Holy Land Manor
Sitting here, alone, like a crumpled pillow, on this soiled sofa,
In the musty TV room of this Vernichtungslager,
Which its state-licensed, rich-Jewish owners/operators
Euphemistically promote, with the inviting, inspiring description
"Independently assisted perpetual-care facility for deserving seniors,"
I, one of the select few scholars
To have graduated from continuing-education classes, in Auschwitz,
That university of higher learning I attended, on a Nazi scholarship,
As an honors-student Sonderkommando
Responsible for removing the corpses from the gas chambers,
Stoking the flames, siphoning off the overflow of body fat,
Turning the burning cadavers, to maintain even consumption
And optimal fire temperature...
I can't work the remote, let alone hear or see the TV,
Rather just relive that borrowed time I was given,
Never, for a millennium, forgetting the screams, howls, rants,
The cries, moans, tantrums, gasps, Old Testament lamentations,
Of those I'd escort into the chambers, as their trusted soul-brother,
Only to slip out, at the very second the door would slam shut,
As Zyklon B pellets began hail-stoning down the funnel.
To say that one sun rises, sets, at Holy Land Manor,
Without my meditating on my latest state of concentration
Would be just another of Goebbels' propagandistic grandiosities,
Another promise of "resettlement," more of Hitler's cock-and-bullshit —
My methodical deportation, by my Befehl ist Befehl kids,
To this "independently assisted perpetual-care facility for deserving seniors,"
Where I'm spared no end of state-of-the-art amenities
Calculated to keep me alive, to survive this final liberation.
05/18/11
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