"dictatorship" poems
Earned under great spell of segregation,
With luster grand and blinding glimmers of false hope,
Standing like Trajan over his land, twice the spoils of war.
We must now thwart the hatred,
We must now look our brothers in the skin and decide if we can shoot them in the mouth.
Where lies the liberty in mysticism?
Why is this culture facilitating our schism,
And how now will we draw our party lines, or be done with them for a line in the sand?
Let us not fold in the face of dictatorship.
Mar 4, 2016
Mar 4, 2016 at 7:52 AM UTC
the wind blows hard tonight
and it's a cold wind
and I think about
the boys on the row.
I hope some of them have a bottle of
red.
it's when you're on the row
that you notice that
everything
is owned
and that there are locks on
everything.
this is the way a democracy
works:
you get what you can,
try to keep that
and add to it
if possible.
this is the way a dictatorship
works too
only they either enslave or
destroy their
derelicts.
we just forgot ours.
in either case
it's a hard
cold
wind.
17.9k
at times we tend to think
our democracy is safely founded and secure
only eventually we recognize
the need to constantly defend its fundamental rights
work steadily against their stealthy abolition
watch carefully the words of politicians
lest they betray what they pretend to say
think twice for whom we cast our votes
avoid contenders who too often bray
that these were not their quotes
listen to those who have good arguments
do not unleash too easy sentiments
and in the end cast our votes when called
in short
democracy turns out to be hard work
in case we shirk this
we soon pay the price
unfree societies have known
dictatorship corruption vice
have often needed centuries
to remedy injuries done
to find their four freedoms
and to recognize
democracy remains a living promise
a brilliant idea with many faces
always a work in progress
Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 11:17 AM UTC
I
A playing raging guitar
Of a kid with taboo thoughts
The first cigar
Who fired shots of dots...
Don’t care and
The revolt of caring
Be scared and
Be the scare!
The acquaint of survival
The wrath of revival
Is everywhere
Anywhere, not visible too
The wrath is the root of trouble
But the root of solution is not wrath
II
A desire so
Excessive,
Rapacious and
Overweening
Of wealth
A pursuit so
Excessive,
Rapacious and
Overweening
Of status
A need so
Excessive,
Rapacious and
Overweening
Of power
A greed so greedy
III
Slaves of virtual reality
To whom dictatorship is not real
To whom liberality, brutality and unreality
Is not real
But the ticking clock is not sloth
Tick-tock, Tick-tock
Men who walk toward sloth
Tick-tock, Tick-tock
'till old growth
Tick-tock
Loath
Tock
IV
Sit idly-by low self-esteem
Caused by lack of ******
Translated to scheme
And unfortunate dream
For achieving an alleged excellency
Or a lengthy and empty possession
What frenzy
And all for envy
V
Advertising
On bus stops
On train stops
On metro stops
On everything that stops
To make you stop
And start
Over-consumption
Over-indulgence
Over everything
Obesity!
Wealthy
Withholding from the needy
From what they really need
Advertising gluttony
VI
A feature of abstinence
Leads to a lack of extravagance
But there are no angels
Only fallen angels
Or angels about to fall
A feature of desire
Leads to an higher feature
Noisy or hushed
It can't be crushed
It's just fuel swallowed
A tool for lust
VII
Pride is divergent
A dreadfully enemy
Or an inside allied
Pride is divergent
Mar 25, 2012
Mar 25, 2012 at 2:40 PM UTC
You believe your truth
and I'll believe mine
But don't you dare tell me how to live,
I'm getting on just fine
So long as you don't hurt someone
and it's in your own time
Then you believe your truth
and I'll believe mine.
You believe your truth
and I'll believe mine.
The cancer of the lie
is malignant not benign
So how is it that clever people
can be so asinine?
For the dictatorship of relativism
has crossed it's only line
May 21, 2010
May 21, 2010 at 2:40 PM UTC
Suppress your thoughts
Suppress your feelings
Suppress anything that doesn’t fit
Society society
Hear their rules
Abide by their dictatorship
Long for more
Yearn for pleasure
Learn to live
Society society
Hear their rules
Abide by their dictatorship
No feelings are right
Individuality is contrite
Burn that heart
It has no place
Society. Society.
Jan 30, 2013
Jan 30, 2013 at 11:37 PM UTC
The dictatorship of our state is profound in its mass propaganda, where the discernment of individuals seeps into an eternal chasm of self-sacrifice on the altar of political conformity.
Let us actively withstand the passivity of our conventional hypocrisy as we engage with this ontological sleepwalk through sinister passageways of presumed social advancement.
In our age of grandiose moralistic eclecticism where imperatives abound, I burn incense and contemplate the cosmopolitan artificiality which lavishes abundant gifts upon our self-opinion.
Criminality is the result of discovery.
So, oh thorn in my flesh, cover those rancid corpses by the veil of popularity, gain and pleasure.
Subconscious social conditioning is the scourge of lustful appearance, don’t you think?
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 10:23 PM UTC
The great dictatorship of the futon
A hybrid beast not truly made for two
Cover play turned treatised malice
The brilliance of cold imposed on waking
To find no roses just pillows between
Lying nestled in inert ecstasy
Singing rusty hist'ries, its a sales job
For the masses Know that it will return
No wit like the brain before sleep sets in
No sight like a deaf dreamers providence
No solution like the one no one wants
To drift away and return on waking
The day seems touched to find us divided
A restful sleep met with a restless heart
Nov 11, 2012
Nov 11, 2012 at 8:45 PM UTC
chocolate fireguard, teapot,
or fender, icecream sofa, dry sea
or wet towel, glass hammer,
waterproof teabag, newspaper
raincoat and umbrella, lead parachute, ashtray on a motorbike,
handbrake on a canoe,
vote in a dictatorship,
loudhailer to a deaf mute,
grief at a wedding,
****** in a monastery.
inflatable dartboard,
spoon in a knife-fight,
screen door on a submarine,
wooden soap, shortbread tires,
knitted light bulb,
bread boat, plasticine wire cutters,
paper hole punch, water hat,
custard floorboards,
ceiling tiles made of gravy,
portrait of a bowl of soup,
a stone cigarette,
syrup knickers, hole in my bucket,
plastic oven, wax truss,
liquorice bridge,
false teeth made of soap,
lemonade roof,
jelly boots,
jam cardigan,
paper bicycle pump,
ice-cream saucepans,
soluble drain pipe,
packet of rubber nails,
see-through mirror,
revolving basement restaurant
roll-on hairspray, rubber pencil,
****** with a hole in it,
limp **** pockets on a lettuce,
**** on a fish, lolly pop van in Hell,
one-legged man in an ****
kicking competition,
meaningless life,
unnecessary death,
forgotten words and deeds,
ignored needs,
this poem.
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 4:11 PM UTC
Hypocracy Mandatory.
Gullibility Mandatory.
Insensitivity Mandatory.
Obesity Mandatory.
Immaturity Mandatory.
Childishness Mandatory.
Monarchy Mandatory.
Capitalism Mandatory.
Conservatism Mandatory.
Terrorism Mandatory.
Corruption Mandatory.
Incompetence Mandatory.
Socialism Mandatory.
Dictatorship Mandatory.
Militarism Mandatory.
Liberalism Mandatory.
Bhuddism Mandatory.
Islam Mandatory.
Christianity Mandatory.
Judaism Mandatory.
Hinduism Mandatory.
Vedism Mandatory.
Hatred Mandatory.
Anarchy Mandatory.
Jealousy Mandatory.
Nationalism Mandatory.
Fascism Mandatory.
Racism Mandatory.
Lies Mandatory.
Hypocracy Mandatory.
Obesity Mandatory.
Heart Disease Mandatory.
Cancer Mandatory.
Idiocy Mandatory.
Eco-Nazism Mandatory.
All of us Humans.
Of all Five Colours.
Wherever we be.
Whatever we do.
However we "see" ourselves.
What do we call ourselves now?.
How about shallow nitpickers?.
Or celebrity obsessed morons?.
Or religious hypocrits?.
Or Democrats?.
Or Socialists?.
Or Revolutionaries.
Or just plain "nice folks"?.
Or supporters of oligarchy policies?.
Or immature backpackers?.
Or government assassins of integrity?.
Or juicy ***********
Or swift tongued ******** ticklers?.
no matter how many lie dead or injured as a result
of our obfuscation and avoidance.
As if poets have the explanation to life
except in strings of meaningless associated
but fine sounding words.
When "poets" are the voluntary slaves of Mind
and Conditioned Identity..
As if poets had the ***** to go beyond all these things.
As if .
Scrape the Moons suface and you will find a delicate Castello Blue Cream Cheese.
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 4:49 PM UTC
Barking orders
I am a person to you know
Just because i'm young
Doesn't make me any less human
Although your word isn't law,
It may as well be
Respect is earned
Not given
You haven't been here long
But it feels like an eternity
I have fought your ruling
At every turn you shoot me down
Your everything I don't like
Everything that is wrong with this world
Teacher or Dictator
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 6:09 PM UTC
Surveillance is the cornerstone to my dictatorship
Over your life
I hold you firmly with my invader's grip
To create strife
To spread fear among the vigilant citizens
And make you feel like you're not fitting in
It's all part of my devious plan
To trap you in my surveillance van
I've got owls perched in trees
And satellites floating in space
Pictures make the world freeze
So I can see your pretty face
I start to drone on and on
Your indifferent mouth yawns
You spy on the clock
Waiting for me to stop
You stare through me
The way I stare into your house
Hell is 200 degrees
When you find your lovely spouse
She doesn't have my pictures
She hasn't read your scripture
I must've gotten my information wrong
I thought my surveillance was strong
My mistakes rule me with an iron fist
And they throw me in prison
I thought I could live in surveillance bliss
But this isn't the life I envisioned
Oct 11, 2017
Oct 11, 2017 at 5:55 AM UTC
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya;[email protected])
Daughters,sisters and brethren in the African womenfolk
Hail you, you are blessed among all the diversities of nature
You are blessed for all peace and love beahviour in all of your times
You are blessed for resilience and spiritual energy to soldier on
By being a woman,wife,a girl , a mother and a grand mother
In the African conditions which have no time for the women,
Daughters of Africa both at home in Africa and the diaspora
In Americas , Cuba,Brazil,or the whole Caribbean
Be blessed for your virtue of love and forgiveness
That swells your hearts as you ever treat to oblivion
Those who **** you whether in war or in peace
Even in marriage and the the offices
On the platter of polygamy, rituals and crudeness of culture
In the selfish farm labour where your spouse
Gives you a remote encounter with brutality of bourgeoisie culture
You always pick up the pieces and go for your stitches
Whatsoever the number, like the appalling one
Of above six stitches for the **** victims of Congo wars,
You have always consolidated poor Africa from
Smithereens of war and terrors of selfish male war,
You have often mocked the cult of dictatorship on its face
You have enticed social inclusions as societal virtue
You have snooked to tribalism,racism and class bigotry on the face
Them the cultic vices that have cemented Africa’s cult of dictatorship,
Daughters of Africa stand up and make Africa the a temple of God
Entice humanity with your wholesome fibre
Restore Liberia to a national state in the song of Sirleaf
Restore central Africa to a national family in the song Catherine
Restore art and poetry to Africa in the arms with Marriama Ba and Micere Mugo
Sire and Nurse African ecology unbowedly in the spiritual realm of Wangare Mathai
Restore and forge Africa forward you dear daughters
For the strength of your beauty my dear ladies
Has a global testimony in the prime of your motherhood.
Jan 29, 2014
Jan 29, 2014 at 9:10 AM UTC
the simple true |
vs.
absurd ********
water on mars points to the future of
the dead earth;
Fascists vs. aliens | complete fossils of advanced
hominids found miles
deep below [ ]
the Martian surface [but w/ no signs
of engineering or built structures]
questions w/ no answers |
what kind of society did Martians have:
dictatorship, democracy or empire & what kind of poetry
did they write:
searching for the great epic poet
of Mars beginning by digging straight down past the fossil record
coming upon an entirely other set of structures & fossils dated
thousands of years before those previously found
& further down, more advanced forms of society
at the deepest strata advanced electronics & technology appears
w/ less & less hominid forms, n still w/no evidence of written
poetry
|
Martian poetry may have been oral; so in
setting up sound meters to detect
residual radio-sound waves, the history of sound can be
recorded & focused on any one particular voice or several:
from this we detect recited verse
no matter how far back it was uttered; in truth, the older the better as it's
easier to distinguish & isolate the particular voice
from ambient rhythms
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 8:24 PM UTC
He’s a spoiled rich kid
In the land of the one percent.
He feels no remorse for
Those who can’t pay their rent.
He’s popular with fools
And a bunch of toothless boozers
All the while laughing
And calling them all losers.
The favorite son of the GOP
Says nothing with specificity.
He just makes vague promises
He has no idea what his platform is.
He only knows if he stirs up hate
He will win certain delegates.
He won’t be held to the fire
Half-truths work for him just fine.
He’d prefer you not inquire.
Nobody makes him toe the line.
He is paraphrasing fascism
Like he’s the one who invented it.
It’s like Germany in 1930s
They could have easily prevented it.
The favorite son of the GOP
Says nothing with specificity.
He just makes vague promises
He has no idea what his platform is.
He only knows if he stirs up hate
He will win certain delegates.
Here’s the way to make it
Work the best for a new dictatorship.
You take the populace along
On your traveling one-man ego trip
After your party has published
Scurrilous big lies about the opposition
Then spread a lot more rumors
Which gives the voters their ammunition.
The favorite son of the GOP
Says nothing with specificity.
He just makes vague promises
He has no idea what his platform is.
He only knows if he stirs up hate
He will win certain delegates.
Mar 15, 2016
Mar 15, 2016 at 3:35 PM UTC
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya;[email protected])
songs of freedom in Kenya are paradoxical of themselves
they have become the songs of oppressive tyranny
they are not songs that were sang by freedom fighters
in the tropical forests of aberdares and Mabanga
they are blissful carols of powers that be
mouthed by the state poets in the deadly feats
of political sycophancy fuelled by cult of betrayal
and espionage, a real substructure of state dictatorship
they are not the true songs of mau mau
that were sang by Kimathi wa miciuri
they are the songs of the top crust of the tribal
and political powers that be in oblivion of
the cultural revolutionaries that countermanded
cultural Darwinism of European imperial gamesters
they are not the songs sang by Elijah Masinde
of Dini Msambwa that spirited up cultural aura
of cultural dignity;which cautioned certainly
an African against the cultural call of the white culturalizer
the African to balk and turn his back
and **** and spit scornfully at cultural trickster in the colonial ploy
to dance for Dini ya Msambwa in the spirit of war and fires of war
that is to be fought in preservation of democracy and cultural freedom.
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 7:19 AM UTC
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldret, Kenya;[email protected])
Do you remember one era in Kenya?
During the dark days of dictatorship
When Daniel arap Moi
Was the tyrannical president of Kenya
And darkness of leadership
Loomed like the dark clouds of el Niño
When forty district commissioners
Out of the total of forty two were kalenjins?
Whose main work was to spy and terrorize
As the people forlornly groaned under the heavy
Yoke of state terror of tribal torment
When the president claims that
He was not aware of such tyranny,
When we used to sing a lame poem
Of jokoo! Jokoo! Jokoo! Jokoo!
On empty stomachs with no hope of food
No hope of jobs or even education
Street children swelling on the street
In total political nonchalance of arap Moi
As he only gave free milk to his own kalenjin youths
In Kabaraka schools, the Kabaraka school which was
Overfunded by the poor tax payers money,
Please President Uhuru Kenyatta as good as you are
With your dear humane heart of Bantu conscience
As you are armed to teeth with modern education
**** sapiens Gentility and polished diplomacy
Superb in quality of thought and supremacy of choices
The government of Kenya is yours and the people of Kenya
Are your political darlings, true bandwagons for ever
Kindly listen and buy my poemetics, my dear president
Remove Daniel Moi from the state house of Kenya,
Let not Daniel Moi be your adviser
Ignore him and embrace Kenyans
For common future happiness
Even if Daniel Moi is old, the truth is different
He is not a good man, he is full of Machiavelli
His full badness is measured in absurdity
Of terribly and horrendously crashed *** crushed
Testicles of poemcrats and political leaders
Of Kenya of yore and today,
Truth meted in When koigi wa wamwere became
A permanent staff of kamiti maximum prison without pension
Wangari Mathai beaten like an animal in a hunters trap
Ngugi wa Thiong’o jobless and detained without trial
Raila Amolo odinga’s testicles went missing
He looks for them on daily circadian
But once he nears their political pigeonhole
Then elections of the times flops, O! Poor Odinga!
President Uhuru Kenyatta with your suave intellect
You won’t get a pretext to say that
I was not aware or not informed
Please dear darling of the people
The people of Kenya in their 42 tribes
Novate Moi with the people
And your legacy will smile.
Jan 17, 2014
Jan 17, 2014 at 8:59 AM UTC
Protest it.
Unless you employed by the government.
Rules are totally different.
If officers violate the laws they serving to protect us.
Stand up for your rights to protest.
We in America not one of that dictatorship country.
Why?
Do people feel athletes can't protest?
They go on strike for various things not right to them.
Not one stated the protesting the anthem.
Not one.
They protesting injustice.
And rightly so.
So fans are mad than many probably never saw the youth that protested in the sixties against a war.
Whether you agree or don't.
Always stand up for your rights.
So a so-called billionaire never paid taxes and won't reveal his income tax forms using idle threats.
The only one filling the role of kiss-up is the owners.
Without comprehending, if there is a sporting showdown the most likely won't win.
Most likely to be the losers when Coke, Pepsi, Nike, Papa John and host of others clients profits fall.
A business suffers highly when there no solution solved.
Most fans that go to a sporting event are a great majority of whites and be the ones crying the louder.
If ever done wrong and need attention to get people on board.
You protest, you stand up and stand out.
A small church pastor rose to be great by taking on a segregated system.
The only one mad about tearing segregation is who?
The race need not be mention for a majority hardly stand up for anything.
Well, unless it's the NRA.
Even with violence in school from high powered weapons.
There they go defending the NRA.
And the weapons they protesting against isn't truly needed unless you at war.
But they standing up for their rights.
So players, stand up for your rights.
For CBS/ESPN/ABC/NBC stands to lose too.
If a majority of players stand strong against wrong.
Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 11:45 PM UTC
Maybe some doubt is exactly what I need;
the staleness may be temporary,
the hollow self-perceived.
I know being humble is exactly what I need;
forgetting who I have been
and seeing who I can be.
Maybe this monocracy is really what I need;
a self-governed dictatorship
that disqualifies my needs.
I hope feeling insecure is exactly what I need;
a push from behind will only make
a non-believer be believed.
But, maybe decision describes my every need;
without the aid of a constant bicker
and without putting off some heat.
I feel that this disclosure
of the real life I should lead,
may bring back the epic epicenters of things I can't believe.
But, maybe it's this doubt
that fringes the end of human being.
Or maybe its the chattering
of hate I've built while teething.
Or maybe its the "no one"
that stands beneath my feet.
Or maybe its the "no one"
that hovers over me.
This is doubt pure and true-
and I know it wants a piece of you.
Jul 20, 2010
Jul 20, 2010 at 1:38 AM UTC
When nothing is everything
Everything is nothing
When everything is true
Nothing is true
When everything is false
Nothing is false
When everything is false
Everything is true
When everything is true
Everything is false
When everything is nothing
Nothing is everything
Constant war is constant
peace
Knowing nothing is as good as knowing everything
Complete freedom is complete dictatorship
The extremes are not furthest
apart but coinciding
~~~~~~~~
And past,it doesn't exist
Neither does tomorrow
Just this infinitesimal moment
Where everything is false,
Nothing is false
Everything is true
Nothing is true
You are me
I am you
Jul 16, 2022
Jul 16, 2022 at 9:35 AM UTC
Another day, another hour spent looking at cadavers,
Surprisingly fun, and suspiciously fresh bodies-
"Hey Mrs. Johnson, what do you think John did with his life?"
She gave me a look that didn't seem too pleased at my inquisition.
Or the fact that I named our body John.
Morbidly, I thought she looked at me like a zombie would look at our friend John like a cold cut subway sandwich,
Although I figured if I were a zombie,
I'd prefer my meat fresh, and not embalmed
with formaldehydes and ethanol.
"That thought seems inappropriate and not respectful of the medical sacrifice 'john' made " she said dripping with in my opinion too much sarcasm for me to NOT respond too.
"Well, John is dead, I don't think he's getting offended anytime soon," I retorted.
Her smile contorted like the prudish smile John offered me in support.
"I'm not worried about offending the corpse as much as I am the ghost, and this Lab will NOT be haunted under my watch"
(Her pride in her wit inflated much like Johns body inflated with decomposition and bowel gases.)
I apologized internally for the comment and action I was about to make-
"This medical dictatorship has to collapse sooner or later-
and I still want an answer too my question"
And with that,
I took the nearest scalpel to his bloated stomach,
and watched in disgust and glee as everyone else ran for cover amongst the ****** of stomach contents and Johns final retribution in death.
I got an A+ in that class.
Apr 5, 2021
Apr 5, 2021 at 3:25 PM UTC
I went from a top ten student with A's all around
To a barely B- GPA.
I go to school with sadness and a frown
Every single Gold Day.
I hate the fact that I took your class,
A mistake I'll never forget.
It's college prep sophomore biology,
Not your ******* dictatorship.
May 14, 2013
May 14, 2013 at 8:40 AM UTC
To hide behind a solid barrier,
to fade into the shadows.
To seek the comfort of the covers,
to crawl through comforting meadows
of stability and repetition-
possessing, overpowering.
A dictator of Life's daily manner-
frightening and towering.
An endless gasp for liberation,
freedom from the rusty shackles-
worn are they from endless grappling,
heartless mirth and hearty cackles.
The words that cluster in the throat
when fear is puppeteer-
the doll that finds no choice at all
but to appease the commandeer
and fade into the dark, ashamed,
of wretched weakening fear.
When will the shackles fall away
their screams,deafening, subside-
the shadows black, so dim, dissolve
and leave no place to hide?
Dictatorship of every move
and word and step and sound,
when will the final song be sang
of Liberty unbound?
Oct 27, 2010
Oct 27, 2010 at 1:50 PM UTC
She ran to a land of summer and pink kimonos,
Where nurse sharks circled her ankles
And familiar familial flaws faded to vague memories of leather scented hugs.
She learned to walk dusty streets in bare feet, so she could hold the world in her toes,
Leaving crumpled dollars in the hands of beggars
Who saw her light skin as gold.
The cherry trees bathed her in petals soft enough to erase the scars that faded in the sun,
She learnt to run with her hair down and to eat kneeling at a table,
Rearranged her mind with the art of Feng Shui in an attempt to find a way to live away from the dictatorship of the past,
Collecting porous pebbles and lighting candles encircled in jade,
As old leather scents fade to incense and jasmine.
She strings lost stone on a necklace of wood and measures her life in the breaths to come instead of those she has taken.
Her heartbeat beats irregularly but no longer from fear and now adrenaline is synonymous with exhilaration.
And she holds sand in her palms,
No longer scrabbling to catch it as it falls through her fingers,
She now knows that life occurs between her hand and the ground.
She broke the hourglass because she no longer counts the hours
Or clings to the time that is gone.
She lives eternal and bright,
Clothed in sunlight
And a pink kimono.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 3:14 PM UTC