Roland Freisler’s Gesang
the shepherd barked.
Mein Schatzi, Barry, so true,
He did it, didn’t he?
in the affirmative.
Wolfish gargle lodged in his throat
a Vesuvius eruption of assent
reverberates from the bench.
Spectator muddle of mudlicious dithering echoes.
held his pants up
arms out like a flightless penguin.
Head bent in defeat
eyes glued to his eyebrows .
and Freisler sang their growling ditty--
Wagnerian tango to the condemned.
Gleeful woof barks follow
Barry’s tongue slathering from the side
Sniffing disdainfully at the shuffling prisoner
Swallowed into the conga line crush
of waddling prisoners.
Barry was right, of course.
They had no say.
Freisler proffered his schatzi a biscuit,
Patted his head--
Woof, Barry lovingly answered.
Both content to judge,To devolve into their safer world.
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