Long Bourgeoisie Poems
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And ignoble prize trumpeting hubris awarded to...
Bourgeoisie donning ersatz
overstuffed ego freezer bewigged pate
"FAKE" grotesque humanitarian
bribed corrupt judges will vindicate
jimmied cracked corn
land of "milk and honey"
red hot button he spoils to activate
countdown to Armageddon
leaving nation prostrate,
all the more reason to axe electoral college,
now holds electorate
hostage to bully tactics grate
for dead souls – zombie thriller, viz
Putin on the ritz,
whereby Pavlov's dog will salivate
on cue and pony show will titillate,
and worse case scenario, a far more terrible fate
than death by a thousand cuts
equals his refusal not to abdicate
presidency, should voters
get smart to administrate
White House with progressive commander
in chief he/she will adjudicate
decency, honesty, integrity... and acclimate
government toward amity, comity, equality...
oh,... and most importantly advocate
salutary measures affecting biosphere,
where industrialization didst devastate
contaminate by bajillion beings birthrate,
every square inch of Earth
*****sapiens succeeded to abominate...,
prima facie global warming doth correlate,
hence primary requisite mandate
to reorient modus operandi no time to wait,
where carbon footprint negligible
still preserving technological paradigm
fixing low cussed electricity to generate
courtesy renewable resources
else man/womankind will become footnote
atrophied trappings agglomerate
twenty first century civilization
damned, inundated, ossified bridgegate
checkmated, choked, chucked... wag gone wheels
das spare - tread fully tires fuming primate
jammed fruits of loins going bananas
infuriating, exhausting accelerating
no exit (sorry Sartre) to circumnavigate
hardy lee any recourse to extricate
oneself from madding crowd
self resignation minimally doth alleviate,
whereby impatient broods frustrate
inaccessible jackknifed mobility,
thence spark ignites spontaneous eruption
impossible mission to plug
crowdsource mob frenzy translate
pent up fury once loosed doth degenerate
into atavistic pandemonium cutthroat rage
snarling human logjam foaming at mouth
poised to strike ready to decapitate
any remaining shred of salvation barren feeble
slow vac hoovering, milking, and sucking
every last vestige of bondage peoples extirpate.
You grew up knowing you would work,
for your dream job you made a search,
then went to school and took the tests,
burned the oil to be the best.
You interned for experience,
and developed good business sense,
got a good job with a big firm,
then through toil you quickly learned
how to bring service to the mass,
and how to solve their problems fast,
the hard work brought you lots of praise,
with corresponding bumps in pay.
You took a chance, went on your own,
started your own shop from your home,
set your hours, were your own boss,
built it all up through free-time lost.
But all the effort brought the join,
the upper middle-class you joined,
through tenacity, grit and nerve…
seven figures going forward.
Wait--someone is now in office,
makes promises with words practiced,
offers his voter much free stuff,
declares that you have ‘had enough.’
Your own success, it’s just not fair
when others live on in despair,
sure, they may have made bad choices,
but he wins votes with their voices.
Besides, don’t your care of the poor?
Don’t you know what they have endured?
We can’t rely on charity,
you might help the wrong folks, you see.
Who care if you mortgaged your house?
We have to have ‘compassion’ now.
Who cares if things are yours by right?
And if new taxes make things tight.
Who cares if you must close your doors
because they just keep taking more?
Don’t you know what professors say?
You ‘exploit’ workers anyway!
You know that you don’t ‘give them jobs,’
you ‘steal’ from them, you take and rob,
they’d rather those jobs not exist
then thank a ‘damn capitalist.’
Don’t you know that you’re ‘all that’s wrong,’
it’s ‘fascist’ to work hard and long,
it’s ‘immoral,’ and should be spurned,
the thought that you should keep what’s earned.
You think your work gives you a claim,
so bourgeoisie…that’s quite insane,
you could do your work just as well
earning no more than someone else.
“It’s not worth it,”you do announce,
then you’re a monster, and they pounce,
take all the wealth you did create,
say it’s for ‘the good of the state.’
To want it back would be greedy,
they need the cash for ‘the needy.’
Then you see them drive fancy cars…
they’re only thieves with good P.R.
The tomato is the Kamikaze
of the kitchen ...
every day in droves or
sliced ??..
The onion is offered
all life ... all over
naked, defoliation in all
veins ... covers ...
Garlic is full of proud ...
Does not attend
in all dishes ... only comes
to be a partner in spice ...
Eggplant is a lucky fellow,
rarely comes to war ...
Almost never is summoned
to be eaten ...
Chuchu ... come on pet
dear ... serves God,
and everybody ... in the salad
and in the juice ...
Lettuce, it's buddy
trendy to classics,
live on high elite,
in the mouth of the muses
and artists ...
Bunny Carrot,
and eye fortifier ...
It comes together in salads,
and it's cake batter ...
Asparagus, it's fine stuff ...
just adores high society ...
Loves the bourgeoisie,
and it doesn't appear on every fair ...
Jerimum, known and
called pumpkin,
but loves to be called
of zucca, or zapallo ...
Azafran ... is snobby ...
Don't even talk of saffron,
this distant poor cousin ...
But it is delicious in rice ..
This already proved is fact, ...
Said to be Spanish, but it is
from Egypt...
Some others I'll just name ...
Maxixe, is for those who appreciate ...
Many dance the rhythm from Brazil ...
Okra has drool and beard
and some sticky taste ... there
in MINAS with chicken
it looks tasty ...
And the cilantro ... ah! .. for
who eats it ... I ...
I do not ...!
Cumin ... makes spice,
a care for you to dreams ...
Without cumin I eat everything
alone ...
Finally the POTATO ...
Bread of the poor and the rich ...
Packaged in salad, cooked,
French fries ... potateee,
Kartofen ... how tasteful ...!
You have fought in many wars,
saved many lives ...!
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.
A Belated CCV Das Kapital event...
regarding birthday anniversary
wicked candle box event burns bright
for Karl Marx,
who amazingly graced,
and kindled pinterest
jumpstarting money fest destiny.
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 life
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 encased 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 shotgun wedding,
thus coaxing eventual establishment
to house scholar and gent
of classless communist society meant
to establish free association
of Indie producers who spent
exchanging merchandise amidst classless
campy population hood pitched a tent.
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.
Figures of immense reputation and popularity they were
Attracting public attention and admiration in the pursuit of their great works
Leaving behind them a legacy of some kind
But going with them their unique characters.
Wasn’t the explosion of Christianity the work of Jesus of Nazareth?
And the burst of Islam not the work of Muhammed of Mecca?
Neither will the admirable leadership of Julius Caesar;
Nor the conquests of the unlearned Charlemane,
And the military successes of Alexander the great,
Be forgotten in History.
If the British can forget Napoleon’s continental system
Jews then, would forget Hitler’s concentration camps
And history would entirely cease recalling his mentor Mussolini.
What if Carl Marx did not propound radical socialism?
Lenin then, would not have smashed the bourgeoisie and ruled Russia
Neither would the principles of Marxism-Leninism be sustained by Stalin
Nor would Churchill seal the border between the East and the West with an iron curtain.
A grave mistake it would be to forget Martin Luther King Jr.
For if he be forgotten, Mahatma Ghandi then would also be
And the entire movement of nonviolence
Will stop covering many pages of modern history books.
Had it not for Kwame Nkruma and Hastings Banda to cut the rope of colonialism
The ambitious Cecil Rhodes then,
Would have drained the whole continent of all its economic wealth.
The ascendancy of Nelson Mandela from the horizon of apartheid
Was not the beginning of Maximillien Robespierre’s reign of terror;
Characterized by avenges and reprisals
But the emergence of Abraham Lincoln’s true democracy.
What if Caesar were not butchered?
William Shakespeare then, would not have been the greatest playwright
Causing Charles Dickens and Chinua Achebe not to appear.
For the existence of a Jewish state, David Ben Gulion fought
But for the reemergence of a Palestinian state, Yasser Arafat strives.
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.
For many people outside the Myanmar poetry, it may come as a surprise that there is such a thing as language-oriented poetry contemporary poetry scene in Myanmar. The Poetry of the bourgeoisie and the "art for the people" left-wing poetry.
I feel like I have to say to me about how this had happened in Myanmar, the country was under military rule over the past 60 years their poetry broke away from the traditional style classic writing about the monarchy the old and the Burmese Old Burmese way of life before the annexation of British Burma in 1886. The hair experimental poetry movement 1 of the 20th century, was 2 in the movement of new writing, which led pilot Dag on (which is now in his 90s and blind), after the end of World War 2. Influenced by left-wing ideology known of the historical period popular poetry, realism and the Marxist-oriented, through the 40S late. There was at that time, an ideological struggle between the so-called "art for art's sake" The Poetry of the bourgeoisie and the "art for the people" left-wing poetry. Has described those who did not support writing the new "bourgeois" and blasted the "progressives." Although the new writing system that is based on experimental poetry rhyme 4.3.2 with some changes in the number of syllables in each line rhyme scheme, which makes it more flexible, and was aimed at, faith, and the content of a revolutionary. The art for the masses, and poetry is the weapon of the masses against the landowners and capitalists and national. It is unfortunate that the writing of new, while winning the hearts and minds of an entire generation of young poets, and in some cases made just propaganda, and the adage is that the hair must be less aesthetic and utilitarian more so that even the common person would low education "appreciate" poem with ease. UNSUPPORTED CODE myanmar poem UNSUPPORTED CODE
Who decides what historical events adorn
textbooks students read,
hence a starry notion born
grew up while
this lumpenproletariat day dreaming,
Asian aw shucks husky
husbandry furrowed brow gritty farmer
barnstorming across
expansive fields of baby
(barely) barley corn
crib bed crop 'pon harvest time,
(an maize zing genre), especially
when enriched with humus
laden loamy muck cob bra,
then aye delightfully
trumpet from dehorn
of good 'n plenti kernel Sanders gave me
saluting rank and file fool's capped
fecund fashioned earthborn
dunce sing tassels,
versus growing seasons gone by,
when draught of ideas forlorn
despite futilely blowing on my flugelhorn
high and dry reap peat head paltry yield,
asper when this strapping chap
a sweaty backed greenhorn
pondering why agrarian laborious life of toil
omitted as part and parcel of "newsworthy"
posterity sagas deeming
shenanigans of highborn
and/or "FAKE" headlines crowd inborn
noble folks,
who grease palms of industrialists,
whose quaking self importance
thwarts aside rural cosseted
krummhorn grounded bumpkin mor'n
how kapellmeister coaches bourgeoisie
helping determine
zero absolute value of newborn
fated to slave away
till body electric outworn,
yet paradigm shift of
(butter late then ever)
jiffy popcorn version
sown by seeds of Jethro Tull,
whose bonhomie with brio didst reborn
agricultural revolution took root,
whence before long some did scorn
and lamented machinations
ordered simple existence ripped and torn,
where antithetical views suppressed
and unto revolutionaries
became legion and well-worn.