"engels" poems
There once was a guy named Marx
Who thought the bourgeosie were a bunch of old farts
He proposed a solution
Socialist revolution!
But when will it happen? Don't ask!
Russia's first ****** was Lenin
His blueprint for Russia was telling
Although his hairline receded
He finally succeded!
By stopping those Whites from rebelling
Oh what a poor sap was Engels
He built communism from its fundamentals
He helped write the book
Yet we gave him the hook
Marx, the chorus, and he, the instrumental
Oct 5, 2015
Oct 5, 2015 at 3:40 PM UTC
Hegel’s Hero in Dream
Hegel’s Hero appeared with video of heroes
To teach me Ideas and dialectics in society;
I saw there, Lions and Foxes of Machiavelli
Fighting , growling , springing from bushes.
Aimless Dame Fortune moves in history past
Politics of India, snowy, foggy, and shadowy!
Shivering men squat passive keeping “ID card”
As Greek slaves, before the Democratic Lords.
General Will ,as Rousseau says ,forms society,
Nation, Governments based on Ideas extant.
Lords, and the wealthy ruled rudely the ruled
In the past, as history moved as cruelly as fast.
God’s own Universe sans universal concept
On Peace; builds walls around each groups.
Religions fail to link the parted and parched
People who worship vicious Cain and Mammon .
Marx, Engels , and Mao came with the legions
Stumbled, humbled and stifled by the Mammons.
Buddha, Christ and the Prophet Mohammad
Told of Love, Grace, Patience and of Pardon
My Lord, why, we fail to wipe tears and fears?
“Sambhavami yuge yuge” says hazy, Hegel fades.
parithranaya sadhunam/ vinasaya cha dushkritham/
dharmmasamsthapanardhaya/sambhavami yuge yuge.
When in India can we expect such a Hero:Kalki,in Kali?
To be trapped, jailed as terrorist protestant, really!
Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 10:26 PM UTC
About an hour later she slipped
Yuri Andropov into the conversation:
“I have to drop off a blouse at the dry cleaners.”
Suddenly it was May Day &
I’m back in Red Square,
Dwarfed beneath larger than life
Lenin, Engels & Marx mug shots.
Inter-continental ballistic lorry loads
Roll past the reviewing stand, while
Geezer Reds in Ushanka fur hats,
****** on Stoli, reeking of borscht,
Chain-smoke cheap Soviet Belomors.
I share these thoughts, handing
Mrs. Khrushchev the car keys.
Having cowered herself in terror,
Having ducked & covered many
Burial promises & shoe-pound threats,
She gives me a tired babushka smirk.
We are conjugal Cold Warriors,
Both weary now, creeping up on 70,
Skirmishes & brinksmanship behind us.
Tolerant of each other at last;
Lukewarm détente between us.
May 14, 2016
May 14, 2016 at 3:00 PM UTC
want to become an artist? get ready for poverty, and get ready to feel uncomfortable writing personae, where no form of narration will give you a good night's sleep, esp. "first person" narration; get ready for many contradictory revelations, and the rudest form of mockery: ridicule. get ready for the lynch mobs of the digital age of frustrated writers who, frustrated, antagonise; get ready to realise that poetry, compared to other mediums of writing is only the bare minimum, the sheer nakedness of it, the bare minimum.
i find it most peculiar that a once
mighty and budding colonial nation,
nay, nation expanded into
a colonial empire, should suddenly
implode and craft a mini-commonwealth
inside its boarders, and become
so blind with self-righteousness
as a means to erase the past, and see
itself as a champion of all kinds of freedoms,
of all kinds of necessary obligations
to provide the epitomes of human dignity,
as to not offend / provoke, all stiff-upper-lip
hush hush, to see the monochromatic
audiences at large stadium concerts no
later than mid-nineties: but what the hell
do i know, i'm just a plumber, a plumber
to the mammoth economic class of england
like in the olden days of marx and engels.
i'd change the anthem though:
poland a cinder after the raging flames of
prussia austria and russia - dictated our
extinction - a cinderella of europe -
and for its once proud ally - now a game
of blame when unified for the mini-commonwealth;
or as the irish say so well established in this
land, and esp. after the good friday treaty:
integrate little cinderella boy, integrate,
learn the language, and customs too, but afterwards
return to your people, and live in our
great multi-cultural society, under our
former masters' brow, in a segregated multi-cultural
society of the many death circle pockets,
live by all means, but do not be relevant with
us or our masters on a friendship base.
come the days when neighbour is no longer a neighbour,
should a neighbour be the least of a borrowed
cup of sugar, or anything of such -
the tinniest categorisation of aid.
Jan 22, 2016
Jan 22, 2016 at 5:52 AM UTC
Love is a whole lot of ******* labor
With **** ******* wages and worse benefits
False self consciousness
An identity connected to who you do
Or who you want to do
And how much you do it
I'd like to form a union
But it'd take too much effort
I'll just use my Kulak on myself in the country side
It's just as good as anything else
Engels did it too, probably a lot
Jul 27, 2016
Jul 27, 2016 at 7:08 PM UTC
A Jim-Davies-esque poster cartoon of my guts
on display at the Smithsonian as though
I could pretend to be any other poet
with my insides outstretched because
I cannot feel without cohesion or medication or
either, or—
it's lost upon synchronization.
I hear some wormy **** gobbling
(insanely might I add)
about Marx or Engels or one or both twice over.
I'm too busy trying to impress myself with this
Jenga block tower of carefully balanced fibs to notice
why you cry when the sun sleeps.
I don't exactly care so much as it intrigues me.
Another feeling stimulating what's lost.
I imagine sunshine & weep.
Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 7:40 PM UTC
A lost minor in the mall.
An abused child in the house.
A neglected boy in the world.
A lost boy in Neverland.
Big bad wolf, howling orders.
Mummified monster, dry smiles.
Frigid rigid winter yeti, ice embraces.
General parent, straight salutes.
House of dreams.
Land of imagination.
Kingdom of make-believe.
Imagica, Fantasia, Traumland.
An escape, a path, a relief.
Hypnos, watch over him.
Morpheus, bless him.
Epiales, stay away.
Where scars can't be seen,
sticks and words can't hurt,
wounds can't bleed.
Only engels reside,
erwachsene demons, be ******
Go back to Dante's hell, neun kreise,
continue your corruption of the Earth.
Your trauma killed them, their Träume saved them.
At least, leave them free here.
Melatonin, save them before it's too late.
Hypnos has to come himself
to put the kids to sleep, Lullaby.
Twinkle, twinkle, lost boy,
how I wonder how you are?
Up above the hell so high,
like an angel in the sky.
My hope is
for you all to reach
land of your dreams.
Lost boys, forever, be lost.
Feb 8, 2020
Feb 8, 2020 at 10:03 AM UTC
*i can **** a bottle of wine out no problem, with beer i tend to knot my stomach tight with beer acting like spaghetti - the other superpower carbohydrate; yesterday i met my first suicide, standing on my nightly route, a young boy, “depressed,” just staring at a phone screen, we exchanged a few pleasantries (who you with? no one, just me. who you with? beer), i climb over the footpath fence, knock off something that’s perched there, it’s his, i apologise, but he doesn’t mind, so i ask again, no, it’s ok, a good night i say, clear skies, plenty of stars, he apathetically drifts with the words - like a canadian flag in the hands of an american patriot - we part, away in the distance, past the horse field i saw a morse code signal of the suicide kid’s phone flashing, i have no clue whether he thought he was alone in this little patch of countryside wilderness. all i know, upon encounter, is just that eerie feel of it all - and if i was to theorise that eeriness, i’d simply write: at least systematise those thoughts, you can’t censor them! honestly, i feel like i’m engels in the victorian factories with these mental health services of england - it’s not exactly communism that’s around the corner this time, but where will this existential experiment take place if the ****** one took off in the mongolian buffer before boomeranging back? i’m going to bet on red 32 - china - because of the one-child state policy.*
i drink wine so cheap i either have to add sugar to it,
or drink it as kalimotxo,
but at three quid a bottle it’s a bargain and a barrel too;
but the wine i make once a year
(12 bottles by my last count)
is much better, a full bodied essex vintage,
that i can drink straight,
but i drink it within a week,
which makes me wonder - if man was still
attached to nature with the seasonal consistency...
would a little word beginning with al- lism?
never mind, i know that we wouldn’t be eating
watery strawberries from spain in winter.
Sep 26, 2015
Sep 26, 2015 at 9:44 AM UTC
Engels extolled the height of manners
still I would've liked him to trans Europe permanently
He was such a dampener scribbling
midnight fury
on the oxide of causation
still he starched his collar,
not realising he persists Karl
to upstage Darwin on Capitals demise
Feb 23, 2016
Feb 23, 2016 at 8:46 AM UTC
-->In the past
Martin Luther King Jr
Antonio Gramsci
Were waging a fight
For the observance of
Their likes' right,
Also like Frederik Engels
Crossing-floor or
Transcending class
There were some
Who were struggling
On the side of
The oppressed mass.
Making
Proletariat internationalism
Their intent
The likes of Che Guevara
** Chi Minh ,Castro
Proved freedom fighters
Beyond the perimeter
Of their continent.
A selfless sacrifice
Was what
They were expecting
As a price.
Like Mandela's stance
"Lick not your wound"
Was what was deemed
Sound.
Unity, genuine democracy and
Freedom was the catch word
All in one tied
By a political cord.
--> Currently
So called politicians' intention
Is towards themselves
Drawing attention.
Fabricating a political tension
Deconstruction history
And dishing out
A scare-tactic fiction
They bring into play a given
Ethnic or religious
Group's ,once up on a time,
Suffered lance,
Their hidden selfish agenda
To advance,
Rallying the mob truth
And fiction that
Fails to balance.
Moreover for fishing
In troubled water
A hotbed they give a chance.
Optimizing own benefit
Is their price.
Self-seeking,
Triggering ethnic-conflict
Many societal-harm they inflict.
They adore blood
To flow like a flood.
Disintegration and hate speech
Is what they preach.
"Chase that religious group
And that race!"
Is what
They expect credulous
Followers to embrace.
Machiavelli is their
Political bible
To translate into action
They make a dabble.
Oct 28, 2019
Oct 28, 2019 at 10:50 AM UTC
Tja, ik probeer wel nederlands te schrijven,
God weet dat ik het niet kan.
Ik ga niet nog een ******* boek lezen,
Dus we maken er het beste van.
Eerst moet je bedenken wat je überhaupt gaat schrijven.
Geen idee, niet dat ik ooit goeie ideeën heb.
Dus dan gaan we maar weer rijmen,
Alsof het van een rijmwebsite komt, het is haast "nep"
Als je dan eindelijk inspiratie hebt,
*** ga je het dan verwoorden?
Nederlands is gewoon een kuttaal.
Rens, ik ga je op een dag echt nog vermoorden (misschien)
En nu is het klaar met die kutrijmpjes,
Het werkt alleen maar in het Engels.
Ik wilde een rijmwoord bedenken,
Het eerste dat in me opkwam was "soepstengels"
Help lol
Sep 24, 2019
Sep 24, 2019 at 3:18 PM UTC