Shiny Boots of Leather

Hello again.  On this dark wet afternoon, here’s a dark poem!  Some of you might be familiar with the title

SHINY BOOTS OF LEATHER

The only men

Who are fully grown

And never childish

Are evil men.

I watched a film

Made by Hitler’s chums.

They thought the Aryan man

Was a macho man.

But in the discos

Of San Francisco

A moustachioed Nazi

Flecs his pecs

Admires his glistening chest

Scans the club

For the submissive.

Some ladies in the corner

Wearing stupid wigs

Just laugh at him.

‘Not to my taste darling,’

‘The seventies are over honey’

But the Nazi does not

Go home alone

He’s got himself

Something nice and naive

Who wants to see his camp.

Call it youthful folly.

But the folly

Is shocked

By the Iron Crosses

And swastikas.

‘Don’t worry,’ says the Nazi

‘It goes back to my punk rock days,’

‘We all used to do it.’

‘Before my time,’ says the folly.

The Nazi grinned, showing gold teeth.

‘Your my time is now, my love.’

Daniel Tavet (c)

bridge

( image from http://www.howardmodels.com)

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