"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 .
Aug 12, 2018
Aug 12, 2018 at 5:15 PM UTC
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.
Mar 6, 2013
Mar 6, 2013 at 2:00 AM UTC
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
Oct 31, 2018
Oct 31, 2018 at 11:06 PM UTC
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 .
Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 4:14 PM UTC
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.
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 12:42 PM UTC
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.
Feb 5, 2014
Feb 5, 2014 at 5:28 AM UTC
_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_
Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 2:28 PM UTC
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!
Feb 25, 2016
Feb 25, 2016 at 4:33 PM UTC
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.
Nov 14, 2011
Nov 14, 2011 at 2:51 AM UTC
*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
Sep 26, 2013
Sep 26, 2013 at 11:53 AM UTC
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.
Jan 30, 2016
Jan 30, 2016 at 11:06 AM UTC
"Cheers!" and we drink to
this totalitarian,
patriarchal ****
Apr 10, 2016
Apr 10, 2016 at 6:36 PM UTC
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.
Oct 25, 2013
Oct 25, 2013 at 5:26 PM UTC
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.
Jun 1, 2011
Jun 1, 2011 at 2:22 PM UTC
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
Mar 25, 2020
Mar 25, 2020 at 12:48 AM UTC
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).
Apr 19, 2013
Apr 19, 2013 at 5:43 PM UTC
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.
Mar 30, 2014
Mar 30, 2014 at 5:57 PM UTC
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."
Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 4:58 PM UTC
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.
Jan 20, 2015
Jan 20, 2015 at 8:41 PM UTC
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
Feb 15, 2013
Feb 15, 2013 at 3:32 PM UTC
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!
Nov 7, 2017
Nov 7, 2017 at 10:38 PM UTC
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.
Aug 10, 2010
Aug 10, 2010 at 12:01 PM UTC
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.
Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 8:34 PM UTC