Best Ayn Rand Poems
Here’s what I’m thinking now
at the end of the world:
There are no atheists in foxholes—
no theists in politics.
If knowledge is power,
and power corrupts,
then why did I bother reading you, Cicero?
Does it matter that I didn't’t love you?
Would it have mattered if I did?
There’s a poetry reading tonight
whence I’I'll chide other poets
who don’t sit alone.
I won’t bring up death
but I might have to breathe,
even into a mike
and mouth lines to get a snap or a boo
maybe even a wince or two.
Just maybe I’I'll talk about love
and how following your heart is like following a dog—
it only leads to vittles and (female dogs).
But how many times have I used that line
since the story I wrote about you,
a witty and sexy and fictional you?
Most likely I’I'll read something tonight about you.
I won’t recite it from memory
because I don’t think about you that much anymore,
not even when I search for my socks in your drawer
or when I put on the scratchy sweaters you give me,
horizontally striped to bring out my eyes?
I don’t remember your eyes
except they are blue.
And I don’t remember you,
not even when I smell cucumber and apple,
not even when I sleep on my side of the bed
or when you walk through the door
happy to see me;
even then I don’t remember you.
Does it matter that I don’t love you?
Would it have mattered if I did?
How about a few one-liners
for the end of days?—
Depression is self-awareness,
which you’d know if you were;
I need Ritalin to listen to you,
Lithium to hug you,
Viagra to feel you,
and Valium to sleep.
All you need
is me standing there, waiting at home
with turns of phrase and word plays
telling you about why I hate Ayn Rand
but want to buy as much as I can
and how I love celebrity gossip
and detest poetry slams
and find rhyming trite
except when I am.
Hypocrites can still be right,
which you do understand
because you nod at my nonsense
about fighting the man.
But now, at the end of all things—
I’m speechless and witless and pointlessly well-read,
and you’re just sitting there, smiling
asking me to pass the bread.
There are plenty of Ayn Rand followers around
but there is something called "Art for Art's Sake"
I have gotten paid for writing - even sold some poems
However, I feel that Art for Art's sake
is not a lot of nonsense
Poetry can liberate the spirit
and bring to life feelings that money just can't buy
So does Chock Full of Nuts coffee
However, I don't drink coffee
preferring to mellow out with some tea
"the green kind"
I certainly wish success to the Green Pavillion poets
All the time realizing
that
writing is a great escape from the troubles of life
I. also realize that there are some
very great poets out there in the darkness
who never get up and read their work
who will become known in the future long after we have returned to dust
I once disliked poetry worse than math
going back further – than taking a bath
Shelley was for sissies and so was Blake
reading their verse was a king-size headache
But then along came Eldridge Cleaver, a real man’s man
his poetry faced down ‘whitey’ and the Ku Klux Klan
Poems came alive for me then, I read Castro and Che
Lenin and Stalin, Ayn Rand and Zane Zen
So now you know why I’m a big poetry guy
I can write about why civilization deserves to die
~ and no one ever asks why
Once there was an end of the war in sight,
they built their John Steinbeck ship,
hoisted the Ayn Rand flag
and sailed to the promised land.
Upon the honeyed shore, there she was,
their old enemy, milky arms wide open in welcome.
Blood and spit dripping from her mouth, she said,
kindness isn't a two-way street.
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Date: 17 / 11 / 2016
Skin cancer and Ayn Rand
So another sunny day is sinking into the sea I sat in the sun
for a while but it got too hot I do not understand people who
sit for hours in the sun, hot and painful just to get a tan.
I get a tan in the summer this by riding mine
bike around for an hour or so, only lately with advancing years
I easily tires and having had skin cancer I’m careful.
In January,I collapsed, ambulance sirens and so on; I was dying,
too stupid to notice as death is banal. Elderliness is an affliction
that is depressing, the loss of power, when steps
in the hall are obstacles, negotiations of the will, this sounded
like Ayn Rand whose teaching is the antithesis of a just society,
it worth noticing the rich think she is a goddess their inhumanity
have a philosophical point. Ayn Rand died in a madhouse.
I have no political ambitions, but I do believe in quality for all people,
I regret to say it is only just for some people.
Human suffering via the lens of social injustice juxtaposed to the same past.
Enslavement, slavery, and Indian removal from their sacred lands
Who hands are damned?
The universe is included.
Terrorism
War
Famine
Political asylum
All compare and contrast.
Historical movements for the cause,
Today we are a backwards spiral - no joy.
As nations of people become one in a country, the government becomes corrupt.
Are we the democracy that embraces tyrants?
Lack of equal protection of the Law
No due process going on
Just a picture of corruption
Religious emergence has occurred.
Social Theology is the covenant.
However, no one wants to face-up to the capitalism that has self-destructed.
Personal recourse is not within an Ayn Rand world
That belongs to the work force.
I pledged alliance to our spirit and our soul when I was child preparing to enter the
business world.
This agreement was written in the Preamble.
Why is it today ignored?
________________________|
Penned on May 05, 2014!
Tis quite a beast of burden to bear atlas (shrug off not allowed)
Atlas shrugged an impossibility
tantamount to skinny dipping in the lock nest lagoon
Tantamount to shrugging Atlas off mine bony,
ill suited, widower wizened shoulders,
would take naked fat chance in Fountain Head of virgin waters,
eddy fied with huge boulders
which preliminary sketches to maintain pristine
(pure as Snow White's booty) kept in folders
when collaborative effort called, the fore mid able,
trio, sans state of the artists
(within their respective trades as writer
fictional hero, and architect)
Ayn Rand, John Galt, and Howard Roark,
who undertook resplendent measures
affected resilient as omnipotent cable
tub ring plenti kickstarting linkedin gatecrashers
to a snapchatting halt
instagramming, crowdsourcing, crowdfunding,
held at equivalent asper Bay of Pigs
viz Pay of Bigs
(in this context identified as
(vudu trained stalwarts, petsmart outlook,
incorporating literary, metaphorical,
nautical staff comprising fable
sea Crete cure metamorphoses abilities, as failsafe method –
i.e., physically, instantaneously, architecturally rendering
modus operandi capacity asper quick as blazing saddles
(ponied up by young Frankenstein)
kept in fireproof stable,
where at dextrous fingers ala hocus-pocus prestidigitation
which chiefly buoyantly ardently, and hardily drafted imp pier re: hull
rock hull impediment for shore also cast evil spells should
any foolish soul, who dared
to maneuver past the near blinding pier sing redoubt
to access blue lagoon like watery oasis
shielded via reeking poor Island
(where an atomic rooster gargoyle shrouded parapet)
buffeted the crashing waves against
the lock smooth as a glass table
whose wooden sea legs solidly affixed
to hip, hip hooray three chairs
inviting two story book heroes plus the author,
unfurling parchment scriptural roles invited ad lib flairs
since threat of category five hurricane
manifested took writer by surprise,
thus requiring her to utilize cognitive gears
which necessitated modification of original plot,
now bumped credos with religion
vis a vis engendering prayers.
Inside this cave, my refuge, nave
I bend and stretch and breath,
to find myself among the ruins
of ancient places, faces, and history.
Although I strive to change the tide
of my own motivations,
something akin to a Zephyr wind
has me returning to old foundations.
Cornerstones, above the bones
of ancestors crying out in vain,
“I too once lived, loved, and looked above,
beyond mountains, clouds, and rain.”
Within my walls I read the call
of (by far more) learned minds,
who looked beyond their own demise,
to future points in time.
Beyond hate and war, the kind that tore
humanity apart at the seams,
cataclysmic, apocalyptic,
nightmare scenes.
Socrates knew, as Plato too
but they were only the beginning,
of a line of thinkers, knowledge drinkers,
all of them underpinning.
How we should live, think, act, and dream
From day to day and night by night,
great thinkers lived that they might give
a more beautiful, brighter, shining light.
Their list is longer than King Tut’s curse
and all the books throughout the earth
could never touch
their individual or collective worth.
From Pythagoras to Parmenides
Democritus to Hobbes,
St. Augustine to Aquinas,
Ayn Rand to John Rawls.
From Thales and Anaximander,
Homer to Thomas Kuhn,
AL-Ghazali to Maimonides,
From Budda to Sun Tzu.
From ancient days to modern ways
of beckoning the questions how and why,
Inside this cave, my refuge, nave,
I bask and ask, the Oracle at Delphi.
Title 4/ BLANK CHECK
Quote: "If one's actions are honest, one does not need the predated confidence of others." Ayn Rand
Darkness came over that afternoon
As Christ died on the cross for our sin.
Lying is moving away from Him.
We need absolute forgiveness.
Honesty, true humility
To ourselves we visibly choose
To forge a heart approving view.
A home of immaculateness
A solid hold woven of truth
And honorable behavior.
There is no reason for given
approval of others judgment.
I
Moby Dick is a classic, so I've been told
tried to read when was younger, tried to read when more old
chastised my own self severely each time
for not having interest in words so sublime.
II
Billy Budd caught attention
and Kafka might mention
Ayn Rand, Solzhenitsyn
rebellist penchant.
III
Don't care much for jewelry or bright shiny things
phone's likely to voice-mail when it ever rings
keepin' up with the Joneses unappetizing
introversion my given from generating.
Norms cramp my style more often than not
I don't watch tv thus have no clue what's hot
making up words when I need them is fun
inside I try fiercely to douse smoking gun.
IV
A gift this life given
sheer mystery resplendent
with wisdom, compassion and love
From whence came the spark
that lent life to dark?
Within without all the same heartbeat.
Ayn Rand
Took an interesting stand
Against the norm
She took the world by storm
http://www.poetrysoup.com/poets/top_100_poets_most_poems_all_time.aspx
I want everyone to enjoy and appreciate all of my poems.
Also, you have my permission to use them in any way you see fit.
If they have any positive results on the lives of others or have
encouraged them to write poems themselves, would like to hear about it.
Also, I am trying to find out the email address for the Rachel Maddow Show.
She just was talking about someone in a Don Trump audience who was
reading a book in the background the name of the book was "Citizen" by a
Black author named Rankin. It reminded me of Ayn Rand at first.
There are a lot of interesting things going on now a days regarding poetry.
"Citizen" is primarily about racial integration and disintegration I am also adding.
Would be interested in anyone's comments.
'We must open up our minds and start learning all over again.'
You can quote me on that.
'If for our poems it hadn't been,
where would our brains start to begin.'
You can quote me also on that one also and start digging into it much deeper.
Jim Horn
Refrain from playing the looter
Or the parasite who takes
But always remain a builder
And known as one who makes
Yes build your life, proud and true
This is the Bitcoin way
Though looters claim we owe them
As Ayn Rand used to say
The looters count on Atlas…
That he’ll hold the world in place
But one day he will simply shrug
And the world will fall through space
Stand a maker, not a looter
Though the looters grow in size
Yes, swear by your love of life
That looting you’ll despise
Resist the urge for easy life
Prove strong as a woman or man
For either you’re a looter
Or you build everything you can
Our hands work and our minds conceive
And freely with others we trade
And let’s convert some looters
And end the looting charade
Beethoven to roll over,
dee composing
(sans my zany brainy adherence
to "FAKE" information I eschew)
and essentially single handedly grew
the contemporary paradigm few
off fish shill educated
people didst swallow
hook, line and sinker, but perhaps
an enlightened gentile and/or Jew
found credulity linkedin with the then
far reaching somewhat sunnily
revolutionary antithetical concepts only
gull lib bull and/or cuckoo,
despite the logically
substantiated veritable true
lee near custom fit, hunky
dory, integrated metaphorical
interlocking puzzling pieces
rightly anchoring vast vista
(realm of known knowledge,
viz apple pi order)
shipshape motley crue foo
fighting banded divers lee distinct
whirled wide webbing
did not experience
smooth semantic sailing,
and rather recently
(historically "speaking") Renaissance
exuded approbation, and found substantial
adherents among cognoscenti,
who took to heart as gospel truth,
the expansive database
apropos christened Aristotéles translated
to mean Superior; best of thinkers,
whose missives dissected, inspected,
and probed for ethical, philosophical,
and rhetorical handy
dandy blues clue
meriting nascent outlook, sans salient
rubric quintessential pointing cue,
analogous to eternal spirit hovering,
guiding, and favoring new
acolyte, or stalwart
diehard Aristotelian hew
wing painstakingly, thru
prodigious tomes binding
ancient (classical Greece) via
Aristotelianism super glue
rebranded within modern roam'n Times
Font 12 visa vis,
when re: discovered
anew by Martin Heidegger
Ayn Rand, and Alasdair MacIntyre.
Went to a postcard show today
Capitalism in action!
Picked up some nice cards
One dealer - whose parents were Holocaust survivors
Gave me a break on the price
Another collector at the show
was an old Army buddy of my father
Used to work for him at shows
He sold his collection for six figures!!
Used to work in the Wall Street area
for a rich French stamp dealer
He sold a stamp for seven figures!!!
The battle between socialism and capitalism still rages in this world
One does not have to read Ayn Rand
Nor does one have to read Tolkien
But they are two famed authors
which are worth dipping into if you get the chance
Years ago I read Studs Lonigan
James Farrell - another one worth reading
Poetry is the order of the day
for those who love verse
No one is shooting at us for writing verse
in this land
Enjoy the holiday season you out there in the darkness!!