Radio Wars

The strident tones came through the radio,
And announced themselves
Israeli!

Others took defensive positions.

The mediator,
On BBC, changed
His shirt
And asked another question.

They had set up camp around a wall that was
Either
Only half way done,

Or,

‘What are you gonna do about it!’
Fully scaled up.

It didn’t occur to me to turn the dial.
I thought about my passport instead.

photos – 123rf.com & Talal Abu Rahma for France2 – controversy details at honestreporting.com/a/alDura.asplinux hosting

John Rabe

John Rabe,
Crys alone,
At the dining room table.

His back is hunched but,
He wears his jacket with pride.

Before him,

In the brown paper bag,
On the dining room table,

Is a package from China,

Containing,
One rice-cake,
Some dried fruit, and
A letter from sixty-thousand people,
Asking him to return.

His back is hunched and he is crying because,
His nation doesn’t love him,
Anymore.

His Nation wants to know,
why in Nanking he,
Bothered to keep the farms going when,

The railroads were fixed and,
Potatos were coming in.
What massacre?

Light from the window,
Lifts dust from the surface and,

John Rabe,
Cries alone.

When he died,
Died hungry,
The Chinese came and took him away,

They took him to Nanking and,
Laid him to rest,

Swastika, jacket and all.

‘…a living buddha in China, an outcast in Germany…’ he wrote in his diary

-visit two beautiful German poems by Han-Magnus Enzensberger-


photos – 123rf.com and  John Rabe at Widipedia