#tyrant
Behold the burning tree
As flames ebb and flow 'tween you and me
Hear the crackle of its bark
As burning embers light the dark
Barren, desolate, foul smelling earth
A hungry dog of wretched birth
Scours the land for food and water
What rage and fury does it foster
For Men of mice and Mice of men
Who dwell deep beneath the glen
Where great Abraxas, in deep slumber
Would rise with rage and thunder
And smite the tyrants in their castle
With their maiden queen fair and gracile
As men to dust shall return
So must their creation, in turn
And upon that land shall clouds bring
Sweet liquor of life, harbinger of spring
As muddy hue turn emerald green
Hear the wind's melody, quiet, serene
Apr 19
Apr 19, 2026 at 6:07 PM UTC
A tyrant rules the world today
All rules and morals thrown away
He kidnaps, kills and threatens all
Whilst his minions around him crawl
Lies and distrust everywhere
And he doesn´t really care
If people suffer die or worse
As long as it fills up his purse
In the name of national security
He will steal your land with impunity
No one dares to take a stand
To save their now divided land
A sad affair with no way out
But someday soon without doubt
He will be called upon to pay
When it is time for judgement day
Jan 8
Jan 8, 2026 at 1:16 AM UTC
When you're afraid to speak, you sell your rights for nothing
You sell your conscience, your soul and country for nothing
When you're afraid to express yourself, you don't subsist
You're no longer alive, you're dead, and you no longer exist.
Writers, poets, professors, professionals, teachers and students
Be not afraid to say something, to tell the truth, to tell it like it is
Language is the easiest form of communicating, say it with ease
Say it like brave beings and have no fear to face the elements.
When you speak, say it loud, with all your might, force and soul
Speak like a Hero. Be brave, be fair, be just, and be strong and bold.
Copyright © September 2018, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
Sep 28, 2025
Sep 28, 2025 at 4:53 AM UTC
Thought you once noticed, I did this thing,
some time ago, and now,
I'm glad, because if you see it, if you did,
you can say
Yes, I have seen illustrated Blake,
you would say, that's cool,
and why so, you know, you have words
and freedom to make them heard in silence,
for a price,
listen to reason, is this the real way we speak
test, text, right?
Some quicker than others, many dead,
did not expect to say so much un accounted
what would that be worth,
if is was historical. threaded through each day,
and through then to now,
like the world's biggest ball
of industrial binding twine.
The new medium allows wider attention:
If think breaks, just get there from
https:kenpepiton.com
https://kenpepiton.com/?page_id=502
Mar 4, 2022
Mar 4, 2022 at 11:34 PM UTC
yes, the tyrant is ready
to destroy with thousands of arms
with thousands of eyes
with thousands of hearts
a denied collective crime after all
and the old circle of darkness about to complete
again
the worm of history is tattooing our dreams
unbearable the recipe of pain
no real tipping point
especially
no turning point
for any tyrant
wooden tongues speak non truths
to be fed by a tyrant freezes the rivers of the mind
being a tyrant is so simple, so natural in a world we've ceased to imagine
this tyrant like any other free
to toy with history as with plasticine
cause we/you/they are as ready as ever
to support him dynamite
the horizon
of time
Feb 23, 2022
Feb 23, 2022 at 4:40 PM UTC
I will sit upon the throne of disaster
When the time comes, I'll be dethroned
By something
Far
Far greater
and perhaps i'll obtain some meaning in this life of mine
Perhaps i won't
Doesn't matter
For now, as long as the sun is lit
With an elixir of immeasurable fire
I shall bear the heat
of my broken kingdom
I am wrath
I am the tyrant.
Apr 15, 2020
Apr 15, 2020 at 11:54 AM UTC
To own a selfish and reckless will,
It is monstrous and a tyrant over me still,
It holds the hand of my ambition when I meet my shy dreams,
And hands me a cup of cowardice sourced from apathy's streams.
Passion has a seat at the banqueting table,
It wants to be more than friends with unstable,
A chaotic spiral of emotions has awoken,
But time wears the crown and I think time has spoken.
Apr 3, 2020
Apr 3, 2020 at 7:08 PM UTC
Feathered Fiends
by Michael R. Burch
Fascists of a feather
flock together.
Alternate:
Conformists of a feather
flock together.
I came up with the "Fascists of a Feather" epigram after Donald Trump repeatedly praised authoritarian "strong men" like Vladimir Putin, Kim Jong Un, Rodrigo Duterte, Xi Jinping and Recep Tayyip Erdoğan. Heroic Americans fought a war against fascism and many of them paid the ultimate price, so why is Trump giving comfort to the enemy of democracy?
The alternate version of this couplet was written first and won a National Couplet Contest sponsored by the Society of Classical Poets. The couplet has now been published in one form or another on the websites of major newspapers and news services like TheHill.com, Haaretz.com (Israel), Crikey.com (Australia), Cleveland.com (as the headline of a letter to the editor), Reddit Political Humor, and Humane Conservatives Unite Blog. Sometimes the epigram is quoted in reader comments, sometimes by the writers of letters to the editor, and sometimes within articles.
Keywords/Tags: fascists, flock, together, fascism, conformists, nazis, blackshirts, brownshirts, dictator, tyrant, autocrat, despot, totalitarian, cultist, militarist
Mar 25, 2020
Mar 25, 2020 at 12:48 AM UTC
tyrannicide is a beautiful word.
it is the felling of a beast.
the anger of the insurgent hordes.
It is just as much the killing of a dictator
as it is
the killing
of a god.
modern tyrannicide
is telling the boy who sits behind me to shove a sock in it,
and not feeling guilty about it.
Feb 3, 2020
Feb 3, 2020 at 1:48 PM UTC
You’re gone at last, so at last I can think.
Insulting! Humiliating, not to be able to fire back,
As you put me once more on a mental rack.
It’s no wonder that I want a drink.
But by now I want so much more than strife.
I want to scorch your villainy with shame,
To crush your “triumph” and ruin your name,
And make you watch how you poison life.
Yet I am stuck beneath your wealth,
Undone if I demur in the least.
You spring upon me, a mental carnivore’s feast.
While I resort to stealth.
My father watched your villainy from the beyond,
from the so-called “Heaven” in which you planned to meet him,
As if that will ever happen! As if he would want to see you!
Is enlightenment part of the afterlife? You should hope so.
But since you finally let go of your empty life,
I do not miss you, don't mourn you or feel that confusion
That people say I should, that I'd be torn with strife,
No, no! Not at all—I feel nothing at all.
Nov 9, 2019
Nov 9, 2019 at 10:49 AM UTC
Tyrant vandal Belly buttons born from tongue toy hammer whack shameless pantomime gold-digger jezebel ***** archetype bad product off food witchy fingers green fluorescent pink yellow ray of backwards twist mother truckers flat wheel tyre engine fire engine whoop weep tear tears down ripped up feeling face straight up to ceiling baby crib our tired little limbs break against the tide I want to swim away from here place island Caribbean holiday at Christmas I don’t want to be here when I get back lead trail hike walk up the stairs followed my shadow tie me up to lamppost dead flowers bouquet take give taker giver relationship spit out the blues by Benny and The Jets riddle saxophonists up walls and silly laughter clown faces you are a good morning stream streamer party thrower down sink lob me up pipes plumber broken loo place to sit and ponder on my **** think too many faces cherub fat little smile me a river bend down here we build a fort like kids and you’re home for ***** sake safety traffic cone orange still scares me to death bobby pins left on windowsills I chuck the memory out back it makes me sick pummel the cheekbones down flat face two face baby feet get into bins bin trash bag split when I picked it up I’m covered in rotten courgetti hipster you’re a stinking mess I hate your stupid shoes walk in a straight line you drunken ******* skip home with me hop scotch decanter glass slips off side crash pop Rice Krispy cereal noise white noise rain playlist through the walls
I push through in pure stubbornness
I
leave us be
lots of love,
distance.
Mar 14, 2019
Mar 14, 2019 at 1:15 PM UTC
Do not fret, for I’m no Tyrant.
Nor, am I a Liberator
I’am, the path for which you seek.
Do, you care to see it?
I can not mend wounds, for I’m not a Healer.
Nor, am I a tormentor.
I’am the vision, that you dream of.
Do, you care to hear it?
I can not forge steel, for I’m not a Blacksmith
Nor, am I a saboteur
I’am, the unity of which you desire.
Do, you care to taste it.
I can not be wise, for i’m not a Guru.
Nor, am I a apprentice.
I’am that of which is void.
Do, you care to feel it.
Sep 24, 2018
Sep 24, 2018 at 11:39 AM UTC
I hope that those
Who think that
they are free
Cause that's what
They're made to believe
Soon realize
That real freedom
They haven't yet achieved
And gather their strength
To resume their fight
Against those
Whose tyranny
Haven't yet diminished
Aug 13, 2018
Aug 13, 2018 at 8:55 AM UTC
Echoes of yesterday
Where do they end?
Upon the elf on the shelf
Santa has passed
Forsaken my abode
The inner being of my soul
He is the sole provider
My decider
Triumphant tyrant of woe
Must he be my foe?
Glowing with reassurance
Of the personification of hate
I'm a good boy
How about a treat?
It has to be just for me
To eat
Forcibly scarf down
My bitter hole
Santa will want
Me to rake
His' yard
But I will refuse
The suddenly offered abuse
From a passing sore of lore
Mar 2, 2018
Mar 2, 2018 at 12:23 AM UTC
I hate god
He devises strategies to invade
His' home and haven
Weakness being the sole characteristic of son
Constant is the spirit
Strengthening his' decedent onslaught
I cannot win
The Kingdom has come
Without any rain
Holding a crown of stone
Encased in gold
Lined with silver
I have no choice
But to worship
The tyrant who controls bold seduction
Feb 2, 2018
Feb 2, 2018 at 12:37 AM UTC
Become exalted among men.
That was his calling, down
To the fibers that made up
His consciousness.
Become a paragon of virtue.
Piety, prestige, power.
The three undulating commands
That invaded his dreams.
Hubris seeping from every pore,
He conquered his lands,
Spreading warmth from which
Came serendipity.
Will he die and leave his subjects
In a mask of pain?
Or will his benevolence remain
in the hearts of his loyal followers?
Such was the opaque fog
of his mind. Where he saw a perfect
Sphere of light
was an oblate cloud of darkness
Out of which seeped words
Of encouragement.
Prestige, piety. Power.
Benevolence. Destiny.
Just one more body.
Just one more royal cause.
They don't mind dying for you.
They will become martyrs;
You will become their god.
They call him a tyrant.
No. That word will not be allowed
In his country.
But
The darkness grows within him,
Becoming him.
Dec 11, 2017
Dec 11, 2017 at 4:16 PM UTC
Forecast eternity onto my soul
As a book scribed in circles
May you splice what knowledge
GOD
Has to offer
Or retract your quivering brow
For in the lands of time
MAN
Will rule forever
Tempt not this fortune you seek
For, echoes of the dead
Travel endlessly
Hand in hand
With the living
Sep 7, 2017
Sep 7, 2017 at 3:07 AM UTC
I wish
I could just
Escape
From the law,
From the tyranny,
From the injustice,
From the dishonor
Even if
It's in the past
Apr 27, 2017
Apr 27, 2017 at 5:02 AM UTC
Mine eyes hath seen the horror of the rise of Donald Trump.
Mine ears hath heard his vitriol he spews from on the stump.
If you believed his ramblings, he took you for a chump.
His "truth's" near always wrong.
Lordy, lordy did he fool ya?
With his con job did he school ya?
Now you'll have to let him rule ya.
Now that your chance has gone.
He swept past sixteen wannabes and claimed the G.O.P.
Surrounded now by sycophants, and yes-men who'll agree
with whatever harmful, hateful, hurtful law that he'll decree.
His ego marches on
Sorry, sorry, such an awful lesson learned.
By protest through the ballot box, the whole world has been burned.
A tyrant's come to power, with the facts and truth adjourned.
His tyranny goes on.
But I say there is hope my friend to right this wrong, you see.
Will you rise in righteous protest and recite this rhyme with me?
And let it help remind you of the past when you were free.
With hope, we shall move on!
Glory, glory when we weather this dark storm,
glory for us once again, when love becomes the norm.
When we have ousted ignorance in every evil form.
And truth goes marching on.
Feb 20, 2017
Feb 20, 2017 at 8:36 PM UTC
Pres George Bush Junior
Or tyrant King George II?
What's the difference?
Jul 28, 2016
Jul 28, 2016 at 9:16 PM UTC
somehow,
I allowed you to defeat me.
Somehow,
I allowed you to demote my very existence.
Somehow,
I let you convince me that depression was not real.
I let you convince me that depression is just a way for attention.
Your wrong.
Somehow,
I gained the strength to tell you now,
that you are wrong.
You are wrong about people,
you are wrong to hate race,
you are wrong to hit.
You are wrong to say racial slurs,
you are SO wrong.
You are wrong when you say that I manipulate everything.
You are wrong about ME.
You are wrong about women,
and you were wrong about YOURSELF
Apr 5, 2016
Apr 5, 2016 at 1:07 PM UTC
There was once,
A pretty colour, so vibrant as it attempts to bleed itself
out in your name. A petty tyrant, in whose talons your life and death
are gripped. Caressed even, by the sharp attack of an avatar of self-importance.
"Speak back to me!" it screams as if a trap. This may be a dangerous p0rtal
towards necessary frequency.
Maybe,
The moment can speak
if you let it.
Jump in.
OH! To tune in when someone is trampling
bringing such impetuous force to the fore-
-play. Such violent noise, hastily moving towards
your space. All of this reminding
of control,
blessed like a desert rain.
However such patience is not easily bled from this raging heart. What then is
forbearance in the face of such solid, personable disgust attempting so sanguine a victory?
The room, though it is darker
now. If you're careful
you might see the outline of the colour's scream;
A sin wave sculpted in fury
and projected in great hurry, as if a fisherman stumbling
to throw his last net around a future pet.
Though at this moment, you are
patient
as the hidden moon behind the clouds
waiting in simple joy happily holding its light back
until timing,
such a beautiful quality
governing the release of all
makes it’s move.
In this room, while the colour is fading to grey-scale
you make one last attempt to scale the dam
constructed as it was through control, discipline and forbearance
searching as if you had eternity
for the Achilles heel of the pinches tiranitos,
knowing that time is the gate of that dam.
If you focus hard on the stone
you might be able to read
The mossy inscription, round
about the frame's border.
"Don't worry
Mama gonna
wash it
all away."
Your steps
Soft.
Each an embrace,
as you walk
towards the setting sun.
Waiting for time
to end.
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 1:17 PM UTC