Herbert Nehrlich

Rookie (04 October 1943 / Germany)

That One - Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

A geezer, white, of wrinkled skin
pulled out all levers, just to win.
He changed with every passing breeze
and used his thank you's just to please.
Saw in each man a single voice
to give him power, novel choice,
advance his plans not for the land
but for his tiny one-man band.

No matter what the world did need
McPain would do his clever deed
and line his pockets, day and night
while thanking God that he was white.

Of course, he felt it was expected
that only properly selected
appropriate and kosher words,
like those perused by Ivy nerds
would do in any public setting,
meanwhile, his helpers placed the netting
to trap the bloke he called THAT ONE,
the aim to get him on the run
and scare the fellow through wild stories
while he dispersed his humble sorries.

To plant a seed in people's minds
would make them get off their behinds
and stand united to defend
their way of life, right to the end.

The otherness, he would convey
is something that would always stay,
you could not wash with laundry soap
and lose your past, there was no hope
for terrorists and next of kin
it was important now to win.

And, George just mentioned all the tools
that they could use on silly fools
who'd pull the wool clear to their chests
instead of pinning on their vests
those medals sporting old man Kane
and Sarah, still considered sane,
the fox who wore the clothes of sheep
and put all caution fast to sleep.

It's trust he shouts, the echo thunders,
vote now, and stop the foolish blunders
that others have for decades done
I will re-light the darkened sun!

And Sarah here, I picked her brains
we've taken troubles, many pains
in bringing what is yours to own
into the people's comfort zone.

We are your servants, let us show
how one great nation can still grow,
a balanced budget, it's a singe
the antidote's in my syringe,
leave all your worries with our team,
we'll give you strawberries and cream
and North Alaskan Caribou......
I think you're getting the right clue,
though let me warn you, catch this bus
THAT ONE cannot be one of us.

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Poem Submitted: Sunday, October 12, 2008

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