I am like Rommel. <br />The desert fox <br />who ended up <br />as fall guy in the war <br />between the vanity <br />of Adolf Hitler <br />and the necessity <br />to let the masses <br />eat sausages <br />and drive the new <br />and fancy People's Car. <br /> <br />The reasons for <br />a similarity <br />that may be obvious <br />to no one but myself <br />remain a closely <br />and forever <br />guarded secret, <br />I say Basta <br />to the peasants <br />and the vultures <br />who had me covered <br />on the ground <br />and from the air. <br />You've been disabled <br />and squashed <br />like one of those <br />let's say those pesky <br />useless and recalcitrant <br />and smelly bastards <br />of chitin and of crap <br />and no significance. <br /> <br />I fry my egg now <br />on metal made by Krupp <br />extremely heated, <br />and wipe the sweat <br />of desert thoughts <br />off weary bones. <br />The biggest battle <br />one which will <br />without a doubt <br />decide the fate <br />of all the deserts <br />and all people <br />is yet to come.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/desert-fox/
