Long Despots Poems
Long Despots Poems. Below are the most popular long Despots by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Despots poems by poem length and keyword.
In the season of the ballot
He came on his knees
Like a servant and saint
He sought to be crowned leader
He reminded us of his humble breeding
In the creeks of our land
He was our very own
And so, we chanted slogans
In the hinterland and on the highways
We had found our servant leader
The true Man of the citizens had come
To do the will of WE THE PEOPLE
And so, we chanted from dawn to nightfall
We had found the one to bring down
The torsos of former despots
That sting our eyes from accursed daises
Along roads they refused to tar
And so, we defied the scorch and downpour
To defend the ballots to secure his mandate
With his left hand on the Holy Book
And the right raised to the Heavens
He swore to lead us like none had done before
Then he entered the Palace and inhaled the air
Then he tasted the food and drank the wine
Then he sat on the sofa and laid on the bed
Then he slept and arose with roses at his feet
Then the spirit of the palace possessed him
In a short sequence our very own was altered
We who chanted on the streets and the creeks
Became brigands in his eyes and had to be quelled
Before our eyes, the servant leader turned sovereign
The servant leader turned builder of statues
He brought down busts of former lords and planted
On pothole-riddled bridges horrid statues of himself
In every town, large and small stood a statue of him
Made of limestone, wood, bronze, marble and clay
He likened his images to that of the Redeemer
And those of Liberty and the Sphinx
Upon all his name is engraved
Those who dared not to worship the sovereign leader
Were sentenced to piteous fates
What men labored for decades to build
He pulled down by decree between the sun and moon
Once a Man of the Citizens, the servant leader
Sought immortality by abolishing the ballot
To attain everlastingness, he opened the vaults
And the lords proposed that he be beatified
Even while blood flowed in his veins
Thus, the servant-leader became a Saint among us
Now, having long abandoned the companion of his youth
He sought our wives and daughters to quench his lust
But the curses of our naked Mothers spoke for us
Alas! We hear the servant-leader pleads for mercy
But to forgive him will be counted as sin unto us
For he betrayed the trust of WE THE PEOPLE
VII
There never was an army quite like Xerxes’.
Hyrcanians, Medes, Egyptians, Syrians, Scyths –
soon, Greece would grovel at its tender mercies –
a fate more gruesome than the grimmest myths.
It drank whole rivers dry. Took three days with
the crossing of the bridge. Then came a scare:
as Persian lava swamped its xenolith,
the portents were not good. A pregnant mare
gave birth to healthy offspring. But it was a hare.
VIII
A blundering boxer trying to swat a fly,
the Persian force could lunge, but could not kill:
it lost all credit at Thermopylae.
The Greeks, hard pressed, were in the battle still.
To win a war, you break the other’s will,
and this was not occurring. Could the key
be naval warfare? So, for good or ill,
Salamis earned its place in history.
The fleets would clash there. Whose would be the victory?
IX
A tyrant’s strength is his Achilles’ Heel.
His habit of command, of being obeyed,
occludes capacity to see and feel.
To trap them at their moorings seemed a raid
assured to smash the Greeks. Their fleet once flayed,
they could not go on fighting. They must lose.
But Persia’s pride, colossal numbers, made
disaster certain. Tangled, cramped, confused,
the sharks became the bait. For Xerxes, dreadful news.
X
“My bridge. Is it still standing?” Xerxes asked.
Oh, in that question, what a universe!
The pampered prince who - up to now - had basked
in sunshine felt a clutch of fear, and worse:
the tide of fortune, swinging to reverse,
began to drain him of all certainty.
The bridge was now his lifeline, and his curse,
his last hope and his vulnerability.
Persepolis lay far away, fenced off by sea.
XI
So, despots kneel before their own adventures,
become the playthings of their crazy schemes,
contract with Fate, creating wild debentures,
condemn themselves by sure-to-crumble dreams.
Unhappy with mere wealth, they seek extremes
which bring no comfort: sick ambitions bloat
and fester. Most familiar of themes,
Great Xerxes’ boasts grew more and more remote,
until the day his restless minions cut his throat.
THE PEOPLES SERVANT
by
JOHN M. ARRIBAS
He was here today promised pie in the sky
But we’ll soon discover its just another lie
They’ll say anything that to them is a plus
But once they are in they make fools of us
They need our vote to get elected
First order of business get re elected
They don’t need our money for the campaign
They get it from those who have something to gain
A freshman representative from any state
May have intentions that to him are great
But when the established seniors get his ear
They’ll guide and instruct and make it clear
That when he needs help or financial aid
He wont qualify til he joins the parade
The parade of voting for unworthy pork
These projects are like eating soup with a fork
The laws they pass affect you and me
But they’re exempt, their perks are free
I question why we continue give foreign aid
To tyrants and despots, makes me afraid
That some of those funds may surely bounce
From the tyrants hands to secret accounts
They pass out flyers at county fairs
After two terms they’ve become millionaires
If things get dull and their attention slips
They plan exotic fact finding trips
Those trips would cost a fortune for you and me
The trips are on us and to them totally free
They come home and host a town meeting
Take a look at who’s in the front row seating
Peoples servant(2)
But the best of all is a fund raising event
Where the affluent givers use money well spent
Backing a candidate is a system well tested
It yields great returns on the money invested
Once they’re established with one term or two
Hard to unseat them the special interest is glue
These are best described as serial politicians
The facts or a lie is part of their renditions
They support their lives at the public’s expense
Taking firm positions on both sides of the fence
They have little to fear, bullet proof by far
If they get caught with their hand in the cookie jar
Their own will reject them from left and right
None of them want to be in the public light
If he is found guilty after numerous trials
You will find his clone fully prepped in the aisles
Over two hundred million people sleeps and wake without a leader,
A cloned effigy in a rock called "Aso"
too old to lead or long dead to be,
demented or dead, they cannot tell,
old age has come but he would not leave.
a cult of connivers shields a tyrant,
with ceaseless speeches and empty promises,
One A Liar , some are writers and others are twitvist,
Two years of silence and none dare ask,
where is the President who took the oath?
Over two hundred million heads bowed to corruption,
East and west the groans is Loud,
where right is wrong and wrongs is praised.
The governors or senator and ministers too,
all aligned to loot the treasury,
recycled bandits in seats of honor,
Judges are blinded and the media subdued,
as brown envelop diverts attention.
over two hundred million destinies suspended,
#ENDSARS was their last successful outcry
a revolution too soon suspended
From Bonny Barracks to Lekki, criminals in uniform murdered unity.
bludgeoned agitators with the barrels the errand boys of a dictator police and solders.
and the masses too scared for a total freedom,
returned to apathy and unending subjugation
Over two hundred Million deprived masses.,
controlled as slaves by a hundred old despots,
Littered across cultures and tribes, a handful few protected by guns,
ex criminals , Presidents and ex all,
with looted funds in London and and Zurich,
atop hills in gaudy wealth,
unaffected by the groaning of a people nestled in penury,
Over two hundred million people disunited,
who by amalgam compelled by Britain's Lugard,
Feudalism and lie called democracy.
The minority herders on a mission
they took the yam and knife without resistance.
where beggars becomes a tyrant after election (Rigged)
and the masses dare not demand accountability
over two hundred million sufferers gave oppressor a breathing space,
where servants becomes the Boss,
without pacifying and unwilling to yield
the Loot looted named palliatives.
old tyrant mock democracy by decrees
What country ?
Don't ask me.
you know it well
THE SERIAL LEECH
by
JOHN M. ARRIBAS
He Was Here Today Promised Pie in the Sky
But We’ll Soon Discover its Just Another Lie
They’ll Say Anything That to Them Is a plus
But Once They Are in They Make Fools of Us
They Need Our Vote to Get Elected
First Order of Business Get re Elected
They Don’t Need Our Money for Their Campaign
They Get it from Those Who Have Plenty to Gain
A Freshman Representative from Any State
May Have Intentions That to Him Are Great
But When the Established Seniors Get His Ear
They’ll Guide and Instruct and Make it Clear
That When He Needs Help or Financial Aid
He Wont Qualify Til He Joins the Parade
The Parade of Voting for Unworthy Pork
These Projects Are like Eating Soup with a Fork
The Laws They Pass Affect You and Me
But They’re Exempt, Their Perks Are Free
I Question, Why We Give Billions Foreign Aid
To Tyrants and Despots , Makes Me Afraid
That Some of Those Funds May Surely Bounce
From the Tyrants Hands to Secret Accounts
They Pass out Flyers at County Fairs
After Two Terms They’ve Become Millionaires
If Things Get Dull and Their Attention Slips
They Plan Exotic Fact Finding Trips
Those Trips Would Cost a Fortune for You and Me
The Trips Are on Us and to Them Totally Free
Leech(2)
They Come Home and Host a Town Meeting
Take a Good Look at the Front Row Seating
But the Best of All Is a Fund Raising Event
Where the Affluent Givers Use Money Well Spent
Backing a Candidate Is a System Well Tested
It Yields Great Returns on the Money Invested
Once They’re Established with One Term or Two
Hard to Unseat Them the Vested Interest Is Glue
These Are Best Described as Serial Politicians
The Facts or a Lie Is Part of Their Rendition
They Support Their Lives at the Public’ S Expense
Taking Firm Positions on Both Sides of the Fence
They Have Little to Fear Protected by All
But If They Err and Cause Protection to Fall
Their Own Will Reject Them from Left and Right
None of Them Want to Be in the Public Spotlight
If He Is Found Guilty after Numerous Trials
You Will Find His Successor Fully Prepped in the Aisles
Out into the crisp February morn,
Sunshine finally frees nature
From the long oppressive grip
Of the icy, snowy, bitter cold of
Grey darkness that has enveloped
Both sky and human heart alike.
Nature briefly awakens,
The small winter birds scatter
And chase about the sky and chirp,
While the squirrels search and forage
For nuts buried in the cold,
White layers on the ground.
Is it foolish optimism to think,
Much less feel, hope?
A similar oppressive layer of
Enforced grey darkness
Has enveloped my nation,
As men and women in the Senate,
Bereft of a human soul,
Feed ferociously on the chumming
Of ambition, greed, and power
Thrown to them by wealthy despots and bigots.
Well did they know the guilt
Of the predator occupying the high seat of power.
Well did they know the sewage
Of corruption and deceit
Into which they immersed themselves.
Yet, bereft of a human soul,
Shaking their fists furiously
At the heavens, they curse God
To whom they previously pledged fealty.
They damn and ban both God and God’s justice
From our nation with great solemnity and decorum,
Then dance around the Senate chambers
With smug smiles of victory on their faces.
Accused of blinding justice in our nation,
These parasitical, political Pharisees,
Cry out with great indignation,
as in the story of the man born blind,
“Surely, we are not blind!”
While the 2000 year old words of Jesus,
With the tenacity of tinnitus rings in their ears,
“If you were blind, you would not have sinned.
But you do see, and your sin remains.”
On this cold, crisp winter morn of February,
As sunshine dispels the dark greyness
That has oppressed nature, I wonder
Whether the dark blanket of despair
That is now covering our nation
Will ever be cast off and the sun
Of God’s justice will ever return to our nation?
Yet, the birds still chirp
And chase around the sky.
The squirrels still dig for the treasure
They buried in the frozen landscape.
Is it foolish optimism to think
Much less feel, there is hope?
(c) 2020, Robert Charles Wagner. All rights reserved.
This is a song for a man or a boy
It’s a song for a woman or girl
This is a song for the straight and the gay
It’s a song for the whole of the world
This is a song for the cheerful, the fearful
and those who must stand up and fight
This is a song for the brave and the bold
and for those who are forced to take flight
Tyrannical despots
marauding invaders
Who see no wrong in what they’ve done
For those who would seek
To be conquering raiders
There’s no song… SO YOU CAN DO ONE!
The justice of peace
shall embolden our hearts
And we’ll face down your missiles and bombs
The angels for you
have no tune in their harps
So you'll just have to sing your own songs
This is a song for the black and the white
It’s a song for all shades in between
This is a song for the whole human race
And for you if you land and you're green
This is a song for the rich and the poor
Notwithstanding your hue or your tongue
This is a song for the peaceful at war
It’s a song for the old and the young
But this is a song to be sung with a smile on your face
A song to be sung anytime… to be sung anyplace
Where ‘Vive la difference’ puts the ‘human’ in the human race
And this song sings best when it’s sung with a smile on your face
Tyrannical despots
marauding invaders
Who see no wrong in what they’ve done
For those who would seek
to be conquering raiders
There’s no song… SO YOU CAN DO ONE!
The justice of peace
shall embolden our hearts
And we’ll face down your missiles and bombs
The angels for you
have no tune in their harps
SO, YOU’LL JUST HAVE TO SING YOUR OWN SONGS!
So, should you go forth with the dark in your heart
And your frown shows your mood to be black
Just sing for a while with a heartwarming smile
And you may find the world smiling back
For, this is a song to be sung with a smile on your face
A song to be sung anytime… to be sung anyplace
Where ‘Vive la difference’ puts the ‘human’ in the human race
And this song sings best when it’s sung with a smile on your face
Tell me,
My dear friend,
My beloved brother,
My trusted ally,
Till when are we going to let
The autocrats
The dictators
The despots, and
The tyrants govern us?
Till when do we intend to allow these
Barbarous
Vicious
Immoral, and
Unholy glory-seekers rule our lives?
Till when are we going to permit these ignorant monsters,
To imprison,
To torture,
To maim, and
To kill their own people?
Till when are we going to observe these savages;
Attacking,
Occupying,
Enslaving, and
Obliterating smaller nations?
For how many more millennia do we have to witness the devastation of
Humanity because of these morally impotent criminals who
Instill tons of hatred in the hearts and minds of our fellow humans?
Tell me, my friend, my brother, my trusted ally,
Isn't about time to revolt against such malicious rulers?
Against such practices?
Against war?
Against ignorance, and
Against injustice?
Has not the time come to replace these bloodthirsty evil men
With virtuous men?
With men of a loving heart and mind?
With knowledgeable men?
With compassionate men for peace?
With men of wisdom and justice?
Come now, my fellow human,
I wish you would agree with me.
I want you to agree with me.
I beg you to agree with me.
I implore you to agree with me if you, too, wish to see a
Fellowship of men and nations that cares for each other and is:
Kinder,
Nobler, and more
Loving,
Otherwise,
The afflictions of humanity will never end,
Unless, as Plato* has indicated in his Republic**,
The wise and the just would rule the world
Or
Those who rule the world become just and
Wise!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
15 August 2022
-
*Plato, Greek philosopher 428-348 BC
** Republic is Plato's most famous work where he details a wise society.
***Today is my birthday, so I wished to focus on peace and love and pay a small tribute to a Great philosopher.
-
It took very little to make us happy
young and intoxicated with feeling
high on the thought of holding one
another, embracing our way to
madness, another bite of the apple
we were deeply in love.
Past guilt not ours
yet thrust upon us, by those less
brave – by those priests and
priestesses of timid wisdom, wise but
aloof from the live world around them~ treasures
their hearts somewhere above the stars
you and I here and now yes worship our
chemical reacting with its earth, sensing
divine sparkle –
We brighten, flair together in our
every quaking moment of unrehearsed
encounter. Reborn by the lust of human
arms. Not rejecting God, but celebrating!
What liar convinced man that
creation is passionless? What dim seer
thought The Seven Days spent bored and yawning~
Evolving spirit something without far reaching
tentacles for physical sensing, probing, reaching, bursting
with desire to experience? This is not original
sin! – the much greater sin that of turning one's
back on the breathing, pulsing nature of Soul.
Yes, to be tamed! Exhausted into submission, never stilled and
wrongly quieted.
Yet, we pretend no answers, you and I, for unlike
many we consume our scriptures from the inside out, less
judging and more opening each day onto widening mystery
and enchantment. Innately knowing what sin is, rejecting all content!
Sharing the rest, though we are never entirely certain of outcome, for relished
always are evolving, bursting fiery skies
of new emotional universes uncharted. We
seek entirely without caging. Passion is art, poetry, micro
and massive inventions. Man is not burned
by passion, but more by fear and deception.
The Devil is fear! The age-old weapon of despots and
their armed administers of hate. The inside joke of
the Green New Deal...is more green for their already
bloated pockets.
She was alone in a house
A bombed out shell
Living in a city that resembled hell,
Face caked in dirt and dust
A forlorn little girl alone and lost,
Parents buried below the stones,
The rest of the families whereabouts, unknown
She cries dry tears from dry eyes
She is barely even conscious if she is alive,
Around outside all she hears is bombs
She feels so abandoned and so alone,
Her hair like her clothes are a tousled mess
She is in pain and so much distress
And as she moved and stood up
Stepping over the rubble, over the parents she loved her pain was doubled,
She walked zombie like towards the road
Outside this bombed out shell that was once her home,
She was too young to have go through this
At 4 or 5 years old she is a witness,
To genocide and atrocities
Carried out by different countries globally.
The blood is on their hands, that of the innocent
For driving this city and this country into a downward descent,
Towards a dark place many would call hell
Where once good homes were now just shells,
Where once good families beneath the rubble dwell
And abandoned and alone in this place, is this little girl,
No where to go, no future for her
No hope left for her in this world,
Now look at her and watch her pain and hurt
And then look back at me
And tell me what is going on is not indecency,
Look me in the eyes and tell me these are not crimes
Crimes against humanity,
Government leaders, despots and dictators
Play games with innocent lives,
Ruining this poor abandoned girls life,
All for money, power and territory
In the name of all these things humanity bleeds
And all that is left is abject misery.
10/6/2018
Sponsor : Brenda Chiri