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.