Best Proletariat Poems


Up In Arms


Another wave of voter vexation
is swamping the shutdown nation

To the left, 
the windpipes are hissing
To the right,
the windbags are dissing

And all of the kitchen cabinet aprons
got their middle fingers
pointing up     deaf adder listening    

Their thumbs down
is the ballot death blow sign:
Telling the weathervane citizens,
the rainy day 
slush fund money is missing

The proletariat are up in arms,
so voter vexed   ...   they’re getting no paychecks

When the last mint cookie crumble,
the murmurers 
are gonna misty-eye mumble

The viper sound bytes
are cobra kissing — 
Blowing inherit-the-wind 
lipstick jinn wishes

Getaway stage right poll exit
says last count call:
the vault money is missing

The proletariat are up in arms,
so voter vexed   ...   they’re getting no paychecks

To the right, 
the windpipes are bursting
To the left,
the windbags are cursing

And all of the kitchen cabinet aprons
got their middle fingers
pointing up     to the empty cookie jar

As the latest patriotic wave of voter vexation
is giving wet back hex to a grumbling nation

And the whether vain citizens don’t know which way to turn

One Country, One World

Which nation of the world
Do I belong?
I belong to the nation 
Of unity,
No transgression,
And freedom for all.

I belong to the nation 
Of  Equalities-
Equality between 
Proletariat and aristocracy
Disabled and abled
Woman and man
Young and old
Black and colored
People and nation
Right and rule...

I belong to the nation of peace
Across the land, the sea and the sky.
And peaceful stretch to the arboreal.
And Peace of souls,
Of bodies
And minds.

My belonging
Is my strength-
The rhythm that keeps me growing.
Though I was born a Nigerian.
Not I neglects being call
American, Ghanaian, Portuguese
Chinese, Korean, Indian...
Though I'm by virtue 
Of land mass
An African      
Not do I dismiss 
In unison unit 
That type me Asian,
North American,
South American,
European, 
Australian
And Antarctica.

I belong to
A nation,
A voice...
One country,
One world.

Naked

NAKED

*an ode to Fatherhood*







*****************************

I have always wanted to see
The different colors of the earth
To travel the round edges of the planet
To swim the pacific and fish the Euphrates.
I have been ready for this world 
But this world does not want to see me yet 
Nature tells me,
For i am naked.

I have sought to go places 
Where no man has been to.
To dance to the lyre
From a Scottish ballad,
To drink from an elephant tusk, 
Filipino wine.
I have been ready for this world 
But this world does not want to see me yet,
Nature interrupts ;
Go make peace with your household
For you are naked!

Achie,
My papa said the easiest way to see the world  
As a proletariat is through the honey rich pages 
Of the book.
This book, he invested all he ever earned.
My son fair well in life, he says.
Please do not forget your humble beginning
Nature reckons on me 
For i am naked!

My papa is crude and destitute 
He has paid his blood and sweat for my literacy 
"You will do more than i have done, my son"
He echoes to the wind that travels to the west.
My papa is not aware that in this book world 
You are who you know.
I have appeased the elements to make way for me 
For my father is aging.
Nature tells me to go and make peace at home 
For i know i am naked.














G H o P S
X 
M c J


Capitalist

A world ruled only by capitalist’s ideology,
The proletariat continues to adhere to their beliefs and philosophy
A society with one world order,
An the existence of a social class border,
Oppression and depression that’s what the poor cry
One ruler with one suggestion,
An entire nation with a level of high economic suppression.

Demeter Edwards

The World

Born in a world of sin
A world filled with evil from the very beginning,
Greediness and selfishness,
With the existence of poverty, unemployment, crime and disease
Caused by our own human nature,
An inevitable cycle that continues from the past to the present future
Due to the prevalence of social class segregation,
Whereby the lower, middle and upper class fights for social status elevation
In order to achieve upward social mobility,
These social classes will fight in pain and hostility,
An ideology of who is best suited to reach the top
With one class that is, (proletariat) continued to be oppress,
While the bourgeoisie continues to be the dominant class to reap success,
A society filled with greed and self-interest
Every person wants that recognition,
They will always battle each other to reject sorrow and oppression,
That’s the reason why the world will always remain in war, famine and terror
Due to human beings error,
A world divided in segments of continent,
With different nation or countries having differentiated political style of government, 
As well as structure, numerous types of culture and upcoming new subculture,
With every one wanting that one thing riches, prestige and fame,
A reward which symbolizes their name.

Demeter Edwards

C. L. R. James (From Pages)

Ellis Island
Men come here to see a statue
With hungry masses at it I knee
I come here to breathe again
The simplicity of the allusion
For I knew Moby Dick
Was not why alone
Our children were born
Blemished like the rainbow
So I come to see
Where he had slept resisting to return
While he decolonized my illusion
I have seen the pen in its might
How time was never fast enough
To catch a metaphor in flight
And yet always I fear more
The impotence of the sword
In a Proletariat hand
So this is where they flocked you
Among the impotent and dying
Among the anxious and lying
You who were our brightest son
Boldest mind,
Most fearless thinker of the time
I wept too without the Federation
But cannot find the courage to curse
My own wrong
I thought all games are wars
You think all wars are games
A means by which barbarity
Prevents my integration
With self and other self
And the selves
I become being civilized
I saw the sea
You invented the water cycle
The thing that no man yet has ridden.


They Call It Fuel Scarcity

The nation in question is a world largest oil exporter
It citizens is be deprived of what she has
Involuntarily long queues from night 
In petrol stations till dawn outside the same stations
Makes the danfo drivers angry and happy with price hike
Who will be sorry for the stranded commuters
Is it the profitless street sellers
Or the red hotted conductors?

You then see a divided country
Each citizen angry with and harmless to the government
Frustrated citizens walk miles to chase Molues
No one cares for the other the aim is to get home
Though some do, the poor ones.
Who says it only touches the proletariat
Even the rich are touchable
You will see big fat men exercising  in their cars
Suffering from the traffic jam created at the stations.
Who will condole with the cying lady
That cannot manouvre due to her twisted hand
And clucth ridden legs?

A country were  urchins 
Take to the streets as black marketers
The hoarding stations having collaborated
With them sell the gold four times its price
All moneyed men will buy from the law breakers
The owners says it is due to vandalism 
What a suitable lie
For it is likely that the political skirmishes
Has reined on the innocent citizens
Even our eight year leader
Will not address us on the issue
Who says it this is not a dividend?
I say it is.

Two Kinds of People

TWO   KINDS     OF   PEOPLE


There are two kinds of people in  this world :
Those who say there are two  kinds of people, 
And those who don’t.   
The first guys create problems by setting
One against another. 
The other guys simply recognize reality.
OK sorry...
There aren’t two kinds of people  in this world.

................................................................................................................
Note

This is from my series    PHILOSOPHY   FOR  THE  PROLETARIAT, 
a  pretentious  work  to match other pretentious volumes I have churned out .

A Belated Cc Das Kapital Wicked Candle Box Event For Karl Marx

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.

Rooted Compulsive Obsession With Hair

headland harbored primitive biota abut
mint for exotic sole terrain sustaining 
sole terrain sustaining seeds, spores, spermatozoa, ova 
   seeds, spores, spermatozoa, ova , et cetera gut
preserved within mine follicular pores, sans

I secured per woof and meow wing warp organic matter
   heir in to fore shielded from elements akin to thatched hut 
aware wrenching kamikaze eradication 
   of countless critters from many Godaddy longlegs; 
   creepy crawlers, hops scotching, 

   shimmying with schmaltz, moon walks, et cetera
   lost when germ warfare obliterated vast majority
   since advent of civilization ordained Proletariat and Plebeian Primate  
   (cherishing, fostering, insulating bon mot infinitesimal dot re: future mutt)
dogs and also cats off limits 

   asper demise of other creatures decimated – tut tut
atop thine noggin housed (within thimble size nut)
rare and near extinct flora and fauna, what
species of plants and animals, whose preserve comprised 
   equivalent of indigenous village people huddling within microscopic yut.
Thus, this bipedal simian angst riddled at experiences 
   forced at figurative crossroad

when itching scalping a dead giveaway clue 
   to lather up hirsute growing via bald faced code
at further expense invisible life forms such action would erode
fast dwindled diversity, hegemony, longevity 
   i.e. population except *****Sapiens who didst goad
forefingers needed to massage and scrub thine scalp 
   as like a field getting hoed

sometimes applying solely cold water knob to un load
a healthy plethora, where gushing shower head would send them 
down the drain perhaps displacing their meal times, 
   or feasting on louse see pie ala mode
aware that survival odds regarding 

   getting thru water treatment plant, premonition aye node
and greater chance to avert total mortal kombat avoided 
   if I trekked to Antarctic anti pode
so...similar to other occasions necessitating me 
   to lather 50 shades of gray – 

   as if subjected to being snowed
quite aware many people would avoid me like the plague
(which reaction eagerly embraced) if knotty, 
   oily, straggly natural headresss
hence, this outlier surrendered and got gently toad
value of hygience – and lost as if playing tictactoe x/oed.

This Weakened State

The common man, bruised by his empathy,
has strayed far beyond his capacities.
Only the cunning survive the test. 

The greedy, the vile and the violent
have prevailed and the wrath 
of indulgence has followed 
with them.

The meek shall not inherit the earth, 
the lamb shall be led to its slaughter
and the wolf shall eat its fill.

Naive proletariat give rise to the refugees, 
who become the damned, too weak to stand 
beyond the crawl and easy targets 
for the 'Super Class' to covet. 

The lens of the Oligarchy owned media
keep the masses occupied and hair-trigged
for foreign invaders, backed up by strong 
bigot-flavoured treatise.

While barely fledged democracy 
is pounced upon by the New World Order, 
controlled through stock markets 
and national debt intrigue.

Rothschild owned think tanks telling us 
what to think, whilst education systems 
are designed to execute the middle classes. 

And Orwellian prophecies are nailed 
to our foreheads by false prophets.

On Coining An Acronym For the Neologism 'Occult Microaggresion'

On coining an acronym for the neologism  'occult microaggresion' 
'OM' is right, 
But might get the Buddhists backs up....
OMA, WTAF? What about OMA? 
Its German for granny, but I've no objection to teutonic geriatrics, 
Unless they take hat tricks;
They can be surprisingly elastic - 
Vorsprung durch plastic!
What's that you say, too bombastic?
I'll curtail the doggerel, 
With a couple of matchsticks, 
That used to work on the beatniks, 
Although, Ginsberg could be slippery
When incensed by casual vivipiary, 
'I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by....
Sticklebricks' (sic). 
It's such a minefield, this identity real politik;
As Trotsky said to Stalin:
'Josef Besarionis Jughashvili,
the proletariat can be real pricks', 
And, as the Stranglers pointed out, 
One of them finished him off with an ice pick! 
But, as Galileo observed, 
Maybe that's just the fate in store for  bigoted denizens 
Of this rotund and heliocentric
Planet; 'eppur si muove' he muttered,
And, although a trifle bucolic, 
It seems a fitting epitaph for the Pisan melanancholic.
I apologise for this diatribe didactic, 
The current pandemic has rendered me
in urgent need of a  linguistic  immunoelectrophoretic

Chaos In the White House - Part 2

like some sorority or fraternity house 
   left the sanctified righteous West Wing 
with powder puffs sans canisters 
   of pepper spray, whereby 
   most docile, humble, and liberal took a page 
   from playbook of Pandora, and took an aimless swing
at the root cause of melee by hurling objet’s d’art 
   at the pompous trump ping
Septuagenarian, whose platoons of goons 
   rent asunder peoples against their king
the donnybrook heathen, whose remarks 
   against libertarian rubric that made America great
wantonly reviving prejudices declared dead
   from yesteryear and his attempt to bring
back the glory days, when Whistler Blowers 
   getting water boarded and aching 

deigning to implement dictatorship 
   of the Proletariat as a capital idée fix
weaving together, the salient strengths 
   viz founding fathers credo gave licks
to King George, and now in an ironic 
   twist and shout of fate through eclectic mix
basket of deplorables further shamed 
   by being routed by the New York Nicks
sewed jaws, heads of state, and dignitaries 
   with limping bodies spent like derricks
Oil used up and no place to go except 
   to keep Alice Cooper Company with toys in the attics.

Kremlin Postkard of Kandor


A missive postkard from Russia to Amerika:

Deer Amerikan elekted leaders:
Yuri headlight Magnitsky bad policy,
of swift monetary attrition Ru$$ian decision, 
have sanktion krashed our ekonomy

Das black ice spangled action
send our oligarchy Soviet markets
ruble roulette spinning

Such rogue demokracy konduct
make the proletariat people suffer much
in das Motherland
Why show such sub-zero Siberian love?

Can Supreme Politburo we
speak Kremlin kandidly:
Why must das trafficking bald eagle 
blow das trump 
so elektion help unfriendly?

Sekrecy is valued above all
in das Ural heartland
Kabal charakter is a klandestine
medal of distinktion

Thus unofficially, this solemn body SP
send back channel love
to our silver sly komrades
in das golden land of merchant liberty

We Bolshevik hate
that some had to double agent make
das gulag cell sakrifice

We Lenin love
that these Marxist martyrs embraced 
das dictator way of life 

May their kompromat ruble greed
be planted deeply 
in das hallowed halls of demokracy
Let more Stalinist tears of tyranny
be shipped freely
unto das twin shores of coin liberty

Sadly, propaganda fear 
has submarine surfaced once again,
between past Alaskan trading partners —  
Northern exposure former friends

Yuri czar truly
would yield Molotov easy détente bend
Allow Vladdy us
to make Manchurian Kandidate amend

From Russia with love,
we silo kisses send this Kremlin postkard to Amerika
Kandid spy picture of
our subterfuge gift: Cold hypo-kritical mass hysteria

Forgive broken translation,
due to heavy mushroom kloud interference
Yuri truly,
admire Khrushchev much 
such elekted kompassionate patience
of das unwavering flag treachery

Bookstrings 1

I arrived earlier in time
To witness the great work of creation
When from the dust emerged the first man
I saw the destruction of the Noah’s world
And the reconstruction thereafter
The earliest civilization on Egypt soil
Unfolded before my very eyes
The reign of the Greek gods and
 The might of Roman, I shared 
I walked the streets of Paris
On the eve of Robespierre’s revolution
The triumph of Lenin, Trosky and the royal guards
Were mine at the proletariat Russia
With Cromwell, I drank from victory cistern
In Britain, in the battle against the crown
In the boat beside Columbus
We discovered the new world, America
In Berlin, we sat and scrambled 
For Africa’s  partition
From the rocks ravines of Kenya
I fought in the Mau Mau’s rebellion
Behind Ghandi, I walked 
Paving the streets of India for independence
At Capetown, I teamed  up with Mandela
For freedom in apartheid South Africa
I saw the the CIA at Congo Kinshasa
Murdering young Patrice Lumumba
At Lagos and Accra, I saw the magic wand
Waving over the peoples in the hands of Zik and Nkrumah
On stage with Bob Marley in old Rhodesia
I danced redemption song on the first of Zimbabwe
Last centuries, yesteryears, yesterdays
Today, tomorrow on pages and lines of books
Open before my very eyes and mind.

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