Best Authoritarian Poems
Motherland…
I am a desert, barren and hot.
Hoping for the rain, which I forgot.
Once, I was green, golden, and bright.
Nightingales singing night after night.
My fresh breeze at dawn was ever nice,
Showered me blossoms like paradise.
Year after year, I dressed up in green.
Green and reddish with white in between.
Until I became older than old,
All I have now is darkness and cold.
I lost all of my glory and youth,
Hope death is not the end or the truth.
I had so many kings that were tall,
Now, I am filled with filth that they crawl.
Tired of being a desert that’s old,
Thousands and thousands of years to be told.
Cyrus and Darius lived within me.
Now I am barren; how could it be?
I am now desert far from the sea;
They burned my soul so no one can see.
Empty and lonely, thirsty and dry,
hope for the rain and generous sky.
Hope for someone to answer my cry,
Wash up my tears, and don’t let me die.
I need a hero like the old times,
Come and wash me from all the crimes.
Come to me, my love, my lovely rain,
shower me with love, get rid of pain.
If you come back and shower me, fine
promise I give you, I'll drink your wine.
For me, rain is love; love is my life.
To live without love is endless strife.
I want to become a jungle of love,
making love and being free as a dove.
I am now dying, dying of thirst,
Hope for a drizzle; first thing is first.
1/28/20 Haloo
Note: Motherland is Iran, the birthplace of civilizations, a country with thousands of years of history. In the past forty years, there is a great tension between the government of Iran and the United States. This tension has escalated recently to the point of an imminent war between the two countries. The people in Iran are suffering from an authoritarian government on one side and sanctions and pressure on the other. This humble piece is written to give you the understanding that under a millimeter of skin, we’re all the same, the same humans, and humanities are the same regardless of religion, culture, and geographical background.
Categories:
authoritarian, emotions, feelings, longing, peace,
Form:
Masnavi
All those years flew away
for nothing.
Then of course the headaches
started when weeping constantly
at the unfairness of my marriage.
You need to know that I didn't
love him but I cherish the family
we've created, you, my children
are the center of my life.
My hardships coping with
my authoritarian husband
drove us apart.
I started drifting away to
avoid being at his mercy .
I couldn't help myself to
get around those roadblocks
that at the time deprived me
from walking through
a new path of change.
I was stalling even in my silence,
aware of all the deceptions
that had come to characterize
my life.
I had learned the hard way
to stay calm and pretend
that I didn't sense what was
happening to me,
and let time do its magic.
I wore this mask for so long
I didn't feel safe without it
exposing my true identity,
it had to remain hidden .
I stopped blaming myself
as I was able to survive
my pain over the years.
Time has elapsed and done
everything to diminish
my anxiety and eventually
allow my soul to heal.
I cannot tolerate seeing
myself weep anymore.
I started genuinely enjoying
every thought that passed by,
ready to feed myself with knowing
I would not repeat the same mistakes.
I ended up riding this roller coaster
of emotions feeling everything.
I was able to survive the pain
when I was at the bottomless
despair.
My walks alone under the
blazing stars,
imagining and wishing I would
never see him again,
craving my marriage
to become a memory .
I started feeling that I found
my silence smoothed my inner anger,
my passion has been real despite
my original skepticism.
Walking towards my cottage
I knew there'd been
a reason for it.
Somehow though the wilderness
enhanced the beauty around my
cottage garden,
the clouds were getting thicker
and darker,
running inside towards
my refuge,
I realized that I liked being
in control of my own life.
At Last.
Therese Bacha
13 October 2014
Categories:
authoritarian, moving on,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Law began by living,
locomotion meeting the rails of electric rainfall,
Consequence coursing through interconnected crossbeams
making all form fruit of the first & final recipe,
one great statute spawned from the storm
billowing from Divinity's genius,
everything in the Universe existing to produce,
get busy, get bounce'n, grow wild & now,
receive with wisdom and take as thieves humbled by offering,
the original impulse from a manic God
pregnant from androgonous purpose,
a trillion movements in a single start, a fanatic for feral smarts,
stagnation anethema to the spectacular suspense of survival,
Natural Rights were for me
the moment my blood became mine, became a wet warlord
exerting presence in the wide open wrestle of Universe,
God the shadow & weight of my spark,
the window & scene of my good gumption, of my dusty dream,
self defense a mandate from the magistrate of my heritage,
freedom of expression an obligation humming from ancestors'
anniverseries applauded along the Appain Way headed
not towards Rome but forward to a higher home of honor,
a Law unto myself I am,
eating from the spines of lions,
sleeping atop pyramids built by a billion bones unbroken by battle,
afternoons auction affection for my amusement with discount
and the nights nudge nightmares asunder
with the release of red lightning
spelling the name of Creation in raw neon, breathtaking breakdown,
a script scribbled by a hand having the blueprint of dirt in it's fingernails,
I appeal to Adam, attest in favor of aggression's willpower,
to Eve I beseech, testify to the severity & sanction of self confidence,
let us smash all false law that stands as a wall to our fulfillment,
smack the eggshell of Man's authoritarian angst,
waking into a world of wakeful worries, confined by Common Law, U.C.C.,
walking through waves ment to wreck the arrogant
with a constitution inked by nerves electrified
by entertaining the urgency of a rampaging God,
thought of the great expanse thumping thoroughly through
the expeditions my expectations encounter,
black static undulating around the blue bulb of my brain,
sparks of ultimate consciousness mothering marks of miracles
in the becoming of birthright,
J.A.B.
Categories:
authoritarian, adventure, universe,
Form:
Epic
Sometimes I think the way we view the world is a little antiquarian
for instance we have words to label everyone…from Capricorn to Sagittarian…
Take Deborah and I…we don’t eat meat…we are proudly vegetarian
though occasionally we will eat fish…which makes us pescatarian.
and since we’ve been known to eat a burger…we are most assuredly hypocritarian.
however we do not care what you eat…because we’re not authoritarian.
And though we believe in eating food that is predominantly agrarian
we know it doesn’t matter what you eat…if you are humanitarian.
It doesn’t matter if you are straight or gay…black, white or Hungarian.
If you’re Democrat, Republican, Independent or Libertarian.
It doesn’t matter…if you’re Catholic, Muslim or Sectarian
If you’re a doctor, or a lawyer…a dentist…a Veterinarian…
It doesn’t matter the type of music you like…rap, pop or opera that’s Wagnerian
or how you like your donut cream…whipped…butter…or Bavarian.
I think it’s time to apologize and end this poem
for I have shamefully become aware…
I can’t remember where I was going with it…
and, I imagine you…no longer care.
But let me end with these two hopes…
that you are not a strict grammarian…
and that we all may someday live…
in a world…
egalitarian.
Categories:
authoritarian, humor,
Form:
Verse
The day Democracy died,
I was a little lad, yea, knee high
Papa turned on the telly
to watch the White House news
Curious to hear if the
whether forecast rumor was true
Did the First Amendment reporters
get carried away
by a baton wavy sea of blue
Horrified streaming video voices said,
it was a shot live bulletin event
Terrified eye witnesses stammer bled
in the Death Valley of Dissent
This is what I saw
the fateful day Democracy died,
I was a mere lad, yea, only knee high
Me remember Mama sobbing,
wiping her reddened eyes
Broken-hearted pulse skipping,
repeating: “Why, oh why?”
As freedom of speech believers
were wrongfully
read last rites in the streets
OMG! were the blog bleats
Palace guards were told to forge ahead,
by orders of authoritarian consent
Replacing the non-lethal bullets instead,
in the dire Death Valley of Dissent
The tragic day Democracy died,
I was a small lad, yea, barely knee high
But, I’ll always remember
that sorrowful Constitution mourn
When freedom was abortion borne
Foul eerie, dark crimson reign
was a-falling from abysmal, grey skies
A tsunami tide of muzzle pain,
cursed flood of voter suppression sighs
Watching pacifist protesters drop dead,
their peace signs
consumed by tyrannical flames of dread
I heard swastika shouts (guillotine hatred
coming down razor sharp, unedited)
from the Ivory Tower of Power,
saying, “Lady Liberty, off with her head!”
And the ballot tears got trampled dried
by the scattering lead
I saw the Bill of Rights defenders on their knees bent,
as their sacred write fell by the wayside
Dictatorial forces said,
“Only funeral marches in the Death Valley of Dissent”
To this day, tortured Democracy never got revived
Now, I'm a grown man
with a lion mane
And a firmament roar that can't be mute crucified
Categories:
authoritarian, dark, freedom, political, visionary,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
Strike!
O strike thy wisdom
and thy freedom;
strike!
While picket signs aren't weapons,
they arouse violent hymns
and bayonet dreams;
o strike!
Where authoritarian presidents,
governors and dictators
all think alike,
strike;
and strike thee common good.
Strike,
O visionaries
with karma on their side,
where echoes fly like angels
and their halos shine so bright;
strike!
Where slavery's not an option
and poverty no life,
no liberty
or happiness;
strike!
Where no act of violence,
aimed at stifling true justice
ever won.
True justice
always voices it's complaints,
always finds some other means,
never ends with the moon
but starts with the sun,
strike!
Fore there's no future otherwise.
Categories:
authoritarian, angst, death, health, life,
Form:
Ricketee Rocketee
Ellen DeGeneres
hosts her talk show with her
funniest moods
Loves kids who went viral
child-fun celebrity
take brainy kids at show
gives gifts or foods
Papayee Mommyee
Supernanny Jo Frost
who runs to the rescue
pal nine one once
Expert on time-out base
authoritarian
imposed her strict home rules
after child’s punch
Jan. 4, 2021
Categories:
authoritarian, appreciation,
Form:
Double Dactyl
Predator drone recording:- 6.00am
The dawn sky dramatic
Multi-coloured in rainbow array
Mutating flares of crimson reds
One portent Wednesday.
Overhead the predator drone motionless
Metallic silver it's planed wings
and tip pointed nose
Alarming to view it's presence
Though reassuring to see it remain
As alien activity increases
In newsworthy reports of the same
Covert surveillance monitoring
Is commonly known
Also equipped with combative technology
Has this futuristic drone
The troubled nations looked skywards
From parliament offices, homes and schools
No communication has been received or ventured
As a stalemate seems to prevail
At 6.30 pm on Thursday
A bombardment of ferocious intensity
Annihilated a mountain range
Within 30 seconds as dust cleared
The landscape now had changed
Once where there were mountains
Only a rising mushroom cloud
Panic was endemic
As satellite news worldwide spread.
Communities in the vicinity
Had collapsing buildings
and the people laying injured or dead.
Countless areas were targeted
Cities razed to the ground
People as headless chickens
Madness crazed were hunted down.
Total annihilation of the human race
Was the aliens only goal
Governments faltered and fell
Young destined to never grow old.
The authoritarian levels of society
In bunkers down did go
As the skyscrapers monopolise
stood as gravestones over the
crowded inhabitants below.
No help could be alerted
from the defence forces,
ambulance or police
People decided to die in their homes
With loved ones silent in their grief
The old order had been toppled
No-one could envisage the end
Then, Monday at 5.00 am
An ear piercing whistling
continued without restrain
Ear drums were shattered
No-one could withstand the pain
Making everyone left suicidal
that was the alien's game.
They entered the Earth's stratosphere
at midnight on Saturday
But there was no human civilisation
No-one left to positively say.
Categories:
authoritarian, science fiction,
Form:
Free verse
Flowers of peace are now magnificently blossoming
In the gardens of the battlefields of Khartoum and Kinshasa.
And roses of tranquillity and order slowly blooming
In the flower pots of Kigali’s sorrowful genocide cites.
The smoke of dead gun-fire still flies
In the skies of the outskirts of Monrovia and Abidjan.
But live sporadic gunfire persistently lightens
In the troubled skies of Bunjumbula and Mogadishu.
Hot waters of hunger, starvation and suffering still pour
On the heads of Harare and Adisababa.
And the lines of untold poverty are still drawn
Across the villages of Lilongwe and Bamako.
The string of absolute monarchy is still tight
Around the political circles of Mbabane.
And the chains of an authoritarian state
Still hang around the neck of Innocent Tripoli.
Freedom then denied to free civilians
Is now freely enjoyed by freer people of Freetown.
But the rights of free civilians in Banju
Are tightly held in a knot of military dictatorship.
The barrels of guns of power hungry politicians
Are now silent in the roads of Brazzaville.
But northern villages and jungles of Kampala
Are still infested with the disease of rebel attack.
Maputo and Luanda are now being built
Out of the mud of the longest and brutal wars.
And the dirty white walls of the hated apartheid
Are now being splendidly painted black in Johannesburg.
The smell of peace, progress, poverty and panic surely hangs
In the corners of my sincerely beloved fatherland.
And the wave of sickness, suffering and starvation still hits
The peoples of my dear beautiful Fatherland.
Categories:
authoritarian, peace, poverty,
Form:
ABC
Humanism
Atheism
Independent moral authoritarian,
Where lies your omnipotence
Whilst your star plummet from the sky?
Categories:
authoritarian, faith
Form:
Free verse
Why people somewhere so kind and gentle
and somewhere not?
Why people in Saint-Petersburg ,
Moskow, Astana, Bishkek
Look so impolite, inhospitable and unfriendly?
Ask about it the happy inhabitants
or better look himself for what
is the best product of free society
this kind of people who lived in Basel, Antwerp, Quebec
with Oslo or those
who fast transformed for better sort of governing -
Turkian, Philippinians and Ukrainians possible also.
The people of free society and reason
or those who going out from ruling prison
appreciated choice and initiation
and marvelously transformed own identity
as those who better controlled themselves and government,
they hoped for only for freedom and own diligence
and make wonders gradiently
under the hand of free market invisible and patiently.
And what do you say about authoritarian and enslaved nation,
there are all people depended from will of corrupt guidelanes ,
where freedom, honesty and choices in total deficit?
Poor citisens there mentally downgraded
early or later hardened and stoned their souls to anthracite
for surviving in merciless and no free circumstances.
That was a clearly answer
for such sorts of questions -
why people somewhere so kind and gentle
and somewhere not?
Categories:
authoritarian, social,
Form:
Verse
Once a nation
Supremely white as driven snow,
Singularly Christian, white and male,
Purely untarnished, and aglow,
Grandeur unparalleled in fairytale.
Hence a grievance
Punitively bold as bloody hellfire,
Potently prosecuted in seats of power,
Oppressively waged against objects of ire,
Prisms of nonwhites seeking justice in the hour.
Now a leader
Colossally void as sterilized weaponry,
Glibly sanctions white phobia and rage,
Lethally enflames this proto-fascist fancy,
As corporations provide aid to the rampage.
Thus a faction
Devoutly for leader, they stand down,
Steadfastly ready for the order to kill,
All woke-ish elitists, and enemies black and brown,
That white men reclaim their rightful place at the till.
Violence of mind
Shocks no one in America,
Where thugs are part of romantic lore.
With our ascendant authoritarian replica,
Are we ready for what washes ashore?
Published in Dissident Voice: 01/09/22
Categories:
authoritarian, america, anxiety, culture, freedom,
Form:
Rhyme
How does a kid who loves learning come to hate a place designed for teaching?
School was like a military prison in my experience
get in at 0900 hours sharp with no resistance,
you'll speak when you are spoken to,
you are inferior to anyone older than you,
shut up and mindlessly accept what we tell you or you will be punished,
I don't care that you say 2+2 is 4 when I say its 3 then its 3
I am right because you are smaller than me
How does a kid who loves learning come to hate a place designed for teaching?
The innocent excitement of a child who is learning
crushed under the cold weight of authoritarian might
you better shut up and keep out of sight
because if you dont fit into the picture of what you should be
loneliness in the corridor is all you will see
And its not just the teachers who want you to conform
anyone whose different the other children will scorn
Don't get too far ahead or the teacher will give you no time
and the kids will take note and you'll be the blunt of the next malious rhyme.
How does a kid who loves learning come to hate a place designed for teaching?
The desperation of tying to understand a system that feels opressive
that everyone says is so good for you its impressive
that simultaneously tells you that the things that you love most
are too unusual for this educational host
and if you and the other kids arent the same you better fight
before they gang up on you and start to bite
How does a kid who loves learning come to hate a place designed for teaching?
They say all of your passions can't fit into the picture
while they force me to read often incorrect literature
They say your only goal in life is to get a job
and make somebody rich who you think is a n*b
The teachers in school think of you as a fool
destined to be just another industry tool
Categories:
authoritarian, abuse, anger, anti bullying,
Form:
Prose
That is truth,
in England
all people have looked as polished talents and genius,
even a driver there
or porter, or steward,
or begger, or trader,
or stealer, or priest,
or head of ministry
do not work without great quality and service.
There is, seem, only one stupid man - mister Bean,
who prevailed all brilliant persons given together.
They are all have made themselves
as they want and planned
through successful work
and competition
in various branches and activities
of high improved community,
while the others unlucky
inhabitant of authoritarian countries,
post-soviet states
and Islamic caliphates
as the Iranian regime
that must proud only with Omar Hayam
in last millennium,
have had a very small portion
of really famous and respected men
or just intrinsic professionals.
And their waste majority
looks like as screws in clock,s engine,
or as soldiers in training camp of rebuilding empire,
or as religious fanats in Friday namaz
or as new slaves
in collective farm and weapon producing factories.
They have not any chances
for arise to personality
in terms of quality and standards
so usual for British community.
Categories:
authoritarian, england,
Form:
Parallelismus Membrorum
Four years ago on this very day
the Democrats and their proxy media stooges
cried “the election was stolen!”
and “we need to impeach Trump!”
Today the same apparatchiks
and oligarchs and media fawned and gushed
over a corrupt senile swamp rat
and propagandised his coronation.
And all the while Granpa Joe
spoke of unity and of healing a divided nation
and called out “political extremists,
white supremists, domestic terrorism”
Meaning evil Trump supporters,
not BLM or Antifa, just you Trump supporters.
Slow Joe thinks you are all racists
and fascists who need reprogramming.
And so the great purge begins
and woke authoritarian censorship done under
the cloak of moral righteousness
to silence all you “insurrectionists”.
I felt sick watching the old eunuch
with his hand on his bible swearing allegiance
to heal and govern for all Americans.
Real America knows that ain’t so!
Beware the Orwellian deep state,
be afraid of your government more than ever.
The Great Reset is upon us and…
the digital book burnings have begun.
Goebbels would be so proud!
Written: January 2021
Categories:
authoritarian, america, political,
Form:
Political Verse