Best Gulag Poems
The bones of a forest are stripped clean by the ocean and strewn on her shores. The sun-bleached wooden cemetery leaves a somber impression on the morning scavenger of shells, who meanders in the gray mist of a fall morning dawn. He is lulled by the hush of the fog and the rolling waves that break on a gravel strand. With a head bowed down and hands crossed behind him... he searches... searches for opalescent treasures... like answers to life's questions. Is this how it all started, or is there some grander purpose? Then a gull caws as if an angel calls the seeker's attention. And as he looks up his sight receives a message delivered by two brown pelicans sailing along a cresting wave. This was here before you... and it will continue when you are gone. But now... you are mine... and we are one... divine.
by Martin Braun
6:30 a.m. September 20th, 2023
Jenner, California
To my oceanic compatriots. They put our love under a glass dome, posted deterrent signs on the paths we created 35 years ago, and sealed off the oceans. If they heard my, your, stories, they would run the environmental Bolsheviks into the sea like the demon-possessed pigs that they are. These self-righteous propagandists closed Drakes Oyster farm with lies, and they, like gulag interrogators of 1936, threw us into a sort of prison within the spaces of our minds, torturing us by excluding us from "the motherland's environment", and created an unimaginable wasteland with the walls they built by a lust for power. We are of this world... it is they who are aliens. Let us enjoy what God made. We created the protections with our respect and love for the environment. The environmentalists simply make laws, criminals, and prisoners.
Sunshine smile,
it Arctic enamel glows
Crescent grin tropical —
Antarctica guile
A bright yellow corona skin
is so cold-fusion tan Chernobyl
As Dictator icy wind snow blow,
Democracy curvature bend
Creamy sweet coin promises
of a silky, tubular tongue
Hanging from a lip bung,
monkey climbers can’t resist
Swing blade lo Banana Republic Appeal,
it’s a Tyranny meal force fed
Gulag sweet fruit flavor med
has a sick-o whet, ill monkeyshine feel
Written: September 29, 2023
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Walking through the corridors of my dream,
Down the boulevard of anguish, it seems,
Breathing in the knell of an unreadable sky,
Haunt Harbinger hypostatization, holding high
Dimly lit guests, snow troopers, and a piano key
Playing a dismal dirge, an internal funeral melody.
Insightful memories on the dark side warn us
Anger and passion, the cusp of nuclear dourness
Letters written in sepia script, a child's scare
In this circumstance, an illustration of despair
A startled, hoary invoice manifests in the mail.
Chaste in Gulag, cognizant of the time roll on stale
Shattering and breaking through the glass box.
The axe grooves on raw wood and blocks.
A misheard song, carefully shattering a splash.
The spear is reflected in the water by a slash.
Hope mirrors shake fate spears to consume.
A rare bedazzlement, a reflection of optimism.
Swords of inertia rattle, eager for consumerism.
But I drudge, unfazed, in this dream, I resume
Where the power of a single act of kindness
Can shatter darkness and bestow brightness.
I walk on, carrying the weight of the past.
But never forget that it won't last.
In this dream, I find solace and peace.
In the midst of chaos, pain, and cease
The blue sky is melting into green.
A symbol of hope, of a raw scene.
Sub-atomic particles
the atoms they form
molecules, cell organelles
cells, machinery of life
organs, organisms
communities and ecosystems
planets, solar systems, galaxies
galactic clusters and their inverse
black holes the doors to other
universes, a contradiction
in terms.
For language and its shadow
consciousness must hold matter
the material world snugly inside concepts
theories and hypotheses to be
experimentally verified using vision
and the other senses, collecting data
and interpreting the known facts
accumulated over time.
Can matter
exist without a consciousness to behold it?
Believing in
our mortality (the species)
we have created God
(a supreme being)
probably not carbon-based
to encompass every universe
but is God
inside or outside
consciousness? Can God
tell us what to do
or must we tell God
alone
what to do?
Here is ego
projecting personality, exerting force
on community, asserting the existence
and predominance of component DNA.
An already hackneyed theory that DNA
survival drives
procreation, personality, savings bonds
everything but poetry (most poems included).
Mustache, cowboy hat
horse whisperer, gulag master
Odysseus, King Lear
salvation in the details.
Yes, these personalities individual and interesting
as opossum, bear
oak and ash
beech nut, pine cone
Grand Canyon sandstone, Green Mountain granite.
Looks like dem old ugly chains
got a new modern face
Beauty upgrade ... high-end cosmetic tech;
low-cost dressed in labor modest,
minimum maintentance convenience
From da delta plain sugar cane fields,
to the glamorous Silicon Valley hills:
Ancient bigotry of blood biochemistry
required some thinking ahead
Remove dem outdated iron appendages
from da carbon-based legs
Loose dem fettered bodies from da plantation
That warm-hearted gesture
was prompted by the cold realization
of mechanized industrialization
Machines worked tirelessly better than humans,
with zero margin error for rebellion
From da poppy-white numb cotton field chores,
to the black-site, laboratory rat maze corridors:
Modern slavery has been plastic,
guinea pig perfected;
Darkly spirit heavy iron chains
got replaced by skin light bar codes,
and microscopic nanobyte pain
in the nether layers of the epidermal
From plantation to implantation ...
total body control to full mind control
Invisible chains is a better option
From forced emancipation to voluntary enslavement ...
necessity of convenience shackles the soul
Grateful servitude is a Dead adoption
Go sing illusory freedom, spiritual songs
in an unseen force-field:
Laser etched number scrip plantation
Eat, drink and be merry, ye bonded bones ...
harvest a bountiful yield
Give curses to the marked implantation —
corrupt binary code command subjugation
The Mephistophelean workplace
is a future-now,
internal space Gulag situation ...
an augmented field mule muzzled occupation
With plenty of open-air, coffin acerage:
rows and rows
of furrowed thought manipulation
Dem New Age lobotomy slaves
be toiling on a grave condition plantation,
whose dirt cellular
cubic dimensions are:
Six-by-six-by-six injected damnation
Power of Journeys
New horizons speak in hope and pull me to Pablo Neruda’s country
‘Twenty poems of love’ inspired by Santiago Robinson Crusoe Island
Serene landscapes volcanoes Andean mountains are outspokenly funky
I seek the space vibes vastness Chilean seduction loudly and silent
Few books opened my voice more than ‘The Gulag Archipelago’ scripted
by Alesandr Solzhenitsyn and thus my eyes have to explore the Siberian Plain
Despite all that ice a melting pot of souls minds and cultures encrypted
I need to welcome silence once more and Lake Baikal into my inner terrain
‘The Paradise of the Blind’ with heart blooded ink by Duong Thu Huong
wants exploration quiet reflection uncontaminated comprehension
Nature wrapped in philosophy the Mekong Delta is where I belong
Peace solitude reclusion at times require my full travelling attention
On this voyage Pinochet Stalin and Ho Chi Min can stay in their grave
Blending and mixing with beauty wise words Mother Earth is what I crave
If you want to keep
your expanding
civil liberty weight down,
we suggest you try the alphabet dictator soup
It’s demagogue-approved to keep the
public scrutiny town hall gavel pounds off of you
The letters F ... R ... E ... E are not in the can,
and radical talk chowder is totalitarian banned
You best clam up, if you know what’s healthy for you
But the split-lip pea soup tastes great liquefied,
if your jaws need to be wired shut
Fat ideas of human rights
will get you shipped to Siberia
on a dissident Weight Watchers bus
Sugary sweet intoxicating wine of independent thought
will get you government-issued gulag cloth
So don’t get drunk on too much First Amendment talk
Here’s something else you might want to try on the menu,
our peppery, Black Boot fascist veggie stew
It’s guaranteed to give you a mean kick
Only 100-percent propaganda tofu
is offered in this meatless, bicameral dish
No harmful voter allergens to alarm you,
and it’s debate-free healthy too
This totalitarian menu will slim your political weight
down so fast, it will shock you
Just watch what a few rubles a day can do
I know you still have cravings
for some red meat democracy
Need I remind you: this is a
media roast-free, autocratic dinner party
You will be amazed at what
a few influence-peddling dollars will buy
But please be advised:
Stay away from any amended second helpings
of the rich, decadent General Custard pie
Aw, shot ... it’s double-barreled delicious,
but it got major health concerns,
no Krispy Kremlin lie
Too many Constitutional calories
in each serving of this American dish
We urge you ... implore you ...
demand you not to give it a try
Those who taste too much sweet liberty,
tend to kick their totalitarian diet to the curbside
“If only it were all so simple! If only there were evil people somewhere insidiously committing evil deeds, and it were necessary only to separate them from the rest of us and destroy them. But the line dividing good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being. And who is willing to destroy a piece of his own heart?”
? Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn, The Gulag Archipelago 1918–1956
In Our Hearts and Prayers
How do we discern the truth of world affairs?
A raging war that take lives and impedes;
Truth lies on the lips of those in our hearts and prayers.
We seek to be supportive and show that we care,
From the tyranny that has been decreed.
How do we discern the truth of world affairs?
From a far, with out-stretched arms, your grief we share;
War, a tragic means to an end, we all agree.
Truth lies on the lips of those in our hearts and prayers.
Innocent lives whose faces are stained with tears;
From the mighty arm of power, propelled by corruption and greed.
How do we discern the truth of world affairs?
What will become of the worlds future heirs?
At any cost the powerful will succeed.
Truth lies on the lips of those in our hearts and prayers.
The visuals of war are hard to bear;
Will there ever be peace for humankind to be freed?
Truth lies on the silenced lips of those in our hearts and prayers;
How do we discern the truth of world affairs?
A drug-smuggling dribbler is in a pickle
Commie LeBron is acting quite fickle
She should rot in a gulag
With this self-oppressed snob
Until they choke on the hammer and sickle
First you lemming sway to the left,
then you ostrich sway to the right
No straight talk movement is motive necessary
on Leper Rabbit Foot Devil’s Night
Now a-moral slug limbo very Dixie Antebellum low ...
just how deep down apartheid dirt South can you go
Next, Pharisee kangaroo court jump so Sadducee sky high ...
just how crucifixion far Siberian gulag North can you fly
Shadow dance of oppression,
next gen protesters
gotta learn yesteryear’s lesson
Mamba flag march
to the Caesar marionette bayonet beat
Rumba puppet roll
to the Roman Pied Pier a-patriotic feet
Duckie, duckie walkie ...
chicken-heart, no-ruffle web toe shuffle
Head bobble, leg wobble ...
knee bending to the sound byte kerfuffle
Demonic oppression prance,
lifetaker
pull the plug from the socket
Snatch the idol coins in the purse
Serpentine shadow dance,
rainmaker
shake down the lewd pockets
For the brimstone firewater curse
Lastly, you chimp chump,
Wall flower lean saber rattle swing to the left
Then swine sucker,
lip-pucker snail snivel hip wiggle to the right
Do a cockatrice crush move lying groove on your scaly belly
No straight gate, pearly truth motion is required tango telly
My Constitutional Rights as an American Citizen no longer apply to me.
It's as if I were never ever born in America, My Most Beloved Country.
Thanks to the Bush administration and the administration presently
I have become truly what I can only define as an American Refugee
and I'm not the only one.
There is now over A Million
Suspected Enemy Combatants just like me.
We have all been placed on the government's watch list
because we reserve the right to peacefully protest
and demand answers to our questions regarding the 9/11 tragedy.
Right now, thanks to the Bush administration and the administration currently
the President can order anyone to brake into my home without a warrant literally
and search and seize by whatever means all of my property.
Under authority of the President they can detain me indefinitely
without notifying any of my friends or family,
at any undisclosed location without any legal representation allowable to me.
Did I mention that a warrant they do not need?
I can be tortured but they call it "Enhanced Interrogation"
because again, thanks to the previous Bush administration
president Bush enacted into law
that Suspected Enemy Combatants are not prisoners of war
and not subject to the Geneva Convention.
Perhaps none of the above will ever happen to me
but that doesn't matter because it still could very well come to be.
The bottom line is that many other decent people just like me
have been stripped of their American Constitutional Liberties
and all because we reserve the right to protest our government peacefully
regarding events that preceeded the horrific 9/11 tragedy.
My God given Constitutional Rights have been taken away from me.
I am truly a man without a country, an American Refugee.
Am I the only one who finds this scary?
http://billythekidsters-antisocialclub.ning.com/forum/topics/american-gulag
Guilty pleasures
has you on a Siberian Ferris wheel,
spinning rapidly
Gulag suicidal libido
urges you to cock the trigger and squeeze
Keep repeating the nightmare:
Six torture chambers
Six gas chambers
Six motel rooms
with five vacancies
It's your last chance to exit
this cursed promiscuous existence;
but you don't beg to get off,
this is how you like to get off
Six bridal chambers
Six bed chambers
Six hotel rooms
Face the sex gun ... spin the chambers,
and watch the cowards run
You don't like to play it safe,
law abiding abstinence makes no sense to you
You love the thrill of knowing you might die
from doing something you love to do
It's the way of a sex outlaw: hell raising and guns blazing
and booties shaking in every bar and brothel
Thrill-seeking junkie cowboy,
you're gonna stay on this rough ride,
try to buck the bronco
You got big macho dreams
of being the head legs-spread honcho ...
sweating beads of lead perspiration
in the fire down below
You need amoral nerves of steel,
if you wanna partner up with the devil
Mete out to the innocent souls much ricochet suffering
Promiscuous criminality don't pay ---
Doing anything with anybody,
then giving it to everybody ...
gonna send you to your grave one day
Guilty pleasures
has sentenced you to a life riddled with
holes in your two brains
Serving time in chains of misery and pain
The destination is oblivion,
for all who board this prison bullet train
Red power mode
White digital
Blue logo
My, oh my ...
sweet apple pie!
Patriotic American cheese is turning sour Kraut commie
Democracy is Wisconsin curdling ... penicillin shot
needed between the ailing ballot box,
sho’ ain’t Louisiana Purchase forthcoming
Lady Liberty is bowing face down, Kansas Toto-style,
to Kremlin oligarchy ...
didn’t take much to bend with Washington wavy subservience
It’s an Idaho russet Ruskie crying shame
Couch the Benedict-ion omelette breaking news:
Missy Freedom done Alaska huskie hussy sold herself
to be a Soviet satellite skirt muzzled tramp mule
Red power mode
has taken cyber control of all voter confidence
White digital bar-code
activate the Manchurian self-destruct sequence
Blue logo brand ruble sold,
keeps the general populace straddling the fence
As they reality TV see their loose Lady Liberty
make a Texas loan star barracuda bow face
Proud North Dakota woman bending her knee,
acknowledging her Bolshevik bastard place
It’s a Kentucky bourbon crying shame
Democracy kissing the Politburo Czar ring
Bluegrass filly ruling class
selling the masses out for the Balaam green
Capitol Hill Star Spangled silent gag,
money mutes on a Pavel dog Con-stitutional prostitute
Wavy anthem cloth used as a snot rag,
Molotov noses following the Red Pied Pier booger flute
My, oh my ...
Marx Twain subversive tweet sweet apple pie!
Collaborator citizens being called patriotic comrades
Eating the Stalinist straw buries,
spit sprinkled with
Chernobyl pyramid scheme
propaganda whipped cream
Traitor taste the Taps Blue Fibbing beer,
free-market funeral dirge price gouge overflowing,
in the white Lenin toe-tag black body bag aisle
While the Ukraine lobbyist piggies
are covetously Crimea coffer crying
Oh, Nevada bordello bosom alligator weep ...
let the Alabama tick tears leech flow
down those Florida lemon-squeezed cheeks
It’s a New Mexico caliente green chile crying shame —
Them neo-Anazazi, gun-clicking squatters
getting a Wounded Knee ice gulag reservation claim
Lady Liberty doing an Independence bow face,
it’s a thirteen stripe, Siberian mongrel disgrace
Melanin lamentation
It appears to be the color of dread
Locked in
is a private penal profiteering feeling
Black site
has a plantation clandestine skin
Making abolition voices
invisible again
Usury jaws open like an abyss trapdoor,
predatory lending
got a bulging debtor belly once more
As the black robes
rattle strike
a corporate cobra plea deal —
Let the food chain shakedown siren lure
Leopard spot plastic bags
over the head
Casting poverty pawns
into the a domino pit repo hole
Obsidian wiles got a blue steal bracelet price tag;
dark bags under the eyes, dreams dead
Pale thoughts ... Pliny sleepless nights, no dawn:
Implantation device now in control
Overseer bound destination,
underneath the roulette task terrible Gulag will
Siberian tigers have a paper appetite,
turning into eclipse panthers when Dear occupant can’t pay the bill
01-14-22
I'm not your tearstained dishrag.
Will you end your suicide note with a hashtag?
Just lock me in the metaphysical gulag.
The real world's too much a drag
for a ***.
I am not digestible.
I am a hunk of pyrite lodged in the
jejunum of bureaucracy.
I am a precious and coveted
artifact hidden at the bottom
of a recycling bin, underneath
empty milk gallon bottles.
Their pungent swill is a grimy
filter for my blind beauty.