"undemocratic" poems - Hello Poetry

“Humankind: be kind – be One! I am appalled at what’s been done. Benign intentions must restrain us. Hate should never entertain us.” The toad comedian Ban Ki-Moon croaked a pitiful One-World tune while gunmen paused, reloaded, armed checked that they had no comrades harmed – and then prepared for further battle against the clueless kuffar cattle. Ban stood upright to intervene; surveyed the terrorific scene… muezzins chanted, mullahs chuckled swords were sharpened, bomb-vests buckled. Dhimmi dim-wits went on shopping. (Are heads in sand less prone to chopping ?) Hesitating, he cleared his throat, raised his pitch by a quarter note: “These acts are most undemocratic We are saddened; yet emphatic – “ (no one heard his discourse further drowned by the sound of massive ****** So let’s consider what is meant by rolling heads and bodies splattered… time for Truth to represent (as if such inconvenience mattered…) Such events disturb our sleep and force us to compose, on waking, lullabies for drowsy sheep as predators are overtaking. Flags of doom and holy slaughter, sons of Ishmael filled with rage are coming for your wife and daughter and yourself. You turn the page. Rising now to storm your tower (7th century back to bite you), Allah brings satanic power to convert you or to smite you. ****** dhimmis would have us think such rage is due to unemployment; pure confusion on the brink of funding further troop deployment. Meanwhile, mullahs sip their tea while tenured academics prattle watching MSNBC as soldiers die in battle.

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Sep 9, 2015

Sep 9, 2015 at 8:31 PM UTC

connecthook

Benighted Nations

“Humankind: be kind – be One! I am appalled at what’s been done. Benign intentions must restrain us. Hate should never entertain us.” The toad comedian Ban Ki-Moon croaked a pitiful One-World tune while gunmen paused, reloaded, armed checked that they had no comrades harmed – and then prepared for further battle against the clueless kuffar cattle. Ban stood upright to intervene; surveyed the terrorific scene… muezzins chanted, mullahs chuckled swords were sharpened, bomb-vests buckled. Dhimmi dim-wits went on shopping. (Are heads in sand less prone to chopping ?) Hesitating, he cleared his throat, raised his pitch by a quarter note: “These acts are most undemocratic We are saddened; yet emphatic – “ (no one heard his discourse further drowned by the sound of massive ****** So let’s consider what is meant by rolling heads and bodies splattered… time for Truth to represent (as if such inconvenience mattered…) Such events disturb our sleep and force us to compose, on waking, lullabies for drowsy sheep as predators are overtaking. Flags of doom and holy slaughter, sons of Ishmael filled with rage are coming for your wife and daughter and yourself. You turn the page. Rising now to storm your tower (7th century back to bite you), Allah brings satanic power to convert you or to smite you. ****** dhimmis would have us think such rage is due to unemployment; pure confusion on the brink of funding further troop deployment. Meanwhile, mullahs sip their tea while tenured academics prattle watching MSNBC as soldiers die in battle.

46

Darker than six combined winter mid nights The uneducated minds For they know not when and how to use their knowledge Knowledge without character Is tea without sugar The superior complex do As the inferior complex do other wise Life has the wise and the other wise Those that stand things before understanding Undemocratic knowledge Retaliate democratic knowledge Global democrats Are likened to a boxing ring ‘Jab, hook and uppercut!’ Opponents hit each other hard And destroy not each other. Gracious, after a tough contestant Embrace each other with unity of purpose It’s indeed a game and gambling of knowledge Confidence building knowledge Vision-less vision knowledge Knowledge engulfed by the hocus-pocus Vampire of' ‘Anointed' knowledge Illogical malicious transmitters of words Utter knowledge with utter amazement Indeed, Knowledge is power Power to do evil...or power to do good. No thief, however skilful, can rob one of knowledge, and that is why knowledge is the best and safest treasure to acquire L. Frank Baum accurately observed “The greatest enemy of knowledge is not illiteracy , It's how we illusion knowledge

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Apr 27, 2019

Apr 27, 2019 at 7:13 PM UTC

dumisani-ndlovu

Knowledge

Darker than six combined winter mid nights The uneducated minds For they know not when and how to use their knowledge Knowledge without character Is tea without sugar The superior complex do As the inferior complex do other wise Life has the wise and the other wise Those that stand things before understanding Undemocratic knowledge Retaliate democratic knowledge Global democrats Are likened to a boxing ring ‘Jab, hook and uppercut!’ Opponents hit each other hard And destroy not each other. Gracious, after a tough contestant Embrace each other with unity of purpose It’s indeed a game and gambling of knowledge Confidence building knowledge Vision-less vision knowledge Knowledge engulfed by the hocus-pocus Vampire of' ‘Anointed' knowledge Illogical malicious transmitters of words Utter knowledge with utter amazement Indeed, Knowledge is power Power to do evil...or power to do good. No thief, however skilful, can rob one of knowledge, and that is why knowledge is the best and safest treasure to acquire L. Frank Baum accurately observed “The greatest enemy of knowledge is not illiteracy , It's how we illusion knowledge

32

There is poetry in ***** plates,in the demo and undemocratic states of undress unless of course I am mistaken. I see it everywhere, in the **** on the street in the litter that people keep dropping poetry in what I see and what I see is poetry, foul mouthed,open mouthed and blast it out,shoot from the lips,shoot from the hips,nicetones,ricetones,break the bones of your audience,if they had any sense they'd be up on the stage venting their lines in prose or in rhymes. On page thirty three when they write a book about me there will be this; If you don't like me to rhyme you still have the time to **** off. No apology friends my life is a means to an end and the end when it comes will run into many more ends,many more friends and poetry goes on,in the dead and the gone,in the fast and the quick,lick your lips have a go,put your poetry on show just do it or go on your way.

0

Jul 10, 2014

Jul 10, 2014 at 8:15 AM UTC

john-edward-smallshaw

...and what would you call it?

There is poetry in ***** plates,in the demo and undemocratic states of undress unless of course I am mistaken. I see it everywhere, in the **** on the street in the litter that people keep dropping poetry in what I see and what I see is poetry, foul mouthed,open mouthed and blast it out,shoot from the lips,shoot from the hips,nicetones,ricetones,break the bones of your audience,if they had any sense they'd be up on the stage venting their lines in prose or in rhymes. On page thirty three when they write a book about me there will be this; If you don't like me to rhyme you still have the time to **** off. No apology friends my life is a means to an end and the end when it comes will run into many more ends,many more friends and poetry goes on,in the dead and the gone,in the fast and the quick,lick your lips have a go,put your poetry on show just do it or go on your way.

14

In somewhere there's a factory that churns out coffee beans for free Fields of labourers adjusting dials and fixing temperatures to give that roasted natural feel but peel away the skin, look in and then behind the outlines, find what's really in the *** I think it's something that somewhere they also put into the air to keep us drugged, doped up and roped. I like coffee anyway or what they pass off as coffee for those of us who cannot pay men like me who have no say who have no way to regulate the god **** awful state that thing have gotten into and you, yes you who could have been so capable just rested on your laurels with your feet tucked underneath the towers of some undemocratic babel and left the somewhere to its own devices, vices and corruptions erupting into plastic wastelands, I do believe these factories are built upon the skin and bones of dead men and dead telephones, no signs or signals emanate what a ******* awful state. But I do like coffee, I do, I do and if I say it often enough you'll come to like it too and the whole rotten crew from Westminster know we do and that's their edge.

0

Jun 5, 2015

Jun 5, 2015 at 4:02 AM UTC

john-edward-smallshaw

'Move over darling'

In somewhere there's a factory that churns out coffee beans for free Fields of labourers adjusting dials and fixing temperatures to give that roasted natural feel but peel away the skin, look in and then behind the outlines, find what's really in the *** I think it's something that somewhere they also put into the air to keep us drugged, doped up and roped. I like coffee anyway or what they pass off as coffee for those of us who cannot pay men like me who have no say who have no way to regulate the god **** awful state that thing have gotten into and you, yes you who could have been so capable just rested on your laurels with your feet tucked underneath the towers of some undemocratic babel and left the somewhere to its own devices, vices and corruptions erupting into plastic wastelands, I do believe these factories are built upon the skin and bones of dead men and dead telephones, no signs or signals emanate what a ******* awful state. But I do like coffee, I do, I do and if I say it often enough you'll come to like it too and the whole rotten crew from Westminster know we do and that's their edge.

6

Hurricane Prep At dawn to the gas station, before the crowds Assemble in undemocratic lines Then hours of busting knuckles and language On the generator long-stored and ignored All the old lawn chairs stacked and stowed away A “H*** Storm Brewing in the Gulf” – oh, no! Water bottles stacking in the laundry room Hyperbole stacking on the radio Menacing winds roaming among the trees - But we are ready with double-A batteries!

0

Aug 25, 2017

Aug 25, 2017 at 5:31 PM UTC

lawrence-hall

Facing a Hurricane with Double-A Batteries

Hurricane Prep At dawn to the gas station, before the crowds Assemble in undemocratic lines Then hours of busting knuckles and language On the generator long-stored and ignored All the old lawn chairs stacked and stowed away A “H*** Storm Brewing in the Gulf” – oh, no! Water bottles stacking in the laundry room Hyperbole stacking on the radio Menacing winds roaming among the trees - But we are ready with double-A batteries!

11