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The Nazi Committer of Atrocities

Poetry By: Patricia McGurk Martin
Literary fiction

He couldn’t comment for the atrocities he had committed
had finally become evident to the attorney,
worried about loss of stature and money
only then did he hesitate
at loss of power he walked away
you can’t award me my life back
the innocent woman said to him with emotion
to the Interpol torturer investigating
product thefts of her intellectual

in the tents of Taipei I knew you
a little whoregirl
only three years old
was that Guyana later?
Play it Again Sam she stated

Submitted:Jul 26, 2011    Reads: 20    Comments: 1    Likes: 0   

The Nazi Committer of Atrocities

For the Fatima My Love Writings

© 2011 Patricia McGurk Martin Hearst Himmler

He couldn't comment for the atrocities he had committed

had finally become evident to the attorney,

worried about loss of stature and money

only then did he hesitate

at loss of power he walked away

you can't award me my life back

the innocent woman said to him with emotion

to the Interpol torturer investigating

product thefts of her intellectual


in the tents of Taipei I knew you

a little whoregirl

only three years old

was that Guyana later?

Play it Again Sam she stated

Play that old Ingrid Bergman song

for the British troops you commanded

while locking me in rainy tents

and under the rigid wire cots

With absent men

Rainy wet beds not damp

A lost tent commando center

In rainy Guyana no one liked it there

Not even the residents

Especially the residents

He never asked me my objectives

The royal advisor never spoke to me

He never was my driver his role

But took over and could end up

Only a mulatto king

The way it looks

Because I tried to help him

And he knocked me down every time

His only king

Nookie nookie nookie

Nagasaki nookie

Like the white girl?

Likee the burn victim?

No likee the Japaneese


In Japon?

Neither the Girl nor woman?

Ok little Jew girl

I'll be leaving

Thank you for refreshing me

The Nazi spoke

To the concentration camp victim

A child folk singer in the sixties

Never helping her leave the Lost

Decades Dryccha Program (LDDP)

Of life incarceration brainwashing

For intellectual theft producing

In GenWeb

Are you sure he knew it was me?

She asked them after he left

He knew it was Patricia L. McGurk?

I saw you in Paradise she said

I was the homeless woman

On Abandoned Avenue

The park bench

Where I died tied up and thirsty



FOR PATRICIA HIMMLER HEUSTCH deustchIA carbueone deustchland the reich manor born

He directed to the church

CHAPLAIN institutions

Of the Army using my religious category

I had created to degrade and ban me

I killed you as vermin

And wrote it on a slide

VERMIN achtunga

The child saw it in the microscope

Where are you now?

Patricia McGurk the rotter?

The rotter reichstagger?

The reindeer for the nazi involvement

In Austrica Reuuch Rooch

The voice of the torturer continued

She vowed not to make this man sound

Mythical again in her writing

What a loser she thought quietly

No wonder my father didn't want to die

Leaving me to the monarch under me

He wasn't satisfied with his role?

The voice asked me

You must tell him to heal it

The directive he burned in you

Applying unguent later watched by me

In person and closed jail tv

I Fatima said

I had bequeathed beaquethed him

The rosary

You must tell him he had better
heal you the man continued and asked again

He wasn't satisfied with his mulatto role?

If he's so abnormal he can't atone to me

Then I will walk away

The hallucinatory reality he shared

With the American woman a citizen

Of Rome

Not France

Lasted only a few seconds I saw it in his


Not really reality for this man

To acknowledge crimes against humanity

Especially me

I am the unwanted white woman another day

For another screwing into death by the bore

The (Nazi) Bore it is a type of beetle with a long

Boring implement

It is only terror atonement I saw in his brief

Shrinking in his expensive suit believing

There is a divine order only for that brevity

Relaxing into normality picking up

My father's briefcase again with

Assorted international tools to enslave me

And walked away quietly speaking one

Or two ma'ams not madam now

Nor slave names

Are you the real Hearst? I asked him

As he passed me leaving me tied to the table

In a bookstore I own but stolen long ago

Leaving me as an animal underneath

kneeling on the crumbs

The businessmen left me discarded

They were Swastika tools he had brought for me

The American woman all the way from

South African apartheid renovated in the

Asian Pacific lineup I heard about

Or I simply noticed his Interpol interrogation


He was in my eyes a professional killer

With hate objectives that always yield

Strange Fruit

With or for the woman or the girl

Always the fascist is the most deathly

for the woman

as his mind is made up for institutions

he dreams of at night Jails

for us all measuring the prison bars

the thickness of the bars

and the space between them

with a tool ready to use in his briefcase

for this purpose just for you

the nazi committer of atrocities

dreams demonic dreams

I am not the healer

I am the person who died and suffered

Every time, I refuse to heal

Every time I healed I died again

Knocked down and strapped in

The potty chair again

Vomiting retching with greasy hair

All over me and shaking hands

I will leave all of you I said

This is the outcome

I cannot scream any more

He is the Wizard of Oz

Watching the Eakins Boys

Dive naked in white beauty off

The pier in the dark night

the light is dark at midnight

as I paint them quietly unobtrusively

their only witness except this man

perhaps one more

sitting in the darkness with dark eyes

all famous men diving jumping as boys

with perfect bodies gleaming white

becoming a famous painting

he watched my reactions the Painter

to each man and I tried to hide my

face in the darkness but I had to paint

This man sits in slavery meetings

With powerful people

All with dark occluded eyes

Bodies not moving inside the movement

Superficial gestures not betraying

The inner breathing

They were planning my long living death

As a child I was terrified I knew

This man

So I didn't know him when people asked me

If he had injured me

And insisted on examining me many did

They all of them raped me to prove

He had injured me while searching for scars

They said they were doctors

And rectal injury scar tissue was apparent

Even then I realized if I did not

Protect him he is blamed for everything

The Talent Objectification of the White Male

Goes through you

Someone said to me while I was dying

As the Hawaiian Surfer in competitions

Becoming international

warned I must win.

The Mexican Diver on private party

High dives always in my cold clinging


swimming suit my own company

already stolen

Exhibition Diving with the crotch

Too tight

What are you a babysitter for my

Fatima Nightmare Reality

of being immature and dulled

Through age regression

You always show up with

Psyche clamps and catheters

And your brutal slander Nazi hands

Insidious hidden and terrifying

As I drive away in the phony

Race car again never the real one

An anal rape victim

Although too young to drive

You awarded me the booby prize

It was all rigged since the monarch's

Birth perhaps centuries before

Before birth cashing in on the Pope's gifts

Calling me the Royal Jehovah

They set their house on my Monopoly

Game board

They called me the royal duck

Black Heroes

Walking the street

As world famous black leaders while I

The speech writer, costume designer

Created them while a person entrapped in

The United States as a child and adult

Later in intellectual life slavery

I am not carrying the wheelbarrow from

The graveyard to help your children

Escape judgment and world condemnation

I died many deaths as the nazi victim

Of one group or another in their consortiums

And I was hung and electrocuted in their

Race in different decades while no one

Objected to the child monarch deaths

Through lynchings and electric chairs


Extermination in what is now called

Gen Web Extinction but seems a catchall

For anyone's murders of me

And horrible brutal thefts

But the thefts were in all the races

Not only the black race

All the perpetrators had races

They were jailing the police with me the victim

Pat has friends on the police they said

The stolen fraudulent decades in which only

Some of us lived

Move by like swirling gambling plates

In the casinos of Las Vegas with chips flying up

And Frank Sinatra singing leading up

To Tony Bennett

Ultimately the Canadian songstress prevailed

I can't remember her name

It didn't go anywhere after that

And the Golden Girls Revue

Some police disappeared through drug use

The crime controllers called it disintegration

Of the populace

And jailings

What do I know about the girl in the Potty


When they saw me at birth they said

'It's a White' THE gg is the gitogo gitgo

a girl POPE PAPA

have you talked to our Sadaka?

We love him you know

In the Nazi Party

The woman said

Got a dollar for Utopia?

The after death chasers said

One thin dime on the mulatto floor

For the good good good

The better good they said to me

We are here for the better good

The gamblers spinning the wheels

\in Les Vegas (French Las Vegas)

The fancy cabarets have not yet been built

In the la la land

Of Tupperware parties past

And Botox horror parties

The desert drive-in in Nevade

The Nevada light is on for the unrepentant

The whores of this world

The business people get breaks now

I read in investment

Trade journals I cannot afford

Triple G he said you are the Triple G


Patty Utopia on the potty chair

What a pity Pretty Patti

Pity Patti the military flunkie

On the potty chair was it pink or blue?

They called it Nazi love

To bring me back to the torture again

I realized I really was dead

Because these were the important ones

And must have flown in to ridicule me

Maybe children are the flunkies on drugs

In the United States

Who cares what the program name is?

Or if they are charismatic? I don't.

No one is going to read your reports

Your Nazi reports of torture findings

Get out of here I am dead

I screamed from glued lips in death trances

I yelled at the Jew ridiculing me after

I had gone from this life

They said I had never heard the ridicule

And I had to listen in bondage

While suffering in a trance I could not get

Out of it as I really was dead and listening

They knew I was in there

He doesn't want you he wants "Katya"

Do you mean Lara in Dr. Zhivago I asked?

I wrote this book and "movie direction"

They called the literature theft

Can you be Katya for the important Nazi?

She asked again demanding

He doesn't know you the woman said

And he cannot spare five minutes of his time

For Patricia or Patti McGurk

Yes, he is the real one

The real important man

Police don't want to be the arresting units

In the Gen Web structure as it is built

Around police stations to incarcerate you

The monarchy he said will fail to exist

For much longer than this

I said I know his personae

I don't know him the businessman

They showed me his picture

He is the Nazi who lives in the darkness

And can't come out the Nazi Black Jew

Strikes fear in people's not mine always

But usually I forget his appearance

As I am terrified

This is one visage he said

He breathes outside his skin in blackness

A terror emanation I saw once

While standing in the sunlight looking

Inside a former hypnosis jail

As I stood in the sunlight I smiled

And spoke to him shrinking back

And moving away from my fear

Through my American smile

I knew not to come back as the units

Will be sealed never to be opened

I still see him quickly standing in a deeper

Darkness what a horrible life he has

A darkness beyond what or than the light allows

I noticed him in front of me this time

With terror in his breath around him waving

In a black cloud presence breathing

Around him he sinks in it but stands

And he lives in his body though

I realized how much danger I have

Lived in and didn't know

The Black Nazi Doctor

Who is usually white magic

I write this poem in wet underwear

Through hypnosis orders to urinate too often

Excessive urination in public orders

From the past never cancelled

For the great writer to atone

For some damned crime at birth an

Innocent baby

Really I can't afford to buy a new pair

Of underwear

As I am still a torture victim

Living in a homeless shelter every night

With no money

Writing for free again to end the torture

The author is me

The Last Survivor of Auschwitz

Patricia Anne Himmler

and including me, Fatima, I am and always was

Patricia L. McGurk - but perhaps the good citizen's name

Means nothing in a degraded crime society

Comprised of intellectual torture that is sexually based

Degradation until death of the monarch and pope

And the American Citizen, Me My Own Beloved Self

they thought my potty chair torture voice

was different from my monarch's voice

It isn't


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