Archive
02/03/11 - (2)
Giftgas Whiplashes
In a matter of nightmare's volatile Giftgas whiplashes, Imagination travels back to my fabled, estranged Vaterland, Where I grew to youthful Jewish manhood — thirteen — in Berlin, Then journeyed east, via rattletrap cattle car, To Germany's most storied Polish death camp, Auschwitz, Where the air I breathed, for twenty-three months, breathed me, Did its orderly damnedest to sniff me up its chimney flues, Only to lose me, when the Russians liberated what was left of us, Gave our skeletons artificial respiration, Clothed our naked bones, spoon-fed our hopeless souls, Sent us packing into the wilderness, to find our ways home, to Canaan.
Why this once-in-a-lifetime transportation-deportation, occurs nightly, Happens here, in America, St. Louis, so far from Germany, Berlin, Can only be attributed to anti-Semitic Adonai's sadistic tricks, Which mandated a certain chosen few of the doomed lost tribe be spared, To serve as latter-day scapegoats for future mein Führers And prepare for Revelation's Thousand Year Day of Judgment, At which time all the earth's degenerate blood libelers will burn, Who refuse to convert, salute the Nazi flag, don swastikas, Swear allegiance to the Fourth Reich, exterminate Jew-vermin. Were I not to suffer such nightmares, I'd have nothing to live for. This is why I survived the Giftgas whiplashes, isn't it?
02/03/11 - (2)
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