Best Indoctrinated Poems
Our parents chose to join a cult
Nobody asked us
We went along with what they chose
Too small to make a fuss
Indoctrinated,we believed
This life was the norm,
We were fed on 'comic books'
Taught to worship ****.
While still children we became
'Flirty Fish for God'
We wore bright make up
Wore bright clothes
Walked dark streets alone.
We searched for men and sold them 'love'
They paid with souls and money.
We took them to 'church' convinced that we'd
Fulfilled all Gods wishes.
In innocence we walked the streets
We knew not what we did
Our parents were so proud of us
We were Gods'good fishes
.
Now this sect has all but gone
What's become of us?
Are we your neighbours or your friend
Maybe someone on a bus!
Are we filling up the jails ?
Or selling sex for pennies?
Are we shooting up with drugs
To blot out all our memories?
Are we alcoholics,drowning out our sorrow,
Pity the poor 'Flirty Fish
Fulfilling someone elses' wish
For them no bright tomorrow.
Senseless
What is it inside the heart of man
That cannot appreciate another’s suffering
Were we born with this senseless implacability
Is it from life itself we grow these calluses of the soul
Are we created not to care
Is the face of nature so coldly ruthless
That we must come to be so
For what belief in anything in which to believe
Should we maim and destroy and kill
What is it that we know so well
That the idea of difference can cause such conceited violence
How do we become so voluntarily indoctrinated
Is it some desperate need to have sense amidst the senseless
To have at least the illusion of a purpose
When then do we celebrate the diversity of our sense to make sense of the senseless
Should every woman and man dream and aspire
And have every man and woman dream and aspire to the same
Or say this love is stronger or this way is better
This truth more truthful than anything anyone else can know
Who’s despicable spirit can live with out some measure of guilt in overfed luxury
While others starve and die in poverty
Are we not as one with this the global identity we call humanity
Are we not basically and essentially all the same
If right there is to pass on righteous judgment
For cultural and social and political and religious difference
Such conviction and contempt is that all we see in our own reflection
When then do we celebrate our diversity of sense to make sense of the senseless
.........................................
Things We Think
He said, “Every man is busy earning money.”
She said, “Is there anything more important than love?”
He said, “Is there anything more important than sex?”
She said, “I think we all just fear death.”
He said, “It’s like the Cats in the Cradle we just need more time.”
She said, “I think we really need more space.”
He moved out to a place with more space.
She soon did not have enough money.
She had to leave behind the house and love.
Once they vowed nothing would do them part not even death.
She never learned the aborted child’s sex.
Biologically he still had more time.
He was ambitious, indoctrinated into the ascent of money.
She worked her fingers to the bone, until her death.
He afforded local expensive sex.
She began to view local nature as expansive space.
He did not connect space and time.
She knew what connected it all was love.
In time he found a new love.
In love, she found time.
He equated good passion with good sex.
She found the emerald walls of nature the best space.
He loved the crisp or dirty, rumpled, green of money.
Homeless— she was reprimanded in the rain “You’ll catch your death!”
it's been said,
The root of all evil is money.
Money can’t buy you love.
Nothing is certain but taxes and death.
I don’t know the question, but the answer is sex.
I need my space.
All we have is time.
I’ve learned to give love and learned that is love.
I’ve learned one’s time is worth more than one’s money.
I’ve learned a small space in nature explains all infinite space.
I’ve learned that gender should not be judged by one’s sex.
I’ve learned that empathy slows time.
I’ve learned from the leaves of grass there is no death.
He is more than his money and she is more than her sex.
In death we find love.
In space there exists time.
In their dreams…
Yes, please
Whisper indoctrinated dialect
Upon my harrowing song
Yes, please
Remove that scented, plastic tulip
Place it upon my oblivious palm
As if we’re in a Sadie Hawkins dance
Bribing hearts
With petal currencies
Psst, hey
I woke up only feeling like a thousand bucks.
A foreign knock-off made of recycled, rubber bolts
And ambiguity
Please
Tell me I’m priceless with borrowed, high-interest breaths
Liquidate my potent complacency
To become that symbol of an elitist humanity
Yes!
Stroke that clouded, diamond tip
With your sensual thumb
Love stamps of approval
After 6 months of quickie penetration
And co-signatures on dilapidated apartment leases
PLEASE, YES!
Take me to our creator!
Tell Him I am free!!!
I will stand here in virtual observance!
Wait, where are you going?
Come back to me!
COME BACK TO ME!
My wheelchair’s batteries are fading!
How will I stand?!
NO!
…
Sadly, they never validated their reality…
©Drake J. Eszes
Its creation’s simplicity still stands as a difficult puzzle
head is twisted backwards while in a forward motion
still looking behind at the chronicles of some centuries ago
long before the infiltration of Christian missionaries and Arab traders
is the exact factor making its existence seemingly complex.
Foreign politics and faiths both adopted,
have tied it with the ropes of inferiority
systematically indoctrinated to condemn
its history, personality and civilization,
while grabbing other languages and cultures so dearly
to the point of blindly pushed into Anarchy.
The modern world is on a high speed,
excuses of the west’s exploitations to build their civilizations
are noisy complaints and already cliched.
Small islands with no natural resources as Singapore;
the awe of the miracle of the Han River portrayed by south Korea
and the magical performance of India in information technology
are evidences of old colonies
beating their colonizers in some phases of development.
From Abuja to Addis Ababa, Khartounm to Kigali,
no Caucasian is seen, staying in charge of its state houses
but to give reasons to its mediocrity and indifference,
conspiracy theories and neo-imperialism twaddle are coined.
All these, just complications of a chronic low self esteem
but unfortunately manifesting at a time it should be confident
in the chaotic universe
of western imperialism, Christian materialism and Arab expansionism.
From a very young age I have been inculcated
And indoctrinated with the belief in god.
I used to have the waking frights in the nights,
Terrific deep fears of “Satan” everywhere and
Horrible nightmares and in those moments
I would call on God to protect me from “Satan”.
Such is the story evolved over thousands of years.
A phobia; promising a carrot and menacing with a stick.
Powerful faith defies all logic as truth is subjective
Old equations and potions never appeal to my mind
Wrong and right my heart of hearts knows well.
Even though I know HE is everywhere
Residing in each being, even in an atom.
Faith is like a mustard seed small in size
Until it grows into the largest ever pasture
Leaving us in awe with His glory and power.
The time when happy, I say, ‘It’s god’s grace’
However when in troubles, I seek Him
Invariably to know where he is.
Never knowing that I’m like a small ant in a basement of
GREAT, vast and unfathomable structured edifice.
+++
January 12, 2015
First Place win
Strophe
The polygamist had a big house
Where he chose to warehouse hundreds of girls
And women including 29 stepmothers, his father’s spouses
56 of the girls were each other’s sisters.
And 24 were under the age of seventeen.
Some of the young wives even assisted passions
The pedophile with his sexual assaults
Telling the girls that if they refused to please his preen
In what he dubbed the “heavenly sessions”
They would be “rejected by God’s favorite cult.
Antistrophe
Wives were both the victims of his abuse
And the accomplices subjected to a cruel
World of worship and sexual abuse
And were so indoctrinated and used cool.
Who cruelly bred them for manipulation.
Calling himself the ‘humble servant’ of God
Asking the girls to please God to atone community’s sins
Oh, the wives of the notorious polygamist’s predation
Into the twisted world of subjugation fold
With which he surrounded himself amidst the teens.
Epode
Had a wisdom tooth for his sexual gratification
Raping the young girls in his big house to make housewives
The State of Texas has a big house for lamentation
Where he will spend the rest of his life’s cloves
Well, he will have plenty of time to repent.
And think deeply on the meaning of life
Out of the 50 wives none of the parents got relief
Where are the parents of these young girls tormented?
Does that mean all were brainwashed for strife?
So scary that pedophilia can be masked as religious belief.
.===============================================
Dr. Ram Mehta
First Place win in :
Contest: A Toothful Ode by nancy jones
** This is the English Ode, also called the Homostrophic or Horatian Ode.
The Romantic Ode often followed the Irregular Ode's structure
and the Homostrophic Ode's meditative quality.
Rhyme Scheme : ABABCDECDE (Ten lines)
When the poets fall silent Man will not only lose his voice but also the notion of Life. ~Quote by poet.
Steeped in the pain of his slain countryman,
surrounded by the turmoil of real fears
which lay exposed on the stone-cold tarmac,
a poet dipped his ink in the spilled tears.
He had a name … He had a name …
A mother’s son had stood up to be counted
during a time when voices were made mute,
indoctrinated to a point of stupor.
A poet observes and remains resolute.
He had a name? He had a name.
No statue would be erected in his name
as he was not the first man to be slain.
At the next roll call of the civil unrest,
the poet’s words ease some of the naked pain.
He has a name! He has a name!
13/7/2001
___________________________________________________
Challenge accepted at Jenna Logan’s blog, An Exercise in Poetic Camaraderie, dated 13 July 2021: cathartic, courage, calming.
I used a combination of the poetic devices epistrophe and epizeuxis in this elegy.
There should have been a vote
Today you are the woman, tomorrow you're the man
no matter what you so believe, it isn't in Gods plan
No one's trying to chastise you, you should be left alone
just don't push "it" in our face, we really aren't your clone
Supreme Court of the USA, turned country upside down
a "Socialist assembled Nine", we look at them and frown
You want to be a woman? but god made you a man
you've picked the women's locker room, now you, don't have to stand
Forget the others they don't count? Takes "one" to spoil the pot
voting doesn't mean a thing, Supreme Court fair? It's not
My friends are from all walks in life, I'm sure that yours are too
no one's trying to change your mind, the same should go for you
Not sure, if you like everyone? Oh, that would be so wrong
yet you'll have them bake a cake, and sing the same old song
I've never thought what you should be, it's never on my mind
that golden rule, yes we were taught, I hope you were in kind
I don't cater to the left, don't cater to the right
the children you've indoctrinated, what about their plight?
Tell them things they ask about? Things like "you and you?"
when they ask me "why is this?" "My answer," will be true.....
^
Too...
the point
social bias
we fall into place
Indoctrinated system
-ism's become a wedge
classism a form of racism
minds eye trained toward color
gold and green....bold with greed....
We were not a nation, but just a continent
Africa with kingdoms
then, we violently got segmented and detached by people who never understood us
we were sliced as if we were bread,
then, one precious piece appeared,
a sweet-potato shaped
only to find itself locked as a puzzle
we were given a colonial name, a colonial anthem, and a colonial currency
It’s funny how I also write in the colonial language, and I put it as my fluency
we were enslaved,
in our homeland
but also, we were sent to their lands
we were abused to the core, and we burnt out as coal
as my great grandfather narrated of the “Thangata System”
we were deceived that they discovered our rivers, lakes and mountains
it’s funny that we were using them before
naming became a discovery,
and fresh generations are still indoctrinated with the deception
We forgave, but our history cannot be erased
We have moved, but we have pains
Our history is not pleasing, it’s hard pressing
We were taken for granted
As if we are not a people
Not a secret, we were called “monkeys”
Our dignity was lost
Then we gained independence we had once lost
When the stupid federation was broken, as the dawn arrived and the cock crowed
It looked promising as men, women, and children chanted
They sung, because they felt victorious
But still, we betrayed each other,
Infested with mysteries, greed, insecurities, poverty, tyranny
We still never gave up but fought for the freedom
A little bit of a turning around
But we still cry bitterly
When the people elected forget us
And we still exploit each other
Where is "Ubuntu"?
Our independence lost its fragrance
Because we are not free
When we still depend on foreign aid in every sector
What went wrong?
I wait for complete healing,
I wait for the day we shall see the meaning,
I believe our history is important
Only when told in an honest way
So that we can pave a way
For truth, and progress
Beasts of No Nation
Bearers on rotten Fruit
loaded and lead
Pronounced DeaD
Incandescent Innocence
generations lost to wilderness
gloom bright no more
beast in packs attact
feed in fact ~
a Nations greed adore
though they Howl Growl
tear into structures
communities RoaR louds
The leaders lead The followers follow
bow too ambitions
GrEEd rings hollow
SCREAMs
“GRAB WAT YOU CAN FOOls!!!!”
tools indoctrinated insane
set up like Ducks in a Row
cops 5 Oh PoPo
populous protection down-low
Incandescent Innocence
transcends but blinks out its
luminous
Beasts packs the dimwitted
dark shrouds theirs eyes
with N~ away we are lost
nobody answers
the
calls
the devil rings..............
IT’s
Midnite
sea 2/6/16.
Charles SeaBe Banks·Saturday, February 6, 2016
>>1111>>A TRAPPED JEHOVAH"S WITNESS CHILD>1111>>Quincy Mac<<1111<<
date written: 23.11.2015
“Bezirke”
Bit by bit
we build our walls
strict little districts
to pin our minds on
and keep the paper tigers out
Political Romantics
counting sheep
and numbers
we walk in our sleep
dreaming of doors
Opening inward
externally we are Bezirke
socialised in a stolen concerto
solo instruments with flat musical
composition, indoctrinated
sucked in
sucked up
hypnotised
by the totalitarian state
for our best interests
mesmerised
moving our hips
licking their lips
Bit by bit
we build our walls
Strict little districts
to pin our minds on
and keep the paper tigers out
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
“Brandenburg” / Apparat
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=crdqTf8ZnKQ
"A Hive Mind has no need for each individual part to have a positive idea of the whole, and to then repress its own inclinations by means of this idea. But in human totalitarianism, this is the central phenomenon, because they are all performing the same internal repression."
"The term “hive mind” refers to the apparent intelligence that emerges at the group level in some social species, particularly insects like honeybees and ants. ... Clearly the assimilation of human into a hive mind is supposed to be a bad thing, according to the writers of Star Trek: a unified consciousness or intelligence formed by a number of alien individuals, the resulting consciousness typically exerting control over its constituent members."
1. Bezirke/German
2. Totalitarianism
3. Covid19/Monitoring:
http://a.msn.com/01/en-au/BB12Bbym?ocid=se2
4. Orwellian
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Orwellian
5. Mass Surveillance
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mass_surveillance
6. The Hive Mind:
https://majesticequality.wordpress.com/2010/06/13/on-our-fear-of-the-hive-mind/
7. Paper Tiger
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paper_tiger
Heaven’s above, Hell’s below,
Purgatory’s in the middle,
Guess what’s on the menu,
Our souls! To solve my riddle.
Players in the mix together,
Yes actors and entire cast,
Props and stars of their show,
Entertaining up to the last.
Gods and demons, decide
our comeuppance and fate,
Tomorrow’s judgement day,
Our life, is up for debate,
Watching over our theatrics,
Deliberating all mankind,
If a hung jury, will cast us back,
into the nether, nowhere time.
Born a Roman Catholic, was
indoctrinated this spiel, in school,
Beaten and punished harshly,
if not acceding to their rules.
That’s why I’m sceptical, about
organised religion, and it’s truth,
Why use corporal punishment,
unless dishing out bad fruit.
You’ll find cynical sentiment,
in some, if not many of my poems,
I’m not trying to influence,
That’s for you, and you alone.
I apologize to others, if offended,
I’m not trying, to tempt blind faith,
My message is, don’t be duped,
by con-artists, before it’s all too late.
Question everything, without exception,
What’s the harm, if nothing’s to hide,
Meet your creators, gaze upon them,
Project ones honesty, onto Gods eyes.
Now find I’m stuck in the middle,
Agnostic, my penchant is science,
How else, could I have turned out,
Chose my own path over forced compliance.
By
David Kavanagh.