Day 4
There really are no words
It is dark
Very dark
At first, there is no sound
Then, only the dark bowing of a solitary string
A bass, slowly drawing the souls forward
Drawing them in, drawing out tears
Withdrawing all hope
There are lies
And only more lies
Savage lies, and lies that savage the soul
The empty counting ground
Now devoid of the thousands
Mocking them in bright sunlight
Still full of nothing
But full of darkness just the same
Just one more day, just two more roll calls
The strange shuffling of broken men
The quiet subservience of the unwanted men
The unhearable sound of dead men walking
To the parade ground they come
From the tiny spaces where the men are warehoused
Put on shelves until another day
Requires their suffering
Piled high
As interchangeable parts
In the storerooms of factories
Then they watch
As those selected are prepared to leave
Three more souls to join the countless others
Three more souls to the uncounted masses
Three posts, ready to receive
Three posts, ready to yet again support the dying
Three posts, brought from Golgotha
Brought to serve yet again
Worked to death
Beaten to death
Starved to death
The undernourished zebras in their baggy skins
Make friends with death
It is an easy thing to leave
Far too easy
Just march into the trench
Lemmings guided by seen hands
To where the guns await them
The machinery of death
Organized by the great organizers
Led by the great leader
Made efficient by the unfeeling machine
A machine with lots of room
For holding the production output
Yet amongst the lies, one truth
A truth explained on the first day
The only way out
Is up the stack!
The monstrous truth
Amongst the monstrous lies
And finally
There are but a few
Those whom death has passed by
Content to wait for another time
Content to have left scars that will never heal
Content that enough have died for now
But never really content
As always
Death has the last laugh
It's a dark, macabre laugh
A throaty giggle that resonates
Over a liberated land
For the monument that rises over this tortured place
Was built by those who emptied the place
And then promptly filled it again
The same machinery, serving a new master
Serving the old master
Still serving Death
It's just one more lie
Sachsenhausen KL
In Germany, they came first for the Communists, And I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a Communist;
And then they came for the trade unionists, And I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a trade unionist;
And then they came for the Jews, And I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a Jew;
And then . . . they came for me . . . And by that time there was no one left to speak up.
Martin Niemoller
That was my day.
C
It is dark
Very dark
At first, there is no sound
Then, only the dark bowing of a solitary string
A bass, slowly drawing the souls forward
Drawing them in, drawing out tears
Withdrawing all hope
There are lies
And only more lies
Savage lies, and lies that savage the soul
The empty counting ground
Now devoid of the thousands
Mocking them in bright sunlight
Still full of nothing
But full of darkness just the same
Just one more day, just two more roll calls
The strange shuffling of broken men
The quiet subservience of the unwanted men
The unhearable sound of dead men walking
To the parade ground they come
From the tiny spaces where the men are warehoused
Put on shelves until another day
Requires their suffering
Piled high
As interchangeable parts
In the storerooms of factories
Then they watch
As those selected are prepared to leave
Three more souls to join the countless others
Three more souls to the uncounted masses
Three posts, ready to receive
Three posts, ready to yet again support the dying
Three posts, brought from Golgotha
Brought to serve yet again
Worked to death
Beaten to death
Starved to death
The undernourished zebras in their baggy skins
Make friends with death
It is an easy thing to leave
Far too easy
Just march into the trench
Lemmings guided by seen hands
To where the guns await them
The machinery of death
Organized by the great organizers
Led by the great leader
Made efficient by the unfeeling machine
A machine with lots of room
For holding the production output
Yet amongst the lies, one truth
A truth explained on the first day
The only way out
Is up the stack!
The monstrous truth
Amongst the monstrous lies
And finally
There are but a few
Those whom death has passed by
Content to wait for another time
Content to have left scars that will never heal
Content that enough have died for now
But never really content
As always
Death has the last laugh
It's a dark, macabre laugh
A throaty giggle that resonates
Over a liberated land
For the monument that rises over this tortured place
Was built by those who emptied the place
And then promptly filled it again
The same machinery, serving a new master
Serving the old master
Still serving Death
It's just one more lie
Sachsenhausen KL
In Germany, they came first for the Communists, And I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a Communist;
And then they came for the trade unionists, And I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a trade unionist;
And then they came for the Jews, And I didn’t speak up because I wasn’t a Jew;
And then . . . they came for me . . . And by that time there was no one left to speak up.
Martin Niemoller
That was my day.
C