Best Karl Poems
He had do fight all odds
A man of unbreakable idealism
Alone with his ideas
A mysterious death at high sea
The truth will never be known
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Gegen alle Widerstände
Ein Mann mit ungebrochenem Idealismus
Alleine mit seinen Ideen
Mysteriöser Tod auf hoher Sea
Die Wahrheit wird niemand erfahren
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En lucha contra todas probabilidades
Un hombre de idealismo irrompible
Solo con sus ideas
Una muerte misteriosa en alta mar
La verdad nunca será conocida
Note: Rudolf Christian Karl Diesel, 1858-1913, was a German engineer and the inventor of
the Diesel engine. He spent his youth until 1870 in Paris and surroundings. When being
extradited after the start of the German-French-War in 1870, Diesel and his family left for
London. He as a child travelled alone to Augsburg, Germany were he lived for five years
with his uncle and went to school there. He started studies of mechanical engineering in
1875 in Munich and applied for a patent of a „New and economical power engine“ at the
Emperial Patent-Office in Berlin. From 1908 on he developed the first functional model of
his engine with the financial assistance of the Krupp company. In January 1898 the first
factory for Diesel engines was built in Augsburg, Germany. A Diesel Engine Company was
inaugurated by autumn 1900 in London. The first motor vessels with a Diesel engine were
built in 1903. Diesel was at a state of bad health due to numerous patent-lawsuits. He was
not a good businessman and lost his complete fortune. On September 29th Diesel boarded the
mail-vessel Dresden to cross the Channel for Harwich to participate in a meeting of the
„Consolidated Diesel Manufacturing Ltd.“ in London. He seemed to be in a good manner when
he was last seen on board of the ship. On October 10th 1913 the crew of a Dutch
government pilot ship saw a body drifting in the water at heavy sea. As the body was
highly decomposed, the crew only got hold of some personal belongings (a pastille box,
purse, pocket knife and a spectacle case) which were later identified as Diesel's
belongings by his son Eugen. The real cause of his death was never clarified and his
dependants never believed in suicide, but in murder to steal Diesel's ideas. So his death
is still remains a mystery.
Karl Marx house in Trier.
Know you where it is,
Abode of wisdom today we live,
Renown for industrial change?
Labour unite...still remember the say?
Man! It is a place to be,
Athenaeum of global change,
Rare to find in somewhere else,
X-rays of wars on man and growth.
Herein philosophy lived,
On the table under the tree he wrote,
Uniform of the legend intact in’robe,
Spoons and forks that fed the brain,
Excellent works of yester years.
In the anthology photos speak;
No to exploitation is all they say.
This environment beauty to behold,
Roman empire relics here and there;
In Karl Marx house in Trier,
Eyes have many to learn:
Respectable mount of thought.
Born May 5, 1818, in Trier Germany
to Heinrich and Henrietta Marx,
sans the third of nine children
(and second oldest heir)
Karl Marx thinking begot incendiary sparks,
asper his two most controversial publications
titled The Communist Manifesto,
and Das Kapital
which political philosophy
incubating seeds of self destruction didst birth
doctrines of class struggle,
historical materialism, dearth
of equitable wealth, and inherent
contradictions of industrial capital
distributed unevenly
across avast swath of Earth
thus inviting his perspective
(conveniently exploited,
mined, and usurped) advocating
the working class (proletariat)
to expedite organized revolutionary action
to topple capitalism and bring about
socio-economic emancipation,
where wages of sin exchanged for labor bled
fingers to the bone life source, viz proletariat
till slaving laborer nearly became gratefully dead
despite being cased in 12 point
Times New Roman garb, who incessantly fed
insatiably maws of production,
(no way to get a supportive talking head)
particularly highlighted
within schema of Capitalism),
a predominant paradigm
stratifying society led
to internal tensions engendered
between bourgeoisie red
dilly controlling means
of production codified as said
as die a critical approach Marx coined
as historical materialism,
where figurative landmines forced one to tread
gingerly, thus above stated philosophy
would supposedly lead down the road
where self destruction wrought marriage
birthing Socialism offspring from shot gun wed
ding, thus coaxing eventual establishment
of classless communist society meant
to establish free association of producers who spent
exchanging merchandise amidst classless
campy population hood pitched a tent.
Let me show you the perimeter first Diamond with cool edges like water
Upon the shroudless sunshine of thirst That is the constellation he was after
Four well clad figures on the perimeter And a single soul back in the middle
Women all tha their provisions straddle Big broad bankras holding ends and center
Of the national pride of work, waiting On the morning bus to come, a new day
Away from the green canefields looking
In sweet wonder on history's fading May
But what holds my eye with still wonder
Is two women who never will surrender
The dread weight upon their head, like
A finger pointing at Christ on his pike.
Explanation: a bankra is a large Jamaican market basket
(b St Mary, 1923; d Kingston, 1975). Jamaican painter. He studied painting at the Art
Students League, New York, at the Ecole des Beaux-Arts, Paris, and at the Instituto Nacional
de Bellas Artes in Mexico. He returned to Jamaica in 1953, where he quickly established
himself as a major avant-garde figure, challenging the sedate homespun realism of
Jamaican artists such as Albert Huie and David Pottinger with vivid Expressionistic canvases.
Karl Parboosingh's "Jamaican Interlude, 1958" The work is aptly titled "Jamaican Interlude"
since, in it we see that quiet pause between two acts, as five figures obviously wait at the
roadside , maybe for a country bus to carry them to the weekly drama and hustle and bustle
of Saturday market. The five figures comprise four females and a youth, all depicted in the
same white garb. They are placed against the backdrop of the Jamaican landscape, a blue,
cloud-filled sky, lush vegetation, the hint of a cane crop, in the stillness of glaring sunlight,
waiting with their produce-laden bankras
Jesus Christ and Karl Marx seek lost children in the City of Gold
In shackled shack with weight of broken bricks on tin roofed promises
she rest her head against the precious paraffin cooker empty and cold
Five children to feed no milk in once beautiful breasts life sour and rancid
abused and battered and her husband long gone in yesteryear’s crossfires
‘Tulinagwe’ is free from luxurious troubles plods on no fancy resides in
her township a voyage no carrier of progress and a storm with no sail
‘Mawuli’ lives close liberated from hardship quite posh in his mansion
a world away in marvellous marble box tree hedges protecting ascent
He rose manicured hands roses lawns perfumed clothing no sweat while
his gardener reaps thorns and oppression from inside walls’ dwelling
Born free after the fall of Apartheid his stars and his God have sheltered
adorned crowned zenith’s success a story from another page in the book
‘Mawuli’ lives resolute on ‘Tulinagwe’s shoulders brethren in union while
her dreams have dissolved and yet my free flight of fancy calls resurrection
For both in their names Christ shed his nails for Christ’s sake or for their
blood so let us be reminded that revolution does never start at the top
Has either read Shakespeare or for that matter the bible when ‘Tulinagwe’
has no privilege to read while 'Mawuli' browses his browser brokers his shares
Two sides of a hopeful reminder that Marx still inhabits money and freedom
and that the burden of change contains a message for all children of God
06th May 2017 written for ‘Fancy Free’-Contest
Karl (Ray) Johnson, A Remarkable Man
The first time I met this remarkable man
I was just seventeen years old,
and as I stood to be introduced to him and stood until he said,
“Just don’t stand there, sit down” so I sat down with a bang as I was told.
Oh yes, he was rough and gruff in appearance
and all manner of his speech,
but he had a great deal going for him, knowledge and know how
that I’m pretty sure he was certainly able to teach.
The outward appearance of the early days
would also cause others to believe that he “sure’ is hard,
but the day that I saw him break down and cry when his dad died
broke for me that disguise.
Oh sure, he had a manner about him that was rough
but also a strength and a courage to,
and others found he had a heart of gold
especially those in need of his help there was nothing that he wouldn’t do.
We will miss this man, this courageous giver of himself
this worker for others he was,
and we will remember back at the funny things he did
like his saying, “What’s going on”? and we will think and want to pause.
The day of his memorial
what a testimony to this Ray for all of his deeds,
for many people came to honor where honor was due
a man, a husband, a father, and a brother to thank him for helping in their need.
Written by: Marilyn S. Jennings
May 2017
That night, when the air was an azure army,
a tempter, a civil delight,
We stood blowing kisses
(the wind stood there with us)
on your porch lit by fire bug light
The night settled sweet right above us,
your street in a bath of a contrary glow
and we spoke (how we spoke)
'till the sun almost woke up
and melted us back into snow...
Don't scream about equality;
life's unfair, that's reality;
just do the very best you can
to truly be a worthy man.
Productive work and mind, said Marx,
beget the humanizing sparks;
self-worth and self-respect, said Rand,
can make this place a better land !
alone in the world
with no-ones soft touch
when no-one cares
but i need it so much
without you here i,m split in two
without you and me
i,m only half here
i move in motion as each day passes by
knowing in my mind
that i must get by
Form:
Standing on busy Pilkington avenue
Rain as sky tears full of rage
Moth- men in cages
Zoom past all of them sages
Sending post cards of themselves
To their egos.
I got a reply on "Leather Jacket"
Karl Howard is the name
Telling me I have a chance in the poetry contest
With links just the same.
That person doesn't exists
On Soup that I can see
But some of my poems are gone
Does anyone else have this problem...or just me?