Best Despotism Poems
socialism communism fascism despotism
buddhism catholicism hinduism zoroastrianism
territorialism colonialism imperialism expansionism
positivism relativism behaviorism existentialism
adventurism escapism negativism nihilism
puritanism fanaticism extremism terrorism
sexism chauvinism ultra-nationalism jingoism
hedonism epicureanism ~ stoicism asceticism
patriotism heroism altruism idealism
activism idealism individualism exceptionalism
atheism deism monotheism paganism
optimism pessimism cynicism romanticism
atheism secularism humanism utopianism
hypnotism mysticism exorcism surrealism
~ and what if there were a schism in each and every 'ism!'
Herein lies the identity of their enemy
Herein lies the description of the abuses
Herein lies the claims against their tyrant
Herein lies the picture of their fixed intolerance
Herein lies their 'no recourse' and plan of action
Herein lie the rhyme and the reason, their right, and their duty
The Americans who led the way, and the people whom they represented, made it very clear that the abuses suffered at the hands of the King of England had become intolerable and the time had come for total separation. No one could have expressed it better than what we now read in in a short portion of the text: ***************************************************************
"But, when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same object, evinces a design to reduce them under absolute despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such government, and to provide new guards for their future security. Such has been the patient sufferance of these colonies; and such is now the necessity which constrains them to alter their former systems of government. The history of the present King of Great Britain is a history of repeated injuries and usurpations, all having in direct object the establishment of an absolute tyranny over these states. To prove this, let facts be submitted to a candid world." What follows this paragraph is a long list of grievances.
***************************************************************
I counted 18 instances in which the pronoun "HE" was used to initiate an accusation against the King of England. The signers of the declaration left no doubt as to "The Who" of their enemy and "Why" he was so rendered.
In the closing lines of the text, with their backs against the wall and their faces staring in the face of God, it is no wonder that they could say with confidence and faith, "And for the support of this declaration, with a firm reliance on the protection of Divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our lives, our fortunes, and our sacred honor." As we celebrate the 4th of July in 2020, may we, the descendants(Red, Yellow, Black, Brown, and White) of the brave Americans of 1776 think no different and do no less.
062120PS
Beneath the cold glare of the desolate night,
They came, greedy and insatiable white creatures,
Cloaked in prim pretense,
Every curve of their features seemed to express a fine arrogant acrimony and harsh truculence.
Expectation darkened into anxiety,
A thousand unutterable fears bore irresistible despotism over our thoughts,
Men, ladies and children collapsed into a dreary and hysterical depression,
Leaving us drowned in the deep reticence of the colonial sea.
As arbitrary as a cyclone and as killing as a pestilence,
With a sweet voice caroling like a gold-caged nightingale,
They looted our abundant resources,
And abolished many of our African customs and traditions.
They enslaved us!
Underdeveloped us!
And reduced us to nothing.
Gleams of sunlight, bewildered like ourselves, struggled, surprised, through the mist and disappeared,
Half choked by a rising paroxysm of rage,
The hollow ring of their fundamental nothingness were defined,
With the blood in our eyes, matchets, bows and arrows and diplomacy,
Then the fight and chase began!
Proud brothers and sisters once
again having to defend The USA,
at its Southern Border. But, today,
unlike threats of the past, the invading
army are sick, hungry, destitute bands
of migrants – who have been tricked
into entering the Nation illegally. Tricked
by evil, Marxist tyrants, our Present
Administration, advocating for a far less
free Republic than that imagined by noble
and honorable predecessors. Will we let
these Texas Patriots stand alone?
Perhaps damning future American
generations, to the hellish fires of
Despotism.
I walk the path of Human Secrecy
I belong in no Shelf
I put no labels to Myself
Hopeless of Heaven
Fearless of Hell
Unraveled my mind
Evoking turmoil in my Soul
In the mystery of my own Disguise
A stranger to my own Thoughts
Cradled with a Heartless Rive
That sees no boundaries
The emancipation of my mind
Subversive at its extreme
An agile Intricacy
The darkest part of my Soul
Where despotism forbids Denunciation
I've a mind of the highest Distinction
That holds me by the hand
Silently Saying
Look, Listen and Learn
I seek to understand
Rather than be understood
When God himself is in the Rough
It's time to summon Satan's Hell..
Abhorrent those phizog few,
At times they flood his mind.
He did not even know why them his mind drew,
He has got to get down, reasons to find.
His mindly nib, she oozes memories,
Of old and new… far but few,but many ,that he knows not.
On papyrus his mind scribbles and carries,
And then drains encapsulated emotions that afore are now brought.
His heart bleeds of porous feelings,
Bleached and dried by furious despotism.
Of people he knew real close in life’s dealings,
Of the ones he had no knowledge of their absolutism.
Blood flows from his weary eyes,
Tears flow from his broken heart.
But he has not yet learnt life’s game of dice.
All he has borne is the fury of the tyranny’s dart.
My thoughts like his lie chained ,
My mindly nib brings afore,
Glued stuck and stained.
Memories of the past eon all sore.
Get up my Goa…..
Can one dare to hope…
Instead of all in this darkness grope
All he can hear is Empty voices….. cold… dark and sterile,
Shapless dreams , but sought in the midst of peril
Black mirrored roads and murky simmering waters,
Is no place for perfect reflections, but for our dream slaughters
Leaving behind a land adorned by hungry eyes…
Its beauty diminishing like wisps of smoke amidst populous cries……
Get up stand up….
ElseWe will run blinded in the dark,
And meet the hard embrace
Of whispered truth and scolding truth without a scenario of a worser case
You are watched and inspected,
Governed , directed , censored and corrected.
You are told what to do,
You are told how far to go.
Where is that haloed glow?
No more a part of your grand show,
Have they driven your thoughts to a tangent,
Oh then even your smile could shortly become pungent.
Your sanity unseen
Your senses now dumb that were earlier keen.
I still cannot reconcile as to why?
Why why and why?
You still walk in sheathed in tatters of pride….
Lips closed but open eyed…..
How long……..
Do we have to be forlorn
How long……..
Do we have to be forlorn
They want the people to go away
To keep quiet
shhhh…. don’t say a word.
But…we’re not!
We the people elected them!
Why should we stay quiet?
This is our country!
We are the people!
We are the voters!
We own this country…not the elected officials!
So..why should we be quiet?
Why should we go away!
Who in the hell are those elected officials anyway!
Get out! Get out of my government! I don’t want you anymore!
“….when a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same
object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute despotism, it is their right, it
is their duty, to throw off such government, and to provide new guards for their
future security.” [Declaration of Independence]
Written in response to the assertion by some officials in Washington and the media
that the citizens calling themselves Tea Partiers were a bunch of political radicals
and crackpots.
“Merdeka! Merdeka!” was freedom’s cry
Triumphant shouts were raised high to the sky
This momentous day, no one could deny
An enacted freedom, none could defy
We live in a world that longs for freedom
Freedom from crooked and corrupt systems
Freedom from ruthless, repressive kingdoms
Freedom from oppressive despotism
We are citizens who long to be free
Free from the fetters of authority
Free from the shackles of society
Free from the burdens of uncertainty
True freedom seems like an elusive dream
We see evil men escape with their schemes
In anguish, we let out a silent scream
Nothing can mend the big tear at the seams
Since creation, men sought independence
They sought independence from Providence
They waved their puny fists in insolence
They rejected God’s rule in defiance
So God gave to them the freedom they craved
Instead of finding joy, they were enslaved
Their pathway to spiritual death they paved
But God paved a way for them to be saved
Jesus came as a ransom for sinners
On the cross, He saved us from sin’s fetters
His death reconciled us to the Father
Freedom from sin – the joy of believers
Have you found the freedom you’re looking for?
Has rejecting God left you wanting more?
Jesus says, “Trust me, for I am the door”
In Christ is where true freedom is in store
Senses defeated; defile of insensible
are stepping boldly, with motives ostensible,
to take pledge upon our platform honorable.
List of agenda is: Power extensible!
Frustrations of the mass is just regrettable
with a history of deeds abominable.
Who to address in moments insufferable?
Despotism in democracy: deplorable!
We oppose their resolutions reprovable.
Stand up to make those imposed rules revocable
and join the minority for action noble.
Or bear now, cowardly, those dishonorable!
24/01/17
Poem "Rules of th morons" written on 10/9/16, reviewed for this contest 12 by 12 monorhyme (John Hamilton)
12 lines 12 syllables (howmanysyllable)
A Rant – The Quiet Hypocrisy
it seeps in through gradual osmosis
and soon is ingrained in pliant minds
it mutates and thrives in tunnels of vision
and then is fused into the fiber of unreason
the quiet hypocrisy that drips of the tongues
spouting broken words of unfathomable callousness
the mutilated reeking carcass of cynicism
obscured by the veneer of polished discourse
stinks of inaction and of insipid rationalization
the probing and prodding and splintering of each thought
curdles the shallow layer of feeling
interring the basic simple and only humanity
that is gleefully ripped into isolated fragments
the quiet hypocrisy of battles fought and of causes embraced
is plain to see in the faces of the earnest
as they cling onto their bitter loathsome prejudices
whilst buying redemption under a placard of well-meaning
the quiet hypocrisy of these selective battles waged under the flimsy pretense of caring
stinks to the highest heaven promised in mantras and duas and prayers and chants
as the spectacle of the apartheid within the mind is worn on each tailored sleeve
the choosing of these battles in the name of faith and clung onto simply because of a common creed
is a pathetic spectacle of segregated thought
buried under the folds of righteous bluster
so before you jump on that bandwagon of indignation because 'your' people are in pain
take a look at the hidden fascism that simmers just below your holier-than-thou sudden spurt of heartfelt rage
for the quiet hypocrisy that is unknowingly imbibed
is apparent for all to behold
for when the 'other' endure the injustice carried out in 'your' peoples' name
you stand mute and silently complicit for your indignation simply melts away
as the quiet hypocrisy that is firmly rooted in you
exults in pious pretences while 'your' own continue to hate, rape, pillage and slay
it saddens me that so much vitriol drips off my pen in such effervescent times
but I cringe as each moment another quiet hypocrite rants about the despotism of the 'other'
while smiling complacently and smugly and soaking in the quiet hypocrisy of remaining mute about 'my' peoples' own crimes
On the rights, unfair
discrimination commit
a despotism
This culture worships figures from the bank,
A greater number’s bliss, a lesser’s woe,
Their net worth values total statements blank,
Deposit dough, withdrawal the gilt-less doe.
The stagnant meek are poorly left reviled,
While current vice is rightly rich and cherished;
These souls by tarring business pitch defiled,
Material parish, spiritual perish.
Corruptive rule of chairmen’s despotism
Proves costly prized, which masses ill afford;
It’s dated back to churchmen’s nepotism,
When bribery bought indulgent sin’s reward.
If humble virtues prey on blood and leech,
The vicious balms of Mammon’s profits preach.
They predicate despotism, while matriculating the
servile.Presaging them to complacency.Who without the prescience of life's
cadence,will continue to perpetuate peonage?They who poignantly and temper
mentally,display acerbic discourse.Arousing those erroneous acts that cause the
chasm of inculcation to avail.We listen for the mantra,the interloper,who will
resolve the vortex of these avarice bevaviors.The recess of the perspicacious
have caused an inevitable loss.Yet the ostensible foray that perforates and
inundates one's soul,still lingers.They mold our transcendental light as if
inchoate,while satiating themselves.Daring your ineffable prose to hue with
antagonism and candor.
THE OPPRESSOR
A monochrome of boho days
segue one another surreptitiously.
Endless pantomimes of idle chatter flutter by.
Cantilever bridge, a one stop halting site for gossip and suspense.
Small talk, bespoke winged creature, Combe of pleuron.
Turin shroud spotter in the mise en scene melting pot.
The spirited stride of pavement strollers prompted by
agenda.
Metatarsals on the march.
Street vendor’s spooky cry with banjo beating busker at his side.
Dirt pan bellow and brittle strum about the
orange alert ahead.
Crowded car park, careening bus, frustrated taxi driver rank and file.
Backstreet Barney or kerfuffle on the lawn.
Swing sign overhead, a pawn in every trending breeze.
Office block malarkey cutting capers for the press.
New age ante-fix, the cover tile for corruption.
Whistle blowing wag inside the
city centre fault line.
Brass neck
reservoir of hoodwink high and low.
Harassed mother, barefoot beggar
nervously extends her rusted tin.
Guilt edge coin as bandage to our shoddy scruple.
Bag lady on the fringe of some haute couture complex.
Stasi-like security whose bluff veneer belies an inner
bludgeon.
Crouton salad diner has his finger on the pulse but not his pulse rate!
Tycoon in transition with an open brief!
Teflon tyrant
back to the future.
Ambulance chaser …. legal eagle…..with fortune in misfortune their calling card .
To the limit and beyond like an offshore Ansbacher.
Noonday bell
interloper at the scuttlebutt tavern.
Seconds out,
moments out,
hours in a hari kari haze.
Sensei’s of the left filling void with vacuum.
Laboured diatribe against dynasty, trite slogans, empty rhetoric, mannah from heaven?
All this from the cadres of social despotism!
Passage, the
pollinating insect of aroha.
Behind the rhythm of the grind a broad leaf grain of hope may sprout.
Green shoots of bounty.
Latent sidewalk bloomer.
Blossom by default or tender impulse
AND THIS TOO SHALL PASS...IF WE DO THE RIGHT THING
Shameful as it is, this burden place is still my land;
Though a broken house it may be, it's still my home.
Her foundation is cracked and rattled, but still, we stand;
Pity, her today's "Nero ego" has forgotten the story of Rome.
Despotism no longer hides in ambush along the power corridors;
Its venomous words and twin actions are now commonplace.
Each day the sunrises to waves of injustices and abject horrors;
And a once revered nation now wallows in its own uttered disgrace.
While it may seem that hate and bigotry play death games each day,
Infusing lives with their fisting bloody cuffs of "isms", let us not despair;
Reverse exodus has begun--the Noah-like political flood is on its way.
Rain clouds, lightning, and thunder of retribution have begun to prepare.
The Ark this time will be built with planks of liberty, justice, and undying love;
The Supreme Power of Blacks, Whites, Jews, and Gentiles is watching from above.