"manifesto" poems
"A spectre is haunting Europe"
- Communist Manifesto
Ang multong gumagala noon sa Europa ay hindi parin natatahimik. Hanggang ngayon ay patuloy itong gumagala at nanggagambala. Hindi n’ya pinatatahimik ang mga burgis at elitista. Kaya’t patuloy na nagsasabwatan ang ibat-ibang kapangyarihan sa lipunan upang labanan ang multong ito at hadlangan ang kanyang paggala. Ang mga lider ng relihiyon, ang mga kapitalista, ang mga namumuno sa gobyerno na panay oportunista, ang pasistang militar, ang pulisya pati na ang midya lahat sila ay nagsasamasama upang kalabanin ang multong gumagala.
Nasaan na ang tunay na partido ng mga manggagawa na kinakatawan ng multong gumagala? Nasaan na ang mga rebolusyunaryo at mga aktibista na kakalaban sa bulok na Sistema? Bakit hanggang ngayon ay namamayani parin ang naghaharing mapagsamantalang uri? Kinain na ba kayo ng maling sistema at ngayo’y naaagnas na rin?
Nang bumagsak ang Rusya at lumihis ang Tsina ay nagdiwang ang mga imperyalista. Akala nila ito na ang wakas nang paggala ng multo, subalit nabigo sila at nagmukhang mga asong hangal na kumakahol sa sariling suka. Pagkat nagpatuloy ang multo sa kanyang paggala at ibayong lagim ang kanyang dala-dala. Subalit bakit tanong nila?
Simple lang ang dahilan:
Hanggat laganap ang kahirapan at hindi pagkakapantay-pantay hindi sila patatahimikin ng multong gumagala. Patuloy nitong uusigin ang budhi ng mga ganid at sakim sa kayamanan.
Hanggat ang biyaya ng lupa ay hindi nakakamtan ng lahat ng tao ay patuloy itong magmumulto.
Hanggat ang mga manggagawa ay hindi gumiginhawa hindi mananawa ang multo na magpaalala sa kanila na patuloy nilang igiit at ipaglaban ang kanilang mga karapatan na s’yang nararapat.
Patuloy na gumagala ang multo ng Komunismo na nagmula pa sa Europa kailanman hindi nito patatahimikin ang mga sakim sa yaman at sukaban sa kapangyarihan.
Nov 8, 2017
Nov 8, 2017 at 12:36 AM UTC
Like a beggar feeling for gold in the dark
I mosey in the shadows searching for the scent of bliss
Blind to everything but my own thought
I skirt the edge of light and dark
A stuttering heartbeat
I rest upon a sturdy form and begin to flutter
Slowly
I come away from my stupor and tilt my head
Upward
Illuminated by a golden sphere
A moth grasping at God
Gripped in the glow I am light
Reflecting unto faded stars
We
Inanimate forms buzzing along to the
Dull hum of the universe.
Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 5:05 AM UTC
Skeleton bones in the closet, no, not I, I got live bodies locked in chains. In the spirit of Halloween, I'll wear a hockey mask and be that obsessed killer. Teenage kicks, listen close for the screams. ****** from neglect, ****** because of reject, ****** brought on by me always feeling depressed. You called me names, you tortured my spirit, you ****** me like the idols you worship. I've worsen since i started feeding on your hate. This is my manifesto. Are you scared? You should be. Because I won't take the ranting rambling bigotry you speak. This will be something straight out of a horror scene. The plot thickens, foreshadow what's next. If you think this story is fiction well it's not because we live in a cold world and I'm only giving you a description, a depiction of what words can do, I use mine for assistance, I learned to listen, I hope you do too, because you can create a monster with the powerful words you decide to use.
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 4:00 AM UTC
A slow walk up Centennial
and I still can’t find the place
it's menacing cold, and muted
and the street sweeper and winter breeze
move the Turkish blend and dust pack
A novice mixed duet plays
Brahms on broken strings
the erhu and overcoat
veiling a blue heeler and sphinx
Maggianos is settled in the center block’s
luminance and seasonal drape
it's festive warmth bringing home Bedford Falls;
the flavour and character and social circles
Annie’s playing and the keeper's singing
(his word pool and slander
raising everyone in arms!)
the crowd chants and mayhem breaks
as crawlers and contemporaries
smash their steins
Dark alleys and dripping holes
hold a grim reminder of the pierced underside
paddies flutter and forge their words
with a broad manifesto
Night gardens come alive
(slowly sapping the respite)
hunched figures and ladies in lace
shuffle inside the big orange door
Oct 19, 2017
Oct 19, 2017 at 11:25 PM UTC
can you explain
what it means
to despise someone?
to frame hate
and hang it on your wall
to count the number of days
lost sleep in your coffee mug
with the aforementioned's
name expensively embroidered on it
an old feud, laid in skin
and memories
so long you no longer remember
what the original sin was
only the feeling endures
an anticlimax
that you could go on
and on for hours about
without rest
so much pathos
teeming under the surface
that you could erupt
in volcanic tantrums
at the sound of a name
the way you clench your fists
until your fingers bite blood
from your palms
over street signs that bring up
old memories
the way you dream
of burning chairs
you heard they sat in
you find solace in the fact
that you are conscious
of this pervasive madness
that you are not tired of
and never will be
Jan 10, 2014
Jan 10, 2014 at 9:42 PM UTC
There’s a menacing chill
on the air
this evening.
“Had I the wherewithal
I’d leave this place,”
I think to myself
as the first warning is issued
by that unfriendly cloud
hanging low and dark
over the mountain.
While once I thought that
the rain would fall with purpose,
I’ve come to understand
that floodwater has no manifesto
except to place the scumline as high as it can.
We can stack these sandbags tall
around our hearts
without regard for what’s on either side of the dam.
They’re only transient monuments to ineffectiveness anyway.
An assassin stands at the corner
wondering if I’ll ever leave my house
and its warmth.
I have news for him, though…
There’s nowhere to go, and
the weatherman thinks we’ll have a storm.
Jan 25, 2017
Jan 25, 2017 at 3:49 PM UTC
They record the information but they leave no trace of themselves. All they ever do is record everything. They observe everything and record.
Mar 5, 2013
Mar 5, 2013 at 6:05 PM UTC
I believe in one church.
I believe in an inter-racial and unbiased church of many nations.
I believe in one church of many traditions.
I believe in one church not hemmed in by history or by man-made borders.
I believe in a God for whom his pallet of skin colours reflects his love of diversity.
I believe in God-given racial difference.
I believe in one creator God who made all humankind equal.
I believe in Christ’s one church that reflects our maker's love of difference.
I do not believe in uniformity.
I believe in the Christ’s common language of love for one another, for neighbours and for enemies that transcends local dialects.
I believe in one sundry collection of priests who are called by Christ to serve one God together, saved by His one sacrifice once and for all time.
I believe in the promise of one resurrected church drawn from all nations, from every generation to meet her bridegroom, Jesus Christ.
I believe in one eternal wedding feast at a table prepared by God which features everything from the finest vegetable samosas to the richest steam puddings.
I believe in one extravagant Father who has built one massive mansion with many rooms so all his people can come and dwell together.
I believe in God's Kingdom come.
Jul 12, 2016
Jul 12, 2016 at 8:23 AM UTC
i am gloriously indulgent
when left to my own devices
lashings of stylish fulfillment
in a mix of virtues and vices
i have my sense of order
though i am craven to desire
drunk with a sense of beauty
to torch blandness in a fire
poor dear mediocrity
your time is not with me
you are my sworn enemy
find others for company
i burn for what is art
and those, who do it for love
they are my choice of company
together, we'll rise above
Oct 7, 2018
Oct 7, 2018 at 3:01 AM UTC
i still straddle the fence on this
immigration reform manifesto
i see both sides of the story
it's good to have the grandfather clause
for the immigrants in my bloodstream
- the scrappy scots-irish-ingles-welsh
in me - but too late for the cherokee
behind the old fences of history.
r ~ 11/9/14
Nov 9, 2014
Nov 9, 2014 at 9:57 AM UTC
An Open Letter to Really Important People
The Old Dime Box, Texas Statement
A Manifesto Made Manifest in Manifesting Manifestingness
We post this serious looking document
Bloated with long vocabulary words
Sodden with weak dependent clauses
Marshaled in numbered ranks, down, down they go
To the GossipNet all serious like
And everyone has to pay attention to us
Because it’s AN OPEN LETTER, y’know -
You may sign it if you’ve got letters behind your name
Signatories:
Apostle-Disciple Magic Dawn, DD., Non-Binary, Author of Green Polar Bears I Am, Co-Equal-Director of the Anti-Oppressionist Theatre Against the Occupation, Agent of the Revolution, Auteur, Guest on The Wheel of Fortune and Parent of Two AMAZING children of indeterminate Gender with Their AWESOME and AMAZING Life-Partner Sven-Marie.
Massive Ferguson, M.Ed., Poet, Rector of Admissions, The University of Where the Old Circuit City Use to Be
Poncy Tworbst, M.A., PUBLISHED Author, Seeker, Inspirational Singer-Songwriter, PUBLISHED
Heather-Mistee La’ Thwitte-Tworbst, Ph.D., Director of Library Resources at Saint Margaret ****** Homeschool Resource Authority Collective, Inc., Certified Ordained Consecrated Priest in The Worldwide Church of Me-ness and Pastor of the World-Famous Weddings ‘R’ Us Chapel of Rainbow Dreams in Magdalena, New Mexico
Lawrence Hall, HSG, Thinker of Thinky-Ness and, Like, Stuff, Endowed Chair he found at Goodwill, His Mark: X
(Sean Ian Johann Johnson, MBA, J.D., Chief Photocopier Operator at Donald Trump University and Fashion Editor at Gun, God, and Guts Magazine, was not able to sign today; he is sharing a cell with other White House staff and patiently awaiting The Day of Greatness.)
Aug 22, 2018
Aug 22, 2018 at 3:48 PM UTC
I've just joined the Liberal Democrats,
My mates reckon they're all a bunch of *****
But I say "what do you know?",
"I've read their entire manifesto".
Well that was a lie,
If ever I've told one,
In truth I know maybe 5,
Policies of theirs and then I'm done.
But what's the point in all of this,
Cameron says "hug a hoodie",
What could be next?,
Give a burglar a kiss?
Oh well it's all a guessing game,
At the end of the day,
No politician has a sense of shame,
And no shortage of cash on their payday.
When I turn 18,
What do I do?,
Vote for the colour I like best,
Or speak the truth?
Debates and elections,
Aren't really democratic,
Cause no ministers have the courage,
To make their policies stick.
Jun 3, 2011
Jun 3, 2011 at 12:36 AM UTC
If I could speak
I would spill these lamentations
cloistered sins and secrets
whispered vespers for wretched dreams
Retching sentiment
this malignant manifesto
a macabre mantra
eats my skin from within
transient refuge for temporal treasures
inexorable moments carry life away
tick tick tick
the seconds scurry
flurried ineffectual supplications
demigods of affluence
the cacophony of the machine
I spin within
cogniscient of my myopia
the funneled tunnel vision
drips from the end of a pen
furtive verses on paper
fading ochre moments
somber drops of ash and bone
poetic exorcisms
of wicked things unknown
phrenetic
sensibilities trickle
spilling life
black and withering
is the gain worth sacrifice
crackling fat of dreams
too costly
this shallow palette
self obsessed
eyes gouged out
hands shackled
to the reality
the immortality
trust the dust
the dust becomes me
soul focused on decay
spectre death
devouring this unsparked spirit
If I could speak
truth into your heart
would you
believe.....
in anything more than what you see
I trust the dust and dust will be
the remnant me
TL Boehm
042508
Oct 14, 2013
Oct 14, 2013 at 5:11 PM UTC
The eye of the hurricane
Swept through a country side
Not batting an eye
All those in it's path perish
A mosque, a person, a Muslin
Another, another, another
Until 49 were gunned down
Killed
Executed
And many more injured
Scarred forever
in·dis·crim·i·nate·ly
A finger on a trigger
Held steady
Unmercifully
Picking targets
To cries and screams
With no regard for life
Only for the shooter
To make a name for himself
His message board
His manifesto
His hate of immigrants
Muslims
Leaving in it's path
Bloodshed
A country's darkest day
His infamy
Who is this individual
The eye of the hurricane
Sitting in the middle
Teetering to the right
An extremist
Category of the worst kind
A patch of ******
Sitting in his landscape
Of his sunken mind
Incarceration
Laughing, laughing, laughing
Today, today, today
And this was his trigger
His devil
His dialogue
Today he spoke
Another, another, another
To cries
That echo
Forever
Long after the hurricane
Loses its tail
This makes me sick
I look up in the sky and ask why
Logan Robertson
3/15/2019
Mar 15, 2019
Mar 15, 2019 at 7:23 PM UTC
Should I hang with my friend who I haven't seen in a year or go meet this tinder girl?
Someone New - Hozier
I just can't put my finger on it.
something about her is goregous.
Baby Got Back - Jonathon Coulton
You're right. It's totally her ***
Ugly Faces - Watsky
Shh, spotify, be nice. It's not her fault.
Do Better - Say Anything
Okay okay, you're right. I'll bring her home.
All Time Low - Jon Bellion
Oh c'mon, She's not that bad...
Proove Me Wrong - Dub FX
Well like... her personality is pretty cute.
Some Girls Are Crazy - Echo Movement
I can't beleive I just had *** in my backseat.
Glad You Came - The Wanted
Yikes. All the girls dropped from this party. it's just gonna be me and my three dude friends.
*To Many ***** On The Dancefloor - Flight Of The Concords*
I completely agree. Should i go or just come up with a ****** excuse to leave?
*You Don't Have To Be A ********** - Flight Of The Concords*
You're right i'll leave. What should i tell them?
Working - I Fight Dragons
No i already told them i got the day off. That wouldn't work.
My Buddy's Back - Big D and The Kids Table
Oh perfect!
Sleepyhead - Passion Pit
Yeah I should go to bed.
Let me finish this poem first.
Go To Bed - Ookla The Mok
I'm stuck on this line.
What's a good word to describe Port Veritas? Like... one word?
Home - Phillip Phillips.
That's adorable... you're so right.
See You Again - Wiz Kahlifa
**** you spotify that was super uncalled for. Now i'm bummed out.
Get Over It - Ok Go
Dude. That's like super insensitive
Ungrateful - Streetlight Manifesto
No i'm not ungrateful. I love you, you just don't need to make me cry when i'm down in the dumps like that.
Lean Into The Fall - Mona
I guess you're right. Fine. Thank you.
All The Stars In Texas - Ludo
That's the nicest thing that anyones ever said to me. I like when you do that.
Like or Like Like - Miniature Tigers
Uhh, i guess like like. You're pretty much my favorite app.
R U Mine? - Arctic Monleys.
I think maybe you're moving a little fast spotify... i don't think I'm ready for that kind of commitment.
I Wanna Be Yours - Arctic Monkeys
This is getting weird. I'm going to bed.
I Will Follow You Into The Dark - Death Cab For Cutie
Okay no, seriously i'm turning you off.
Don't Unplug Me - All Caps.
Mar 6, 2016
Mar 6, 2016 at 12:55 AM UTC
covered in flies only the letters KYLIN ILLE were seen. ripped corners of grease, caved in drooping. the way the ants ran, weak to the prophesied speaker. gathered around the mushed manifesto, soaking extensively in the intrigue of carelessness. Ravishing.
Only by the absence of thought could I stumble onto the moments before the drop off. a blurred glance at the road, a swipe of unclean against deep blue. easy strides and a weighted spine. in the vacancy of worries a quick glare to the sun, a double checking of unexpected, brisk anger.
Your slip n slide fingers, loud mouth cowards. faltering in the responsibility of a finished task.
Down dipped merry words of toxic proclamation, viewed by your carefree t-shirt, openly believing it has all the time in the world before it splats against the static concrete
and spoils
Aug 26, 2012
Aug 26, 2012 at 5:48 PM UTC
Some playful shrimps clean the octolord's suction cups. One of their antennae buzzes a message up one of his orange tentacles and registers in the Octolord's mind: the silly sun is playing! Another shrimp: what's that sun up to now? The Octolord opened his mighty eyehole lids. The sun! What's...
NOTHING
Mar 5, 2013
Mar 5, 2013 at 6:02 PM UTC
Man beats self to death with 2 ft. long foam cylinder over period of eight days. As he approached death for the last eight hours, he muttered poetic truths which turned to light as they left his mouth. Eight minutes later the sun exploded. The octopuses sensed something was wrong eight seconds before their deaths. NOTHING
Mar 5, 2013
Mar 5, 2013 at 5:51 PM UTC
*In deep psychedelic trance
his companion painted
canvases that mix past,
present and future, factually
as quantum physics would vouch;
all of it co-exists, don't turn
a blind eye, it's not fair.
"There is more past here
that try to unseat future,
than the presence of present,
we would make reality sleep
won't believe in its patented lies,
we'd create a present,
in its fantasy, see the future"
The narrative is pictured as fallows:
The Cat and the Mouse
stopped their games,
they invented as a past time,
and also serious business.
Lucky prince befriended
a happy pauper.
The beauty beguiled
the friendly beast,
both eloped and
lived happily somewhere.
The bored king hugged
the leader of the coup
"I was dying
to abdicate at the earliest,
you were my last hope,
good riddance" he yawned,
sounding like cockerel.
He looked much relieved;
uneasy is the head
on which a crown sits
like a ****** politico
at the moment of election result.
The painter watching
what is going on said:
"Well, the colors I selected
this far, were all wrong.
Now, I am going to look twice
before I decide"
But when she worked
on her imagination
her manifesto was thrown out,
she was far more spontaneous
there is the rub.
Can't say, whether
the philosopher was pleased or not,
one can't definitely tell
he only smiled and hurried back to
catch the last bus he missed.*
Jan 4, 2014
Jan 4, 2014 at 3:09 AM UTC
There's a secret chamber, indestructible matter. Matter can exist in no more stable state than this small chamber is in. The chamber occupies very little space in the center of the earth. The chamber contains two dimensional information. This information describes everything that ever happened on earth for the archives. The octopuses recorded everything. They perceived everything. If an octopus managed to wrap it's tentacles around your head, you'd understand. It would tell you that everything has been worth it. You'd understand that you must live beautifully for the sake of the swirling two-dimensional archive at the center of the earth.
Mar 5, 2013
Mar 5, 2013 at 6:04 PM UTC
An art movement is a tendency or style in art
with a specific common philosophy or goal,
followed by a group of artists during a restricted
period of time, usually a few months, years
or decades or, at least, with the heyday of the
movement defined within a number of years.
Art movements were especially important in
modern art, when each consecutive movement
was considered as a new avant-garde;
According to theories associated with modernism
and the concept of postmodernism, art movements
are especially important during the period of time
corresponding to modern art. The period of time
called "modern art" is posited to have changed
approximately halfway through the 20th century
and art made afterward is generally called contemporary art.
Postmodernism in visual art begins
and functions as a parallel to late modernism
and refers to that period after the "modern" period
called contemporary art. The postmodern period
began during late modernism, which is a contemporary
continuation of modernism; and according
to some theorists postmodernism
ended in the 21st century. During the period of time
corresponding to "modern art"
each consecutive movement
was often considered a new avant-garde.
Also during the period of time referred to as "modern art"
each movement was seen corresponding
to a somewhat grandiose rethinking of all that came before it,
concerning the visual arts. Generally
there was a commonality of visual style
linking the works and artists
included in an art movement. Verbal expression
and explanation of movements has come
from the artists themselves,
sometimes in the form of an art manifesto,
and sometimes from art critics
and others who may explain
their understanding of the meaning of the new art
then being produced;
In the visual arts, many artists, theorists, art critics,
art collectors, art dealers and others mindful
of the unbroken continuation of modernism
and the continuation of modern art even into the contemporary era,
ascribe to and welcome new philosophies
of art as they appear. Postmodernist theorists
posit that the idea of art movements
are no longer as applicable, or no longer as discernible,
as the notion of art movements
had been before the postmodern era.
There are many theorists however
who doubt as to whether or not such an era
was actually a fact;
or just a passing fad.
The term refers to tendencies in visual art,
novel ideas and architecture,
and sometimes literature. In music it is more common
to speak about genres and styles instead.
See also cultural movement, a term
with a broader connotation.
As the names of many art movements
use the -ism suffix, for example cubism and futurism,
they are sometimes referred to as isms
Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 6:54 PM UTC
A Nossa Existência como seres humanos
Nascemos em qualquer lugar e somos filhos de quem quer por amor ou desejo simplesmente de procriar ou prazer puro. Não engrandece ou diminui a nossa natureza de seres humanos que nascendo por amor ou não! A partir deste início comprometedor existimos para gáudio de uns ou tristeza de outros. Milhões de células se uniram para fazer nascer seres nossos semelhantes com qualidades e defeitos que de uma maneira ou outra vão tentar sobreviver numa sociedade desproporcional e incapaz de controlar: os devaneios, crises, empreendimentos, crimes, loucuras de uma sociedade débil e moribunda.
Mas humanos resistem com paixão, inteligência e idealismo puro para tentar combater: a fome, guerra e construir muros de paz. Sim com consciência temos homens que labutam por um mundo melhor e uma sociedade que fomente uma existência menos penosa e permita uma recompensa para a outra vida mais conveniente e digna.
Todos nós temos direito à abundância de coisas boas nesta vida. O universo é totalmente gratuito para todos com uma harmoniosa junção de todos os fenómenos temporais que durante as estações de ano se manifestam na perfeição em sinfonias elaboradas por Deus eterno, infinito e Senhor. Deus nós ama feliz com uma amor intemporal e manifesto no amor de Jesus por todos nós. Com sua morte na cruz e sua Ressurreição exaltou os homens bons a viver com amor e por amor ao seu semelhante.
Vivemos num sociedade global e intransigente em que os seres humanos coabitam nos mais diversos lugares. A nossa existência como seres será leal e justa se dermos todos as mãos uns aos outros e fazer algo nesta terra que nós faça orgulhar muito mais tarde no Céu. A nossa existência como seres humanos deixava de ser importante se não houvesse uma recompensa por tudo que divinamente o homem bom faz nesta vida terrena. Deus com sua infinita bondade disse ao homem para se multiplicar e difundir seu imaculado amor e ditou suas leis universais baseadas numa fé irracional e num amor de coração.
Cabe a todo o ser humano justificar a sua existência com um amor inadiável a todos os seus semelhantes. Através da escrita e com tudo que Deus criador me deu não passa um dia nesta minha vida de passagem sem lhe agradecer por minha existência e por este planeta terra maravilhoso em todos os continentes e latitudes.
Abraço amigo
Victor Marques
Jan 7, 2014
Jan 7, 2014 at 10:25 AM UTC