"politico" poems
*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
Oh, you got your politico pals
Posting stuff about them blues-and-reds
Oh you got your new-age pals
Posts about their chakra dreads
Oh you got your pervy pals
Posts about their whips and spread
Oh you got your journal pals
Posts about their EX and meds
Oh you got your comic pals
Posts of grumpy cat in bed
Oh you got your trendy pals
Posts of food and celeb weds
Oh you got your gossip pals
Posts about what so-so said
Oh you got your music pals
Posts of bands on every thread
Oh you got your mother pals
Posts of how their babies fed
Oh you got your nightlife pals
Posts of each local they’ve tread
Oh you got your righteous pals
Post of what you need instead
Then you got your artsy pals
Oh someone shoot me in the head!
Feb 27, 2015
Feb 27, 2015 at 5:53 PM UTC
On the ticket for mayor of Sarnia,
Was a sixties bloke, one Wills Rawana;
But the anti-pot vote,
With good conscience can't support,
A politico called Mayor Rawana.
Nov 13, 2016
Nov 13, 2016 at 9:09 AM UTC
You know Cohen and Ellis,
Powel and McEnany,
Hutchison, Meadows,
And soon, Giuliana;
But try not to recall
The most infamous POTUS of all:
Donald the orange-skinned POTUS
Has a Pinocchio nose,
And everytime he speaks out,
You literally see it grow.
All of his well-placed minions,
And millions that can't be named,
Try to protect the Donald,
But only expose their shame.
Then one sunny DC Day
SC Jack Smith says:
*Donald with your team in flight,
Your term in office is finite*.
Then how his minions left him,
And they shouted silently;
*Donald, you long-nosed politico,
You're a blip in history*.
Dec 5, 2018
Dec 5, 2018 at 11:52 AM UTC
trudging from lombard
pawned ring
to pay back long debt
Esta es mi vida.
wonderful friend sent a letter:
dont send me poems
I dont love poetry
Caminando por la calles.
On the streets Lanterns
blinding eyes
while I need darkness
Yo tener enemigos en todos el mundo
letter from court
to pay penalty 1200 euro
for spraying graffities in Friedrichshain
Esta mi vida es afuera un campos de batalla.
i am hungry
I pick from some wheelchair near entrance of supermarket
one banan
towards me run and attacks me a huge drunkard
beat out from my hands banan
slaps in brow
and I fall on snowed pavement
feel no pains
he stays over me and yell: Sie klaute banane, Nutte!!
I low whisper: yourself schweine backe..
jump from spot and imaginary bite the **** of his imaginary gun
El mundo es maravilloso
I possess no more a laptop
i spilled wine on it
being taken aback of one scene of pure **********
of one lovely guest in my flat
how now to write manifesting defending verses?
Politico de mierda que gobierna el pais.
Internet shop
whole night over
beneath of buzzing of casino machines
I sit and write the letter to imaginary dad
to imaginary lovely mom
to sweet sister or brother
well, I have nobody of them
though would I be orphan
I guess my existence were not so dismal
Yo tengo el mi fierro por disparar.
I writing email to american situationist
his nickname is rasputin
I saying him, that I am situationist
and I am recently became persona non-grata
and I better die than
land in loony-bin
need your aid.
he answers with a link about a war in Irak
my solar plexus clenchs tight
Puta yo no necesita usted!
Esta mi maniera,
Caminando por la calles,
Listo para morir,
Esta mi vida es terminada.
*****
Friedrichshain- urban district in Berlin
Sie klaute banane, Nutte!- she stole a banan, Whore!(german)
schweine backe- pig's **** (german)
(thank you Alessandro P. for lesson in spanish)
Esta es mi vida. This is my life.
Caminando por la calles. Walk on the streets
Yo tener enemigos en todos el mundo.I have enemies allover the world
Esta mi vida es afuera un campos de batalla.This is my life outside for the battlefield
El mundo es maravilloso The world is beautiful
Politico de mierda que gobierna el pais. Politic in this land is merde
Yo tengo el mi fierro por disparar. I have my iron for shooting
Puta yo no necesita usted. Bitch, I dont need you
Esta mi maniera,
Caminando por la calles,
Listo para morir,
Esta mi vida es terminada:
this is my attitude
walking through the streets
to search for death
my life is finished
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 5:18 PM UTC
you want war, you have world war two spitfire pilots to serve your post-colonial migration; and yes, i'll twitch my eyes; ha ha cuisine scots using ginger.
there's a quintessential
fascination with cabbage
among the mutli-cultural
asians of england being picky
concerning scandinavians
and the slavs...
politico i could say as much
about indian spices.. but they're
granulated i admit,
so there's less stink in the armpits;
or there isn't, given chanel cardamom:
assimilated asians into british
society don’t use raw herrings and cabbage
to joke about other european ethnicities
while waving the st. george
of that great fake curry of suffolk.
*i've been telling the turks about sauerkraut for years
to match up a purposive additive for the lamb kebab;
sours to cut through the lamb fat like the chillies
cutting through.*
Jan 9, 2016
Jan 9, 2016 at 8:10 PM UTC
the words have lost their meaning, put down and forgotten
the ink is old and hitting refresh, flesh is rotten
the love of doves is for the birds, love of forgotten
words, buried deep unearth on Earth, what has brought this on...
short tempered phrases
Viennese masked faces
road rage that displaces
where words that disgraced
the root that spawned their meaning
and thinkers were able to be gleaning
to drink the rich and full in leaving
pride at the door and no deceiving
what we are all here for
not a geo-politico hidden agenda
not a plan within a plan within a plan
like some Shogun in a Clavell novel,
not to be a notch whelped on Evils' belt
size 365 days a year,
equal spaced holes like stepping stones
tighten around a neck stuck out too far
risk taking and all in isn't a sin, groan,
who am I to judge, I am so marred
am I poeticizing how to live,
no, how write poetry and be so alive,
I have so many words they
roll like boulders, in my head
and off my shoulder across the floor
the neighbours complain of the
noise and I lie, say-
ing it is my dog with her toys,
so go write your poetry,
no one else can, please
may it cure you as mine
cures me of my disease
so you can do what you were born to do,
what are you waiting for ** I can't tell you!**
Apr 5, 2015
Apr 5, 2015 at 12:55 AM UTC
Let us now decorate the symbol of life and ensure that the protection from Scandinavian and Turkish witches is confidently displayed at our thresholds whilst snowflakes silently fall.
Are you able to recollect the innocence, where the magic circle of Arctic captivation nurtured the sending of burnt letters through anticipatory chimney flues, deep into the twinkling sky at night?
There is a certain connection to the pattern of Odin - the guide of souls.
In wisdom, I have left savoury and alcoholic sustenance for ancestral spirits between the high places of Ounasvaara and Korkalovaara. So, here it is my sibling energy field of eternal carbon footprints. Once again, the Yule buck and its Old Norse master are soon to descend upon us.
So, although it may have been outlawed in colonial America by Puritans in 1659, we must also acknowledge those infinite prints of cloven hooves in the deep snow of 1038 a.d. in this mid-winter nativity of Cristenmasse.
As we celebrate the harvest of Kekri and consult with Joulupukki on the forest ridge, the symbolic colours of red, green and gold will lavish perceptual and spiritual gifts which are unable to be purchased with material commodities.
As this festival has gradually evolved into an obscene Western construct of politico-economical prowess, we must identify one more thing: Santa is an anagram for Satan.
Is this truly Finnish or Byzantine? Perhaps it is just cosmological ethnography?
Dec 4, 2013
Dec 4, 2013 at 10:01 PM UTC
.while some people hijack planes and fly them into the anti-thesis of the Jenga game, others hijack things more... metaphysical... like language... oh... over 20 years in England... there was that French girl, the Australian girl, the Spanish girl, the Bulgarian, the African lass, the Russian... and count my stars lucky.... no English girl.
in terms of how much **** is
a racial slur...
is it the syllable count?
should i ask an Afghan?
**** pure laziness...
so not the prefix...
how about the suffix,
i.e. -stani? Stanley...
auburn Stanley...
never mind,
apparently nothing short of
a sense of humor outside
being on the receiving end
of: identifiable vermin...
oh, right...
identity politics...
i'm a mongrel,
a hybrid...
really...
i don't exactly know what this
tongue is doing in
this body...
inorganic English...
acquired -
psyche mongrel...
to your suspicion of half caste;
because i was going to
feel obliged to feel subordinate
to a former colonial
subject on the basis
that... what?
what, exactly?
RAF RAF RAF...
last time i checked.
Oct 1, 2018
Oct 1, 2018 at 6:51 AM UTC
*though the mills of God grind slowly
yet they grind exceeding small
though with patience
he stands waiting
with exactness grinds he all.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow*
for the wicked there's comeuppance
yes, for plagiarist and troll
it may not be in present tense
but evil has its toll
for the greedy human tyrant
for the fat politico
the rich are as a vagrant
trudging through the snow
****** Pol *** Stalin
Napoleon's Waterloo
in disgrace and fallen
into hell's external stew
the world is a millstone
it grinds fine, or so it's said
born here crying and alone
finally we're dead
don't envy the deceiver
or those who perpetrate
they'll be the receiver
meet poetic Fate
God has a sense of humor
those who blot society
may end up with a tumor
in the end will not be free
those who think they're "first"?
pity the poor fools
they're actually cursed
to be the devil's tools
there's no skating through this life
they will all be doomed
the scepter is a poison knife
the coffer is a TOMB.
SoulSurvivor
(C) 11/23/2015
Nov 23, 2015
Nov 23, 2015 at 10:53 AM UTC
A popeyed visitor,
to the newly opened
museum, see this;
a metallic bust
of a populist politico,
smiles intermittently,
to everyone around.
(They had enough of it,
even before his demise.)
Perplexed, he reports
the misdemeanor,
dutifully at once.
The shrink with him
during this time,
was away talking
with a museum guide.
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 2:47 PM UTC
Political system
Bred off disagreement
And those instigating change
Only do so out of hatred
People just regurgitate
Networked Ignorance
Align yourself
With the Great Jumbo
Or the all Knowing Ass
What a circus act
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 4:48 PM UTC
Winter respite,
Desert landscape,
Innocent Street erupts in horror.
Beautiful day
Dashed upon the rocks
And six o-clock news.
Politico’s bandy,
And mothers cry,
And all of America
Wonders why.
Random Gat,
Senseless,
Flat,
Six more innocents
Added to the list,
Scarring the crowds
That the bullets missed.
Justice shall come,
But somewhat late,
For injustices sealed this shooters fate.
The perpetrators in their unleashing,
Are lashing out
Against the perpetrations laid upon them.
Lacking skills to properly cope,
Leading to violence, instead of hope.
The whys shall be uttered for a few more weeks,
But sadly again,
We shall fall to sleep.
Praying that the night mare
Dare not visit again
Jan 11, 2011
Jan 11, 2011 at 4:03 PM UTC
*ich bin nein sympathisant,
bin ernst betreffen (verb without
adjective modulation):
https://goo.gl/h0VEjA.*
as the solid red partisans' plague
brought a censor to emerge from a
politico volcano -
dehumanised with the plucking
of petted eyes of cats out to engage
dehumanisation of man against man -
should it be a lessened esteem -
then iron swastikas may be readied now -
SALUTE! SALUTE! AVE HERR EMPEROR
CHARLIE CHAPLIN!
i love comedy, the last refinement
teasing the lineage of what's taboo;
and the last survivor of the tank dubbed
fury was a coward -
in death as in coordinate we came to press
a bleeding wound with our hand -
but not a retreat of hopes,
as the soldiery faction came to revise
a return to the everyday,
once in the ***** of Mars, forever in
the twin wombs of Mars's quest for continual war
in the eyes, for once in the ***** of Mars
a homosexual in the hands of Venus,
bruderschaft die für immer -
but as said... die Eisen Hakenkreuz...
the iron ******** with India sleeping
into a populace of over one billion -
the Roma beggar playing the Accordion
while the ᛋᛋ men marched to a drumbeat of
*wo wir sind da geht's immer vorwärts,
und der teufel der lacht nur dazu!
aha, ha, ha, ha, ha!*
insomniac buggers, with amphetamine injections
while the opposing side tamed a lack
of courage with alcohol; these beggars
with the amphetamines like the Luftwaffe
and the caliphate soldiers of twins Syria and Iraq
among the bookmarks of the 21st century,
conspiracy theories and 24 years without sleep
after the Vietnam war - ingesting serotonin tablets
to provide the natural equilibrates of sleeping.
Apr 22, 2016
Apr 22, 2016 at 8:44 PM UTC
Obama struttin' with
some barbecue?
Ain't nobody's business
if he do!
May 20, 2015
May 20, 2015 at 4:15 PM UTC
Politico giving hope
Politico selling dope
Politico speaking loud
Politico the crowd aroused
Politico same old same
Politico warfun games
Politico with body guards
Politico all of disregard
Politico dictatorship
Politico communistic
Politico socialists
Politico fascists
Politico staged for caskets
Politico one big lie
Politico look in the sky
Politico you won't succeed
Politico the alibi's you bring
Politico you deceive
Politico you make me ******
Politico get my gist
Politico were all upset
Politico is the loot well spent
Politico tell us the people real truth
Politico the streets are burdened it's green you choose
Politico you choose you loose
Politico were not outside the box anymore
Politico were knowing more and more
Politico why don't you tell us all what's in your bills
Politico what about the Americans here you've killed
Politico I know you don't listen
Politico man you sold us all out, you sold your own
Mar 23, 2016
Mar 23, 2016 at 11:37 PM UTC
In what form is love?
- spirit, they say we affirm, we
readers of poetry and fantasy, they
thee common literate audience ******
religio politico industrial always right,
on the side of justice, as it seems,
to the minute, did I remember
to meet the grandchildren at the busstop.
NO,
I did not, and would not have but, their
grandma called their grandpa to remind him,
be cause he as been waxing more beamused,
made afraid for the moment, mind
time pause, now, we think, how say
the sages past, must we treat
with care for fear of proud wrath,
encultured hero worth, a weight
in the bag we measure worth with,
Jungian *** archetype old guy, no powers,
patiently refolding complex islands of mysteries,
never needing to have been, all spread out, trust me,
we uns stretch it always out, just smooth
as touch in rest in time to think. True rest./.NPC
compressed rest, as time accelerates and few guess,
we were the missing energy, we few who blew our minds.
We revived in many old ties to whys too deep to reason
directly with, we had ****** shames of lives we ruined,
we all felt it was wrong when we did it, but the boss
said god said, how was we to know, tsalhearsay, here
we say.
Stop and let the money makes its answer, lovelessly.
Oct 24, 2024
Oct 24, 2024 at 7:24 PM UTC
My word doesn’t matter.
The problem is, I’m nobody.
I just watch this **** from the sidelines.
I don’t matter so neither do my words.
I sit back on a beach chair with my feet in the sand.
A lit cigarette,
and jerrycan full of gas.
Sunglasses on, watching it all go down.
Aug 3, 2025
Aug 3, 2025 at 8:12 PM UTC
Three men put Steele in his body and drained it out,
Draped him over the top rail like a rug and they hanged him off of it.
His last breath was deep and could be heard down the 100 yard stretch of concrete walls and cell space.
He kicked until the last ounce of energy was finally released from his body into what one would hope to be heaven.
We just want justice and a little bit of sustenance,
Forced to hate ourselves they call us a suspect.
The substance of colorful minds in a dangerous town
The new wisdom of ancient civilizations Produced in a slave ship
Concret walls embedded in the thick of a desert -
I used to get anxious
Chalk it up to the theory of natural selection
I'm the product of my enviornment but who’s the supplier
economic redistribution and product exchanges
Open source the government for growth and development
Enlightenment is just becoming reunited with the mother ship
Paradoxically I went to the Darkside to find this convenient
Mash up of asatru, Egyptian archetypes and Aztec brother hoods
Im the type to get lost in the stars
while they'd rather have me masked up in the back of a cop car
this is not poetry
Tactical plots and pre calculated attacks on geographical chalk boards.
this is not poetry this is math
geo logical rock wars
This is not poetry
Striped up and tattooed in patches we fought for.
May 5, 2017
May 5, 2017 at 12:29 PM UTC
such a curiosity....
worthy of nothing more...
than a postscriptum...
i hallowed,
and i implored...
what, reply, was i given?!
what reply, was
i... given?!
the reply you know
adequately... deserve!
like the bloodhound
gang song...
the roof, the roof,
the roof is on fire,
we don't need no water
let the ************ burn,
burn ************ burn...
what?!
you want me... to do what?!
i wan capital punishment...
drop the wankers off
in the middle of Siberia...
or the Sahara...
what?!
what? you want to... justify
the liberal arguments
of aa posteriori freedoms?!
you read a philosophy book,
and some other books
in between over three years?!
you want to talk about
a priori freedoms...
and the justices of p.s.
a posteriori "freedoms"...
no...
no...
you're not part of me...
you're a ******* ant-farm...
your liberalism is a cancer...
it's politico selection...
it's couner Darwin...
it's... unnatural...
what you're offering
is counter biology...
whatever...
i stopped caring a while ago...
let me just get drunk...
eat my sobering meal
before falling asleep...
no... you don't matter...
just mosquito opinions...
and the odd bite...
**** it...
i'm doing the
Pontius Pilate at this moment
in time...
i don't care because i, really
don't want to know!
p.s.
Mary Shelley should still be on
the fiver banknote,
above the consideration
of / for Jane Austen...
just saying.
Nov 8, 2018
Nov 8, 2018 at 10:38 PM UTC