"marx" poems
study, cram, call, make plans...
power point, presentation, speech, rewrite...
theory, materialism and idealism and the difference,
Marx, Freud to psychoanalyze...
on to polynomials, linear equations, I make a scientific notation...
take a break. (eat)
ham sweet and thick
with lots of pineapple and some cherries
potato bread and cheese
PowerAde to rehydrate
little vodca with o.j. and cigarette
after lunch, breathe .
and it’s back to study lab to mentally beat meat.
paper due, final today, did I remember to triple check
and get rid of paper clips, include a cover sheet...
ready to evaluate... I think.
ready to second guess, miss dates and time, "you're late"
again...
95, 98, 3.5 GPA? pre-test, for final, make sure your research is done,
site, source, quote, student rate and double space
power nap, smoke again,
is the day over yet?..
Nov 26, 2012
Nov 26, 2012 at 3:52 PM UTC
well, first Mae West died
and then George Raft,
and Eddie G. Robinson's
been gone
a long time,
and Bogart and Gable
and Grable,
and Laurel and
Hardy
and the Marx Brothers,
all those Saturday
afternoons
at the movies
as a boy
are gone now
and I look
around this room
and it looks back at me
and then out through
the window.
time hangs helpless
from the doorknob
as a gold
paperweight
of an owl
looks up at me
(an old man now)
who must sit and endure
these many empty
Saturday
afternoons.
6.7k
Upon this wizened, ancient lyre
I'll sing the ballad of the Roses, till I tire
Each one of them a blessing true
Working diligently for the life of every one of you
A true Rose is a beating heart
In which lust for justice bubbles, brews
In Parliament, they call them Labour
But a Rose is anybody whose heart harbours
A love of life and all it's creatures
Considering the workers to be teachers
Imparting the wisdom of their experience
Marx, the most exquisite of their preachers
His words shine bright and cast a light
Upon the path of destiny, he predicts workers delight
But not before the struggle, toil
The quest for righteousness embroils
All human hearts in earnest endeavour
Across the worlds sands and soils
O rustic Roses, I worship and adore you
If you have time, allow me to implore you
To see yourselves the way I see
Creatures of brilliance and majesty
Who devote themselves to the truest fight
For workers wage and workers right
Long may your light shine at me
Mar 2, 2017
Mar 2, 2017 at 12:49 AM UTC
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
some may say a man
with a beard
has something to hide
some may say a bearded man
is a lonely man
let me tell you a law
of the known universe
all great influential men
had beards
Consider this: The Soul is set aflame by the constant ruminations of the mind that venture beyond one’s stagnant self. This leads to great inspiration and ultimately inspiring others greatly.
so you see
only the bearded man can
transcend himself
List of Great Bearded Men: Frederick Douglas, Ulysses S. Grant, Ernest Hemingway, Jesus, Abraham Lincoln, Confucius, Karl Marx, Sigmund Freud, John Lennon, Vincent Van Gogh, Albert Einstein, King Leonidas, Zeus, Poseidon, Billy Mays, Most notable Pirates.
Dec 2, 2011
Dec 2, 2011 at 1:02 AM UTC
Miley spoke it all.
Her twerking weakens
Wonder but renders
Gender to the stupid
**** generation.
Miley spoke it all.
The West won the
Sino-fantasy, infested
With myth of might,
An apple's bait, all
Has a bite. The west won.
Wealth as a boon, akin to
Hard **** faith as
Soft **** "All that is
Solid melts into air;
All that is holy is profaned."
Marx wrote it all.
Miley spoke it all:
Californication.
Call it fornication.
Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 7:30 AM UTC
Do you know what sums up the dark side of capitalism perfectly?
A Banks steps on a cold night occupied by a homeless lady.
That's what I saw tonight and it hit me.
The sheer juxtaposition pushed home the level of inequality
we see daily and walk past...
Thought of Marx
" There's something rotten at the core of a society that increases its wealth without diminishing its misery"
and believe me I'm no ******
but it was eerie.
To put it simply
I worry for and care about humanity.
Jan 30, 2015
Jan 30, 2015 at 12:29 PM UTC
Charlie Chaplin, set the pace
Buster Keaton, old stone face
Groucho and the brothers Marx
Margaret Dumont for some sparks
Harold Lloyd, The Brothers Ritz
Did I mention Zazu Pitts?
Stan and Ollie, Keystone Cops
Chases that just wouldn't stop
The Stooges, Larry, Curly, Moe
and then theres Shemp and Curly Joe
Bing and Bob, and Dean and Jerry
Two could sing, while two made merry
Bud and Lou and who's on first?
Harry Langdon and Charlie Chase
I think who is on first base
Mabel Normand and Mack Swain
Always tied before the train
Pie fights, slapstick in black and white
This was when we laughed all night
Mack Sennet, Roach, and Our Gang
Spanky and Alfalfa sang
Words were twisted, spun and turned
People splashed and others burned
Remember back to days of yore
To when they had you on the floor
Rembember Baby Rose Marie
She started at the age of three
Many more could make the list
For many I know that I missed
Make 'em laugh and take a pie
Get sprayed with seltzer in the eye
Go and watch their films again
So comedy will always reign
Thank you to the funny folk
Who taught us how to take a joke....
Mar 5, 2013
Mar 5, 2013 at 11:03 PM UTC
What is that reality that appears to me in dreams,
chock-full of misgivings and doubt. I counteract my fear of life
with my fears of slumber,
dust in my eyes and stiff as lumber.
In truth - I'm not stiffened
by fear,
by nausea,
post-pubescent sacrilege,
or all of the above.
I'm not up-kept,
grizzly with ennui;
I'm dizzy, confiding my loss.
I feel the lips that kiss
but can't be drawn: from mind,
stencil
paper
pen,
on sheets of thick
pale and
cellulose,
for the heart to mend.
My unsteady hand
is my fearful friend
A soft embrace
from a warm mind
Somber
and so full of Life
clung to by the scent of Death
Endowed
with an eternal promise and regret
from veins of plants
or the glow of stars.
Cold, mechanical debt.
(my heart, so full of...)
(my mind, so hot with...)
(my body, trembling in...)
I am gulf-like
a stream full of trees and glass
echoing a promise of shattering wind.
Will I be published
after my death,
asleep predating, a life conceived.
Will I live to see myself alone,
and to discover
that which I'm not?
Or will I stutter
and wallow a curse,
Up towards the sky,
Until the final verse.
On a boast
or chasing the Rail,
pale as dirt, and shallow still.
Will my true love abandon, break, strain,
Burn away the wax,
or hurry to blame?
Omit my evils from the star-charts,
then just to vacate the void.
From the half-broken corridors of rocks,
nooks, crannies.
Carry laughter through the night
burn the effigy bowed-down,
before dawn's courageous,
ever-splaying light
Angels,
of Carlo and Marx,
plenty by noon
festoon,
again by day
thus replay,
Endeavor to infinity, fair child.
Remold the light by Day
and remold the Day
by Night.
Feb 23, 2013
Feb 23, 2013 at 12:53 AM UTC
across the pond,
I lived off the diet of
some 55 year old bachelor
racing towards the past
only, I looked forward to
so much more than
my mother's improved health.
I would find books and read them
laying them vulnerable and bare
to my devouring mind. *(I swear
to god, there's an approachable
Minotaur among my grey matter.)*
I skipped Barcelona with an alcoholic
to research gay fascists and history's
slaughter benches. I hand-wrote that paper
just so I could feel something at work besides
strong coffee and false anxieties about projected moments.
I raised my hand, countless times
in foreign classes with tobacco residue
creased to my sheet paper. While others
slept or day-dreamed about the pigeon **** outside
*but I smiled at the professor, & mommy and daddy sent them
capitalist notes with the appearance of life.*
I met a girl, who got to know me through
all five senses, at once. Speaking more languages
than half this world is aware of, I danced til my flight
departed and I knew which city was my favorite, because
I knew nothing of it going in and having no expectations
opens me like an oyster whose made multiple pearls.
I lost my scarf there, in Italy,
a beautiful one with conversational brilliance
falling to disappearance on my final night, after the rains
of Tuscany had drenched away my need for movement
and the winds of Ventotene had me sailing with
men, I knew nothing of. *After I cried on the floor
over the beauty of Hegel and Marx and fell into
Nebulae of epiphanies.*
across the pond, my life had verve.
Oct 21, 2013
Oct 21, 2013 at 10:10 AM UTC
Across the ice a baritone
Projects his notes of steel,
A tenor’s harmonizing
Adds that melancholy feel
And the glory of the voices
Flows out through alders bare
And the listeners weep for Russia’s soul
And the tragedy found there.
The tragic melancholy
Found in every Russian heart
Liberated by the sadness
A fine harmony can impart.
Of the monolithic yesterdays,
Those forgotten fields of dead
And that fire within the *****
Which numbs the agony of the head.
Dark stains along the timber wall
Wood fire’s stones make steam
It fills the room with stifling heat
Which sweats the bodies clean.
Red wheals raised on shoulders
Birch branches whip the back
Whilst companion tones of maleness
Speak in vectors women lack.
Red larches in the foothills
Gold lantern light on snow,
The vastness of ancient steppes
Of Central Asia grow.
A viola’s velvet passion
Sighs beneath a cottage door
And the sadness in sensation
Brings grown men to weep once more.
The vastness of the terrain
The hardness of the land,
The bitter cold of northern wind,
Each freezing winter spanned
By Siberia’s lashing gales,
White snow is metres deep
And turquois ice as hard as steel
Beneath which... rivers creep.
Dostoyevsky,Kruschev,
Rasputin and the Tsars,
Great Lenin, Marx and Trotsky
And the swords of Horse Hussars.
Gorbachev the great redeemer,
Poor Yeltsin’s pale white skin
And the ****** found in Stalin's smile
Span the politics of sin.
This great Russian melancholy
Lies deep within the soul
It’s a legacy of yesterday
Of her history's brutal goal.
It’s a product of the suffering
Inherent in the past
Endured by legions of the people
Then dispensed with…
With a laugh!
Marshalg
@theBach
Mangere Bridge
13 April 2009
Jan 27, 2010
Jan 27, 2010 at 10:46 PM UTC
Thunder over Karl Marx’s grave
here comes night
running at me with scissors
dangling sellotape
half finished art projects
still weigh heavy on your mind
like all those missed opportunities,
a C should have been an A.
Pastels not paint. The smudged trail of a finger
across ****** feelings which
surface back to tentative fumblings
with a sister’s friend’s Barbie
the smooth plastic bendable limbs
the positions configured with a one armed Action Man
eagle-eyed and
watching
and if I ever feel down
if I ever feel low
I think back to a story I once read about a woman
who had her face ripped off by a chimpanzee
and as she screamed
the chimpanzee leapt up and down
primitive rage grinning.
Not a pleasant sight I can imagine
but when I feel down,
that’s what I think about,
a woman
and a chimpanzee
ith a face hanging from his primate fangs.
Dec 31, 2012
Dec 31, 2012 at 5:04 AM UTC
Everyone loves to talk ****
Poets
Activists
Novelists
Academics
Professors the most
Summon them up
get a consensus
(the kikuyu are a model
not the annoying vermin of the jewish suburb)
Fear is the core.
America,
Fear is yr core.
Capitalism and all its intricacies
and its lies
its imminent failure
(anorexics in red shirts laugh in hell)
Marx and Chomsky
and Precious
Open a window-
crack that-
BREAK OPEN A WINDOW IN THE WALL
let the mist leave
it will only consume you if you learn to use it instead of oxygen
A clear room will be a safe space
to paint
and film
and write
and dry off
To talk a los otros sobre Spanish y la omkeer
Dec 8, 2011
Dec 8, 2011 at 7:15 PM UTC
I happen to live in Central Indian-
Forests, I collect wood and honey
And have no idea about English woods
And Manchester clothes, I belong
To the soil, I’m anti national?
I live on concessions, subsidies
And support, And You call me-
‘Dark skinned untouchable’; today
I don’t have bells over my neck
I’m proud of me, I’m anti national?
I always spoke of empowerment,
Marx and Che run my blood and
I’m a utopian reality to you
But you cannot ignore my voice
I’m not outdated, I’m anti national?
I believe in ‘being human’ above all-
Traits, I live beyond geographies
And I cannot stand war and bloodshed
You brand me as an activist, I’m
Just humane, I’m anti national?
I do not belong to the 80% of our
Country’s population, but I’m as
Much a patriot as you, My God
Is same as yours, How am I an
Alien? I’m anti national?
I don’t believe in the power and safety
You claim with a nuclear reaction.
I see only explosions and devastation
I want my children to be safe, I love
The world, I’m anti national?
I don’t like vegetables, I eat meat-
Since birth. I will not force-feed you,
I respect your choice and I expect you
To be tolerant to what I cook-
At my home, I’m anti national?
I’m not Pakistani but I love them
As much I love an American or an
European. After all, we share
Our borders. I want to settle all
Disputes, I’m anti national?
I married a man outside my tribe,
Love didn’t notice his 'official tribe',
Our children are a mixed tribe
And we celebrate life as it is,
We’re human-tribe, I’m anti national?
I stand with them with rainbow flags,
They deserve justice as much as you
And me. Give me one valid reason to
Call them unnatural? I want S377
To be scrapped, I’m anti national?
I celebrate my country’s diversity,
I don’t need your certificate to prove
My patriotism! This is India, I stand
With my constitution and its democracy
And I give a **** about what you think!
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 9:21 AM UTC
"The actual pressure must be made more pressing by adding to it consciousness of pressure, the shame must be made more shameful by publicizing it." Karl Marx
Edward, Julian & freaky Chelsea:
Why didn't they hack Time Warner &
Give people things they truly need,
Like a good 5-cent Fattie,
Free high-speed internet & cable TV,
Canadian hockey & **** channels included?
Sep 26, 2016
Sep 26, 2016 at 1:19 PM UTC
out of arms
out of lungs
out of head
it’s an effort to be dragged
catch beneath the lock
where i tore my lid three years ago
each descent returning
spit from the cavernous body of marx
an empire of glass
the wretched of centre city
mop the open wound of 24/7 affairs
*** and grease stained upholstery
apologising for everyone else's mess
it’s blasé-faire
it’s pro-choice
corporate megaphone through the airwaves
distilled into the perfect idiot subject
enjoy life
enjoy life
enjoy life
enjoy life
enjoy life :)
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 12:47 AM UTC
Yong Marx, yet to die, jumped
out of an air-conditioned car, a
journey Berlin to Bombay as the
Dream merchant of Utopia
metamorphosed him into a subhuman
white bearded national bourgeoisie.
The third world girl who was climbing a
tree without Motorcycle-
Diaries hung to her clothe looked
like an Engelian mistake possibly
not from Cuba, Zambia or Bolivia,
certainly not a Soviet artefact.
Alienation, self-affirmation and all
unlike modes of production confused
his surplus brain. The dichotomy
of imaginings and reality with the
girl proven anti-thesis kafkaesqued
him an added ****** struggle.
A shift in his struggle with a smile
on her lips gave a hint of welcome to her
Animal Farm. He did get inside.
The moulded furniture, preoccupied sickle
and the lacking exploitation
left him a disappointing proletariat grin.
She opened her mouth, blue words
did not discharge. Neither the mid wife
nor the revolution pumped her conscience.
He got up, disappointed, alarmed,
cursed the chap who misdirected
to a class-less renewed pattern.
“Comrade” she said shaking his hands,
the blood did stir for a moment but
the fight less slant , **** suits and
her distant reality pained the rationalist.
The amusingly alienated young Marx
jumped into his car and left for utopia.
Sep 3, 2015
Sep 3, 2015 at 10:41 AM UTC
at its own axiomatic level
we begin a dance
a dance
a dance
and there are shades
―
fly off from the other?
a spindle
a
a
fly
―
difference
we make ourselves a difference
a complexity
an intricate form that spills over and everywhere
and is alive
apart from itself
as if this difference making
were for itself, for our own ego
rather than to pull the other
the other’s difference
pointlessly intricate
motionful machines that well up beyond their own depths and
but the content
―
a meaningful making
and on and on and
drives
―
turns on it urns iand urns un n uwuw uwuw uwuuwu wuuwuwuwuwuuwuw
―
the measure of a drop
is in
―
everyone dances in their own light
―
what if satire is all you see!
―
everything ive ever wanted to say 12 yr old has already fallen out a tree
―
everybody hold themselves so high and precious
but their own being is only meagre pitiful one space arrow
e
there is a being
that we strive for
but only ourselves feel
and only others know
yet so many want the other to feel
what they can only know
come grieff and grief and grif
―
i dont get why anyone cares
we do what we do
and it stupid
why you wanna
let the other in ?
only reason u think they smart
is they aint let u in
so i says let em be .
―
everyone all love precarity
cant love themselves
sothey strike out when the other they want to love them for themselves dont love them for themselves
thats an impossibility !
―
FRAGILE PEOPLE
PRETENDING THEY’RE NOT
BaM BAM!
whys all the
positivity
make all lie and
die
why do you care so much about yourself
that you desire the other to see?
you are meagre
you are petty
and that’s all you are.
resentment is thinking otherwise.
nobody cares about your drives!!!!!!!!!!
and the more you think they should
the more they wont!!!!!!!!!!!silly!!!!!!!!!
the togetherness of not-
let people sweep and slide
then drift n loop!
―
everoy !
neurotic big
weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
―
then why are peopplr loenly?
―
cherished being in a bridge of light
cherished being in a bridge of light
cherished being in a bridge of light
cherished being in a bridge of light
cherished being in a bridge of light
cherished being in a bridge of light
cherished being in a bridge of light
cherished being in a bridge of light
cherished being in a bridge of light
cherished being in a bridge of light
cherished being in a bridge of light
cherished being in a bridge of light
cherished being in a bridge of light
cherished being in a bridge of light
cherished being in a bridge of light
cherished being in a bridge of light
cherished being in a bridge of light
cherished being in a bridge of light
cherished being in a bridge of light
cherished being in a bridge of light
cherished being in a bridge of light
cherished being in a bridge of light
cherished being in a bridge of light
cherished being in a bridge of light
cherished being in a bridge of light
cherished being in a bridge of light
cherished being in a bridge of light
―
its own singular yearning
pulls back
the body of marx
and the whole black moon
―
black moon! black moon!
howls the end
howls the night
simpering spat spat spat spatchooey! cross yarn and tip a spews the thunder
and the back back back of
no where
curses like a shut down whine
―
are you perfectly everywhere not
this is the only series of questions
in philosophy senpai desu desu bakkkooou!!
Aug 4, 2019
Aug 4, 2019 at 10:54 PM UTC
I conquered vast pieces of land.
I ruled green patches and sand.
I am Akbar, I am Aurangzeb, I am Alexander, I am emperor,
I am man.
I discovered places which were unseen and unknown,
sometimes with my friends and sometimes alone,
I am da Gama, I am Polo, I am columbus, I am explorer,
I am man.
I constructed beautiful mosques and castles,
see this Taj, as if it was built by Angels.
I am Ustad Ahmed, I am Master james, I am Sinan, I am architect,
I am man.
I take rational approach to solve life's mystery,
through biology, physics and chemistry.
I am Jabir, I am Newton, I am Einstein, I am scientist,
I am man.
I have turned upside down many nations,
my thoughts and writings can inspire generations.
I am Marx, I am plato, I am socrates, I am philosopher,
I am man.
I crossed boundaries of earth to reach space,
Even on moon you can find my trace.
I am Aldrin, I am Gagarin, I am Armstrong, I am astronaut,
I am man.
I shape words like a sculptor with delicate touch,
my few words can convey so much.
I am Iqbal, I am Kabir, I am Wordsworth, I am poet
I am man.
I Stayed for nine months in her womb,
her love and kindness made a man in me to bloom,
She is sister, she is wife, she is mother, she is woman,
Yes, I am man because of a woman.
Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 5:24 AM UTC
I ponder of something great on a sonderous level can a man a sentient being ever exist like an omnipotent being
am I just a subsidized being is the vanity of a self-absorbed world
the pneumatic indifferent fascist question my legitimacy so I question the society of a world more cold and more active than an incestuous birdy and the bee
They question an artesian hand slightly smaller than the average man yet the
significance of the difference in that artesian is not the manic who refused me
embarrassed me
rumored me
****** me to a dark inexsistant inbetween
the coldness of a lover never to be
because she is in league but out of reach
like a lion her simple minded pedagogy has left her to everything and everyone
as she is not mine and I am not hers just the birdy and the defective bee
a farce love story the ending of a never beginning trip why o so dramatic
because I just can’t help falling in love with one
a selfish self absorbed vanity in a repugnant world disgustingly this pedagogy stays to me like glue on this dying bee
this is true of our starcrossed unrequited drug induced comatose that put me into this ponderous level
the inevitability of what truly will never be yet for some reason these
sounderously significantly radical thought I ponder just like a pneumatic bot
have you ever felt this lost
this cold dark nonexistent in-between
a limbless sentient rushed in the ever invoking might of hysteric emotion
I ponder this cold and warming toiling notion
The one like a lion can you and will you requite and love me
Feb 28, 2014
Feb 28, 2014 at 8:44 PM UTC
A cigarette after ***
gets old
when it's the only thing
burning
in your world.
When Netflix feels like
family,
you wonder where
everyone went.
************ feels like
a cry for help--
So help you God.
Missing your home
is second
to missing who
you once were.
Eastern philosophy,
Karl Marx, Rawls--
We don't know
any ******* thing,
really.
Pretending to be more.
Pretending to be smarter
than we really are.
May holes in our sides
let others see
that we're beating, too--
just not as ferociously
or as honestly.
May we vanish
into the darkness
that best suits us.
If the light is our night,
may we follow it.
Follow it...
Follow it...
Rebel from our frame.
May God grant us
to be more
than losers.
Apr 20, 2015
Apr 20, 2015 at 12:31 AM UTC
my 30 gb iPod
the garter from my senior prom
a tiny golden cross that had
faith & hope
inscribed into it
the base to my son's car seat
& his monkey mirror
my husband's suit jacket
& seven years of my
life written into
various paper journals
with colored covers
these were all stolen in the
first car I ever owned
her name was Lydia
*"She was the most glorious creature
under the sun."*
that comes from a
Groucho Marx song if
you didn't know
my Papa used to sing it to
me all the time
anywho
she was a 2000 Dodge Neon
painted black
two stickers on the back
"COEXIST"
and
"SUPPORT THE ARTS
KISS A MUSICIAN"
I got her my first year
of college from
a man who's like a father
to me
we've been through many a
busted radiator hose
& flat tire
last summer my husband was on his way
to work when Lydia gave out on him
so he left her at the side of K-15 and MacArthur
in Wichita
& told the cops not to tow her away
'cause he'd be back for her
when he returned after his shift
she was gone
nowhere to be found
a vanishing act of pure mental hell
& unanswered questions
to this day
I miss her terribly.
Mar 8, 2012
Mar 8, 2012 at 2:27 AM UTC
All lines are controversial
Average performance is extremely intelligent,
My answer to the riddle is this God never wrote fables
In the bible, Qur’an, Gita, Ramayana, Dini ya Musambwa
Nor anything you will mention that amount to mankind's
Mental peregrinations in search for God.
Jewish literature in the form of the bible
Is strongly successful as a misleading literature
And firmly founded in racial prejudice.
Similarly the Qur'an is Arabic adjustment
Of Jewish literature in the bible.
The Apocryphal of them all is enigmatic.
The sons of Asia are dangerously gifted in literature
And their epics often form religion, think of Tagore’s poem
That became Indian nation anthem,
Karl Marx's das kapitel that became revolutionary religion
Blue print or even Gautama's sermons recited by Jesus Christ
Six hundred years later as a sermon on the mountain.
Now; to me Asians must stop racial chauvinism
And accept humanity as there are very many human beings
Who are living away from Jerusalem and are prosperous
Both economically and spiritually, take a case of Vatican.
In my faith therefore, God himself
will give Jerusalem to African immigrants in Palestine and Israel,
Because Abraham was a refugee in Africa,
Ishmael was born in Africa; Jesus was a refugee in Africa
And even a Libyan; Simon the Cyrene helped him
To carry the ominous Roman cross, doen to Calvary
Thus, Christianity is founded on the innocent misery of an African race.
Aug 17, 2014
Aug 17, 2014 at 10:08 AM UTC
we're bombarded by the American Dream
but what we fail to realize
is that to dream, you have to be asleep
but remember, your soul is your own to keep
False consciousness runs rampant through the world
Ninety percent of American media owned by the same
five companies makes TV and the news seem so mundane
but when I think, I realize it's all of us to blame
the only power the system has is what we give
we need to let go of hate, and let live
when in Rome you step outside your comfort zone,
and when you expand your horizons,
the whole world can make you feel alone,
what I've come to realize is there is so much more than this
when we die all of our fear gives way to bliss
and on that spiritual transformation we can let go of what we miss
In each of our crowns lies the infinite
and we know that it doesn't matter, all the petty ****
According to Marx, economy is the root of society
and in capitalism, our thirst for money is ironic and funny
We seek to provide for ourselves and those we love
but when we have to much, the hand doesn't fit the glove
In every cellphone, laptop, and gaming device
lies a mineral mined behind our blind eyes
tantalum is mined in the Congo, and in 2000
people were forced from their poor housing
to mine this mineral so you and I
could get a ps2 from Santa, while they barely got by
I've learned even the poorest here,
Have opportunities barely realized,
We can change the world if we dismantle disguise
There is a balance for everything,
You can't have capitalism without socialism,
our social structure is but a prism
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 1:51 PM UTC
ᚠ Φ
F
Θ ᚦ
no explanations
exist within a geometry outside
the circle, only architecture, sole,
yet the sole geometry of architecture
is an encircling, a lifting,
and had i wrote my poetry
in the comfort of rising beyond Marx
is socio-political schematic i would,
but i rather talk to scaffolders than to poets,
i'd rip my heart through enough thin
veil to prove it so that i shared an entombing of lips
wholly bodied with one! i rather!
care for this ******* Parisian princess
in your divorce as best you can...
i kept a cat for seven years before my neighbour
decided it was time to ***** affection
to an animal neither tilling for ably feeding
to instead choose his daughter as my wife:
i rejected feeling no compass of conversation...
the cat died, i went into the graveyard and dug
a gravestone out and buried my cat in
the moonlight: don't ever come across me and my pet!
you killed half the intelligence that was me!
**** you! humanity engaging with humanity
it plagiarises as itself an ownership to suit puppet
strings like it might tailoring,
POLAND ****** EUROPE!
POLAND ****** EUROPE!
POST COLONIAL NATIONS SEEK NEW *******
TO CRAFT THE LOST COTTON BUDS INTO
GRANULE CEMENT SET! POLAND ******
EUROPE! POLAND ****** EUROPE!
POLAND ****** EUROPE! POLAND ****** EUROPE!
MAMA RUSSIA! PAPA PRUSSIA! HOSANNA! HOSANNA!
LAUREL LEAFS AS I SAT ON THEM! THE CROWN
OF KING TU-154...
ROMANIA DONKEY DON QUIXOTE!
WHOOP WHOOP! WHOOP WHOOP GREK IZLAND
CORFU! then the postman comes with my jealousy
as within reach of hope to attain old age...
(snigger)... i hope i don't... i want million
dollar baby's truth to wake me.
May 31, 2016
May 31, 2016 at 8:04 PM UTC