They Called Him Meyer July

They called him Mayer and July,
in Poland, though July became
for him quite obsolete, this name
changed into Kirschenblatt. Here’s why
we ought still to remember Mayer.
As Kirschenblatt, and born in Apt,
the place which in old age he mapped
with an artistic, frenzied fire,
he used to paint each street where he
grew up, before Apt was destroyed
by Nazis. It is not a void
today since he made sure we’d see
the place as it existed still
within his mind. More than Chagall,
he made sure it would not be null.
On paper, paint he used to spill
brought life back to the Jews we see
as if alive while in the mind
of those who have not left behind,
as he did not, their memory.

[...] Read more

poem by Gershon Hepner
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Pope John Paul II (A Biography Poem Sequence)

Karol Josef Wojtyla was
Born in Poland’s town, Wadowice,
On May,18th,1920,
Grew up to be remarkably!

The son of Pole army father,
And loving school-teacher mother,
He was athlete, soccer-player,
A dare-devil river-swimmer!

He loved to be a good actor;
Love for literature, a factor;
He worked part-time as stone-cutter,
As Nazis downed every shutter!

When eight-years’ old, his mother died;
When still quite young, his brother died;
When twenty years old, father died;
The loss of dear lives, he couldn’t hide!

[...] Read more

poem by John Celes
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Roland

shhhh
c'mon, c'mon
my best friend's a butcher, he has sixteen knives
he carries them all over the town
at least he tries oh look it stopped snowing
my best friend's from Poland and oh he has a beard
but they caught him with his case in a public place
that is what we had feared
he severed segments and secretely liked that
he always had the time to speak with me I liked him for that
he severed segments and secretely liked that
he always took the time
he always took the time
c'mon now pussycat
my best friend's a butcher, he has sixteen knives
he carries them all over the town
at least he tries oh look it stopped snowing
my best friend's from Poland and oh he has a beard
but they caught him with his case in a public place
that is what we had feared

[...] Read more

song performed by Interpol
Added by Lucian Velea
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One Liner

Hanging from the hillside is a cow soon to be tipped God is watching

History of mankind is a history of horrors Ba Humbug

Just a casual reminder that fish and guests stink after three days

Poster child for perpetual irritation a long-tailed macaque

[...] Read more

poem by Ilham Ahmed
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A Moral Civilized World

When a despicable tyrant
regime proudly slaughters
defenseless innocent women
children in the city streets
brutally rounds them up
in fear strike night ships

them off in bolted cattle wagons
to slave labour genocide camps
brands their living human flesh
systematically murders innocent millions
in calculated inhuman slave starved
research exterminations experiments.

It is time for a moral;
educated civilized world;
to take opposing action;
but the victorious allies;
will hide shocking facts;

[...] Read more

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Schoolboys In 1939

Once I saw a black & white photo
taken by a Japanese tourist
of London schoolboys
walking briskly to grammar school.

No planes over London yet,
although German troops were blitzing
through Poland that September afternoon,
and Warsaw schoolboys were
running pellmell to bomb shelters,
Jew and Christian alike.

Grainy photos taken on Polish soil
by news photographers
were of victims dead and dying.
The photo of English schoolboys
was of victims yet to be!

poem by Michael Pruchnicki
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God-Worship

Statues in competitions allover the world!
With one higher than the other from country to country;
But this act is god-worship.
22m High Statue in 'Maratea' (Italy) ,
25m High Statue in 'Cusco' (Peru) ,
27m High Statue in 'Dili' (East Timor) ,
28m High Statue in 'Lissabon' (Portugal) ,
30m High Statue in 'Cochabanba' (Bolivia) ,
And 38m High Statue in 'Swiebodzin' (Poland) ,
All in the name of competition around this world;
But this act is god-worship.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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To Know Something About It

When in Rome,
It may be to one's advantage...
To make attempts to do what the Romans do.
With a following of their rules and customs.

But when one decides to visit Poland,
Trying to impress the Polish,
With the speaking of Italian...
Or the French with the speaking of Spanish,
May not achieve the welcoming one expects.

It is suggested to receive,
What one believes is respect...
Is to know something about it.
To ensure it is recognized by others,
When it is projected and reflects.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Wagner (Life Poem)

Running rings around thirteen hours of opera
I sit spell-bound absorbing the angry music
Suppressing an urge to re-conquer Poland
Music a direct expression of world’s essence
Nazi passion means Israel is Wagner-free
Tristan and Isolde unplayed before Ludwig
Love and death and passion for Mathlde
Eros and Thanathos that predate Freud
Arthurian love story interrupted by Minna
Overwhelming influence frustrates his peers
Worried that his brilliance is simply anger
That guarantees you feel undead tonight.

poem by Ian Beckett
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Ode To Irena Sendler

Her photo stares at me dreamy and melancholic
Like golden October leaves against a cloudy sky.
She bends gently her oval head towards her right shoulder
That carries the anguished burden of the world.
The parted dark hair in the center is combed back
Into a bun adorning a charming face.
And she looks with tender caring eyes,
A countenance more enigmatic than of the Mona Lisa.

Irena Sendler, née Krzyzanowska,
Polish Catholic social worker with a loving heart,
A gracious woman of valor and compassion
A brave humanitarian and Righteous of the Nations,
The rescuer of children from the Warsaw Ghetto
I bow my head and salute you.

What was the source of your towering magnanimity?
Where did you find the moral strength for what you did?

She was born in 1910 in Otwock,25 km southeast

[...] Read more

poem by Paul Hartal
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The Morrow

Clouds aloft and tides below,
Of stormy water from the high winds;
And like a descending shadow from a hero's ashes.
To prove as true from Poland and,
To visit th tombs in Turkey with my lover;
And the voices from the mourners are over now.
The virgins of Africa do lament,
For the blood of their people are as pour as the blessing;
And like the last thought on my throne of love,
But the stars on the sea will be there for the morrow.
Wise ans deep in lore,
And like a worthless clay in a captive;
But the morrow will prove the truth to all.
Of the fingers of man's hand,
Let joy be unconfined to all!
And like the war-note with the memory of the thousands of years;
But my sweet love will always be with you my lonely lady.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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The Old Acacia Tree

Neither daylight nor the darkness
See how silently I wander.
Not on mountain, nor in valley,
Does an old acacia ponder.

The acacia solves all mysteries,
Tells my fortune while I tarry.
I shall ask the tree to tell me
Whom O whom, am I to marry?

Where will he be from, O Acacia,
Is it Poland, Lithuania?
Will he come with a horse and a carriage
Or with staff and sack will he appear?

And what presents will be bring me -
Necklace of pearls and coral flower?
Tell me, will he be fair or dark-haired?
Still unmarried or a widower?

[...] Read more

poem by Hayyim Nahman Bialik
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Leszko The Bastard

``Why do I bid the rising gale
To waft me from your shore?
Why hail I, as the vultures hail,
The scent of far-off gore?
Why wear I with defiant pride
The Paynim's badge and gear,
Though I am vowed to Christ that died,
And fain would staunch the gaping side
That felt the sceptic spear?
And why doth one in whom there runs
The blood of Sclavic sires and sons,
In those but find a foe,
That onward march with sword and flame,
To vindicate the Sclavic name,
From the fringe of Arctic snows,
To the cradle of the rose,
Where the Sweet Waters flow?
Strange! But 'twere stranger yet if I,
When Turk and Tartar splinters fly,
Lagged far behind the van.

[...] Read more

poem by Alfred Austin
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Killing Is My Business... And Business Is Good!

I am a snyper
Always hit the mark
Paid assassin
Working after dark
Looking through the night
Using infra-red
My target on you
Aimed at your head
$10,000 up front
$10,000 when i'm through
And i know just what to do
And ya know i'll do it too
Then i'm coming back for you
Back for you!
I do the "getting rid of"
Don't tell me why
Don't need to hear the truth
Don't need the lies
Now pay me quickly
And now we're through

[...] Read more

song performed by Megadeth
Added by Lucian Velea
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Peter the Wag

POLICEMAN PETER FORTH I drag
From his obscure retreat:
He was a merry genial wag,
Who loved a mad conceit.
If he were asked the time of day,
By country bumpkins green,
He not unfrequently would say,
"A quarter past thirteen."

If ever you by word of mouth
Inquired of MISTER FORTH
The way to somewhere in the South,
He always sent you North.
With little boys his beat along
He loved to stop and play;
He loved to send old ladies wrong,
And teach their feet to stray.

He would in frolic moments, when
Such mischief bent upon,

[...] Read more

poem by William Schwenck Gilbert
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Ballad: Peter the Wag

POLICEMAN PETER FORTH I drag
From his obscure retreat:
He was a merry genial wag,
Who loved a mad conceit.
If he were asked the time of day,
By country bumpkins green,
He not unfrequently would say,
"A quarter past thirteen."

If ever you by word of mouth
Inquired of MISTER FORTH
The way to somewhere in the South,
He always sent you North.
With little boys his beat along
He loved to stop and play;
He loved to send old ladies wrong,
And teach their feet to stray.

He would in frolic moments, when
Such mischief bent upon,

[...] Read more

poem by WS Gilbert
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Lines Written On The Pillar Erecting To The Memory Of Mr. Barlow

Minister of the United States at Paris, WHO DIED AT NAROWITCH IN POLAND, ON HIS RETURN
FROM WILNA, DEC. 26, 1812.

WHERE o'er the Polish desert's trackless way
Relentless Winter rules with savage sway,-
Where the shrill Polar winds, as wild they blow,
Seem to repeat some plaint of mortal woe,-
Far o'er the cheerless waste, the traveller's eye
Shall this recording pillar long descry,
And give the sod a tear where BARLOW lies-
He who was simply great and nobly wise.
Here, led by patriot zeal, he met his doom,
And found, amid the frozen wastes, a tomb;

Far from his native soil the patriot fell,
Far from that Western World he sung so well!
Nor she, so long belov'd! nor she was nigh,
To catch the dying look, the parting sigh!
She who, the hopeless anguish to beguile,

[...] Read more

poem by Helen Maria Williams
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New World

Ein, zwei, drei, vier
I wake up in the morning
Looking at the street below.
Oh, the aggravation down below.
Its no coincidence at all.
The war is over,
But the battle has just begun.
Its still going on,
Still going on.
Why?
Mass migration of people,
Lithuania, estonia, czechoslovakia, poland,
Refugees from all over the european continent.
All traveling to america,
The land of the free.
All traveling to america,
To the great city.
Life in the city
Started to get me down.
Everybody pushin and shovin,

[...] Read more

song performed by Kinks
Added by Lucian Velea
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Tin Legs & Tin Mines

Im gonna wait for the moment to come
Im gonna wait till we all stop from running
Boxed in like candles, polar bear pride
Turning to terror as the script is read out
Unwilling actors, accomplished protractors will shout
Im gonna wait till we reach the sky
Tin legs and tin mines, anyone cries
Cry in the hope that therell be tomorrow
Waiting around there must be a time
Time to start thinking and working it out
Come with me now, come with me now, well be laughing
Whos running the world today?
Im gonna wait till they knock on my door
Im gonna wait till they dig up the floor boards
Poland in disneyland, wet dream control
Super computer, the new contraband
Im gonna wait, we must make a stand
Come with me now, stand with me now one more time
(rotsey/moginie/garrett)

song performed by Midnight Oil
Added by Lucian Velea
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Tin Legs And Tin Mines

W - Rotsey/Moginie/Garrett
I'm gonna wait for the moment to come
I'm gonna wait till we all stop from running
Boxed in like candles, polar bear pride
Turning to terror as the script is read out
Unwilling actors accomplished protractors will shout
I'm gonna wait till we reach the sky
Tin legs and tin mines, anyone cries
Cry in the hope that there'll be tomorrow
Waiting around there must be a time
Time to start thinking and working it out
Come with me now, with me now, we'll be laughing
Who's running the world today
I'm gonna wait till they knock on my door
I'm gonna wait till they dig up the floor boards
Poland in Disneyland, wet dream control
Super computer, the new contraband
I'm gonna wait, we must make a stand
come with me now, stand with me now one more time

song performed by Midnight Oil
Added by Lucian Velea
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