Long Dictator Poems
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Eighty years ago the Austrian School economist
Friedrich von Hayek observed;
“Fascism is the stage reached
After communism has proved an illusion.”
Simply because he could see
The Road to Serfdom
Happening before his eyes.
The dream of international socialism
Eventually always settles
Into the reality of national socialism
Because like with all creatures
The State’s will to survive is paramount.
The Italians may have discovered it first,
But then the great dictators of the 20th century
All took it up
From Mussolini to Lenin, Stalin,
FDR, Hitler and Mao,
All keeping themselves well armed
And their peoples housed and fed
By keeping the golden goose
Of capitalism alive and well
And securely contained.
Three’s a charm proved to be true
When it came to socialism
As the Third Way economic system
Of the union of Big Government and Big Business
With the government firmly in the driver’s seat
Proved irresistible.
Now all that was needed
Was to remove the Big Man from the mix
To let it run freely without need of a dictator
Or at least a visible one.
Puppets come and go as do their masters
But the system lives on
Morphing with the times
Growing ever bigger and more charming
With every generation
Of its hopeful serfs
Dreaming of a future that will never come.
(11/9/25)
FEAR WOMEN
I used to be scared of a Lion
until brother Samson killed one.
But after his death & no longer seen,
I now fear what killed brother Samson.
With pandemonium & unearthen sound like batcher,
Nigerians used to dread Mohammed Abacha,
the tyranic military dictator of Northern descent.
But we now dread what killed late Mr President.
This prompts my decision beyond the moment;
If I'm on transit to a rare appointment,
once I pass the bridge, I'll first alight,
shut the door of the car & cross the road,
seize the occassion & exude the moment to behold,
sit by the tarmac and use 3hours to fear women!!
Then continue my journey afterwards with an amen.
VICK MANUEL POETRY
{VMP}
FORM: Rhymes
Copyright ©? August 2023.
SOMETHING OLD SOMETHING NEW
Choices are old, circumstances appear new
on journey of life: How to continue!
Each has own ambition to follow on!
Sounds good personal choice
Loud may be individual voice
yet exact way to implement.
for ultimate achievement
what is the main factor?
Your Desire or Destiny is the dictator?
Path of life not smooth mostly uneven
even opportunities you be given,
Can you utilize or to compromise?
Are you able always to direct
your aim with own intellect?
Or your brain acts perfect!
or Fate to erect hindrances with sudden high rise.
Can you depend solely upon
your diligence and performance
your confidence and competence
always running on!
Or just to surrender to verdict of Fate!
No choice but to accept.
10/10/21
Old Poem 'Choices or Destiny' dated 04/19/16
Soemething Old Something New'
Contest by John Lawless
With his arm held closely by his side,
President Putin took a ride,
On his steed, so big and strong
Who thought this man could do no wrong,
It is regrettable to say
Only a horse could feel this way.
Putin is a manipulator,
A narcissist and a dictator.
Putin was on the run
Being President was no longer fun.
On a golf course far away,
Where Donal Trump and cronies play,
Mr Trump thought he played golf the best
But was never put to the test,
Because the Don was drunk with Power
All his fickle friends would cower,
They all bowed down to him
This situation proved to be grim,
He and golfers all gossip a lot,
About private matters that they should not.
Wouldn't it be fun,
Some peace at last for everyone,
If Trump was playing on the course,
And Putin passed by on his horse
Shouting out to his buddy,
Donnie, come away with me.
As things for Trump were getting hot,
And some thought he had lost the plot
It looked like a good idea
For Trump to run away from here.
So without further ado,
No goodbye or toodle-oo
Putin, with an almighty tug
Heaved Trump the big fat lug
On to his faithful horse
And without a whiff of remorse
The two rode away
And have never been seen since that glorious day!
Born in London in eighteen eighty nine,
a 'rags to riches' story just like mine.
His childhood was full of horrid violence.
In adulthood he was the king of silence.
In silent reels of comedy he found his fame.
Moving to America is where he made his name.
Through slapstick hilarity and tender tears,
he entertained the world for countless years,
Known for his speech in the Great Dictator,
mocked Hitler, but was seen as a traitor.
Criticised for refusing to go to war.
He was a pacifist, so it caused uproar.
He said his mum was the first to inspire,
he was knighted by the British Empire.
Married four times with eleven children,
had many affairs seen as forbidden.
His laughter was born from the deepest pain.
His artistic spirit will always remain.
He mirrored life in hues of black and white,
whilst painting dreams as a beacon of light.
How could such a man with diminutive stance,
be the leader of all the armies of France?
A little dictator ruling with a strong arm,
he will be exiled to where he can do no harm.
This leader is considered impetuous and frantic.
He plunged the continent into war like a maniac.
His forces were constantly on the attack.
He is bound for St. Helena in the South Atlantic.
Once overbearing with loquacious vehemence,
this Corsican is now our prisoner with reticence.
Talking to nobody while preferring isolation,
his impulsive military actions ruined his nation.
Although it was for only about a hundred days,
how he regained power was something to amaze.
I have been given orders while anchored out here.
No boats with curiosity seekers shall come near.
He has been handed over to us for his arduous journey.
The HMS Bellerophon is considered unseaworthy.
I have received word that he is now in our hand.
We shall set sail for the south on the Northumberland.
An Island
Of beauty and intrinsic history
Penguins and rustic sheep
A war by evil dictator that made us weep
The British defended the locals with flair
A war with the criminals, no shoes in despair
Democracy won and Argentina to its knees
They have learned is not wise to do as you please
Many know not the history of Kings
This land was to be Canada
If not for French gifts that did bring
With treachery they were tricked into Spanish rings
Louis-Antoine de Bougainville
Was first at Port St Louis
The British were second two years to the day
The Spanish claims left to the clowns in dismay
Sadly Argentina with insanity did commit
War crimes that killed innocent young brits
Their leaders and poets in deceptions agreed
They both cared less for humanity and more for their greed
My old lady dropped a needle
From the cloth she was sewing
A fart of zaracatan or tailor's fart buzzed
That, in the silence of the afternoon
Made me flee quickly from the sewing room.
The news from an old radio, Iberia brand
That my old man listened to very attentively
Made me stop in the dining room
Because it announced that because of fashion
Because of use and with dead dictator teachers
They want to implant sacred fascism
As if this were something new
Because since time immemorial
It appears in congresses and senates
And in all the processions of the temples.
-Old man, I said to him. The feast of sacred fascism
And sacred communism
Is the feast of the innocent peoples murdered.
All their governments
Are governments that allow crimes and deaths
Chairs allow.
He reprimanded me saying:
-Don't talk nonsense, scoundrel.
The universal history of human understanding
It proves it well:
That the unbelievers, morons and deluded
Dictators and serial killers
Have great appreciation.
I left home. And, in the street I stumbled
With a man who, by his appearance
Seemed to be taken from a winter's tale
Perhaps from the G. Adolfo Bécquer’s “Miserere”
Who, when spitting towards the sky
Almost the spit fell on my head
From this idiot.
He spoke to me, and said to me asking:
-What do you think about the fact that from America
We get a sacred fascist Donkey
Whoreman and multimillionaire?
I answered him sarcastically:
-It's not a donkey, it's an old bulldog
A waterman who takes fountain pens
And colored and black pencils
Who has made a cologne
With the smell of donkey sperm
That if you put it in your hair
Will give you the glow, fire, flame
Of his carrot head.
-Apparently, he answered me
They have made it to their taste and whim
A vihuela or guitar
Supposed machine for making money
For the use of criminals
Well, he wants to imitate the Argentine lighter
Who, with his chainsaw
Wants to saw the hole that fits
Between the legs of men
Especially women
Who follow him and adore him.
I am not anymore controlled by your manipulative strings.
Freeing myself from you; my dictator who imprisoned me for a year.
You can’t put me on stage and do the most unwanted things.
I can’t be bent by your power; for I have nothing to fear.
Your theatrical works deftly let me lose control.
I will not portray the character that once you used to own.
A chance to take my life back; I’m taking my soul
and you have no choice but to leave me alone.
The hand-carved doll finally tastes his liberty for good.
Perhaps we can end it in a contract and close;
But I should have shut it down long ago when I could.
This time I play no more roles and I will repose.
No one else can tie their barbed thread on my body.
I control my life and I will not allow somebody.
The train fled through forlorn forests
Emerging on the stormy steppes
It crossed the raging ravine waters
Up the rugged crags it crept.
I was on that midnight journey
Seeking you to join your cause
I felt your honor and your yearning
Your defiance of unjust laws
(chorus)
Your example was the spark
And as long as you stay true
The torch will light up in the dark
And I'll follow you
Through the shadows of the city
I searched each alley, every street
Whispers told of your bravery
How you stood, did not retreat
Near dawn, I finally found you
Eyes aflame with steadfast fire
You said, "The old ways can yet renew"
"To real freedom we shall aspire."
(chorus)
Your example was the spark
And as long as you stay true
The flames will rise within the dark
And I'll follow you
(bridge)
We'll gather the despairing souls
Ignite the hope that once was lost
We'll strive to reach our righteous goals
No matter what the cost
We'll cut the tentacles of the beast
We'll tear the web that entangles all
See the silver sunlight in the east
They will rise, hear freedom's call.