#elitism
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Слонялись, и гнули —
Эксперты мы.
👉 Bloch-Bauer & Adele · 2020 · Signature Privée
Aug 2, 2025
Aug 2, 2025 at 1:47 AM UTC
Come Down
by Michael R. Burch
for Harold Bloom and the Ivory Towerists
Come down, O, come down
from your high mountain tower.
How coldly the wind blows,
how late this chill hour ...
and I cannot wait
for a meteor shower
to show you the time
must be now, or not ever.
Come down, O, come down
from the high mountain heather
blown to the lees
as fierce northern gales sever.
Come down, or your heart
will grow cold as the weather
when winter devours
and spring returns never.
NOTE: I dedicated this poem to Harold Bloom after reading his introduction to the Best American Poetry anthology he edited. Bloom seemed intent on claiming poetry as the province of the uber-reader (i.e., himself), but I remember reading poems by Blake, Burns, cummings, Dickinson, Frost, Housman, Eliot, Pound, Shakespeare, Whitman, Yeats, et al, and grokking them as a boy, without any “advanced” instruction from anyone. Keywords/Tags: Harold Bloom, literary, critic, criticism, elitist, elitism, ivory, tower, heights, mountain, winter, cold, frigid
Rant: The Elite
by Michael R. Burch
When I heard Harold Bloom unsurprisingly say:
Poetry is necessarily difficult. It is our elitist art ...
I felt a small suspicious thrill. After all, sweetheart,
isn’t this who we are? Aren’t we obviously better,
and certainly fairer and taller, than they are?
Though once I found Ezra Pound
perhaps a smidgen too profound,
perhaps a bit over-fond of Benito
and the advantages of fascism
to be taken ad finem, like high tea
with a pure white spot of intellectualism
and an artificial sweetener, calorie-free.
I know! I know! Politics has nothing to do with art
And it tempts us so to be elite, to stand apart ...
but somehow the word just doesn’t ring true,
echoing effetely away—the distance from me to you.
Of course, politics has nothing to do with art,
but sometimes art has everything to do with becoming elite,
with climbing the cultural ladder, with being able to meet
someone more Exalted than you, who can demonstrate how to ****
so that everyone below claims one’s odor is sweet.
You had to be there! We were falling apart
with gratitude! We saw him! We wept at his feet!
Though someone will always be far, far above you, clouding your air,
gazing down at you with a look of wondering despair.
Mar 30, 2020
Mar 30, 2020 at 12:44 AM UTC
Many are hamster-wheel humans
So punch-drunk from assuming
They know the way things work.
The wealthy urged them to elect jerks
To run this country into the ground
And turn it into the worst place around.
It’s a sad tale, a ***** of a story
Where those with guts, don’t get glory.
It’s a horror story, like in scary flicks
Where when men in suits get their kicks
Imprisoning brown people and kids
And laughing about the bad they did.
Afterward, they say others are to blame
But make no attempt to hide their game.
They put thousands in jail and charge them
And sing out loud their lying anthems.
They say fake news is the real McCoy
But, the real news they say is a ploy
Honest people want to stop the plunder
That, up ’til now, they kept hidden under.
But now it’s in the open meant to appease
Ignorant white people that are hard to please.
They want whites in power, think that’s nifty,
No wonder they elect only those who are shifty.
Too many quit learning in school, after ABC,
And they have no use for the land of the free.
They liked how it was in eighteen hundreds
With slaves, inhumanity to those they plundered.
They got up in arms when a black man won
And the class war was once again begun.
The very rich told lies to change the rules
People began to act openly like rapacious fools.
This is the country of which we were once proud.
It’s right now being destroyed by the elite crowd.
Oct 1, 2018
Oct 1, 2018 at 12:38 AM UTC
Forget pre-Madonnas
We want to get away from all the self-proposed Shakespeares that think their opinions matter more here
Humanity should rid itself from elitism and stop being insincere
It would put our contributions in the clear.
Sep 1, 2018
Sep 1, 2018 at 10:30 PM UTC
In vacant masks
We hide the veins
Where the sickly blood
Flows within us
Like a raging, hidden
Flame divided
Beneath a blanket
Of expectations
Of lacerations
Of blocked
Shocked
Methods of filth
Where we can act
As though we are better
When someone leaves
Or mistreats
Or walks away
Or makes them pay
We sit with our hands
Together like some morbid
Altar boy drunk on
Some misconceived
Notion that we are
Better.
Aug 20, 2018
Aug 20, 2018 at 11:30 PM UTC
Hut, two, three, four
What do you think you are fighting for?
Four, five, six, seven
Invasion is the path to heaven.
Seven, eight, nine, ten
If it doesn’t work, do it again.
Six, seven, eight, nine
If innocents die too, never mind.
We need to clean things
Wipe lessers out of the place.
They’re a total threat and
Weaken our beloved race.
We don’t have time
For anyone sick or poor
We must go somewhere
And fight unreasonable war.
Helping the weak and sick
Costs too much money to allow.
Besides, there are among us
Suffering rich people right now.
This land owes it all to the rich
So, we must do all we can
To support them with each pitch.
So, hut, two, three, four,
Now you know what we’re fighting for.
Three, four, five, six
Now, none of your liberal tricks.
Five, six, seven, eight.
Don’t question your betters, that’d be great.
Hut, two, three, four
We are who you are fighting for!
Jul 12, 2018
Jul 12, 2018 at 5:41 PM UTC
Southerners said “You’re white!”
They’re black, and that’s not all right,
But you’re okay because you’re white.”
But that’s not right because I’m not white.
I’m sort of a pasty pinkish beige
So, why is it the rage to say white?
And black? That is usually the wrong tack.
I know people that say they are black
And others yak about black folk
In hateful, racist jokes, but they too
Are not black. They’re color runs from
As light as a cup of milky tea
To the color of a kukui nut.
So what is this black and white crap?
It’s a trap for some who don’t know
What to call other people because
They’re trained to call other people
Some name besides just people.
It has to be what color people
Trained under school bell and steeple
To talk this way and veer away
From the point they are making,
The risk they are taking by seeing
Something else besides a human being.
Instead they focus on something unreal
And therefore manage not to feel.
It’s really so sad, and so demeaning
To zap so much meaning from someone
Who has a life, loves, joys and pain;
Let's remain aloof from giving names
And incorrectly worded colors to them.
Don't pretend that you are being kind
When you teach yourself to be blind
To the beauty and the joy of boys
And girls who are not from your race
And to replace love and opportunity
With fear, suspicion and enmity.
It is quite simply a common tragedy.
Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 2:54 PM UTC
They chose to call it The Freedom Tree
Because in their ultimate wisdom
They felt it represented all of mankind
And their famous bid for freedom.
But all the while they didn’t really intend
For all the people to enjoy it.
They meant the right people in their laws
And selectively chose to employ it.
It stood in the center where battles were
And where some patriots had died
And from the beginning they ignored many
And abused them far and wide.
They argued that they were not really people
These of color or unaccepted belief
Then subjected them to the very horror they
Themselves had come here for relief.
So this was The Freedom Tree so named
By some kind of patriotism that chooses
Who gets to live, and love and prosper
And in the end, decide who loses.
Maybe they should have chosen a name
That said what they thought was right;
Maybe the name should have been
The Tree of Freedom For Everyone White.
Jul 1, 2018
Jul 1, 2018 at 2:32 PM UTC
(The Suspicious Oracle shifts in their booth, then stands from the table to sway into the light. They sweep the dust from their clothes and flash a smile.)
It's been noted. Oh,
my observation is go.
Perceptive circuits
caught the web
where it stretches
overhead.
Words, words, words,
beautiful pontifications
Words, words, words
eloquent romanticisms
of the empathy empty. n. devoid
(The Suspicious Oracle removes a bill from their coat and presents it to the audience.)
In blood these names list
the elite who seem to
herd together,
and at the gate
keep the risen. .
.
.
.clean
The searing ray of
justice past due
will melt the
chains save
freedom
for the
few
Jun 9, 2018
Jun 9, 2018 at 2:56 PM UTC
Even when you
express your thoughts
in a respectful way,
you'll find more
often than not,
you'll be told
assuredly,
you're wrong.
This is a tactic of those
hidden behind
status and clout.
They'll silence
your little voice
as they keep
right in your face
and shout.
You're entitled to yours
as they're entitled to theirs.
I want you to know, though,
those who refuse to let you speak,
have already decided inside
that you don't deserve autonomy.
Don't argue with the ill intended,
kids.
It's not your job to teach.
Jun 9, 2018
Jun 9, 2018 at 11:23 AM UTC
There are many of you that seem
To wish the rest of us were dead;
That they never had to listen
To a single word we have said.
They are not bright enough
Within themselves to understand
That we are the working people;
We are the backbone of the land.
Who do you think worked so hard?
Who do you think saved you?
Who was it backed civil rights?
Yes, us, but few of you do.
Who will pay folks to bellow
And shout to sell their junk?
Who will offer them the money
They use for food and bunk?
Who will bribe them with gifts
And tickets to the best shows?
Who will kiss their lazy *****
Who cares? Not them, we know.
Who do you think worked so hard?
Who do you think saved you?
Who was it backed civil rights?
Yes, us, but few of you do.
Who was it that lost all sight
Of the big picture and what it means.
Who was it you sent to wars
While you and clerks counted beans?
Who was it that paid for bailouts
Of banks you gave free rides?
Who is it pays all the taxes
For the mansions you cower inside?
Who do you think worked so hard?
Who do you think saved you?
Who was it backed civil rights?
Yes, us, but few of you do.
Mar 7, 2018
Mar 7, 2018 at 6:02 PM UTC
We've been betraying our children for generation after generation,
government turned state education into indoctrination,
media no longer speak the truth; experts in fabrication.
How the **** am I supposed to show allegiance to my nation?
Fascists masquerade as liberals to silence anyone
who disagrees with their agenda, will the day never come
when people wake up and realise this **** just can't go on?
There can no longer be Right and Left,
there's only right and wrong.
Immigration, regulation, European legislation;
fighting over **** while they indulge in self-congratulation,
laughing in our faces while we're running the rat race.
Working fifty hours a week to put food on our children's plates.
Do you really think they give a **** about democracy?
Do you think they care about the suffering of you and me?
Do you really think that anything is what it claims to be?
All you have to do is open up your eyes, it's plain to see.
It's an illusion.
It's all collusion.
Make no mistake.
Let there be no confusion.
There's only one solution.
This is my conclusion:
We need a revolution!
#
When the tide begins to turn
will you flee to higher ground?
When the sky begins to burn
will you lay your weapons down?
Incarcerated in our own land
yet we keep them on their thrones.
Emancipation only comes by our own hand
then together we'll atone.
#
Don't want to do this by the bullet, the blade or the bomb.
If we use violence then we're giving them what they want.
Any excuse for the use of firepower.
Send in the troops whilst they regroup up in their high towers.
They won't hesitate to slaughter us like animals,
and so it's evident that we need a new kind of war.
But if necessary we will still take it by force.
This is a New World Order we're fighting for.
Our greatest weapons are our minds and our eyes now.
We need to read between the lines, see through the lies now.
Draw the digital battle lines. We can rise now!
Are you with me? Had enough? Do you despise how
we're being asked to select our own dictators?
But if we refuse to elect you, you ******* **** takers,
and we can keep our resolve, with you repudiated,
you shall not be absolved. No adjudicators!
We're disillusioned
with this intrusion.
This is your fate.
This will be your occlusion.
Our world's reperfusion.
Inevitable conclusion.
Hail the Revolution!
#
When the tide begins to turn
will you flee to higher ground?
When the sky begins to burn
will you lay your weapons down?
Incarcerated in our own land.
Yet we keep them on their thrones.
Emancipation only comes by our own hand
then together we'll atone.
#
Jan 8, 2018
Jan 8, 2018 at 8:33 PM UTC
How could I want the art of poetry to be dominantly white and male?
There's way too female poets of color and white female poets that ate much better than I
I couldn't live peacefully in the old days with that being apparent
My intentions are transparent
I think women are better with their words
I'm just an intimidator I feel
But it only takes one for these lines to congeal
Art is a three course meal
And it should not be overlooked
She fills up my stadiums and gets them overbooked
How could I want poetry to be white and male?
The elitist mindset is *******
There's far too many female poets who deserve a trophy of gold
And their hearts to heal.
And there's also too many male poets who don't deserve the image of elitism.
Nov 30, 2017
Nov 30, 2017 at 1:55 AM UTC
Put a poem here ********
Even if you don't know what that **** is
(it's a collection of words, organized
and broken into
lines
and stanzas
like this!)
Put a poem here ********
Even if you don't know how to type!
(you take your finger,
assuming you have one
and if not
that's ok
use whatever you prefer,
and press down on one
of those little squares
you know,
the ones with the
letters on em)
Put a poem here ********
Even if you don't know any white man poets,
dead or alive!
(You don't need em,
you could read em
on the account of background
and cultural appreciation,
but you,
you're enough)
Put a poem here ********
Even if you don't think you're good enough!
(You are, ******
and I am the president of poetry saying
it is true,
but ultimately you will,
grow to be your own champion,
maybe not now,
but I can tell you how)
Put a poem here ********
Even if you don't know how to be your own champion!
(You'll become one by
putting a poem here ********
So, put a poem here ********
Go! Go! Go!
Nov 22, 2017
Nov 22, 2017 at 11:26 AM UTC
The rich never starve
So they don’t understand
When others do.
They have no earthly idea
What the starving folks
Are going through.
They are being taught
By those that have cash
That poor are lazy trash
And it’s fine to ignore
When they suffer.
If the poor were wise
They would choose another
Better way of living.
They’d surely not starve
But would rather carve
Out some way of life
That brought wealth to
Their kids and their wife.
It’s got to be something
That the poor has done
To make them into
The neediest ones.
They should even work
For some fast food place
Because being poor is
A huge, social disgrace.
And the women should stay
At home with their kids
The same way our mothers
Of yesterday all did.
It’s shameful the way
The poor make their spouses
Work at jobs all the time
Outside of their houses.
The rich never starve
So they don’t understand
When others suffer.
They fail to accept that
We are their sisters
And their brothers.
Sep 13, 2017
Sep 13, 2017 at 12:20 PM UTC
Around the table,
Literacy discussion turned elitist...
Bemoaning some poor Johnny,
Son of a plumber who does not read
Beyond the practical need,
And has no desire to.
I stopped to check my sense of what I had just heard...
Was transported to a prairie farm;
Thought of my Father, then in his eighties
Who felt no need and no sense of loss
For not having read Shakespeare nor Kant
For missing Milton's Paradises and Hemingway,
For by-passing Black Elk Speaks and C.S. Lewis.
Every morning, he read his Bible;
Some nights he read the mail's
Motley collection of literature:
Ads and politicians and fanatics,
Demanding money and his time,
But mostly money.
"I don't have time to read!"
He'd shout when I suggested a novel.
What literature he had was in his head,
Poems memorized when he was a boy
In a two room school, or
His own lines, written as a young man,
Describing work and friends
Long distant now, but still alive
In memory.
Dad taught me how to read
In different literacies and different texts:
Nuances of sky to read the weather -
What chill or storm or drought was on its way
("Storm's coming, boys! Let's get that hay!");
Cows and calves and bulls,
(Which one was sick or well, dry or bred);
Ways to diagnose mechanical ailments
("Start with the easiest options first");
Metals, to know which welding rod applied
("Aluminum sags, and cast iron cracks");
Grain, rolled crisp between hard hands,
(a test of ripeness);
Cement, to blend the perfect mix,
("Clean gravel/sand, no dirt, not too much water!);
Conservation,
("Always keep some grain on hand" &
"Keep your fuel above half-tank").
So many literacies...
Dad, the Master Reader of them all...
No wonder he'd no time for books.
Dec 20, 2011
Dec 20, 2011 at 9:26 PM UTC
Middle-school adulthood
Picking on people is cool.
Nothing important is going on
That has anything to do with school.
Glasses make people four-eyed
Not being thin means they’re fat.
Stutters and stammers are funny
And being snotty is where it’s at.
Ding **** bell, being rich is swell
Don’t be wimpy, not a smidge
Tree-hugging liberals can go to hell.
Revel in your white privilege.
You want to vote for a Democrat?
Have you lost your silly head?
Just check all the GOP boxes
With Daddy’s choice instead.
Now you’re all grow up today
And have a lot of political power
Which grows and grows stronger
Each hour by Republican hour.
So don’t weaken now, baby
Do what you know is right.
Stick to your supremacist guns.
Because you know white makes might.
So use your sarcasm as a tool
Secretly whisper against the weak.
And those weak-kneed pacifists,
Those flag burning, long haired creeps;
Ignore them all; give their nose a tweak.
Just like the women you dated and married
They need to follow your lead in life.
After all, they don’t count the same as you.
The important thing is they’re just a wife.
Ding **** bell, power is swell
You never suffer, not a smidge
Don’t worry if you can’t spell.
Revel in your white privilege.
Never vote for a Democrat,
Don’t be that kind of stupid head.
Just check every the GOP boxes
Faithfully keep your state red.
Dec 8, 2016
Dec 8, 2016 at 3:59 PM UTC
She sprays her hair a lot
Doesn’t care about the climate
She says it keeps her looking hot
And she doesn’t even need to diet.
She drives to school driving
Her daddy’s fancy gift car.
She goes happily because
That’s where cute boys are.
She’s the Great American Co-ed
And intelligence is not important.
Someone saying ‘no’ to her are
Words she finds most discordant.
She only likes to hear ‘yes dear’
For her life to being going fine.
Everyone just has to understand
And then they must toe the line.
She’s a grade C student
Because she doesn’t like books.
But, she has no trouble
With boys because of her looks.
She is a willing target as well;
She likes any guy in pants.
Maybe even a rich guy who
Will buy her expensive implants.
She knows she will be
The most popular girl around
If she can just get her blog
Going strong and off the ground.
She has lots of cool photos
Of her in her bikini bathing suit.
She also has her phone number
And her measurements to boot.
She’s the Great American Co-ed
And daddy has paid for University.
She is afraid she might not get in
Due to the law about racial diversity
But she is sure her daddy will
Call in some markers owed by friends.
He’s done it before and she bets
He’ll gladly do it one more time again.
Nov 3, 2016
Nov 3, 2016 at 4:16 PM UTC
You go to church on Sunday
And then you've done your part.
Instead of saying “I hate that *****
You just say “Bless her heart.”
Monday starts the week anew
With dog-eat-dog intention.
Live and let live and the like
Seldom rates a mention.
Help the poor and needy
Doesn't pull too much weight
When measuring by dollar signs
To decide what is truly great.
The Bible verses get changed:
“Do unto others” is rewritten
To “Do what we can get by with.”
Thus is the common man smitten.
So you allow the Congress
To do whatever they want:
Outlaw our rights and rob us,
Laugh at us and then flaunt
That nobody can touch them
As they bleed the land dry.
We're just to bless their hearts
While the watch us slowly die.
We can keep on pretending
That everything is just,
Then go to church on Sunday
And brag about “In God we trust”,
Or we could wake the hell up
And start to participate
In what used to be our country
Right now before it's too late.
But that would mean standing up
And not just going along
And not following on party lines
Not singing the downtrodden song.
It means questioning our leaders,
But, you see, right there is the rub.
If we stop ourselves from being robbed
We can't belong to the Hypocrite Club.
Sep 25, 2016
Sep 25, 2016 at 12:11 AM UTC