"silence is worse; all truths that are kept silent become poisonous.” ― friedrich nietzsche
like poking the hornet's nest with a stick, you are a rose with stems and thorns so thick,
your skin is protection from oppression, keeping the world out of your private channels
all of which are static with distorted voices only science can pry through your cacophony
any evidence of who you are, i couldn't find with years of knowledge, a indestructible ship
could speak more evidence about why it was annihilated, obliterated, disintegrated under
the ocean for months at a time without any current survivors, if we wanted to know how,
what, and why, we would have to be led directly to the source by holding your hand
there is flaws in the equation, there will be a position where i will be put out into light
there is no way out of my mind, like i'm schizophrenic, if kryptonite killed superman,
can it kill the infectious virus spreading like wildfire through my veins, can i stop
worrying about when i will finally break down and reveal my secrets?
I’m not saying you should have to wipe clean your political slate to understand the power for oppression is in the hands of the state.
Legislative discrimination is slated against us.
Divisive measures are taken to sew distrust.
I don’t believe there is any higher power we can trust.
And certainly no fucking government.
Chastised flies buzz high
Beguiling wildly wind whipped window washers
While presumptuously floating on CO2 currents
Sprayed streaks criss –cross the sky presenting
Atmospheric cubism for the lonely bystander
Representatives regurgitate revolutionary stories
From broken stairs on weathered monuments
Crushing oppression fills flared nostrils breathing deep
Reigning terror from the empire which birthed us all
Media propagated horror show, three meals a day
…………….none withstanding, nothing withheld
Closeness replaces character and huddled victims
Hungrily eyeball each other’s flesh
Sweat covered dirt coated quadriceps glisten
As if to beacon a bite
Gnashed teeth clench against fists flown from children
Bent on self-destruction and socialized hate
Forever consumed by the goal of individualism and liberty ideologies
There tears create new inland seas
Justified lies perpetrated by powerful provocateurs
Looking for the next big score
Seeking the last vestige of person freedom
Loss costs the unhappy Boss
Whitey…. The man….. Corporate America as an individual god-head
Watching with predatory diligence
Us as we struggle
The laughter can be heard through-out the cosmos
Joy expressed so freely knows no bounds
We are the enslaved masses without hope
Without the knowledge that we are slaves
Smiles widen while the truth becomes clear
Eyes light up at future prospects
Hands clap and feet stomp at the spectacle
Humanity hates itself
27 years incarcerated.
27 years of committing to the same ideas and ideals that shut him off from the world.
Unsurpassed courage and finally unsurpassed Grace.
Forgiving his captors and those who would wish to remove his hope for a brighter future for his people and his country.
The longest and most arduous marathon ever won.
Redeemed at last.
Oppression crumbled by one man's will.
And being humbled by the journey.
As if anyone would've done the same.
Rest quietly 'trouble-maker' for now.
The invitation to return is always open.
My heart seeks your beat
Alone in bed is my danger.
I still crave your heat
But my desire was left in hunger.
All I wanted us to be
The empty promises we made.
Do you still want me?
How did we let our love fade?
Was it just a childish dream?
To run away from the world
Where we couldn't hear a scream
Only watch our lives unfold.
Free from the oppression
And the judgmental stares.
Up high on our mountain, deep in discretion.
I can almost feel your tender love and care.
Why then couldn't we fix
The wrinkles in our blanket of love?
I thought we were a perfect mix
Yet your affection I had to shove
But forever I'll be wondering
Why it couldn't be.
Had to leave with your love lingering
Just you and me.
O Orpheus, where is our fair city? transition sewer,
condition green, language declares pity. in theory,
cannibalism is an intricate part of survival, written in the
unwritten doctrine of Amerikan capitalism. Parallax Captain
shipwrecks all of the indirect propositions in Texas, an
amazing individual. book five politica creates cannibals,
we sprouted out of grass flourishing at Nuremberg like
the age of the Orc. Delillo's theory part three, painters
buried in eclipse, outer corona brushes flu of shadow (NARRATION
CONTINUES) BROADSIDE fundamentalists reject any
status of equality not because it exists—they are the only ones
that know it exists. Step in the arena Guru pleaded, reject
prospects dubbed divine, because that is no way to be treated.
This is in nature, a cents of dualism, separating belief and
action. Popper's critique on Plato is not on Plato, but on
Amerikan capitalism. self-mutilating oppression. Wynton
believes in family, but didn't speak to Branford for 5 years,
we have choices.
Preemo cuts quicker than chemistry, he has Cecil Taylor's hands.
BROADSIDE fundamentalist's know that DJ's are outspoken
grocery store muralists, they are philosopher-painters.
BROADSIDE fundamentalists are in the arena.
the image is the arena and the arena in the image. tickets are free
and can be acquired from various metaphysical turn tables
every day, all hours of the day.
A storm is coming
They close their eyes
They hide in denial
A storm is coming
A storm is coming
The noise so loud
But no ones there
As leaves that shiver
You had it all
You let it wither
The tide grows high
And no ones there
To see your eyes
To wave goodbye
"Let your voice be heard." You say.
Yet the oppression of our already suppressed vocal cords is apparent.
"You drop all of your rights at the door."
No wonder everyone is so negative about our school.
We hardly have a choice in what we say, what we think and what we wear.
We can't even go to the bathroom without advertising to the teacher and everyone else that we have to take a shit.
We need a strong as steel reason to even go to the nurses office.
"May I go to the nurse?"
"Because I'm sick."
"You don't look sick, wait until after class."
Imagine if you were a girl on her period. Would you want to announce to everyone you are on it?
How embarrassing would that be?
I'll tell you that I will not be herded through these halls like cattle.
Branded with color coordinated tags to prove to teachers our innocence.
Give me a detention.
I dare you. See where it gets you.
This is a place where we are supposed to practice our freedoms for when we enter the "real world."
It really weird.
The Bill of Rights had no clause that said 'except in school' anywhere.
The writers believed that those are the basic rights that a human should have.
If they looked at our country right now what would they think?
We contradict everything that we were founded on.
They would be ashamed.
They would be offended.
Even worse, my school is ruled by the oppressive fist of an ex-military man.
An ex-marine. A branch founded to protect our rights and our country.
Government cattle, nonetheless.
You too have been abused by the system.
You choose to show the same abuse to the "future of America."
Shutting us down.
Regulating every breath we take as if we are about to be unplugged.
Without us you would have no job.
Without people there would be no government.
Without freedom there is no happiness.
Robbing generation after generation of self expression.
Oppression of "the future of our country" will bring us further into the past.
Each breath does not need to be regimented.
I could cure cancer.
You just won't let me.
I could help create sustainable energy.
You'll never know because your ego drowns out even the bravest of souls.
Stone cold, the blackening sky, stole our fields of flowers
They came like a silent flood over our continents
To block our sun and steal our humanity.
The ships were silent, and filled the skies.
Then down their marching hoards descended
Overwhelmed our puny technology, rendering us as apes.
Under their shadows our world went neolithic
They rendered all that was electrical or light to junk
We were left as scurrying dirty things among the soil.
Vastly reduced, our very memories were threatened
Forgetting how once we ruled our own planet
They plucked up our people like we once picked flowers.
When they came for me I was a child
The elders still telling me of the times I never knew
I had to learn their ways as I learned our own.
One day all our careful plans came together
And I sat hidden deep within their ship,
The thing so long pursued was found
Within that place, their robot brain
Where I could redefine their enemy as themselves
Then quick to a transport and back to my people.
Shortly then with a single bullet
We sparked their hostility sensors
The dark metal clouds burst soon with sun-like flame
We will never know the all that they knew,
Though we pick still among the mechanized ruins
And try to discover "from where" and "why."
More powerful than all our smartest elders
Covering the world with their dark mechanized oppression
But brought to an end by hands of a boy.
Many years now, since we brought them down
The hulking hulls worked now into barns and homes.
And once again we learn to talk across the oceans.
It wasn't long after the flames had ended
When in the fields the sun again warmed the soil
And fields of flowers there began to bloom.
-First line borrowed from CA Guilfoyle's "Stolen"
POEMOCRACRY AND POEMOCRATS
Alexander K Opicho
It is freedom of universal poetry
And the political democratic space
In the economic government of poetry
By the poetrizens for the poetrizens.
Ascription to which I get Faiz of Urdu a true poemocrat
The male mistress of poetry’s counter-narrative
To its extremism in the Nerudaistic poemocracy
Known in the West as the 'Neruda of Urdu poetry
Faiz wrote romantic lyrics with a different a touch
He fused it with contemporary social issues
Progressive Pakistanis have commemorated
His jolly and poemocratic 29th death anniversary
Faiz Ahmad Faiz, a progressive Pakistani poemocrat
Has inspired almost three generations of Pakistanis
He believe in secular and liberal values poemocratically
A proclaimed poemocratic Marxist Faiz received
The Lenin Peace Prize from the then Soviet Union in 1962
The poet was also involved in many political struggles
And was jailed by Pakistani rulers a number of times.
Good poetry can always be used as an agent for self- awareness
In terms of the poemocratic quality of his poetry
And his poetical expressions he is unparalleled
In the whole history of Urdu poemocracy.
His metaphors, the string of nouns that he uses,
The rhythm and the structure will never go stale
Faiz will remain relevant mostly because of his themes
- He wrote extensively about human misery,
Despair, squalor, Inequality and injustice
These are timeless democratic issues
These are universal issues and are not restricted
to a parochial nor Provencal country or group.
Good poetry can always be used as an agent for awareness,
But Faiz is more relevant in this context
Because he speaks in contemporary poemocratic idiom
But let me be clear that Faiz is exceptionally among the equals
Poemocratic like Meer, Ghalib and Hafiz make us open-minded
They make us appreciate and cherish the poemocratic diversity
And differences that we have in the world mother earth’s sire.
Faiz weeps over oppressive problems in Africa
And talks about the oppressive racism in Palestine issue.
Faiz’s poetry makes us feel the pain of others
Indeed Faiz's poetry serves the world a bonanza ever
As a counter-narrative to extreme Islamist ideologies
Faiz and Neruda both belonged to the poor World
The conditions he was dealing with during his life,
was The colonial hangover as it was
Something Neruda also faced in his country.
Faiz talks about the concrete realities around him
And not only about some imaginative issues
This is also true of poemocratic Pablo Neruda
They both deal with real issues of bread and butter,
Of poverty, hunger, nakedness, jiggers, peace and security.
Not only are the sensibilities of the two poemocrats is ditto,
But also the socio-political fabrics they lived under
Kudos to German poetry and fiction
That always had good influence
On the poemocratic Urdu-Chilean literature
Soul literature has inspired countless Urdu writers and poets.
Its influence was starker during the 20th century
Faiz was not only inspired by soul writers and philosophers,
But also by praxis of poverty and agonies of diverse oppression.