between America and its enemies, to settle the score.
Images from cartoons, comics, and photos, of real scenes in large photo magazines.
My toys were lead soldiers, planes and tanks. With canons, machine guns and weapons galore dressed as Nazis, Italians, “Japs” and Yanks Fighting bloodless battles with no sight of gore.
Some years after June 6 ‘44 won the day And victory parades had faded away, The damaged came home to places they found hard to stay and live with experiences of which none would say.
Slowly the bloody tide came in, bringing
The reality of a people who created a nation Capable of things that beggared the imagination.
And my teenage thoughts strained to understand How this could happen in such a land that
Gave us Beethoven and Bach.
What was it like as the Nazi passion captured the hearts
and beliefs of the nation to surrender their freedom to a cause They adored and committed themselves
to what we’d think they’d abhorred.
What was it like to live in such a place?
To cheer the unthinkable and destroy a race? I read many books that told of the way
The Nazi poison took hold to stay.
Yet none could let me really understand How a nation would welcome such a cancer.
It can’t happen here ©Joel Baumwoll
America America God shed his grace on thee,
And crown thy good with brotherhood
From sea to shining sea.
These words, a hymn, sung from the heart
Ingrained a faith in me from the start.
Until I learned how fragile were the
The bonds of humanity that held together
My country ‘tis of thee.
One sees such evil in the world
And question what we hold so dear
with the meme oft repeated in my little ear,
“It can’t happen here.”
The truths of Vietnam, Youtubed for all to see,
Put the lie to such grand proclaims,
As we burnt and killed on orders
People with naught to blame.
But still we said with strong belief
It can’t happen here, to our relief.
When Bull Connor’s dogs
ripped the flesh of our people
And guns killed the seekers of equality,
We finally asked “what is happening here”
But then a law was passed for all the people
That made good at least the minimum promise
So we reassured ourselves and repeated
It can’t happen here.
Then live before our eyes
We saw 8 minutes and 46 seconds
Take the life of one of us.
Something’s happening here.
For how many years
can some people exist
Before they're allowed to be free?
and how many people view death on TV
And pretend that they just don't see?
And now we know, the answer my friend
Is blowing in the wind we fear
Yes my friends, It is happening here.
What was it like? ©Joel Baumwoll
In the waning days of the Second World War,
My child’s imagination created the battles
between America and its enemies, to settle the score.
Images from cartoons, comics, and photos, of real scenes in large photo magazines.
My toys were lead soldiers, planes and tanks. With canons, machine guns and weapons galore dressed as Nazis, Italians, “Japs” and Yanks Fighting bloodless battles with no sight of gore.
Some years after June 6 ‘44 won the day And victory parades had faded away, The damaged came home to places they found hard to stay and live with experiences of which none would say.
Slowly the bloody tide came in, bringing
The reality of a people who created a nation Capable of things that beggared the imagination.
And my teenage thoughts strained to understand How this could happen in such a land that
Gave us Beethoven and Bach.
What was it like as the Nazi passion captured the hearts
and beliefs of the nation to surrender their freedom to a cause They adored and committed themselves
to what we’d think they’d abhorred.
What was it like to live in such a place?
To cheer the unthinkable and destroy a race? I read many books that told of the way
The Nazi poison took hold to stay.
Yet none could let me really understand How a nation would welcome such a cancer.
Until today, I am so sad to say,
Here in America, I now know the answer. ###
Something’s happening here. ©Joel Baumwoll
Homage to “For What It’s Worth” by Dusty Springfield.
All my years, I’ve carried with me some fears.
Illness, violence, auto crashes
Topped the list of things that could happen
Along with occasional clashes
With teachers, cops and authority figures
Whose actions could affect my future.
I’ve learned to separate the real from the psych
And how to cope with those that required might,
wisdom or agility, to know fight or flight.
On leaving the protective walls of my apartment
Or driving to my Shangri La on the lake,
Or saying what I feel like in public
I have never once thought
To inhibit my plans or change them
for fear’s sake.
Until now.
Paranoia strikes deep
Into your life, it will creep
It starts when you're always afraid
Step out of line, the man come and take you away
There’s something happening here.
And it’s becoming increasingly clear
The battle lines are being drawn.
Neighbor against neighbor. ICE against nice.
Fueled with purpose
By those in power. To defy makes me
In their wrong. They want me to cower.
But there are more like me than
they, so what’s allowing them to win the day?
Something’s happening here.
I walk out in the open and unseen is the sense
I have something to fear. As if the air were declared unclear
And contained elements that threatened my being,
hovering in the air
An ominous smog that all I know share.
What was once a given is now uncertain.
The protections of law are behind a curtain
Giving license to those who are now able
To abrogate the rights and protections
that I believed unalienable are now unstable.
Something’s happening here,
And it has become increasingly clear.