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Hooks of Berlin

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The Hooks of Berlin

The hooks of Berlin now hang empty and dry

Under the dawn of a war wounded sky

But once when the dark escaped from the black

And sent bombs bursting bright lights, in this unholy attack

Imprisoned without a clue awaited the Jews 

Even war stars with war scars

Had winked out of white light

Only to glimmer through the hole left in night

The wind in Berlin still reeks from its sin

As it clings to the skin of the young and the old

But, in young is a flower who under sun should not cower

For out of their power is the resurrection of souls

But, for the old ordained of pure pain

These cowards of showers who drank of red rain

Shall now and forever marry the blame

For erasing a race in a dying hot death

With flames chasing screams

Forsaking the dreams

Of those children who screamed

As it burned their last breath

Then robbed from their graves

What mortal remains

Their souls full of grace

Were melted away and

Carried on the winds of Berlin

Dark visions not focused on left or on right

Merely the peering, this purist of white

Rising above boldness this emperor of coldness

With blood and with guts rose the blood lust empire

Cut from the race that raced to his feet

This nation poured into his fold

Spawned from the king lion of liars

That even in sadness, madness could not admire

While strolling through the street

Wiping clean the souls of his feet

The slaughtering of Gods sheep

While the world had fallen asleep

Hidden and guarded from the whole worldly view

Death and doom draped like an iron cross tomb

Came forth such a horror the ultimate in torture

“The little grey room”

Where such thirst from the hooks

While crucified quite queer

Drank blood from their back

Like vats of sweet beer

Then shamed while they cried

From room center would rise

The blade of the guillotine rack

The focal point of the final attack

As the heads were sacked

And the bodies went slack

The meat from the hooks

Stuck to their backs

The hooks of Berlin forced free spirits to soar

That payable price that’s charged in a war

Credit the victims paid by the families that mourn

A payment in full for the peace we adorn

Though survivors were few

Still today they are scorned

God save us all in a world without cause

In which we are born

At the crossroads between heaven and earth

Where birth is born and death is cursed

Lives those few Jews who refused to give in

In the house of the holy, live these heroes of Berlin

Tons of weighted tears through thousands of years

With Knuckled knees waiting for news

These majestic free hearts with souls torn apart

Lives this wondrous world called the Jews

Dirty days have now been plowed under

The blood in Berlin is warmer and younger

Its true young flowers surely do weep

For Just as long as old memories do keep

Let us all pray one day they’ll meet

Between pleasant and peace

The strong and the meek

On the sunlit street

of Berlin.

Danial Van Fleet.

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