Simon SaysA Poem by The LarkFor the brainwashed Hitler Youth
The game begins, we form a line, And beat the drum to keep the time, So rank takes form in marching drill, To play the game is Simon’s will.
When Simon speaks the crowd goes silent, At his call the mob gets violent, His words, our deeds, are one as we Must play the game to Simons glee.
With bugles, badges, banners red, The masses rally in his stead To big processions, high salutes, As Simon calls for more recruits.
The crunching jackboots dull the sound Of weary thoughts our hearts have found, And so we goosestep links und recht, His troops in black, his Ubermensch.
If Simon says, we all must do, The game demands we follow through, For now there is no turning back, Such is the fate of troops in black. © 2010 The Lark |
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Added on February 15, 2008 Last Updated on April 18, 2010 AuthorThe LarkMelbourne, AustraliaAboutI guess I'm something of an old-school poet. I always write with fixed meter and rhyme, and for the most part that's what I enjoying reading too. "I'd as soon write free verse as play tennis with th.. more..Writing
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