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Poems By Poet Erhard Hans Josef Lang  9/3/2010 4:33:07 AM
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Erhard Hans Josef Lang   Best Poems From
  ERHARD HANS JOSEF LANG (January 8,1957)
 
 
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  21.     

Geese That Start To Prick The Spotless

What in all the world
would our knowledgable meta-scientists proclaim
if all of sudden a sort of
nervous confusion were to befall
our other animals too?

And for example a certain group of spotted geese
were to start attacking all other geese
who differed in no other way
than that their plumage was all spotless?

'Hitler in his likes being reborn! '
'The demon is coming back in the shape of geese.'

As if their goose leader had called out to all of them:
'We're now going on a little hunting spree first,
before we're to sit back again and be relaxed.'

This is but only a surrealistic poem
since the exposed matter is most unlikely
to ever happen in the animal world proper.
 
Erhard Hans Josef Lang
   
 

   
   
 

  22.     

Globalisation In The Ghetto

The Finns have been reporting in March of 2007
that two Dutchmen had voiced fears through a German mouth-piece,
a number-one trading paper in the world,
that mistakes of the interior market were to jeopardize the future of
the European Union.

The Finnish report was now presented by me, born a German,
living in a cosy far-off corner in the Far East,
in a German translation,
making use of the U.S.-seated internet,
a high-speed instant spy communication state-of-the-art gadget,
invented and first employed by the American Central Intelligence
Agency, then
later on made available for the use of the masses of people and all
our civilian and private communications almost worldwide.

I had chosen to likewise inform both Dutchmen by electrical mail, another
outcrop of the above-mentioned modern instant fast lane
communicating, that
said article, in which the two were mentioned as originators of the
ideas
of liberty the article came to speak of,
was now published for a vast publicity of German readers
on an electronical journal about A World Wholly Without Money under the title of
'Blurringly cut images of the market - on a colourfully painted
background of disarmingly fencing happy-go-lucky-knights of money'.

The electrical mail info being, naturally so
in a commonly globalized ghetto,
first of all a rhetoric one.

Wouldn't someone eventually want to listen up to a contemporary
from outside the fences of the ghettoes
and get up starting to
act up on de-ghettoizing the world
for freeing the world from our dreary lot of serfdom for the money?

There's hope for heavenly changes
with everyone who nods
to the need to change our earthly lots -
on the global scale.

*********

The German-language electronic journal 'Eine Welt so ganz ohne Geld' mentioned in the poem, a modern-day 'Till-Eulenspiegel' satire - 'stealthily mirroring the'sleeping' reader's world from his/her own personal looking-glass' is found at libidopter.twoday.net
 
Erhard Hans Josef Lang
   
 

   
   
 

  23.     

God's Final Words Are Always In The Making, Once Your Acts Have Spoken...

In matters of God, God is
Trying his very best to really take under his arms
All types of you religionists across his globe of hope.

Some of you, understandably, are so
Madly in love with the most beautiful and
Very own pictures of yours of
The One and Only,
While all what God wants
Is to bring the divided groups of all of you down
From his - or should we say your -
Cross of misunderstood soul-in-God.

Who could blame God if he had
Grown weary of your emotional twists & ignorant strikes
In his names.

Imagine God a devoted lover
Whose endearing character is
Alway also, aside from all sworn-in
Loving feelings amongst brotherly hosts,
All the while being disputed over all along his stationings,
By your many factions, so passionately fond of
Quarreling over questions of
Who's got the best flyers &
Who's got the best courts of weapons
For your Only One to wear as THE truly divine decoration,
Whereas actually all the emblems of all of you are but of
So many different brotherhoods of only one,
The One and Only that you have named,
And maimed, by being your only one, as
Secluded from the others.

None of you would want to see any
Brother of yourselves treated the same way
As you are - indirectly or ignorant - all the same -
Treating God, the One and Only,
Who out of his endless love
Condescends always to come to his true believers in exactly
The very faces and personages in whom you are conferring to
Her in him, or Him in her.

No one should think God were a fool
Not to have noticed all the clamour
Raised about the Greater Self?

But how else to spur the animal soul into evolving further?
Being human is a state of becoming, unlike
Animalhood and Divinity, which are respectively
Standing base and Head of all Being,

And it is our fate that
We humans were made to be life's fulfilling vessel.

People better therefore stand in
In line with one another together -
And leave the good temple priests of whatever
Their Gods and Goddesses and
Whatever the nature of their mystic rites
Converse happily with their Gods and Goddesses in peace,
For blessings showered more and more abundantly
On all earnest spiritists and you believers,

And we'll all fare happier in the end.

After over two thousand years into time
It were enough with all those sympathetic commemorations,
To finally stop celebrating on a daily level the religious triumph
Won through the bloody deed of an unholy crucifixion,

And it were sufficient
Just on one day of the year, on Good Friday that is, to
Gather for the memory of the cruel crucifixion worldwide,
And once this achieved, we might start to
Convert all mosques into churches, and
All churches into mosques, and after that only
We may earnestly think of restoring paradise on earth -
By abolishing money, the root of all evil...

After Isa is let down from his cross......
And money had become abolished by panvoluntaristic networks of
All give-and-take over the globe's nations,
All of us, we then may start counting a new epochal round of years,
Hopefully a better one then,
All over again, from zero.

For better or worse, as always luckily will be our
Freely-chosen human destiny.
 
Erhard Hans Josef Lang
   
 

   
   
 

  24.     

Hailed Her, Held'er, Scaled'er Trampling On Her Grounds

* in commemoration of the victims of the November 2008 terrorist attack on Mumbai *

Once in days of long before
They hailed her, then
Held her in awe divine -
Upon the grand awakening, in the early days
After the coming of
The human Child out of the lap of nature.

We today, who meanwhile for so long
Have been plodding on in
This greatest adventure through all universal times,
Now might say:
'We had held'er and we have scaled'er,
The one who ought to be
Most hallowed among all to be hailed
Whom but we had allowed ourselves so much to be abused' -

We - the people,
She - our Mother earth -

As we've reared her children, who again reaped the fruits of her lands
For hundreds and thousands of years,
Skilfully and industrious, better than
Bees or ants or any other beasts possibly could have done it,
So we think,
Our hearts swelling up with human grandeur
In our self-determined, wizened rise above the animals' rough life
in one's pursuit of survival,

Embellishing the cherry-blossom cheeks on
Earth Mother's face of nurtured nature's lively moulds
With evermore intelligently artefacted
Layers of multi-faceted crops of
All kinds of human assets,

Ultimately, all of it topped with an ingenious snapshot
Of our own home planet
We've eventually managed to take from outer space
Against the planetary bounds of gravity,

As we're communicating through extensions of
Human mind across the distances
With invented gadgets of our own design.

While endlessly plying our nitty-gritty world's tiny rounds
In this grand spectacular cosmic arena
Shined on by our iridescent
Prolongations of the
Light from the Sun,
Our parental planet's source of fire,

Whilst, amongst ourselves, we're found as
Incessantly being focused in
On who of us exactly were Who,
Which of ours exactly were Which -
Which of the many different characters, visages
Of our own stock, of the other people were how to be reckoned on,
Best to be dealt with,
Which of the many different ways people take to walking on were
The most recommendable one of all the others.

Nature spurned life into existence,
To surprise the divine cosmic visionaire
With the gift of shaping up things seen in mind
In solid matter, and
It spurns life, onward to go, by
The power of mothers of love, who
All of them are emulating the love of our greatest, our primal Mother,
Most passionate a lover,
Who can be a terrible fighter, too, on behalf of her beloved children,
If she's driven mad by one or the other
In her big family garden,

As basic, and sometimes even radical, therefore likewise we, too,
Her children, have a tendency to be,
When it comes to loving our own breed.

Then, how about that shortage in brotherly love and
Understanding as witnessed daily
Within this grown-up family of our humankind consisting of
Different creeds, habits and outlooks in life? -

After all of us once having hailed her,
During our younger days all of us
Having held her in close embrace,
Explored her every angle, nook and cranny,
Growing quite safely on her bosom,
Scaled all her challenging peaks at our own risk,
Delved into all of her wondrous depths,
On this our fantastic Mother Earth's gorgeous body,
Eventually having worked out giant masterplans of
How to finally beat all our little physical wants
And higher needs as imagined,
To be able to smoothen that harsh harness
Placed around naked crude life,
As by now,
In the wake of our customized conveniences,
We're seen conducting ourselves
Happily puffing it away on Her wasteland's
Well hidden energy-packed treasures,
Whenever getting ourselves on the go
Wherever, however
At all times -?

Humanity, when
Looked upon as a whole,
Appears to be until now, and
Despite greatest acclaimed achievements of comfort
In the shared residence under our skies,
One big troubled family, nevertheless,
Troubled still by so many things, all
Because of an inborn sloth or
An egotistic protective shell of hate or loathe,

Or is it all strictly because of that bedraggled money
We have made our secret ruler of the hearth,
Meant to propel the quickening of our means of livelihood, by all means?

'We are the good people on earth', say the ones,
'We are the good people on earth, ' say the others.

'We were your old friends and neighbours,
Always, at the least, have been as good as you yourselves,
At most times even better, and
Therefore why shouldn't we then deserve a treatment fully apar with yours,
You, who have betrayed our blood line,
Of the same amount of attention
From those of our modern world's most privileged and their capital boosters
So much needed by everyone of us to stay afloating
In the globalized world market of fair vanities,
And even if it meant we had to fight for our rights with force'

(While most often times it's more like
We're dealing with cheat-necked self-infatuated cracked heads
Boastful of their own riches
Floating their capital's proceeds all around the world,
As they're developing it, solely
For their own gettin' bloated up more and more
Rather than that they were the saviour-spirited
Savvy boosters of poor nations
For good old humanity's sake that
They're taken for by those
Blinded by the trail of gold dust ever seen flurrying up in the air,
With the skyway of the jets that
Bring in the dreamt-of luxuries
Served out by humanitarian heavenly damsels)

'Boom, boom, bang, bang, shoot, shoot'
'Boom, boom, bang, bang, shoot, shoot'-

Helter Skelter -

Speak the guns in the hands of the terrified desolate
Underdog heroes of the belittled other good clan's neighbour,
Gone desperate.

'Hailed Her, Held'er, Scaled'er
Trampling on Her grounds.'

Wouldn't it be enough of the face washing for now, dearest Mother Earth,
That maybe already by tomorrow
We, all of us together, will install you again to be our world's true queen,
With your glorious head high up in miraculous heavens and
Your feet seen again stepping human grounds,
Lightening our burdens,
As we'll be shown which way to follow
To reach to a wholly new season of life's blooming
At the side of our Mother Earth rejoicing again for once, and
Subsequently rejuvenating?
 
Erhard Hans Josef Lang
   
 
 
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Poems By Poet Erhard Hans Josef Lang