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Ashwin Kumar Oct 2019
Are you a human being?
Or are you an agent of Satan?
Do you value human life?
Or do you consider it disposable?
Do you understand love?
Do you understand kindness?
Do you understand empathy?
If not, are you fit to run a company?
Are you fit to be a boss?
Are you fit to be an HR?
Are you fit to work at all?

You have been blinded
By your fanatical zeal for results
By your overpowering greed for money
By your insatiable lust for power
For you, employees are robots
Tailor-made for your animalistic needs
Which cannot be satisfied
By any sane human being
For the sake of your whims and fancies
Which change at the speed of light
Several innocent lives are being ruined
Today, it is the employees who are doomed
Tomorrow, it could be your husband
The day after, it may even be your daughter
And this vicious cycle will go on and on
With no end in sight
Therefore, for the sake of humanity
It is only just
That you are banished from Earth
Down to the all-consuming darkness of Hell
Where you will rot, for eternity
And the world shall be happier for it
The title is fairly self-explanatory!
Ashwin Kumar Mar 2019
Every day, as the clock strikes ten
You march into the office
Swinging your arms back and forth
In a crude imitation of Herr ******
As the eyes of every employee
Focus on your cold, black ones
As if by magic
A deafening silence fills the office
As Hope turns into Despair
Trust turns into Betrayal
Confidence turns into Insecurities
Love turns into Hate
And Peace turns into Pieces

As your ringing voice fills the air
Resulting in a cacophony
Louder than those infernal firecrackers
Everybody's worst nightmare comes true
As you yell at your team
Mocking all their painstaking efforts
Dehumanizing them with casteist remarks
Your voice cuts into their feelings
Like a knife through butter
Leaving wounds so deep
That the scars shine brightly
For the rest of their lives

You are not an employer
You are a cruel, sadistic tyrant
Hiding behind the facade
Of a concerned maternal figure
However, as with all tyrants
The day will eventually arrive
When you are toppled
From your lofty throne
Your business will sink
Just as the Titanic did
You will be in huge debt
Your ill-gotten gains evaporating into thin air
As your erstwhile employees have their last laugh
It is you, who will be left
With wounds so deep
That the scars shine brightly
For the rest of your miserable life
A poem to my best friend's tyrannical boss. Note: I have taken a bit of inspiration from J.K.Rowling, the author of Harry Potter.
Peter Balkus Mar 2019
are architects
of their own demise.
Salmabanu Hatim Apr 2018
Awake!Hear the sirens,
Away with your moody defiance,
Let go of your tears of silence,
Lest you fall into the chasm of loneliness,
Where tyrants of depression,
Grip you in their possession.
It is not right to suppress tears
Mongi Jan 2018
It's a New World

Cars fly in the atmosphere
Like kites being flown by carefree kids
Homes crumble down to shreds
Like mud castles being hit by the rain
Life gets washed away into the seas
Like soft sand grains from the sea shore

Earnest elite men and women in white coats
Will name as tornado, tsunami, earthquakes
Scary names they are
Imaging dragons and Dracula
But it is a natural disaster
It is the universe's fault
That no man can be blamed for

Some people live with their loses
Find solace in the life they at least have left
Though, sadly, most never do
They wish they were never spared
For they are nothing with the nothingness spared

It's a new world
Now welcome the insensible fault of nature
Pssshhh! A silver vessel flies to the North
Zssshhh! A furious retaliative one trajects
Bzshhhh! They both hit on either sides
And the rest becomes history

Secure in their protected fortresses
Safe in company of their families
Content with their actions
Two men from either sides
Too full of their selfish and narcissistic egos
And yet voted by the perishing masses into power

They watch their doings
From their fancy televisions
Like it were an ugly action movie scene
Or a space Sci-fi video game
While everything burns down
And life turns to death
Toils taken to graves

Children screaming
Parents crying
Dreams shattering
Blood spilling
Sirens wailing
Doctors yelling
Pulses feebling
Breaths fading

It is selfish world
Where survival is only for the egocentric
And the innocent civilians live every day
In fear it were their last
As the media discuss the looming of a war
Now tyrants are bigger than their voters
And men's suits are too expensive
To sit down for negotiations
Rulers' hands too sterile to shake in peace
But their autocratic mouths so easy
At declaring and perpetrating war
Oh, how presidential!

Mongi C. Nkabindze
We read from newspapers about a possible looming war between two great  countries. I haven't done my research, but I just had these thoughts rushing through my mind. So I penned them down, in no careful manner
Rob Sandman Jun 2016
text= Jay/Sonic Philtre * Text = Mr Sandman

I was born Temujin. It means blacksmith.
I entered the world with a blood clot gripped in my fist.
A sign. Destined to rule. More than mortal man.
I'll unite the tribes as Genghis Khan.
Nomadic tribes. Erratic fractured divides.
Now ride aligned at my side.
The Mongol Horde pours onward.
Behold. The flail of God. All fall. Conquered.  
Homicidal persuasions. Genocidal invasions.
I'm destroyin the nations. All brought to heel.
Crushed. At my will.
Millions killed under hoof and bow and steel.  
Now feel the wrath of Khan. And bend knee.
My name echoes.....Through the centuries.
Infamy preceding me. History remembers me.

Cos I'm a tyrant.

Not born to the throne,I was borne to the Throne,
uncle claimed me as his own,thus my dynasty was born,
a ruthless cut throat,poisonous child,raised in glory,til I ran wild,
my Legions spread round the world like lesions,
my Army needs Levies,**** the rest take the young sons,
join my centuries, echo through the centuries,
Demonic on the Throne,of course they'll remember me!
Praetorian Guard stand hard at my side,
as I flaunt the power of an empire spread wide,
Crushed Britanicus force beneath my sandalled heel,
never before, or since has such power been wielded,
by a frenzied Madman,don't kiss my seal,
it's a ring of death,I giggle at your last breath,
love my horses more than you fools and I'll prove it!,
bread and circuses to palliate the masses,
burn christ lovers alive-now hide your Masses!

My own mother crossed me-I kissed her dead lips,
who's next to die,Throne room is an Apocaplypse!,
spinning out of control,Watched Rome burn,and laughed,
didn't fiddle I was wrappin hot griddles round the lower class,
smell of burning flesh my favourite aphrodisiac,
Bound Aphrodite in human form and ripped flesh from her back,
24and I married my own sister Drusilla,and then killed her,
sinking deeper in insanity Depravity my filter ,
my own advisers avoid my eyes,
knowing that a single twitch could mean they're next to die,
meanwhile I conquer more of earth,am I truly born of earth?,
I think not,Godhood will be my next re-birth,
these filthy savages believe in totems,let them eat dirt,
when I unleash hell from catapults of fire that wreak grim work,
Roma Victor is the cry as they die in a hellish death dance,
The Legacy that will live forever after me the Godhood Tyrant.
Me and Jay EC in effect bringing the Tyrants of the past into view so we can Scrutinise the ones to come...
Revolutions are called that cause they just keep on rollin' around again.
all rights reserved contact the Author for Eclectic Collective gigs,downloads,mind blowing ideas etc.
Julie Grenness Apr 2016
The challenge of climate change,
Our atmosphere grows more deranged,
Weather patterns even more strange,
How can we protect our climates,
From multinational eco tyrants?
Big business still defiant,
How can we change our climate?
In defence of **** Sapiens, primates,
We need more than panaceas,
To save our atmosphere,
Heed and listen to constructive ideas,
To change our climate here!
Feedback welcome.
David W Jul 2014
I: The Teacher's song*

I sing a song of adulation,
Introspect and extrovert,
I who have no thoughts but other’s,
Deep instilled and safe within,
Brought forth from the minds of strangers,
From the cradle taught to love,
I who have no thoughts but others,
Sweetly sing my teacher’s song.

Had I any sweeter hist’ry,
Than the one my parent’s sung,
Had I any truer teacher,
Than the tyrant who had won,
I had never been forsaken,
Not left wisdom far behind.
Now I sing the song of captors,
And to traitors lift my hand.

You who pledge to never wander,
You who ignorance plead,
Turn hard hands and ears unhearing,
On the one’s your lord forgot.
Sing me no old song of battle,
Tell me not your tales of strength!
I have left, no, I’ve forsaken,
All the men your children praise.

Men of war and men of valor,
Who for gold did send thy sons,
Into battle far afield,
Left the land sown with their blood.
Am I now to bow in honor,
To the man who sits a-throned,
Gazing on to freedom’s border,
Eyes turned down on our sweet home.

Nay I’ll not sing to thy tyrants,
To the men who sold your souls.
I’ll not sing to all thy heroes,
I shall ne’er condemn thy foes.
But I’ll sing of those they conquered,
Give my life to sing their woes.
Those that died to bring us freedom,
Those who died to stall our woes.

And when all the land doth languish,
Under iron hands sustained,
By thy wages sent afar to
Pay the tyrant’s fee,
Shall you then come sing your sorrows,
Leave than man who sits a-throned.
Gazing on to freedom’s border,
Eyes turned down on our sweet home.

— The End —