He pulled the trigger
on that noisy morning
in the Bunker of Berlin.
The pages of Mein Kampf,
just briefly soaked
were used to start
the fire that would mark
the end of an epoch
that had, astonishingly, given
birth to itself in 1928.
When a fanatic says a word
of hatred or of utter bigotry,
one must believe, as if it were HIS word
or be forever in the net of rank complicity.
So, he is dead and gone
but something ugly thrives,
it is called Hitlerism.
And it has spread to reach
all corners of a peace-less globe.
It dresses in the clothes of any emperor
and wears the mask of true benevolence.
Perhaps the answer is to close one's eyes
and listen to the music of oblivion.
Herbert Nehrlich's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (........ism by Herbert Nehrlich )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
William Ernest Henley
- She in Desert, Akhtar Jawad
- A bucket of paint, Piyush Dey
- Value be given, gajanan mishra
- Egypt, Tony Adah
- A Tribute To Gray's Elegy, Naveed Khalid
- Nothing i can offer, binod bastola
- Canonical, Naveed Khalid
- Africanesse not Darkness, Famoroti Odunayo Israel
- A Broken Mirror, Naveed Khalid
- Wings of Shakti, Poet Dragon