Vanitas Vanitatum Poem by Joseph S. Josephides

I don’t envy your glory…Adolf revenges and unveils
to British bombers to bomb you on your way. Wounded
now, they order you to drink arsenic, and so to suicide.
Yet you thank, for Adolf will honour you as hero after death
announcing in public 'your heart collapsed due to wounds'?

Such a theatre accommodates him to expose you in public,
with paeans, canon blows, unsuspicious folks to worship you,
parades by mutilated, by dealers of artillery who cried out
in the wilderness 'Keep fighting Rommel, cause we sell.'

If I was you, I would have escaped from my coffin.
He smashed your bones to grains of sand, throw them
under the carpet; now the little men step on and sneer,
as you crackle bitterly bewailing: vanity of vanities.

I was heavily condemned in the court of
I’m the beast I am, but I surely like the judge Youing
who confessed that he made up injustice into justice.
Yet, you became dead before dying, a contrived hero
with honours to show off, in the absence of real Honour.



© JosephJosephides