse. He is a good horse. The fresh air could heal a sore… but not this one. This one is infected far too deeply. It’s in the body and most of the mind. Not much left. We see my friends, no not friends just two teenage girls, walking. We give them a ride. Maybe they can help to heal the “pus.”
The “pus” hates itself. Cerberus says “find me 10,000 souls, I am hungry and only eat souls, they are not like us, they are not human” said the three headed dog. “I will reward you with a bone or you can join them, your choice, your free will. Just don’t look in the mirror (Because it will be empty)”
The girls laugh and smile, we give them a ride. Maybe the giggling will jiggle something human. Maybe there is hope. Two couples mismatched “Pus”-in-Boots and Fairy Goddesses giggling.
“Drive” barks the distant head Cerberus with shiny boots, “up that road”. I don’t like it.
Come and see … Father, Mother, Sister, Brother, Neighbor, and Time Traveler – that’s you reading my story. Come and see for yourself.”
Laughter, the faceless monster has names I know them but I am just 13 a child, a driver, a strong back. I do know them and will never forget. I have to hide my knowing to survive.
Come and see. You must! You owe it for generations to come.
Everyone must learn the truth about this factory of killing.
The laughter stops abruptly, the monster starts cleaning. The girls become just bags of bones. The monster was out for a cool night stroll with my horse and me practicing de-humanizing. I am 13, a child. I have a strong back they bark to put it to use.
The road I don’t like leads to the Jewish Cemetery.
What a strange driver I am. Too many one way trips.
I visit here often. Being young I get stronger my emotions turn to leather.
Come and see
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