Long Ayn rand Poems
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Tis quite a beast of burden to bear atlas (shrug off not allowed)
Atlas shrugged an impossibility
tantamount to skinny dipping in the lock nest lagoon
Tantamount to shrugging Atlas off mine bony,
ill suited, widower wizened shoulders,
would take naked fat chance in Fountain Head of virgin waters,
eddy fied with huge boulders
which preliminary sketches to maintain pristine
(pure as Snow White's booty) kept in folders
when collaborative effort called, the fore mid able,
trio, sans state of the artists
(within their respective trades as writer
fictional hero, and architect)
Ayn Rand, John Galt, and Howard Roark,
who undertook resplendent measures
affected resilient as omnipotent cable
tub ring plenti kickstarting linkedin gatecrashers
to a snapchatting halt
instagramming, crowdsourcing, crowdfunding,
held at equivalent asper Bay of Pigs
viz Pay of Bigs
(in this context identified as
(vudu trained stalwarts, petsmart outlook,
incorporating literary, metaphorical,
nautical staff comprising fable
sea Crete cure metamorphoses abilities, as failsafe method –
i.e., physically, instantaneously, architecturally rendering
modus operandi capacity asper quick as blazing saddles
(ponied up by young Frankenstein)
kept in fireproof stable,
where at dextrous fingers ala hocus-pocus prestidigitation
which chiefly buoyantly ardently, and hardily drafted imp pier re: hull
rock hull impediment for shore also cast evil spells should
any foolish soul, who dared
to maneuver past the near blinding pier sing redoubt
to access blue lagoon like watery oasis
shielded via reeking poor Island
(where an atomic rooster gargoyle shrouded parapet)
buffeted the crashing waves against
the lock smooth as a glass table
whose wooden sea legs solidly affixed
to hip, hip hooray three chairs
inviting two story book heroes plus the author,
unfurling parchment scriptural roles invited ad lib flairs
since threat of category five hurricane
manifested took writer by surprise,
thus requiring her to utilize cognitive gears
which necessitated modification of original plot,
now bumped credos with religion
vis a vis engendering prayers.
Here’s what I’m thinking now
at the end of the world:
There are no atheists in foxholes—
no theists in politics.
If knowledge is power,
and power corrupts,
then why did I bother reading you, Cicero?
Does it matter that I didn't’t love you?
Would it have mattered if I did?
There’s a poetry reading tonight
whence I’I'll chide other poets
who don’t sit alone.
I won’t bring up death
but I might have to breathe,
even into a mike
and mouth lines to get a snap or a boo
maybe even a wince or two.
Just maybe I’I'll talk about love
and how following your heart is like following a dog—
it only leads to vittles and (female dogs).
But how many times have I used that line
since the story I wrote about you,
a witty and sexy and fictional you?
Most likely I’I'll read something tonight about you.
I won’t recite it from memory
because I don’t think about you that much anymore,
not even when I search for my socks in your drawer
or when I put on the scratchy sweaters you give me,
horizontally striped to bring out my eyes?
I don’t remember your eyes
except they are blue.
And I don’t remember you,
not even when I smell cucumber and apple,
not even when I sleep on my side of the bed
or when you walk through the door
happy to see me;
even then I don’t remember you.
Does it matter that I don’t love you?
Would it have mattered if I did?
How about a few one-liners
for the end of days?—
Depression is self-awareness,
which you’d know if you were;
I need Ritalin to listen to you,
Lithium to hug you,
Viagra to feel you,
and Valium to sleep.
All you need
is me standing there, waiting at home
with turns of phrase and word plays
telling you about why I hate Ayn Rand
but want to buy as much as I can
and how I love celebrity gossip
and detest poetry slams
and find rhyming trite
except when I am.
Hypocrites can still be right,
which you do understand
because you nod at my nonsense
about fighting the man.
But now, at the end of all things—
I’m speechless and witless and pointlessly well-read,
and you’re just sitting there, smiling
asking me to pass the bread.
Lovely hate crimes spate – trumpeted violent trend
(posthumous playful note to posterity kith unsealed
courtesy yours truly once deceased and cremated.)
Whew...so glad tubby gratefully dead
butta shaw miss dug hid ole days
when violence highly overrated
unlike current rooted locked dread,
aye wax poetically nostalgic when Fred
Rogers friendly persona
already quaintly outdated
mutinous armed militia incessant childish
popgun lawlessness pranks ran amuck
indiscriminately fired
magazine round as bullets sped
whizzing to and fro, hither and yon
slowed then stopped by flesh,
while folks nestled abed
bloody sheets, yupper reckon
shot blew hole head
off, no necks time
no matter innocent victim led
virtuous life kneadlessly,
purposelessly, unfairly...
stole by bullet size Grinch, hmm possibly
just maybe, he felt put off and miss sled
by Whoever, thus mad as hatter his said
color turned fifty shades of gray
mottled with fire engine red
now, no matter such innocent chitty chitty
bang bang ruses by duplicitous
hotheaded hooligans bred,
cuz instead every man, woman and child
blessed, donned, gifted... with atomic warhead
absolutely crazy, but president instead
wanted even Steven playing field to win votes,
no matter constituents begged and pled
naught necessarily in vain
since humanity in short shrift
cleared off terra firmae,
another foreign species immune
to radioactive fallout sprung
out Taj Mahal fountainhead
of atlas shrugged ayn rand dilly read
deed planet Earth proof positive Q.E.D
drafted fiat whereby high
powered weapons packing heated lead
plus scattered nuclear bombs
melted than repurposed material
i.e. former munitions armaments purchased
hoof hull legal black market
into raw bits moon units instead
necessary for android robots to tread
carefully, but carry big stick,
when encountering dreamy eyed electric sheep.
Beethoven to roll over,
dee composing
(sans my zany brainy adherence
to "FAKE" information I eschew)
and essentially single handedly grew
the contemporary paradigm few
off fish shill educated
people didst swallow
hook, line and sinker, but perhaps
an enlightened gentile and/or Jew
found credulity linkedin with the then
far reaching somewhat sunnily
revolutionary antithetical concepts only
gull lib bull and/or cuckoo,
despite the logically
substantiated veritable true
lee near custom fit, hunky
dory, integrated metaphorical
interlocking puzzling pieces
rightly anchoring vast vista
(realm of known knowledge,
viz apple pi order)
shipshape motley crue foo
fighting banded divers lee distinct
whirled wide webbing
did not experience
smooth semantic sailing,
and rather recently
(historically "speaking") Renaissance
exuded approbation, and found substantial
adherents among cognoscenti,
who took to heart as gospel truth,
the expansive database
apropos christened Aristotéles translated
to mean Superior; best of thinkers,
whose missives dissected, inspected,
and probed for ethical, philosophical,
and rhetorical handy
dandy blues clue
meriting nascent outlook, sans salient
rubric quintessential pointing cue,
analogous to eternal spirit hovering,
guiding, and favoring new
acolyte, or stalwart
diehard Aristotelian hew
wing painstakingly, thru
prodigious tomes binding
ancient (classical Greece) via
Aristotelianism super glue
rebranded within modern roam'n Times
Font 12 visa vis,
when re: discovered
anew by Martin Heidegger
Ayn Rand, and Alasdair MacIntyre.
Inside this cave, my refuge, nave
I bend and stretch and breath,
to find myself among the ruins
of ancient places, faces, and history.
Although I strive to change the tide
of my own motivations,
something akin to a Zephyr wind
has me returning to old foundations.
Cornerstones, above the bones
of ancestors crying out in vain,
“I too once lived, loved, and looked above,
beyond mountains, clouds, and rain.”
Within my walls I read the call
of (by far more) learned minds,
who looked beyond their own demise,
to future points in time.
Beyond hate and war, the kind that tore
humanity apart at the seams,
cataclysmic, apocalyptic,
nightmare scenes.
Socrates knew, as Plato too
but they were only the beginning,
of a line of thinkers, knowledge drinkers,
all of them underpinning.
How we should live, think, act, and dream
From day to day and night by night,
great thinkers lived that they might give
a more beautiful, brighter, shining light.
Their list is longer than King Tut’s curse
and all the books throughout the earth
could never touch
their individual or collective worth.
From Pythagoras to Parmenides
Democritus to Hobbes,
St. Augustine to Aquinas,
Ayn Rand to John Rawls.
From Thales and Anaximander,
Homer to Thomas Kuhn,
AL-Ghazali to Maimonides,
From Budda to Sun Tzu.
From ancient days to modern ways
of beckoning the questions how and why,
Inside this cave, my refuge, nave,
I bask and ask, the Oracle at Delphi.
The debate
Jordan Petersen the famous Canadian Professor debates
Slavoj Zizek, the equally famous philosopher, is facing off.
The Canadian is dressed in a blue three-piece suit that is too tight
he wears expensive leather boots, looks calm, but his voice crackles.
He thinks capitalism is for good, and I think of Ayn Rand,
he is a formidable debater but has inner anger of something
unsolved on his mind.
Slavoj looks like someone homeless, T-shirt and tennis shoes
He doesn´t belong to any group but thinks Hegel is excellent and often
refer to his saying; Slavoj´s mind is sharp and he jumps from subject
with the greatest of ease.
Jordan is very much a junior in this debate that is about Marx and
the nature of love.
Jordan gives his opinion of Marx but is constrained by his thesis
of capitalism, Slavoj picks his opinion apart; there is a tremble
in Jordan’s voice when he disagrees.
When debating the nature of love, he vax lyrical, Slavoj does not believe
in this at all, he compares lovers’ sex as mutual masturbation, (often it is)
but sees no wrong in this. Jordan is a one-dimensional professor, while
Slavoj has a world view that encompasses everything
the world has to offer, he is, in my opinion, a generous genius with
a sense of rude jokes and laughter.
So: thinker, “personality” and actor
are looking for a drink.
If two of them are trailers, one’s a tractor.
“Nice counter-top. Real zinc?”
“Don’t ask them stuff. They memorise words
of better men, to spout ’em!”
“And his type feels the need to gather herds
of sycophants about ’em.”
“There’s zinc in every human enzyme. Fact.”
“An enzyme? Qu’est-ce que c’est?”
“A catalyst which helps your gut react
a thousand times a day.”
Creators are the only ones who matter,
just them and only them.
Who grows, can know: who knows can grow (and scatter):
the human apothegm.
“The path from easy living? Slow decline
to reach death valley days.”
“Misfortunes? They’re all relative, and mine
are slight. I’m not from Grays!”
Who hasn’t done his share of Boogie Nights?
All wassail hours are zeros.
Two-thirds of humankind are parasites:
where should we look for heroes?
We have a thing now, called celebrity
that’s not the same as fame:
whatever ape forsakes the tree
can make himself a name.
The world, for entertainment, craves a schism
(Max Baer against Joe Louis):
but who foresaw the Queen of Capitalism
would be a Russian Jewess?
Human suffering via the lens of social injustice juxtaposed to the same past.
Enslavement, slavery, and Indian removal from their sacred lands
Who hands are damned?
The universe is included.
Terrorism
War
Famine
Political asylum
All compare and contrast.
Historical movements for the cause,
Today we are a backwards spiral - no joy.
As nations of people become one in a country, the government becomes corrupt.
Are we the democracy that embraces tyrants?
Lack of equal protection of the Law
No due process going on
Just a picture of corruption
Religious emergence has occurred.
Social Theology is the covenant.
However, no one wants to face-up to the capitalism that has self-destructed.
Personal recourse is not within an Ayn Rand world
That belongs to the work force.
I pledged alliance to our spirit and our soul when I was child preparing to enter the
business world.
This agreement was written in the Preamble.
Why is it today ignored?
________________________|
Penned on May 05, 2014!
http://www.poetrysoup.com/poets/top_100_poets_most_poems_all_time.aspx
I want everyone to enjoy and appreciate all of my poems.
Also, you have my permission to use them in any way you see fit.
If they have any positive results on the lives of others or have
encouraged them to write poems themselves, would like to hear about it.
Also, I am trying to find out the email address for the Rachel Maddow Show.
She just was talking about someone in a Don Trump audience who was
reading a book in the background the name of the book was "Citizen" by a
Black author named Rankin. It reminded me of Ayn Rand at first.
There are a lot of interesting things going on now a days regarding poetry.
"Citizen" is primarily about racial integration and disintegration I am also adding.
Would be interested in anyone's comments.
'We must open up our minds and start learning all over again.'
You can quote me on that.
'If for our poems it hadn't been,
where would our brains start to begin.'
You can quote me also on that one also and start digging into it much deeper.
Jim Horn
Skin cancer and Ayn Rand
So another sunny day is sinking into the sea I sat in the sun
for a while but it got too hot I do not understand people who
sit for hours in the sun, hot and painful just to get a tan.
I get a tan in the summer this by riding mine
bike around for an hour or so, only lately with advancing years
I easily tires and having had skin cancer I’m careful.
In January,I collapsed, ambulance sirens and so on; I was dying,
too stupid to notice as death is banal. Elderliness is an affliction
that is depressing, the loss of power, when steps
in the hall are obstacles, negotiations of the will, this sounded
like Ayn Rand whose teaching is the antithesis of a just society,
it worth noticing the rich think she is a goddess their inhumanity
have a philosophical point. Ayn Rand died in a madhouse.
I have no political ambitions, but I do believe in quality for all people,
I regret to say it is only just for some people.