Long Bourgeoisie Poems
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Do as you like do as you may,
revealing consequences held at bay.
Long breath of words repeated until true,
fact or fiction, there is no clue.
Depth of deception so deep,
spoken by ghouls claiming innocence.
Barefaced cruelty spawning death and despair,
decency mislaid, exchanged for a doctrinaire.
Men and women at the head of these Serpentes,
above all laws for these blamable bourgeoisie.
As always the day of reckoning will finally come
where all poisonous vipers will be denounced.
Things will be Announced!
War, you piece of my monotony !
Why don't you talk to my focus ?
Do you find yourself so firmly feeble
in tracing such locus,
where I nest my 'eagle' ?
Enduring your best
slowly at my behest
ain't the only slovenly spa
Resurrected by no guilt,
yet perfected by qualms
falling still short of bourgeoisie, napalms
I don't kill you poor thought
For you wish me distraught
Don't you dare push like kindergarten
Let me break my monotony first
To your down-quarks, much later..
I'll talk, then ! Slyly quenched thirst
Letting eagles fence mind
and sand define the border,
Calling ‘succinct’ the grind
and not what went harder
is that gradient all try
from the gym to the jungle, asking
where not ! why not why?
Anyway its an agony past prime
For a war, for a “monotony”
Let's argue to never fuel
another dime !
REFLECTED LIGHT
a flutter of excitement
where ordinariness
is enlarged
in
a
benevolent interlude
uncompromising
yet extensive
thoughtful
timeless
a bucolic bourgeoisie
so indecisive
in its
muted moment sits
a contrast pitched
then juxtaposed
in
a birds eye view
so understated
in abbreviated silhouette
shimmering
as
an ode to life
THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE without grammatical symbols the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and respond thus making the form a two way interplay and often a unique interpretation by the enigma so derived
This Bumptious Poet ©
Once again dear reader,
aye strive to regale ye
with in apropos prate,
(nee inane) vain
null gibberish in order to suss stain
mine infamous reputation
with the singular word pain
in thee...online
literary milieu, where this main
stream (babbling virtual
brook call lean)
tin hatted man,
qua zee moat tow "FAKE" King
po' whit laureate selective keen
a boot (sally ling forth)
hemming and hawing,
while feigning bing
a suave hill Billy blue jean
wearing brand Levi Strauss,
(a posthumous plug)
for a savvy German
businessman hood deed glean
prospective market for
denim made easy to clean
material donned by lumpen
proletariat aye assert
would be my status
if born circa
late eighteen hundreds by
a moo their and father,
both named (Elisha) Eli
for short slaving away to feed,
and clothe this then little guy,
who whiz fain to appreciate my
(dirt poor station in life well nigh
larded with love,
and non verbal re: ply
thee above fictitious
i.e. "FAKE" parents rye
zing far and above
penury and did try
their level best
to hammer out
round the clock rockin
round the clock
nsync with the paradigm
of Abraham Maslow,
albeit modified ad hoc
accepting with humility,
poverty how to jock
key providing basic brood
of offspring and subtly mock
king bourgeoisie, re: (unpretentiously
unflattering discrete actions), while rock
king to thee western civilization
trappings of schlock,
ah and oh...no doubt
precious time, aye
did fritter and flout
away distracting sorely tendered,
kindled, and cherished attention
thus metaphorically affecting thee
with equivalent, where
yar entire body riddled with gout.
BASTION of TRADITION
the erstwhile
contemporary
surreally clustered
together
mellowed
to an extent
that
immortality
still appeals
driven by
an impulse
of
isolation
against still
prevailing
then
but
now forgotten
bourgeoisie
then
surely
antagonising
stunted
&
scandalous
outpost of
controversy
of
inverting imagery
errors in society
the motif
producing
a
furore
against
of moral
decay
&against
in mistrust
of in
authority
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Copyright © Brian Strand
Methinks muss elf akin to a cold prickly...
being analogous to a
limp biscuit viz
wussy wonky willy,
yet back in the day
rolling in hay worm
may at large cavorted
frolicked, and idealized
as a warm fuzzy.
Though aforementioned title
slightly risqué and silly,
yours truly dwells in Schwenksville,
approximately an hour drive
northwest from Philly,
a geographic enclave flush with
seeds of life and White Lily
hometown of mine reminiscent
of Lake Woebegone
similarly verdant and hilly.
Today I bubble with gumption and glee
riding a crest of carefree euphoria prithee
within Netherlands home to Zuiderzee.
Now yours truly lets thoughts unspool
as they popup like mushrooms
after a soaking rain
and flash across consciousness
hoping to hammer somewhat
comprehensible poetic product
wrought courtesy tool
of me noggin
stream of consciousness school
meanders and follows no particular rule.
Despite being rescued
from blimey and bloody
ten thousand cannibals yippee,
where before escaping xi
shark infested cyber sea,
I nearly fell prey to piranhas we
dulling their way think valley
girls enlisting themselves
to be worshipped
as omnipotent trustee
trumpeting themselves
as shaykhah of chic re:
to do bidding of commoners
heavily guarding, ousting,
and thwarting stiff contenders
for commodification, commiseration,
commercialization, communication
and glory of riches q.e.d.,
quod erat demonstrandum
selling one soul to the devil
what a pity
exploitation, juxtaposition, opposition
temptation teasing proletariat offeree,
who seductively utter née
all the while vicarious thrilling
analogous to shady subterfuges
within dark wide web
bloodhounds (created courtesy
artificial intelligence) ripping asunder
supposedly airtight code,
while proficient hackers punching
virtual holes at Norton and McAfee
and other logistics wizards to protect data
laugh demonically, hysterically,
maniacally, sadistically, and zestfully
at those payees party as licensee
guardians of regal materialistic realm
do as I saith - speaketh bourgeoisie.
the personification hurts the reasoning of an untrained apophenic
cacography ensues as the computer throws a spell check wobbly
the poet scribes on because everything is not what it seems to be
clouds become animals spirits aspirations and nebulous signs
and I am the object and subject of mind altering misperceptions
sometimes ‘a cigar’ is just a cigar and ‘this is not a pipe’ dream
subconscious delusion offer a palatable way out of shackles
an unmade bed becomes an expensive desirable piece of crap art
the urinal in the museum flushes waste and reality down the drain
and yet one has to craft understanding and narrate viable stories
paraedolia is such an enchanting word as are paradox connections
apophenia rules when the truth is too painful to face in real time
the scribe employs license and unlicensed paradigms for his work
Exupery’s elephant swallowed by a boa constrictor rightly refuses
to become a hat which is such a bigoted symbol of bourgeoisie
emotions flow swiftly and guide mere rational thoughts into retreat
harmonize what will so often remain unbalanced and superfluous
when depression dances with mania around a moldy berry bush
a solution presents itself in acceptance surrender and growth
just as useful is to see the world through an innocent child’s lens
a kaleidoscope needs no interpretation and mirages are divine
witches zoom on broomsticks under guise of cleaning brigades
clairvoyants offer an unadulterated future becoming of mature age
if only the wars of all nations were fireworks only praising the night
yet in trial error and tribulations a skillful magician soothes my soul
26th July 2020
The world is bleeding; anyone can see.
Red with blood it is indeed.
Oh, when from pain will we all be free?
A sickness infects the bourgeoisie
while we suffer from callous leaders’ greed.
The world is bleeding; anyone can see.
You can’t disguise wealth’s stench with sweet potpourri
when slaves to poverty are mired in their need.
Oh, when from pain will we all be free?
Hunger and disease are the sad reality.
It only seems corruption is what’s guaranteed.
The world is bleeding; anyone can see.
Oh, the misery from which so many cannot flee.
Many try to just get by yet can’t succeed.
Oh, when from pain will we all be free?
No man can offer up a good Plan B.
Only God one day will intercede.
The world is bleeding; anyone can see.
Oh, when from pain will we all be free?
There was this Stanislav Petrov
He served at russian nuclear the submarine in 80s
He saved the world because his intuition
had told me the offense was false
he violated ORDER of command
HE RISKED HiS OWN LIFE and the POSITION
he wouldn't be subjected to rendition
by any government or any of the force
so learn AI the history of humans
the real deal the real heroes real humans
if you want help it;s there where we need you
the radiation difficult he task
at first remove from government this musk
*song s\\\
FORT MINOR - KENJI
THE SUBMARINES - You, Me and the Bourgeoisie
DURAN DURAN - COME UNDONE
We had fun when we were young,
When seemed life had just begun.
We danced nights at the beach,
So filled with dreams to reach!
Reckless once, against the wind,
Hair untamed, wild, unpinned;
We were rebels. We were free,
We weren't stuffy bourgeoisie!
Took a ride down Lover's Lane;
Scattered petals in the rain.
We were cool. We drove fast.
Though the dawn could not last.
We had friends in every place;
Knew our love's first embrace.
Red sunsets over meadow green,
On country roads we careened!
We built castles in the sand,
Had our causes, took our stand;
We were hip. Had our clique.
Our step lively, pace so quick.
We were daring. We were brave.
Never we strict. Never grave.
We were passion. We were fire!
We could run and never tire.
Tempo fast when we were youths,
And searching out our own truths;
But we never looked into the sun-
Excess caution's worse than none!