"totalitarianism" poems
American Democracy
is setting a trend:
American Democracy
is a Sitcom, or perhaps a Game Show
of demagogic, narcissistic sociopaths
tricking and manipulating the Public
via various sources in a highly consolidated Media industry
into thinking they vote for a particular flavor of Tyranny
when in reality Today's flavor of Tyranny is all decided for you
because the burden of Choice is far too stressful
for the Moderner without proper medication,
and the power of Choice may require some sort of educated critical Thinking,
some sort of re-edification
which is far too much for us to handle
in this socially sanctioned doped-up state
and with such an intentionally failing Education system
from K through 12 and beyond.
With American Democracy,
We have a grand Illusion of Choice.
It's so convincing that many believe the Illusion is True.
(Sort of like hew we think of Reality, but with Choice of Government!)
For American Democracy,
They don't want mass Education.
They don't want mass Edification.
They don't want Critical Thinking;
Those things prevent a Control by few.
In American Democracy,
They intentionally destroy progresses made, like Rights,
They perpetuate stigmas about things like genders and the concept of "race" itself
They propagate Terror as their Sheeple scream from the sidelines for more
They defile the sanctity of Human Experience, of Reality itself
and chain us to a system that benefits only a few
while destroying everything else,
like Climate and Environment.
These Demagogues are Satan, if Satan is real:
They tempt us with the things we don't need,
filling us with Stress, Desires, Prejudices and Fears,
and ceaselessly wage war on institutions of Education,
all the while keeping us from finding the things we already have within each of us.
This System of American Democracy
has degraded into a corrupted fractal
of the ages-old ways of Tyranny and Terror:
Aristocracy, Plutocracy,
Patriarchy, Oligarchy,
Kleptocracy, Demagoguery,
Bankocracy, Corporatocracy,
Fascism;
Tell me,
What is the ******* difference?
I mean,
even Adolf ****** was elected democratically
under the pretense of "Change"
then, for weeks later, suspended civil rights indefinitely
after a likely false-flag 'attack' on the Reichstag in 1933,
(for which the Nazis blamed the communists.)
under the pretense of "Security":
Demagoguery runs Amok
Among disedified Minds.
They say "Freedom" and "Democracy"
as if it vindicates their Totalitarianism.
Jun 2, 2013
Jun 2, 2013 at 10:36 PM UTC
Among the most necessary things
for the survival of intellectual constructs
(such as personal rights, privileges, and information in general)
is the notion of Satyagraha, as coined by Gandhi:
The notion of Peaceful Non-Compliance
to the ******** of your time.
It is truly Compassion manifest.
Civil Disobedience is a Virtue
of which you will never hear in our Schools or Churches
or on packages at Wal-Mart
or from Politicians.
Civil Disobedience is the Voice
that cannot be taken until your Death.
Civil Disobedience is the Music and pulse
of a truly living Culture.
Civil Disobedience is the respectful denial to conform
to the laws imposed and policies enacted
by those who are undeserving of such power,
or those who abuse the power they so grandiosely wield.
Civil Disobedience is necessary
for the survival of a thriving popular Democracy,
and thus is punished by the Authoritarians
who use Democracy as a veil for Totalitarianism.
Civil Disobedience is the only vote you'll ever be guaranteed in your life.
It is Democracy seeking refuge in Vigilantism,
It is Anarchy embodying the greater good.
It is what must be done in the face of Oppression by Authority.
I most sincerely and personally maintain:
Civil Disobedience is a Virtue,
Civil Disobedience is a Need,
Civil Disobedience is a Philosophy.
Civil Disobedience is Peace and Harmony
in the faces of Chaos and Tyranny.
Civil Disobedience;
Peaceful Non-Compliance
Respectful Dissent
Informed Resistance.
Pacifism is not for the faint of Heart.
-\-
*Then again,
the options are few
when we couldn't fight back
if we needed to.*
Apr 7, 2013
Apr 7, 2013 at 7:43 PM UTC
Where are those killing fields?
They are wherever we see
The Master Race ignoring
Peace, love and equality.
If you’re not white
And your state is red,
Don’t be surprised
If you end up dead.
As maybe some one
Will beat on your head
And demand to know
What goes on in your bed.
If you are any race
But Holy Caucasian
Like African or Inuit,
Mexican or Asian
That includes Islam
And all such nations
The bigots will hate
On every occasion.
Where are those killing fields?
They are wherever we see
The Master Race ignoring
Peace, love and equality.
In World War Two we
Fought against fascism
And now we entertain
An unholy American schism
In which Americans plan
With gleeful fanaticism
To make every effort
To maintain totalitarianism.
For over two centuries
We have sung of equality
And the inalienable rights
Of American humanity.
We continue to fight now
But it has become a calamity
Because now we are fighting
Within each of our families.
Where are those killing fields?
They are wherever we see
The Master Race ignoring
Peace, love and equality.
May 20, 2016
May 20, 2016 at 5:57 PM UTC
For love to flourish
Some ideas on life we need to punish
And for unity to feel unified
Some old philosophies should be denied
A universal charter of peace
One that imprisons any aggressor with no signs of an early release
Third world or new world, rich and poor
Eternally searching for so much more
At breaking point and primed for implosion
Standing at the towns gates and cheering totalitarianism on its arduous march into expulsion
As masses we move in uncertain terms
Living to absorb , to almost defend the disease, the genetic germs
The crowd ask questions, seek answers of clarity
Settling no more for the disgust of others impunity
Maybe the balance will tilt
And the toxic flowers of the current state of affairs begin to wilt
Global humanity free to exist and have an honest future of preservation
Not just confined to a future in some wildlife conservation
Mar 1, 2016
Mar 1, 2016 at 4:33 PM UTC
I am in cold. I watch that garish ward brimming with false light. Bleached air from his lips touching hers. He hides in her mane, sterile and alone. Why is it so hard, such an insurmountable task for you to see how I lather my face with paint each day just to smile at you?
My face, my heart, my mind not a blank canvas that I hide with these diluted pastels but a deep, rich chorus of colors and oils that were never meant to be hidden. But the ward will never know.
There are thoughts and opinions rolling like a torrent behind this mask I call a face. This world was against me from day one, don’t you dare say I’ve given way to cynicism. Nor optimism, pessimism, or God-forsaken realism. Can't I think the earth is beautiful, God is good, I am right, and people are wrong without someone putting an -ism behind me? Of course not. That's narcissism. Egoism. Egalitarianism.
It is what I unknowingly wrote across my mask. But I never chose to attend this outdated ball, masquerades are cliched. Pure romanticism...surrealism, the kin of commercialism whose visage is a polychromatic wheel of logotypes that you just have to know en masse.
What if I stop believing that compassion Himself can hate me? No, no that's atheism. Agnosticism. And if I'm better than someone because He said so then that is monotheism in all it's delicate flavors.
Can't I breathe alone in a quiet corner? Isolationism. Can't I want to simply be a follower, and think about life, literature, and art? Incomprehensible, that would be totalitarianism, absolutism, authoritarianism. What if I want to give God all the power He gave us, and watch the world change? Fascism. Revolutionism. Extremism, because releasing the wheel is extremism. Existentialism.
And what if I choose to remove the mask, break the levees, release the floodgates, my thoughts and opinions, never watch my tongue, and speak the world as it is: A capital M-madman's schism of logic and faith. As it has always been, and always will be. I will always be in love with the counterfeit ward. And yes, there's a label for that: Catastrophism.
So I watch Beauty and his Beast touching in fluorescence. Bleached breath, save for the smoke of his lungs in hers. Sterile and alone; I am in cold, and cold hurts me.
Mar 4, 2012
Mar 4, 2012 at 3:15 AM UTC
Listen to the stories
men tell of last year
that sound of other places
though they happened here
Listen to a name
so private it can burn
hear it said aloud
and learn and learn
History is a needle
for putting men asleep
anointed with the poison
of all they want to keep
Now a name that saved you
has a foreign taste
claims a foreign body
froze in last year’s waste
And what is living lingers
while monuments are built
then yields its final whisper
to letters raised in gilt
But cries of stifled ripeness
whip me to my knees
I am with the falling snow
falling in the seas
I am with the hunters
hungry and shrewd
and I am with the hunted
quick and soft and ****
I am with the houses
that wash away in rain
and leave no teeth of pillars
to rake them up again
Let men numb names
scratch winds that blow
listen to the stories
but what you know you know
And knowing is enough
for mountains such as these
where nothing long remains
houses walls or trees
<~>
“I would recommend On Hearing a Name Long Unspoken. This poem is from Cohen’s 1964 collection, Flowers for ****** which deals with the trauma of the Holocaust and its legacy in 1960s Canada. In this book Cohen describes himself as a ‘front-line writer’ trying to understand totalitarianism, and the poems aim to critique his readers’ complacency in the violence of the world wars, anti-Semitism and colonialism. In On Hearing a Name Long Unspoken, Cohen asks his readers to consider how atrocities ‘that sound of other places’ also ‘happened here.’ He wants us to remember the lives of real people, to remember where people have found solidarity and protection, as well as how they have been oppressed because he is concerned that the stories that are told about the past will make it feel distant and unreal.”
KAIT PINDER, assistant professor of English at Acadia University
Apr 2, 2022
Apr 2, 2022 at 3:24 PM UTC
Metaphorical stringency
Idiotic transgression
Coat this democratic autocracy
Flailing capitalism slowly drowns
Splashing freedom in the face;
Obeying party goers
Stand as if a wall,
Indeed they are
A rich, extravagant barricade
Of outcasts
As pariahs under cloak
Stab the new age constitution;
Egocentric totalitarianism will sway
At the sight of a metaphysical blade
And the ghastly crown
Will topple to the bottom
The country has shed her lizard skin
Regurgitating for her new flock
Feeding a new set
Of avaricious minds
Oct 8, 2012
Oct 8, 2012 at 3:32 AM UTC
So you got robbed. Don't think of yourself as a victim. Look at it as an expression of the robber's occupational and social deficits. Don't let it traumatize you for life. After all, can you compare it to being murdered? We need to have some appreciation for scale here. We don't want to go back to the Victorian notion that people are fragile flowers who can't handle having a gun pointed at them and losing a few dollars. That's a form of condescension, after all.
You're complaining about a burglary? Some men see a mere doorknob lock as a flirtation. And surely we don't want to see the end of flirtations and seductions! Must we all now install deadbolts and security systems? What's next--chastity belts? What happened to joie de vivre and devil-may-care?
So a drunk driver hit your car. Do you really want to have him arrested? It was a misunderstanding; he didn't realize that four cocktails and driving are technically illegal. And should they be? Do we want to criminalize ordinary reckless behavior? Haven't we all done something a bit foolish or clumsy in our younger days? Do we want a society in which everyone has to be careful what they do, all the time? A society in which people must count their drinks before getting behind the wheel? We are moving away from the ideals of a liberal democracy and toward totalitarianism!
So you were murdered. You can look at is as an opportunity to learn more about what happens after death. Your career was ended and your earthly form deteriorated, but that's not the end of the world. Now you live as a memory, and people appreciate you more. What doesn't **** you makes you stronger, and what kills you enshrines. There is honor in being dead. It is time we brought back the old virtues!
Jan 15, 2018
Jan 15, 2018 at 8:21 AM UTC
Oh for a world without wars!
Free of terrorists.
Where each and every one of us
Can go about our daily lives
Without any fear.
But I read somewhere
That there may be a price to pay:
Loss of Freedom.
Think of the USSR, or better still, Yugoslavia.
Ruled by rods of iron
These counties showed us facades
Of calm.
But once those dictatorships disappeared then
Those underlying differences emerged.
The Balkan States were a case in point:
When Yugoslavia went
All hell broke out!
So when I suggested that
A benevolent world government
Might cure our ills,
A warning was shot across my bows:
“Be careful what you wish for!”
For what good is “Peace”
When no one dare speak out
Or act in a “different” way?
“1984” soon springs to mind:
Droves of mindless clones
Dumbed down by drugs
And Media driven hypnosis.
Totalitarianism at its worst.
What we really need is an end to violence
And every other form of Abuse.
Free thought
Married with respect and tolerance
To our fellow men
And women.
World Peace only comes free
When the people are free too.
Freedom of the individual
Based on mutual respect
And better still
On Love.
Paul Butters
Jul 2, 2017
Jul 2, 2017 at 6:11 AM UTC
I do not stand alone,
Thinking that in this world,
There is something unknown.
Unknown is the reason for greed,
For wealth and harboring, A ******
A sickness untreated to allow innocence to bleed.
Unknown is the reason for racism,
Spoken slanders and propaganda's,
Media's misguided music to masses for totalitarianism.
Unknown is the need to be accepted,
A collection of emotions to be displayed,
Not being ourselves - The worst, portrayed.
I need not know a lot for I know this,
That love overcomes all and ties us together,
In an intercontinental consciousness.
I know this because walls have been brought down,
Children play where none were once found,
People still rejoice in helping, healing and sound.
I need not know a lot because this, I have found.
Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 1:16 AM UTC
The Chinese wall
Stained with teacup & wandering
Chatter and white texture
Of table and screen in eye flashing
A personal ideal
You and your entitled insomnia
Making blonde dogs hurt for a summer
Or a saxophone
Me and my twelve hour staircase speech
Aiding a circus
Or a bleeding taxicab
Way of thinking about a moon
Full of dental light
It doesn't need to be a dreadful
Sadness alone on this street
I can be a child too
The symposium of fastened
Yellow sounds
Being sent by radio tower to
The head of a gated individual who hasn't sung something fresh in far too long
& quite frankly
The ones who wear ***** dresses have had enough!
Enough of totalitarianism
And the debate of a sidewalk under fire
&prayer;
the seat of a desolate minstrel
Who can believe in your
Fantastical idols??
Not the airport who's burning fur hat
Lifts a feather to the
Palace of night
And ..... Now
We expect burdened coronations
Or the theater to put on
A clatter of
Simplicity
I have no wide stepping
The alarm has rung for the strange ostrich
One may attempt to love absolutely
Renouncement finds pleasure in
Renouncing itself
Jan 21, 2017
Jan 21, 2017 at 2:29 AM UTC
The bronze-scorched mud knobbed unhinged sculpture grows
Cinderella down to root knots, ground is grubbed
chapped hats of acorns hit porticoes before snows
honeybees cake their hives closed and wax hubbed
humiliation hardens as color dapples
swelling seed-commas split beneath the frost
piety’s ignored until next year’s apples
night sky is grape-leafed, blackberry sauced
ineffable brutes grow cold to the pinnacle
rhetorical dross groundswells legislations
the long-legged wind tramples our spectacle
rains mock each leaf into pickled munitions
rocks are nothing but hermitages sent by the moon
prescient hardness sets its chin to the ground
hankering for battle, totalitarianism thrives by noon
each soldered twig unloomed, unraveled, uncrowned
we have severed ties to reason’s substantial contents
in the muddle it’s not the empowerment you had
democracy dies bewildered blind with miscontents
unhinged, unconcerned to find the hanging chad
we’re scissored down to our primary chaos all
paralogisms who dwell in a dream that justifies our fall.
Nov 11, 2017
Nov 11, 2017 at 12:15 PM UTC
Where are the thoughtful s, the brilliants
those young Turks of mine times with tomes ablaze
the searing searches for wisdom in flights of discoveries
soaring into heightened ideas and dives in Philosophy pools
sparring with edifices of futures past and present yet to show
The magic of minds invigorated anew
knowledge incoming and endless forays in disciplines testings
midnight oils burning as brains are lit and wonders founds in old
new skills come in and in growth and understandings you dance
versatility you embrace in bloom of maturity and richness in minds
Talk Shakespeare and see Homer with Sartre
ratios and equations take on compounds and Periodic Tables
the ***** in biology makes ******* covers even more relate-able
Byron says it sweetly and Solzhenitsyn talks Gulag in Mein Kampf
one day in Imperialism while another in Totalitarianism all ideas
My kingdom for knowledge and the trained minds
oh such joy the vista of erudition and peace of understanding
the harvesting of a million lights to banish fears and shame duds
confidence of the unconfined thoughts and enamored teachers
the august seat in a world where diversity is undreaded and calm
Thus never a war of minds or feigned stances
nothing akin to the posturing fakes and usurpers dim et vacant
or them charlatans lacking gainful foundations in pretentious airs
bovine bullies coated in ignorance manifesting idiocies a la pride
sham laughable buffoons strangling Art for art sake, dopes for free
So look below and see the infertile minds in fallow
base and dank coarse and idle with the occasional sprouts
incapable in essence limited in orientations like a pack of jackals
ignorant and belligerent or puffed up in fear like a capon in anger
nothing enlightened, positive, constructive or gainful just angst
mired in the blame game with limited senses and ignorance raving
Oct 18, 2019
Oct 18, 2019 at 9:12 AM UTC