Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
"totalitarian" poems
Before there was anything that mattered everything that would ever be existed , it was the essence of totality , it was without dimensional constriction or necessitated form .  Optimistically speaking time had no relative realism to it’s progression because realistically nothing had happened yet .  As it continued it became according to it’s innate inflections as a functionally integrable form .  The questionably understandable nature of it’s conjunction was an omnipotent directive beyond necessitated action or morphological construction .  The enigmatic consciousness of it’s relatively interrelated conception was spontaneous and yet it continued without elemental omniscience.   As the relative complexity of it’s interrelations evolved dimensional consistence was born.  Humanly understandable laws of physical integration governed many facets of it’s conjunction yet the totality of it’s ramification was beyond humanly realistic conjecture .   The organic morphology of biological ontogeny was a conceptually reflective derivative of functional physical mechanics yet it’s diversity exceeded it’s physical complexity , understanding evolved .  Relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity succeeded in a hierarchy of functionally integrable forms . Retrospectively speaking pragmatic practicality is a humanly rational possibility .  Rational logic can conceive of individually totalitarian structural forms , yet the implosive nature of their rational cohesiveness becomes a practical partiality due to the diversity of their definitive impetus . Perhaps the essence of our being is the logical counterpart for the matrix of our subjectively conclusive social fragmentation , or perhaps we are evolutionally incapable of cumulatively rational correlation.  Problematic diversity could be perfectible on an individually infinite level or contrarily perhaps ubiquitous causality is the ultimate survivor.   In any case it is beyond our subjugatively rational cohesive coercion to intercede en masse on our own behalf as an integrated unit. Our conceptual abilities have been thwarted by the unmitigatably individual nature of our extraneous conclusiveness .
0
Aug 12, 2018
Aug 12, 2018 at 5:15 PM UTC
Glyph
Before there was anything that mattered everything that would ever be existed , it was the essence of totality , it was without dimensional constriction or necessitated form .  Optimistically speaking time had no relative realism to it’s progression because realistically nothing had happened yet .  As it continued it became according to it’s innate inflections as a functionally integrable form .  The questionably understandable nature of it’s conjunction was an omnipotent directive beyond necessitated action or morphological construction .  The enigmatic consciousness of it’s relatively interrelated conception was spontaneous and yet it continued without elemental omniscience.   As the relative complexity of it’s interrelations evolved dimensional consistence was born.  Humanly understandable laws of physical integration governed many facets of it’s conjunction yet the totality of it’s ramification was beyond humanly realistic conjecture .   The organic morphology of biological ontogeny was a conceptually reflective derivative of functional physical mechanics yet it’s diversity exceeded it’s physical complexity , understanding evolved .  Relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity succeeded in a hierarchy of functionally integrable forms . Retrospectively speaking pragmatic practicality is a humanly rational possibility .  Rational logic can conceive of individually totalitarian structural forms , yet the implosive nature of their rational cohesiveness becomes a practical partiality due to the diversity of their definitive impetus . Perhaps the essence of our being is the logical counterpart for the matrix of our subjectively conclusive social fragmentation , or perhaps we are evolutionally incapable of cumulatively rational correlation.  Problematic diversity could be perfectible on an individually infinite level or contrarily perhaps ubiquitous causality is the ultimate survivor.   In any case it is beyond our subjugatively rational cohesive coercion to intercede en masse on our own behalf as an integrated unit. Our conceptual abilities have been thwarted by the unmitigatably individual nature of our extraneous conclusiveness .
Continue reading...
6
Plagiarism of worthless ideals, that you so ignorantly hold high. Shaking in amazement, how can you call your self alive? Totalitarian, lethargic lifestyle. Ignominious displays of disaffection. Constant contradictions; out of your mind. Caught up in the clouds, cognition of mania and level debauched. Up to high to realize, you're an “open mind” with locked doors. Maslow, Skinner, and Darwin alike, turn in their graves, over your lack of evolution.
0
Mar 6, 2013
Mar 6, 2013 at 2:00 AM UTC
I need cigarette
A populace filled with totalitarian tranquility The supposition that the world is in a harmonic homeostasis Blissful ignorance that leads to careless calamity Amid the uproar of the most populated of places Therein lies the seed of humanity’s deceptive destruction A solitary host housing a virulent virus Infectious disease that proceeds crisis and corruption Hope only stands with the powerful and pious Prognosis describes communicable cannibalism Rabid outbursts show signs of voracious violence The harrowing pandemic leads to ceaseless cataclysm Cities and towns suspended in systemic silence Habitations riddled with gratuitous gore Hope fades in the wake of the crimson carnage The pestilent hoard feeds to a glutton’s galore The Author of humanity publishes the final page The closing verse rains down a rapturous recompense The high cost of a dense population paid at humanity’s existential expense
0
Oct 31, 2018
Oct 31, 2018 at 11:06 PM UTC
Affliction’s Assimilation
Before there was anything that mattered everything that would ever be existed , it was the essence of totality , it was without dimensional constriction or necessitated form .  Optimistically speaking time had no relative realism to it’s progression because realistically nothing had happened yet .  As it continued it became according to it’s innate inflections as a functionally integrable form .  The questionably understandable nature of it’s conjunction was an omnipotent directive beyond necessitated action or morphological construction .  The enigmatic consciousness of it’s relatively interrelated conception was spontaneous and yet it continued without elemental omniscience . As the relative complexity of it’s interrelations evolved dimensional consistence was born.  Humanly understandable laws of physical integration governed many facets of it’s conjunction yet the totality of it’s ramification was beyond humanly realistic conjecture .   The organic morphology of biological ontogeny was a conceptually reflective derivative of functional physical mechanics yet it’s diversity exceeded it’s physical complexity , understanding evolved .  Relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity succeeded in a hierarchy of functionally integrable forms . Retrospectively speaking pragmatic practicality is a humanly rational possibility .  Rational logic can conceive of individually totalitarian structural forms , yet the implosive nature of their rational cohesiveness becomes a practical partiality due to the diversity of their definitive impetus . Perhaps the essence of our being is the logical counterpart for the matrix of our subjectively conclusive social fragmentation , or perhaps we are evolutionally incapable of cumulatively rational correlation .  Problematic diversity could be perfectible on an individually infinite level or contrarily perhaps ubiquitous causality is the ultimate survivor .   In any case it is beyond our subjugatively rational cohesive coercion to intercede en masse on our own behalf as an integrated unit. Our conceptual abilities have been thwarted by the unmitigatably individual nature of our extraneous conclusiveness .
0
Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 4:14 PM UTC
Glyph
Before there was anything that mattered everything that would ever be existed , it was the essence of totality , it was without dimensional constriction or necessitated form .  Optimistically speaking time had no relative realism to it’s progression because realistically nothing had happened yet .  As it continued it became according to it’s innate inflections as a functionally integrable form .  The questionably understandable nature of it’s conjunction was an omnipotent directive beyond necessitated action or morphological construction .  The enigmatic consciousness of it’s relatively interrelated conception was spontaneous and yet it continued without elemental omniscience . As the relative complexity of it’s interrelations evolved dimensional consistence was born.  Humanly understandable laws of physical integration governed many facets of it’s conjunction yet the totality of it’s ramification was beyond humanly realistic conjecture .   The organic morphology of biological ontogeny was a conceptually reflective derivative of functional physical mechanics yet it’s diversity exceeded it’s physical complexity , understanding evolved .  Relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity succeeded in a hierarchy of functionally integrable forms . Retrospectively speaking pragmatic practicality is a humanly rational possibility .  Rational logic can conceive of individually totalitarian structural forms , yet the implosive nature of their rational cohesiveness becomes a practical partiality due to the diversity of their definitive impetus . Perhaps the essence of our being is the logical counterpart for the matrix of our subjectively conclusive social fragmentation , or perhaps we are evolutionally incapable of cumulatively rational correlation .  Problematic diversity could be perfectible on an individually infinite level or contrarily perhaps ubiquitous causality is the ultimate survivor .   In any case it is beyond our subjugatively rational cohesive coercion to intercede en masse on our own behalf as an integrated unit. Our conceptual abilities have been thwarted by the unmitigatably individual nature of our extraneous conclusiveness .
Continue reading...
6
Not all tyrants wear funny clothes. They stand up in front of masses, shout a song of lies to totalitarian drumbeats. They are monsters wearing crocodile smiles.
0
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 12:42 PM UTC
Tyrant
A mind of a totalitarian man spreads his desires in every winged beat. His heart desires once more, that every lasting beat. Fading to black he seems to admire his own shadows more.. Truly diluted between then lines of fascination, nay here, never there, His heart desires once more, that every lasting beat. Crying the weeping delusions of his mind, his tears only resemble black. His heart desires once more, that every lasting beat. Shattered deluges of fractured thoughts, how one must weep at every disturbed thought. His heart no more desires that ever lasting beat.
0
Feb 5, 2014
Feb 5, 2014 at 5:28 AM UTC
Totalitarian man
_las mujeres nacen de la tierra en la gloria de la más alta_ dys·to·pi·an/disˈtōpēən/adjective: dystopian:                                relating to or denoting an imagined place                    or state in which everything is unpleasant or bad,       typically a totalitarian or environmentally degraded one;                _"the dystopian future of a society bereft of reason"_ noun: dystopian;                                plural noun: dystopians: a person who advocates or describes an imagined place or state in which everything is unpleasant or bad; "a lot of things those dystopians feared did not come true" [A dystopia from the Greek δυσ- "bad" & τόπος "place"; alternatively, _cacotopia, kakotopia_], or simply anti-utopia;      a community or society that is undesirable or frightening;  It is translated as "not-good place" &     is an antonym of utopia,                       a term coined by Sir Thomas More par·a·dise/ˈperəˌdīs/noun noun: paradise;                  plural noun: paradises in some religions; heaven as the ultimate abode of the just, heaven, the kingdom of heaven, the heavenly kingdom, Elysium, the Elysian Fields, Valhalla, Avalon;                                   "the souls in paradise" the abode of Adam and Eve before the Fall in the biblical account of Creation; the Garden of Eden/noun: Paradise, Eden "Adam and Eve's expulsion from Paradise" an ideal or idyllic place or State; "the surrounding countryside is a streetwalker's paradise" Utopia, Shangri-La, heaven, idyll, nirvana;                                                            "a tropical paradise"   bliss, heaven, ecstasy, delight, joy, happiness, nirvana, heaven on earth                  _a ********** who seeks customers on the street_                                        "this is sheer paradise!" Middle English:     from Old French paradis, via ecclesiastical Latin from Greek paradeisos ‘enclosed royal park,’       from Avestan pairidaēza ‘enclosure, park.’                                                                  _Superficies terræ puella_
0
Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 2:28 PM UTC
dystopian paradise [& streetwalkers]
_las mujeres nacen de la tierra en la gloria de la más alta_ dys·to·pi·an/disˈtōpēən/adjective: dystopian:                                relating to or denoting an imagined place                    or state in which everything is unpleasant or bad,       typically a totalitarian or environmentally degraded one;                _"the dystopian future of a society bereft of reason"_ noun: dystopian;                                plural noun: dystopians: a person who advocates or describes an imagined place or state in which everything is unpleasant or bad; "a lot of things those dystopians feared did not come true" [A dystopia from the Greek δυσ- "bad" & τόπος "place"; alternatively, _cacotopia, kakotopia_], or simply anti-utopia;      a community or society that is undesirable or frightening;  It is translated as "not-good place" &     is an antonym of utopia,                       a term coined by Sir Thomas More par·a·dise/ˈperəˌdīs/noun noun: paradise;                  plural noun: paradises in some religions; heaven as the ultimate abode of the just, heaven, the kingdom of heaven, the heavenly kingdom, Elysium, the Elysian Fields, Valhalla, Avalon;                                   "the souls in paradise" the abode of Adam and Eve before the Fall in the biblical account of Creation; the Garden of Eden/noun: Paradise, Eden "Adam and Eve's expulsion from Paradise" an ideal or idyllic place or State; "the surrounding countryside is a streetwalker's paradise" Utopia, Shangri-La, heaven, idyll, nirvana;                                                            "a tropical paradise"   bliss, heaven, ecstasy, delight, joy, happiness, nirvana, heaven on earth                  _a ********** who seeks customers on the street_                                        "this is sheer paradise!" Middle English:     from Old French paradis, via ecclesiastical Latin from Greek paradeisos ‘enclosed royal park,’       from Avestan pairidaēza ‘enclosure, park.’                                                                  _Superficies terræ puella_
Continue reading...
39
Within each and every one of us is a unique culture: Ethnocentrism reaches just as far inward as it does outward: Just because academia has imposed it's own fascist, totalitarian, absolute definitions does not mean that it has final say: i postulate such adacemic-fetishism is merely a byproduct of propaganda pushed by Big Money rather than a genuine insitution of respectable edification: that is i see it as a mere appeal to authority; a well-known logical fallacy to those who are in the know. Tread lightly. Modern Academics seems to be yet another corrupt branch of Business; little more. Academic achievement is not equivocal to intellectual worth: a graduate's degree is moreso a status symbol than it is a credential anymore. 'T'is vile idolatry in lieu of an individual's personal philosophy; that's not to say it's absolutely worthless, but it may as well be in today's job market (unless it's a business degree!) Then again, that's just my opinion. i guess i oughtta shut up before Edu-nazis shut me down. Oops, did i type that out loud? I'm so sorry, you see, vhat i meant to say vas: Heil Stanford! Heil Harvord! Heil Berkley! Heil vhat i am told zu heil! Heil zhe publishing companies! Heil zhe holders of student loans! Heil egredious student debt in lieu of philosophical discourse, let alone progress! Heil vhat i see on TV! Heil ******* Heil alkohol! Heil gasoline! Do not qvestion zhe dogma; go back zu sleep, you sheep!
0
Feb 25, 2016
Feb 25, 2016 at 4:33 PM UTC
Ethnocentrism [Education]
Diaphanous silk skirts glide gracefully around tiny ankles attached to perfect legs. And the string quartet plays in the background. Strong hands encircle a tightly cinched waste And breath brushes against a neck. Then the clock strikes midnight or the alarm sounds. The spell breaks, totalitarian reality invades. And dreams flutter away, evasive and light, Like diaphanous silk skirts.
0
Nov 14, 2011
Nov 14, 2011 at 2:51 AM UTC
Silk Skirts
*we are witness to atrocities committed by regime over its peoples over time* 1. we are witness.. shattering glass of reality arranged into chosen shard-feeds like omni-gov surveillance into meticulous mind-grafts spluttering eternal-stats for public mind control spewing mini-truths of perpetual war raids disillusionment of history forever rewritten control supply-and-demand create dark-cloaked dilemma and monitor shortage and famine make-believe elements so well played to auto-frenzied latch thinking is degraded and actions.. well, less said 2. diligent and loyal yet harbour secret-hatred feed visions stilted by politrix deception and manipulation propaganda is the oleaginous-game by wand-over-mind totalitarian is the kingpin-holder of cards and yet, who is really being played! eternal marionettes on a conveyor-belt can't even play with yourself alone your **** your **** your every move.. watched - surveyed - and studied by that ubiquitous-bulge eye you cannot escape right opposite your low hard-bed you're broken into popping-parts that YOU won't recognise! thoughtcrime-police is gonna accost ya get up, comrade.. get UUUUUUUUP! 3. we are witness life-tube covered in darkened vapour-swirls we are witness children conditioned to watch their parents.. too closely we are witness truth so smothered, now re-fed by repeat-metaphor we are witness dictata.. dictata.. we are witness austere existence in a tacky one-room flat we are witness subsist on black-wheat and imitation-repast we are witness regurgitate the party-dialect on and on and on (after a while, we end up half-believing.. ) *only the clock which strikes thirteen can smell the charred-reality as leftover-truth is shoved into incendiary obsolescence* tick-a-damn-tock and that would be.. one S T - 26 sept
0
Sep 26, 2013
Sep 26, 2013 at 11:53 AM UTC
we are witness..
*we are witness to atrocities committed by regime over its peoples over time* 1. we are witness.. shattering glass of reality arranged into chosen shard-feeds like omni-gov surveillance into meticulous mind-grafts spluttering eternal-stats for public mind control spewing mini-truths of perpetual war raids disillusionment of history forever rewritten control supply-and-demand create dark-cloaked dilemma and monitor shortage and famine make-believe elements so well played to auto-frenzied latch thinking is degraded and actions.. well, less said 2. diligent and loyal yet harbour secret-hatred feed visions stilted by politrix deception and manipulation propaganda is the oleaginous-game by wand-over-mind totalitarian is the kingpin-holder of cards and yet, who is really being played! eternal marionettes on a conveyor-belt can't even play with yourself alone your **** your **** your every move.. watched - surveyed - and studied by that ubiquitous-bulge eye you cannot escape right opposite your low hard-bed you're broken into popping-parts that YOU won't recognise! thoughtcrime-police is gonna accost ya get up, comrade.. get UUUUUUUUP! 3. we are witness life-tube covered in darkened vapour-swirls we are witness children conditioned to watch their parents.. too closely we are witness truth so smothered, now re-fed by repeat-metaphor we are witness dictata.. dictata.. we are witness austere existence in a tacky one-room flat we are witness subsist on black-wheat and imitation-repast we are witness regurgitate the party-dialect on and on and on (after a while, we end up half-believing.. ) *only the clock which strikes thirteen can smell the charred-reality as leftover-truth is shoved into incendiary obsolescence* tick-a-damn-tock and that would be.. one S T - 26 sept
Continue reading...
56
Turn the tables tumble through tears totalitarian thespians trying tired themes Tanned tenants thrive trespassing turtles turn towards tornadoes Tested trees tower tall tomorrow terrifies Timetraveller Tom. Again and again I have to make my choice between your fiery face and the endless maze But then I remember my heart is made up of a thousand tiny Belgian Waffles A thousand tiny Belgian Waffles.
0
Jan 30, 2016
Jan 30, 2016 at 11:06 AM UTC
Belgian Waffles
"Cheers!" and we drink to this totalitarian, patriarchal ****
0
Apr 10, 2016
Apr 10, 2016 at 6:36 PM UTC
Haiku #2
Do not call after me; I am gone. Just like the tumor of hope Which once rested on this man's Weak spirit: now crushed. Not harmed by sound nor sight But woken by this troubolous world, In which man's opinion serves only as Folly for this totalitarian hierarchy. The hierarchy of needs: the needs of pigs and Swine who rob us blind and order cuts only On those who cannot speak for themselves. These vultures target the weak. Not us who call for what is right; but those Whose sense of right is blurred and hazed By these high positions of power and praise. Such zeal for the wrong cause; such a shame. Be gone such parasites; be gone.
0
Oct 25, 2013
Oct 25, 2013 at 5:26 PM UTC
Government.
Totalitarian menace refined, tailored pants bleed malignance and fear. What stalks the passage, normally? Tear off my clothes, with subordinate cruelty and tortured fiefdom from the sun invading damp alleyways and musty cement corridors abet you enthroned on that sidewalk stump. I curb, the habit blindly happenstances about yore salty ruins we yodel, indiscriminately.
0
Jun 1, 2011
Jun 1, 2011 at 2:22 PM UTC
The Hydrant
Feathered Fiends by Michael R. Burch Fascists of a feather flock together. Alternate: Conformists of a feather flock together. I came up with the "Fascists of a Feather" epigram after Donald Trump repeatedly praised authoritarian "strong men" like Vladimir Putin, Kim Jong Un, Rodrigo Duterte, Xi Jinping and Recep Tayyip Erdoğan. Heroic Americans fought a war against fascism and many of them paid the ultimate price, so why is Trump giving comfort to the enemy of democracy? The alternate version of this couplet was written first and won a National Couplet Contest sponsored by the Society of Classical Poets. The couplet has now been published in one form or another on the websites of major newspapers and news services like TheHill.com, Haaretz.com (Israel), Crikey.com (Australia), Cleveland.com (as the headline of a letter to the editor), Reddit Political Humor, and Humane Conservatives Unite Blog. Sometimes the epigram is quoted in reader comments, sometimes by the writers of letters to the editor, and sometimes within articles. Keywords/Tags: fascists, flock, together, fascism, conformists, nazis, blackshirts, brownshirts, dictator, tyrant, autocrat, despot, totalitarian, cultist, militarist
0
Mar 25, 2020
Mar 25, 2020 at 12:48 AM UTC
Feathered Fiends
I pledge my absolute blind-faith and non-wavering allegiance to the Flag and the totalitarian, oligarchic Viertes ***** (fourth Kingdom) for which it stands, one nation wholly divided in any and all ways conceivable, hell bent on Global Military-Socioeconomic Conquest in the name of the same God as our enemies with liberty and justice for those who can afford it (Read: the excruciatingly wealthy).
0
Apr 19, 2013
Apr 19, 2013 at 5:43 PM UTC
Sieg Heil
Jew harp, Plath hearted, dream seamstress who sits in the dark. Who made me live here. In a small room inside my head, little dictator and I lit this place with music, just for you Where all sounds but songs are dead-headed Just before they bloom. Totalitarian angel, rage-filled fragile smoke who censored my tower of Babel. Who tamed my very rivers of song to breathe the moon-tones as vapor, until as a sun you’d rise to scar these rivers, every single one wherever you find them, with your face. No matter how they run. Paranoid animal with an understandable aversion to caress and kinetic poetry. Damsel who births her own dragons like the fertility of hell, again and again. Life and love belong to the monsters the monsters you make of them but all of them I’d befriend. and I wonder. I could chew my pen hand off snared coyote. I could swallow my tongue dancing to dead note barks. I could visually inhale that sun. Take in all I can. To get the eyelid ink spots. The branded silhouettes busying my eyes as I sleep each night as I sleep. Without this allergy to identity you could turn this world backwards in me. That hell of a snow-globe you hold if only you knew what kind of world you controlled.
0
Mar 30, 2014
Mar 30, 2014 at 5:57 PM UTC
Jew harp
If I were firece and bald and short of breath I'd be the headmaster of a secondary school. A spotted face boy cries "fight, fight, fight!" A scrap has begun outside the school. Greasy adolescents hurry to the scene To find a boy - bloodied - face down in the gravel. Instead of showing sympathy, they portray their callous nature. The mob-mentality reigns supreme As he is mocked and jeered by ***** fingers Of adolescent monkeys. Meanwhile, in the corridors of the school A sea of gray sways, as agitated 6th years Barge their way through piles and piles Of nervous first years. Sweaty fingers clutch chewed-on pens, Taking down their futures from the board. The vacant stare of the class fool is aimed toward The blank, unpainted walls. Were they ever painted? Or did god create them bland? The footworn halls of our totalitarian dictatorship Are kept active only by the zealous actions of our 'noble' teachers. Every morning they arrive at a job they resent, And see teachers whose eyes mirror their despair, Then they feign a smile and proceed With the monotonous task of teaching Brain-dead, narcissistic, trogleydtes. Exciting. "All in all we're all just bricks in the wall."
0
Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 4:58 PM UTC
Ode to teachers.
T is for trials, Tribulations & torment... Terrorists trippin Totalitarian governments Two cents just spent. Teachable yet I'm still Treacherous ... Take it in, just because I, can. Thought that I told you, to tell me to take it tonight!? Tomorrow will, totally be alright Tormented by temptations of drownin it all... in alcohol & Tramadol Through the valley I rest Tested by fires inside of my chest Toast to the Ghost close eyes & Then welcome rest.
0
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 8:41 PM UTC
Mr. T
You my Eraser My words entering a vaume of contempt and your pompous praise My glass is raised to you As my head bows in subjugation To you my muzzle To you my totalitarian regime To you my censor; Never directly scolding Never directly Only molding fear and unrest with well postulated questions Sculpting hesitations Eradicating my compulsions, erasing my freedom, of expression
0
Feb 15, 2013
Feb 15, 2013 at 3:32 PM UTC
eraser.erasim.
I can hear them. There is not one, but might be hundreds of them lurking behind these rickety wood walls. He is watching. The party has always been watching. I can control my thoughts. Cogito ergo sum. This is my world, no one can touch me. These are my thoughts, my heart beats for what is good for me. My hands scrawling, my brain is just scribbling. Yet, I’ve known from the start that I am a dead man. I didn’t commit adultery, I followed them. I am alive, I can feel my heart racing. My blood all over my body... reminds me why I’m here. To survive and live, yet I am still a dead man. I am no mute, but I can’t speak. While writing this I can picture my hands and feet with shackles, wounds of torture. I’ve been always a dead man. The prole doesn’t know. They need to know. They should stop listening or watching the telescreen. They should strive to dig the Oldspeak. Oh, right. Who dares to doublethink against a totalitarian regime anyway? The guns are always on their hands. The war is always going. It’s always here. The past... is always here. We don’t see it, but it’s here! There’s nowhere to run or hide, the world tried. I will be the next unperson, vaporising in the history of Oceania. They won’t remember. They’ll try not to remember. We are a nobody. Winston was right. I can feel the boot stamping on my face. This is the future. My voice... is a thought crime, will never be accepted in this society. I am a dead man. I am ready... the Thought Police has been always watching me. The INGSOC. Big Brother. I will never love him! But I am ready to be trap in the place where there is no darkness. I am ready... for the Ministry of Love. I won’t ever, ever love Big Brother! I do not care, for I am already a dead man!
0
Nov 7, 2017
Nov 7, 2017 at 10:38 PM UTC
I, You, We... a Dead Man (1984)
I can hear them. There is not one, but might be hundreds of them lurking behind these rickety wood walls. He is watching. The party has always been watching. I can control my thoughts. Cogito ergo sum. This is my world, no one can touch me. These are my thoughts, my heart beats for what is good for me. My hands scrawling, my brain is just scribbling. Yet, I’ve known from the start that I am a dead man. I didn’t commit adultery, I followed them. I am alive, I can feel my heart racing. My blood all over my body... reminds me why I’m here. To survive and live, yet I am still a dead man. I am no mute, but I can’t speak. While writing this I can picture my hands and feet with shackles, wounds of torture. I’ve been always a dead man. The prole doesn’t know. They need to know. They should stop listening or watching the telescreen. They should strive to dig the Oldspeak. Oh, right. Who dares to doublethink against a totalitarian regime anyway? The guns are always on their hands. The war is always going. It’s always here. The past... is always here. We don’t see it, but it’s here! There’s nowhere to run or hide, the world tried. I will be the next unperson, vaporising in the history of Oceania. They won’t remember. They’ll try not to remember. We are a nobody. Winston was right. I can feel the boot stamping on my face. This is the future. My voice... is a thought crime, will never be accepted in this society. I am a dead man. I am ready... the Thought Police has been always watching me. The INGSOC. Big Brother. I will never love him! But I am ready to be trap in the place where there is no darkness. I am ready... for the Ministry of Love. I won’t ever, ever love Big Brother! I do not care, for I am already a dead man!
Continue reading...
15
Hanging from your words Like Jon Wayne Gacy Over the concrete slabs of Babylon. The women and children gather in the square To celebrate the suicide of a totalitarian. We've seen it before, but this time In your arms It will never repeat. Endtimes. Nagasaki. Why can't we lie here until paralyzed? Let's just stay here until it's televised As a sit-down strike against stars undefined Communism capitalized, now I can die. Living is over-rated I want to get lost In your chest. I want nothing more than To be crushed Slowly By the force of your thighs. Lost in the raspberry tinge of a sigh Swimming til drowning, til choking alive Treading blood limply, floating inside Dead in the river of your bloodstream. Taken by rapids To disintegrate In your eyes.
0
Aug 10, 2010
Aug 10, 2010 at 12:01 PM UTC
To Become Your Vitals
I am the lone insurgent Walking through the streets of my own mind. My mind Is a totalitarian state. I am the lone assassin Of the members of parliament, Remember, in my own mind. I am ratted out By the shrill shrieks Of an old lady on the tram. I walk home from endless meetings With myself, where him And me plot our rebellion Sparking the ember, remember; In my own mind. The Secret Police awaits Probably in my living room Waiting for me to turn on the lights Revealing the glint of silver nozzles Mere millimeters from my my head. The warrant proclaims: "Conspiracy and ****** I may be lone, but my hand Wields just vindication. I may be lone, But as I am executed There is still me And another will always Follow Striking the ember, remember; In my own mind.
0
Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 8:34 PM UTC
Lone Insurgent