"propagandist" poems - Hello Poetry

i've moved past my belief in the Christian trinity... for me... the meditation stands on the pivot of the following translation the hexagon, start of david - which translates as the Holy Ghost - which denotes a congregation... the pentagon? of the befitting analogy to the five senses... the "son of man" - or simply... the myopia of man having to excavate the sixth sense using telescopes, microscopes, the like... and, finally? on a hand of five extensions, there are four... the square... Y H ⠁⠑ read clockwise like English traffic H W on a roundabout. which? denotes the father... if the Hebrews "think" they can hide their vowels? the Latin answer is... to interpolate Braille into their language... and Emperor Nero would have appreciated it... whether with, or without the Byzantine propaganda machinery of the nevus testamentum... and it wasn't a propagandist piece? how much longer did the eastern Empire, outlive the Western empire, when the onslaught by the Ottoman's reached Constantinople?! the Greek were craving a cultural revival! they believed the Romans to have origins in Troy! they plaid the weakest cultural card of Judaism, revamping it into Christianity... hell... that's what i believe... and i'm not about to meet a Jehovah's Witness propagandist, or some aged Pakistani citing the Quran on a park bench... or some Scientologist on Oxford St. with his wacky machine... or some pseudo Hare Krishna monk with a book about some guru, pushing it like marijuana... to change my mind on what i'm digesting! plus? ⠽ ⠓ Æ ( read anti-clockwise) ⠓ ⠺ fits in perfectly into the Adam and Eve narrative - as with all mythology - given the extent of time... nuance, metaphor... abbreviation... ars poetica!

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Aug 19, 2018

Aug 19, 2018 at 8:32 PM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

Y⠁HW⠑H

i've moved past my belief in the Christian trinity... for me... the meditation stands on the pivot of the following translation the hexagon, start of david - which translates as the Holy Ghost - which denotes a congregation... the pentagon? of the befitting analogy to the five senses... the "son of man" - or simply... the myopia of man having to excavate the sixth sense using telescopes, microscopes, the like... and, finally? on a hand of five extensions, there are four... the square... Y H ⠁⠑ read clockwise like English traffic H W on a roundabout. which? denotes the father... if the Hebrews "think" they can hide their vowels? the Latin answer is... to interpolate Braille into their language... and Emperor Nero would have appreciated it... whether with, or without the Byzantine propaganda machinery of the nevus testamentum... and it wasn't a propagandist piece? how much longer did the eastern Empire, outlive the Western empire, when the onslaught by the Ottoman's reached Constantinople?! the Greek were craving a cultural revival! they believed the Romans to have origins in Troy! they plaid the weakest cultural card of Judaism, revamping it into Christianity... hell... that's what i believe... and i'm not about to meet a Jehovah's Witness propagandist, or some aged Pakistani citing the Quran on a park bench... or some Scientologist on Oxford St. with his wacky machine... or some pseudo Hare Krishna monk with a book about some guru, pushing it like marijuana... to change my mind on what i'm digesting! plus? ⠽ ⠓ Æ ( read anti-clockwise) ⠓ ⠺ fits in perfectly into the Adam and Eve narrative - as with all mythology - given the extent of time... nuance, metaphor... abbreviation... ars poetica!

81

This specific autumnal celebration is characterised by throbbing obscenities, where a masquerade of piety resembles the trembling jester as he performs before medieval royalty. Oh, to witness the salmon run in Northern ecosystems where the caniform classification stands in a dominant stance at the edge of the falls. So, my independent and competitive contemporary, let us bow with sober reflection at those anthropological schools who swim upstream in this spiritual river in the vain pursuit of unattainable freedom. Today, on this second Monday of October, the name of the game has been brutally ***** by propagandist salesmen. So, at this juncture of existential consumerism, we stand within the jaws of our ever-smiling aristocracy. But, if you dare to open your eyes, my friend of unfathomable denial; you will find that the tradition is called Thanksgiving.

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Nov 6, 2013

Nov 6, 2013 at 9:46 PM UTC

david-barr

The Gratitude of Consumerism

This specific autumnal celebration is characterised by throbbing obscenities, where a masquerade of piety resembles the trembling jester as he performs before medieval royalty. Oh, to witness the salmon run in Northern ecosystems where the caniform classification stands in a dominant stance at the edge of the falls. So, my independent and competitive contemporary, let us bow with sober reflection at those anthropological schools who swim upstream in this spiritual river in the vain pursuit of unattainable freedom. Today, on this second Monday of October, the name of the game has been brutally ***** by propagandist salesmen. So, at this juncture of existential consumerism, we stand within the jaws of our ever-smiling aristocracy. But, if you dare to open your eyes, my friend of unfathomable denial; you will find that the tradition is called Thanksgiving.

5

I am a voluntary propagandist. Run I did a strong campaign. An enduring campaign for NaMo. My Facebook pages are successful. And I feel like a shadow warrior. I don't need any prize for my efforts. Mōđī Jī remaining in charge of India's golden future.

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May 25, 2019

May 25, 2019 at 2:17 PM UTC

Atul

Efforts Paid Off

I am a voluntary propagandist. Run I did a strong campaign. An enduring campaign for NaMo. My Facebook pages are successful. And I feel like a shadow warrior. I don't need any prize for my efforts. Mōđī Jī remaining in charge of India's golden future.

7

Dear girl who dreams of my manic pixie nightmare You are the one I never expected to meet I am the one you have met a million times before You're the girl obsessed with film craving invasion on television screens, propagandist **** muse, docs and a **** cut I'm the girl obsessed with ******** and using boundaries as skipping ropes or thread to turn my hair to tapestry You're Bowie I'm Hendrix You like visuals, shapes and sound and pretty cinematography and things I can't understand, your mind is a transcript in calligraphy I can't decipher, I like books that come in three and getting to the end and not knowing how to live anymore You're brimming full of hope and dreams and set lighting I'm disappointment and drowning shame in the bottom of tumblers, spilling the leftovers into quotable dialogue You're too good for my obscenity to taint, you can't find what you're looking for in me I'll be your undoing spiralling constantly in a figure 8 You are the manic pixie dream girl we've all been searching for

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May 17, 2015

May 17, 2015 at 6:21 PM UTC

priya-devi

Manic Pixie Dreamgirl

Dear girl who dreams of my manic pixie nightmare You are the one I never expected to meet I am the one you have met a million times before You're the girl obsessed with film craving invasion on television screens, propagandist **** muse, docs and a **** cut I'm the girl obsessed with ******** and using boundaries as skipping ropes or thread to turn my hair to tapestry You're Bowie I'm Hendrix You like visuals, shapes and sound and pretty cinematography and things I can't understand, your mind is a transcript in calligraphy I can't decipher, I like books that come in three and getting to the end and not knowing how to live anymore You're brimming full of hope and dreams and set lighting I'm disappointment and drowning shame in the bottom of tumblers, spilling the leftovers into quotable dialogue You're too good for my obscenity to taint, you can't find what you're looking for in me I'll be your undoing spiralling constantly in a figure 8 You are the manic pixie dream girl we've all been searching for

14

I if I yelled into a walkie talkie, would you melt, or burn, blaring noise glaring sun, glaze the windows, someone! II fade away and radiate, move the people dis-populate, we may all glow, there are leaks, they know, but that is not all they are going to build an icy wall to STOP thoseleaksnow, some one strong willed is taking charge of those positive and negatives keep an i on atom, physically speaking. III shake, shake roll the water shake shake roll the dice shake shake what happens in the kitchen where it is hot and you bang plates together the do break, explosively this time, no tsunami, so sue me but it was a six point one when we get a nine what then? IV they have politics, they have unrest, they have strife, put the ad in the paper, some one misunderstood, vehement denials, sabres rattling cementing bad relations blame the propagandist bad formula blame the chemist bad politics cost elections bad people take lives that are not theirs to erase, displace or otherwise disgrace, I know we will never know what has gone on, but it really comes down to ONE, all it takes is one to die, and it - whatever the point is is wrong, all it takes is a million refugees, not one in power will listen if we say STOP please, think of the creative talent who have died, think of the number of times you have lied, think of the geniuses unable to breath through their face, oh wait, if you did think, in the first place, you still would have done it anyway, because that is who you are, makin' people wear sarin, eau de ... deathly silence is a grave filled with the cries of the innocents chaos is a grave filled with violent death with intent lashing out first and with such force is a grave filled with numbers of the lost, who now are no more the cost is too dear to bear except with sadness, and mourning but there is no time there is danger and warring while the world dithers uncertain, close the blinds draw the curtain, cover your ears, we are doing something here, umm, there.

0

Sep 4, 2013

Sep 4, 2013 at 12:46 AM UTC

darrell-wade-elverum

Poetry in the News in four parts

I if I yelled into a walkie talkie, would you melt, or burn, blaring noise glaring sun, glaze the windows, someone! II fade away and radiate, move the people dis-populate, we may all glow, there are leaks, they know, but that is not all they are going to build an icy wall to STOP thoseleaksnow, some one strong willed is taking charge of those positive and negatives keep an i on atom, physically speaking. III shake, shake roll the water shake shake roll the dice shake shake what happens in the kitchen where it is hot and you bang plates together the do break, explosively this time, no tsunami, so sue me but it was a six point one when we get a nine what then? IV they have politics, they have unrest, they have strife, put the ad in the paper, some one misunderstood, vehement denials, sabres rattling cementing bad relations blame the propagandist bad formula blame the chemist bad politics cost elections bad people take lives that are not theirs to erase, displace or otherwise disgrace, I know we will never know what has gone on, but it really comes down to ONE, all it takes is one to die, and it - whatever the point is is wrong, all it takes is a million refugees, not one in power will listen if we say STOP please, think of the creative talent who have died, think of the number of times you have lied, think of the geniuses unable to breath through their face, oh wait, if you did think, in the first place, you still would have done it anyway, because that is who you are, makin' people wear sarin, eau de ... deathly silence is a grave filled with the cries of the innocents chaos is a grave filled with violent death with intent lashing out first and with such force is a grave filled with numbers of the lost, who now are no more the cost is too dear to bear except with sadness, and mourning but there is no time there is danger and warring while the world dithers uncertain, close the blinds draw the curtain, cover your ears, we are doing something here, umm, there.

78

Let me ask you this: Got a yen for bad Haiku? Well then... stick around. How do I love thee? Let me count the syllables In my bad Haiku Take the easy way: call it poetry. End it like a samurai Haiku is a crone dressed in ragged kimono bolting down her rice The useless Haiku: silly Japanese verse form. Formula for dull. Haiku, like Manga, destroys the attention span making people dumb Some still remember propagandist Tokyo Rose. (Write one about her !)

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Apr 10, 2017

Apr 10, 2017 at 10:58 PM UTC

connecthook

Haiku Snooze

Let me ask you this: Got a yen for bad Haiku? Well then... stick around. How do I love thee? Let me count the syllables In my bad Haiku Take the easy way: call it poetry. End it like a samurai Haiku is a crone dressed in ragged kimono bolting down her rice The useless Haiku: silly Japanese verse form. Formula for dull. Haiku, like Manga, destroys the attention span making people dumb Some still remember propagandist Tokyo Rose. (Write one about her !)

21

A lost specie of youth Her hands calloused before birth She became a withering dream Destined to be played by a propagandist's tongue. Child round her thigh Her veins still cry for justice In the form of New York's Impure snow. Blood shot and restless Torn and corrupt Young and yet old Fixed yet disrupt She'll walk amongst the streets Chameleon by emotion She'll wear a carved smile She'll respond: "I'm fine." - N.C

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Aug 6, 2010

Aug 6, 2010 at 7:14 AM UTC

enniccino

Mina

A lost specie of youth Her hands calloused before birth She became a withering dream Destined to be played by a propagandist's tongue. Child round her thigh Her veins still cry for justice In the form of New York's Impure snow. Blood shot and restless Torn and corrupt Young and yet old Fixed yet disrupt She'll walk amongst the streets Chameleon by emotion She'll wear a carved smile She'll respond: "I'm fine." - N.C

17

What have I done but obey the cynical dogma that plagues the patriots? (then to be rewarded with the cutting rattle of the guns that dehumanised the holiest saints. MIA the pawn who obeyed.) Can we sacrifice to "the Cause", for the end? (without the other side sacrificing more. Men should press toward the enemy. We will win because ten minus one equals nine Rip the glorified general.) Possibly **** the man I call brother for hesitation. (with the gun that conscripted me to his side. "killed for the disobeying of orders". They will say that I was a traitor But never a man of his country RIP the brother that hesitated.) Justify the sin that will be forced upon my brother. (As I will not commit the sun that will be forced upon me. RIP the holy deserter.) The multination of a child. (Thats what Devils do. That's what they did to me. Destroying what I took for granted. RIP the young amputee.) Glorification of the war as some sort of game. ("Come sign up you be a hero" I lied in front of them But back then I even believed myself. RIP the gulibal propagandist) In war winning is living (Yet not a one I am willing to play. RIP the veteran) Destruction of the family tree (Destiny was not prepared for the irrational. RIP the mother that worried) What can possibly justify the glorification in destruction?

0

Dec 4, 2015

Dec 4, 2015 at 5:22 PM UTC

harry-cave

Unknown

What have I done but obey the cynical dogma that plagues the patriots? (then to be rewarded with the cutting rattle of the guns that dehumanised the holiest saints. MIA the pawn who obeyed.) Can we sacrifice to "the Cause", for the end? (without the other side sacrificing more. Men should press toward the enemy. We will win because ten minus one equals nine Rip the glorified general.) Possibly **** the man I call brother for hesitation. (with the gun that conscripted me to his side. "killed for the disobeying of orders". They will say that I was a traitor But never a man of his country RIP the brother that hesitated.) Justify the sin that will be forced upon my brother. (As I will not commit the sun that will be forced upon me. RIP the holy deserter.) The multination of a child. (Thats what Devils do. That's what they did to me. Destroying what I took for granted. RIP the young amputee.) Glorification of the war as some sort of game. ("Come sign up you be a hero" I lied in front of them But back then I even believed myself. RIP the gulibal propagandist) In war winning is living (Yet not a one I am willing to play. RIP the veteran) Destruction of the family tree (Destiny was not prepared for the irrational. RIP the mother that worried) What can possibly justify the glorification in destruction?

35

Extravagance is characterised by the excessive expenditure of materialistic resources, where those unbridled lusts of the masses have catapulted our anthropological status from an initial experience of innocence and ****** us forth into a debauched state of relativistic and allegedly progressive utopia. Can I now be reborn into unknown astrological pastures of yesteryear, where time and space confine themselves to boundless parameters and cosmological streams trickle beyond black holes? Droplets of our soul are seeping through the cracks of superfluous constellations. Having been admonished to merely adhere to instructions, it is worth giving consideration to the possibility that we may simply lack accurate realisation. Yet, the anatomy of integrity is contextual and is juxtaposed with popular and palatable propagandist dogma. Therefore, although the nature of reality is ever-changing, there is a pattern of non-conforming adherence which spans those artistic ages of presumed literary and oratorical genius. We know that defense mechanisms are dichotomous, as they may ward off personally undesirable experiences – yet they can also inadvertently champion the cause for solitary confinement. As we unwrap this explosive socio-political gift, let us reach across the infinite gap and radically accept the folly of what is deemed to be prestigious. Let us now make a record. Saturn has rings.

0

Apr 10, 2016

Apr 10, 2016 at 4:25 AM UTC

david-barr

A Fear of the Void

Extravagance is characterised by the excessive expenditure of materialistic resources, where those unbridled lusts of the masses have catapulted our anthropological status from an initial experience of innocence and ****** us forth into a debauched state of relativistic and allegedly progressive utopia. Can I now be reborn into unknown astrological pastures of yesteryear, where time and space confine themselves to boundless parameters and cosmological streams trickle beyond black holes? Droplets of our soul are seeping through the cracks of superfluous constellations. Having been admonished to merely adhere to instructions, it is worth giving consideration to the possibility that we may simply lack accurate realisation. Yet, the anatomy of integrity is contextual and is juxtaposed with popular and palatable propagandist dogma. Therefore, although the nature of reality is ever-changing, there is a pattern of non-conforming adherence which spans those artistic ages of presumed literary and oratorical genius. We know that defense mechanisms are dichotomous, as they may ward off personally undesirable experiences – yet they can also inadvertently champion the cause for solitary confinement. As we unwrap this explosive socio-political gift, let us reach across the infinite gap and radically accept the folly of what is deemed to be prestigious. Let us now make a record. Saturn has rings.

10

so.... you're ctitical of a pig... but you're... missing a part of your body?! wow! he he he he! ah ha ha ha ha! and... the pig if the impurity, flesh?! i am dreaming, the wrong type of dream, aren't i? i thought i was... ah he he he he he he! mak a case for alternative laughter? no? a smile and enough panache... to get "things"... started.... well.... "where" to begin, "with"? so many choices! so many... you almost tend to forget... if there ever was... a starting point... to begin with,.. say,.,, i have one... my nose is itchy... it's itching real bad... come the propagandist surprise... i could have been a good father figure... but, evidently... more a tool for the plagiarism machinery... death to all, and life to none... circus envy... r.e.m. beginning with: no pork, but pro circumcision? so... being circumcised but no pork... so much for pork being abandoned... when it came close to disposed of of human "cartilage"... in terms of skin... pork, bad.... ******** being cut off: good... no wonder you're not supposed ton eat it... you cut off excesses... ******* wankers... pwok bwad... you circumcised... no wonder you can't eat pwok!

0

Oct 9, 2018

Oct 9, 2018 at 8:04 PM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

R.E.M.: circus envy

so.... you're ctitical of a pig... but you're... missing a part of your body?! wow! he he he he! ah ha ha ha ha! and... the pig if the impurity, flesh?! i am dreaming, the wrong type of dream, aren't i? i thought i was... ah he he he he he he! mak a case for alternative laughter? no? a smile and enough panache... to get "things"... started.... well.... "where" to begin, "with"? so many choices! so many... you almost tend to forget... if there ever was... a starting point... to begin with,.. say,.,, i have one... my nose is itchy... it's itching real bad... come the propagandist surprise... i could have been a good father figure... but, evidently... more a tool for the plagiarism machinery... death to all, and life to none... circus envy... r.e.m. beginning with: no pork, but pro circumcision? so... being circumcised but no pork... so much for pork being abandoned... when it came close to disposed of of human "cartilage"... in terms of skin... pork, bad.... ******** being cut off: good... no wonder you're not supposed ton eat it... you cut off excesses... ******* wankers... pwok bwad... you circumcised... no wonder you can't eat pwok!

61

words are sacred salty plush ****** mean divine. they escape me. they elude me. these innocent, cosmically granular, words. i’d lick the noble chalk off the board of Bukowski and Hughes, Whitman and Sexton, Ginsberg and Wilde, for the privilege to spit life comes with its bitter calendar, shackling you to a bloodsucking propagandist, always asking for your time you take your pills of coal and lime - a father, a worker, a man, a lover - a tyrant over a narrow scope of existence called you and you live and we live and i live a paralysis of carbon and function together, a baffling empire of fire and ankle socks, destined for a hearse that someone else will pay for before we eat the dirt we wear these perverted hats that say i’m this they’re that and you’re… a writer i’ll never be

0

Jan 23, 2019

Jan 23, 2019 at 12:46 AM UTC

forest-kvasnikoff

words gotta word

words are sacred salty plush ****** mean divine. they escape me. they elude me. these innocent, cosmically granular, words. i’d lick the noble chalk off the board of Bukowski and Hughes, Whitman and Sexton, Ginsberg and Wilde, for the privilege to spit life comes with its bitter calendar, shackling you to a bloodsucking propagandist, always asking for your time you take your pills of coal and lime - a father, a worker, a man, a lover - a tyrant over a narrow scope of existence called you and you live and we live and i live a paralysis of carbon and function together, a baffling empire of fire and ankle socks, destined for a hearse that someone else will pay for before we eat the dirt we wear these perverted hats that say i’m this they’re that and you’re… a writer i’ll never be

39