"dystopic" poems
The name Theodore has its Greek anthropologies, Jewish anthropologies and also Germany anthropologies. The Greek anthropological perspective of The name Theodore indeed has something to do with the gods.However, the Greek way of looking at life was a frustrated thinking.To them everything was a god. They had a plethora of gods; utopia,cacotopia, Thespis, muse, clio, calypso, and Theodore was a half a god like Gabriel who impregnanted Mary on behalf of God as Joseph the cuckold carpenter patiently looked musing the ballad of a cuckold peasant . So Theodore and Gabriel were godsend.I have not delved to know what it means among the Jews, But am aware of the the cultural and anthropological surroundings of the name Theodore in Germany . It is a name of a male person signifying extra-masculine behavior. I also write poetry in Deutsch, so i know substantial cultural values of the people of Germany. Like in this case the modern social naming systems . I am aware of the anthropology of this Deutsch nomenclatural position.Why would link this name to Greeks but not Germany may due to some silent social and emotional disposition in Europe that the English speaking Europeans have a soft spot for the Greek culture.While at the same time they become victims of high adrenaline level when exposed to anything Germany. they always get repulsed when the word Germany is mentioned.So one's thesis on nomenclatural values of the name Theodore depends on which side of European consciousness one is found; is it Germany friendly consciousness or Germany threatened consciousness? The dystopic component of the name Theodore is purely cacotopic with zero element of utopia , as extra-masculinity is a swine of engendered civilization all the times.
Yours
Alexander k Opicho
NB/ i kindly invite Theodore to come to Kenya so that we do a joint research on the Swahili perspectives of the name Theodore, in Kiswahili the name Theodore is subverted to bwana tadayo
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 10:57 AM UTC
As dreadful as an eruption
Deceased like winter
Chest tightening
And fists clenching
As roses ***** right in the throat
Used razor blade on one hand
And tabs of acid on the other
A vast and lonesome world
Population: one-half
Two mindsets coming in unison
Psychedelic tendencies, suicidal thoughts
Insanity occupying a dystopic atmosphere
Swirling smokes, colourful spheres
Intensifying a bloodshed scene
Three, two, one, a blue-green string cut
"Don't do it!" they yelled
"It's not worth it!" they said
But too late, Death grinned at their faces
No pulse, no heartbeat, no memories
No single presence of bliss
Just a cold, pale,
Lifeless
Body in the dark abyss
-djs
May 16, 2013
May 16, 2013 at 1:09 PM UTC
Decimating Destitution
Ravaged wreckage,
Ruins and rubble,
Depressing debris,
Ashes about,
Sky soaring shroud,
Misery maxed,
Fallen freedom,
Corroded cache,
Pillaged poverty,
Explosive extremities,
Covert corruption,
Dystopic dynasty,
Unknown utopia,
Infinity is inept,
Forsaken faith,
Rejected religion,
Cataclysmic calamity,
Decimating destitution.
Nov 19, 2013
Nov 19, 2013 at 1:57 PM UTC
Wanderers by Chuck Wendig
The walkers didn’t choose their fate,
Leaving their homes to mindlessly advance;
The shepherds following in their wake
Chose to give flock survival a fighting chance
The greatest minds can’t figure out why,
What’s wrong or where they are going;
The world is unraveling in plain sight,
Diseases of mind, body and politics growing
Black Swan knows the truth of it all
But should you trust an artificial intelligence?
The world is dying, this isn’t a false alarm
Survival requires action more than elegance
When civility is gone and kindness is far,
When the options are dire and more dire,
People's lives are defined by who they are
When everything has been thrown in the fire
The stories are visceral and the lives distinct;
Unyielding hope rails against relentless despair
Disparate pieces of humanity lithely linked
In a brilliant, dystopic, grimly amusing affair
NCL August 2019
Aug 5, 2019
Aug 5, 2019 at 5:28 PM UTC
**** if I know.
I scarcely understand much anymore.
I am but a puddle of coherent reminiscences
oozing across the floor into decoherence and
diffusing into maximum entropy.
We are in Hell:
all is Maya,
all is Mara,
all is Dukkha.
Yet, we are slaves
who love our chains.
And I am a lifeless, fetal,
**** economicus,
mortifying de rigeur
in the ossified skull of a
long forgotten **** sapien.
If only those kinship instincts could've
survived the havoc we've wrought.
Look at what we've done.
Look at what we do.
**** for money.
**** for oil.
**** for land.
**** for 'justice.'
**** for God
**** for 'the cause'
**** for the sake of killing,
and pave over what's left.
Leave a few trees and bushes for our
dystopic terrarium.
'Our Synthetic Environment,'
old Murray[1] called it.
Now, walk into the forest.
Be there. Stay there.
Do you feel it?
Any of this nonsense we call
'civilization'?
Or
is it that you feel something more. . .
poignant?
More true?
To a point where our heated debates
appear as no more than frivolous diatribes?
When do we stop all this narrative solipsism
and get to the ******* point?
None of this is real.
Our thoughts are not our own.
Have they ever been?
The Spectacle [2] reigns supreme
as we idle spectators
speculate idly upon it.
Borges's fable of the cartographers [3]
has reached its apotheosis,
and we are its unwilling
and unwitting victims. . . .
Jan 13, 2021
Jan 13, 2021 at 2:01 AM UTC
Fugit Fumus dived into a basket
of oysters just to make the ***
the underbelly of transformation
bodes unwise for this colloquial soul
Cloistered Lisa lost her circumspection
when she settled for dystopic Dan
from such a wretched family
with pneumatic drills
they'd rather shutter than amend
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 4:05 PM UTC
A gashed and gaping pumpkin burns
emits a rancid rotting odor
greeting pre-diabetic heathens
Black cats and screeching bats
startle the littlest of the munchers
in a city decayed by blood and rust
A bridge tilted by a millimeter
lords over rushing river and splinters
struts in metal fashion before the storm
Gladiators hallucinate between concussions
Lions and christians and furry huns
leap from alleys and dumpsters and gutters
Bands play and march and dazzle
rippling brass and silver on a field
before brazen cheering plebians
Hear the song of a thousand dreams
a thousand shouts singing out of key
uncertainty brings the cacophony down an octave
Presidential box matches the drapes
Imagination finishes the vision of a short
master stroke invoking the myth of the tyrant
Setting sun on an amateur showdown
in the shadow of an errant arc
choking the last gasps from a senile warrior
Passing boredom in a controlled climate
Cringes in a backseat with no batteries
dying echoes of "are we there yet...."
Babies and mental patients despair
over loss of closeness and peace
disappeared into dystopic hysteria
Hobbits and goblins and Big Bird frolics
in a sanitized concept of Hell
among treats and smiles and winks
Oct 9, 2016
Oct 9, 2016 at 7:24 PM UTC
-Slightly sadistic 17-year-old girl seeks suitable mate
Re: matters of dystopic fantasties
- A cannibalistic companion, mayhaps
to soothe lingering curiosities held captive by the bright red and steady rhythm of dripping blood
Disclaimer: this advertisement (pronounced ad-vur-tiz-ment) is not a cry for help - but next week's definitely will be
"Hi, I'm not usually like this, I haven't really done this sort of thing before, but..."
thinking to self I would like to carefully extract your organs and construct a small fortress out of them. I would like to staple your mouth to my mouth. I would-
"Oh, what? No, I didn't say anything."
- I'm imagining you as more of a shadow, all tangible beings seem bleak to me - but could you still hold my hand???
"Yes, it's lovely outside. Beautiful weather."
- But when we venture outside its proven that our eyes are much too sensitive for the light and inside beckons as much cooler and safer, inside of me is dangerous - and inside of you is an inferno
(Please set me on fire)
Sep 6, 2013
Sep 6, 2013 at 12:23 AM UTC
warm deluge has passed
concrete smells steam
wading the dystopic streets
my child squeals
(cooled rain dripped from a tree)
Aug 30, 2024
Aug 30, 2024 at 8:46 PM UTC
Don't tell me there's no hell
I've felt its heat on my neck
The tongue of a long lost lover
Her immortal delight is to impart the dystopic truths she's learnt of the world
She told me that my blood tasted of citrus fruits
and iron
and rain
She whispered that everyone had their own flavour of pain
So why resist my dear, drink up
find your poison and drown in it
You don't need to hide it from me
I want my flames to caress your skin
I want to see you burn
It's an intimate little sin
but don't worry sweetness
Soon I'll help you pass that sin
Watch the flames spread from person
to person
to person
Then you won't have to hide it at all Everyone will be in your own personal hell
Then you'll know that the flames you've felt at your neck all this time weren't the promise of some place deep underground
It's a cage
Constructed with great pain
Occupying your cranium
Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 7:35 PM UTC
I can’t say what day the knots gave way
To full blown anxiety
When the hopeful parts
Gave way to the broken heart
Was it when my withering heart
Took one to many blows
One rejection stacked upon
Another broken promise
So on and so on and so on
Was it when I lost a job
That I really loved
To an ******** misconception
He can stick that thick
Jagged and dangerous attitude
Up his high blood pressure
Sphincter
Was it when I gave up
Retreated to the dark corridors
Of a dead and dystopic
Fantasy world
Where even my daydreams
Became dark things
Was it just now
Cause I don’t know how
To reverse my pain
To get back the good things
Find the old me
And be better
I just can’t say
Oct 22, 2015
Oct 22, 2015 at 5:18 PM UTC