Man Tried To Outreach The Lord Of Evil Himself Poem by Gert Strydom

Man Tried To Outreach The Lord Of Evil Himself



Out of the ash
flames leapt
into the air
and in the distance
the retch provoking smell
fumed in grey white clouds
higher into the black clouded sky
where death ovens
flamed up mercilessly.

Polished boots crunched
over gravel
while men in neat black uniforms
and some in grey
marched with schmeischer machine guns
at the ready in their hands.

Their faces were masked
as if in stone
with no other expression
but mocking and indifference
locked into blue eyes
and brushed blonde hair
sticking out
from under black caps
on which skulls gleamed ominous
set as machines
grinding on without
any emotion.

A small girl maybe only ten
slipped and dropped
to the ground,
where a manicured male hand
helped her gently
to her feet
and cold blue eyes
burned into her brown
and a small frown
left lines on his face
and only maybe
he would dream of her again.

Off to the showers they went,
marched by soldiers
that never saw any battle
and didn’t care,
but forcefully
sheltered them there.

Men old, some at the prime of life,
boys teenage to very small,
old grannies, women mature,
beautiful girls and some only kids
to be de-verminated for sure.

Shaved to the skull,
their hair braided into boots
possessions taken from them
soap to be fried from their bodies,
gold from their teeth
and rings from their fingers
glittering evil in the dim sun

and when the doors closed
behind them
cyanide dropped like white fog
from the air
with a almond smell
and soldiers laughed
while they twisted in agony
as if it really wasn’t happening
and they were only watching
a horrific show
and man tried to outreach
the Lord of Evil himself.

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Gert Strydom

Gert Strydom

Johannesburg, South Africa
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