*The Third Reich*

Talking in allegories, brings up memories
of fiery curtains and someone else's bed;
The flight of the dragon - now just called an alligator
- brought down villages and now,
once in a while - just someone's leg.

And there're judges, surrounding us
like a fence! Smouldering everything we thought we owned;
Judging loudly, clearly, without mercy or hearing,
while clouds pass by - having intercourse with airplanes;
Maybe it is rape, and if they could - they wouldn't open their legs.

Talking in allegories, remembering executions
as if they were gone and erased, just because,
they took place in some other life;
yet you remember being burned, spiked on metal,
even though it happened centuries before today's moment.

And there're judges, surrounding us
building tall walls made out of guilt, made out of sand;
But the colour is so deceiving, and bringing them down,
seems a painful affair - of contrasts and biting -
like mad dogs or humans, who get shot or imprisoned
for acting like we all should.

Talking in allegories, reminds of wars and battles,
like the Third Reich - horror filled houses, rooms
and friendships, but did the end bring solvation?
Sorrow is like potatoes - simple. What exists forever,
keeps being nourished. And if you nourish - you destroy.

And don't forget - there're judges, surrounding us
keeping hands on mouths, freezing tongues, calling us paranoid.
Judging loudly, cearly, without caring or fearing
That they might paralyze someone forever;
While clouds keep passing by, being raped by airplanes;
Maybe they like it, yet if they could - they would die..

Poetry by FrancescaLuca
Read 785 times
Written on 2008-01-07 at 13:46

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A powerful rtn Francesca a text full of images i dont pretend to under stand but the power in your words stands out.
This poem for me is a return to poem time and time again to find some thing new

welcome back
and stay around
the site needs you rgds Mike

Christian Lanciai The PoetBay support member heart!
Long time no see! Welcome back! I agree fully with Rob concerning the stark imagery here, reminding directly of the first (and worst) Italian neo-realistic films... Alas, the past remains unforgettably alive and will never quite leave us in peace, even if we used to die just to get away from it...


Rob Graber
Oops! The Blake poem I alluded to is "The Garden of Love." (In the garden is a chapel, guarded, it would seem, by the black-gowned priests.)

Rob Graber
Unforgettable imagery here. (Jets and clouds will never look quite the same.) The "judges surrounding us" recall William Blake's "Chapel of Love," guarded by "...priests in black gowns / ...walking their rounds / And binding with briars my joys & desires."