Long Karl marx Poems
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¨being mistook we burnt the books
thoughts rest, we dwell in our heart’s nest
touched by spirits, our body shook
by God’s light blest as we undressed¨
book burning had always been quite the passion
of the powerful agencies of evil dictatorship
the truth was dangerous after all for the uninitiated
Martin Luther Erich Maria Remarque Bertold Brecht
Heinrich Heine Karl Marx The Bible and The Kama Sutra
all those dirty words filthy cognition and explicit pictures
guides to galaxies of pleasure fulfilment and joy
and yet thoughts are difficult to ban control and extinguish
undressed clarity and nudity liberate body and soul
as God made me I shall venture his path while the snake
can devour the apple as long I explore fig jam and delight
touched by Higher power and spiritual exuberance
a cigar does not need to remain a cigar when angels
from heaven cheer riding on the chariot’s cherry
and the emperor is left without clothes and no force
our nest is feathered with cinnamon bark of experience
and yet we play like innocent partner in nubile undress
when night casts its dormant spell and already exhausted
we relight our fire guided only by transcendent stardust
and the touch of all touches in our mutual embrace
a metamorphosis in deed and emotion and only God knows
Make believe times
are not bad?
Conform to the crushing
ruin of our land?
How can I see this, and
not ask why?
Freedom's loss deserves
a hue and a cry!
Alas, I have seen few poets
respond to it.
Lost in flowers, skies and fantasy,
intoxicated by the very hum of it.
As if we somehow think this
serves humanity.
That we believe somehow,
In our poetic divinity?
Living on this awesome,
Green Planet Denial!
When unhappy~ we just
change the dial!
As we become more Red, by
the minute.
Seduced by those lies, that
"free everything,"has magic in it?
Subjected to untruths that one
group is better than another?
Straight out of a Karl Marx
handbook,oh my, I do shutter!
7/25/2021
~2~
Make believe these times are not bad?
Conform to the crushing ruin of our land?
How can I see this, and not ask why?
Freedom's loss deserves a hue and a cry!
Alas, I have seen few poets respond to it.
Lost in flowers, skies and fantasy, intoxicated
by the very hum of it.
As if we somehow think this serves humanity?
That we believe in our poetic divinity?
Living on Green Planet Denial!
When unhappy, why, we just change the dial!
As we become more Red, by the minute.
Seduced by lies, that "free everything," has magic in it?
Subjected to untruths that one group is better than another??
Straight out of a Karl Marx handbook,oh my, I do shudder!
3/1/2021
~2~
Our two party system isn’t working
Plastic figures, disaster lurking
Conservative or liberal isn’t the call
It’s the ultra rich against us all
For the people is what it’s not
All candidates have already been bought
Platforms built on promises and lies
Hear the people, ignore their cries
Wave that flag as if you’re proud
Then bow and worship the corporate crowd
You no longer serve, you’re out of place
You are an elitist group, a public disgrace
You’ve subsidized the rich with your insanity
Then crippled the growth of humanity
You’ve killed our children in endless war
The media smiles and keeps the score
We sing of amber waves of grain
You’d sell it all for personal gain
You left our budget in disarray
You’ll tax our grandchildren for it someday
No water boarding terrorists you warn
Then murder a child who is still unborn
You have no ethics, you have no shame
You have no morals, you accept no blame
Washington is a place I’m told
Where politicians are bought and sold
Where dreams and ideals are destroyed
A city where honesty is null and void
A place where hope has been dethroned
You won’t get nominated unless you’re owned
A place where once” In God we trust”
Now we look in sheer disgust
Country burning from your sparks
You replaced Uncle Sam with Karl Marx
Our nominees we cannot select
The media decides who we elect.
Politicians with great orations
Puppets to the corporations.
Courtesy of Marx (albeit Zeppo,
Harpo, Groucho, and Chico), whose
acts (along Seuss iz Zacks Fifth
Avenue) brought generations of
laughter to Vaudeville, and then
the Silver Screen adlibbed, linkedin,
and ransacked skits zoid material
Bing very loosely based on his best
known writings (Oh Pee Yet Of The
Masses) by Karl Marx (no relation
to Bros Grin), and Friedrich Engels
whar they whiz instrumental qua
Cingular Capitalone political philosophy
paradigm as spit, and (shoe) shining,
seducing, and salivating players trans
formed Msn Netzero Linkedin Petsmart
Aleck outlook and pinterest, when their
collective insight did cents how masses
(i.e. bourgeois) took a rakish (otherwise)
up standing Norwegian bachelor farmer
for comic relief to break monotony of
agrarian obligations, and serve up one
heaping healthy portion per production,
sans whatever whims would crop
up by infusing thespian showdown
incorporating commune nic cache shun
(disproportionate) app peals studded terrain
with locked havens avast re shtetl ment.
Hoi Polloi re: common folk in sore need
of distraction and belief in a brighter side
of life, than saliva dehydrating brute nose
to the grindstone pathetic existence, yoked
as oxen to plows, where plodding tattered
shod feet scraped a pencil thin line, whence,
seeds sprinkled into futile ruts forecast angry
birds to shutterfly, twittering like bada$$
beastie boys Dharma bumming while On
The Yellow Brick Road.
Inn ascent bystanders avian avatars initially
supposedly sprung from ergot, mushroom
and/or smut spores, whereas the myth of
one mortal idol (Matthew Scott Harris) did
rival Vladimir Ilich (frequently corrupted into...
The test scores are worse than they've ever been
How can these kids expect an American Dream
Most Democracies buried in debt
individuals max their credit, also a bad bet.
Our military is outmanned and outgunned
China can build 200 ships when we build one.
Their hypersonic missiles can sink our carrier fleet
Their allies round the world can make the job complete.
Their kids master science and math
Here kids fail at logic, no upward path
Their elite are engineers, ours have law degrees
We block things, they have world class factories.
Frenchmen riot, want to retire before age 65
Once the state gives, reversal efforts don't survive.
Politicians keep promising, budgets keep growing
Stagnation grows too; we reap what they're sowing.
Leaders ignore what their citizens want
We don't want an influx of the intolerant
Chinese don't have race riots, or student spies
It doesn't matter that propaganda tells lies.
We thought there'd be balance, assumed, not told
The media, academia, the center would hold
Movies would vary, opinions too
You wouldn't be shot dead, that's what savages do.
So, did the Republic fail that the founders made?
Will totalitarians leave our legacy in the shade?
It doesn't look good now, in a row allies fall
To Jihad or Karl Marx, who yet hears freedom's call?
Arabic: (Alam) meaning "world" or "universe"
A character of a madman has a role in the play.
Henceforth, the casting was done,
Alam, the madman, to mentor in the acting,
the wanderer in the graveyard area
his folded sleeves hold the world, in fullest.
Throughout days, one might notice
his gesture, in talking, in walking, in waving
The way he solves all those problems in this lowly world
Within just a blink of an eye.
A face, covered with beard and mustache reminds often
The magnificent Karl Marx.
One might wonder if Karl Marx was himself a mad person, or not!
An absent-minded thought like this brings me smile
Through ages, men, way ahead than their time,
Preachers, revolutionists for a greater change
Falsified in their cults of blames of being “mad”,
more or less.
In midst of all this, a pair of fatigued, absent-minded eyes
Wander beyond the sky
faded songs of tragedies, lives.
Turbulent river waves ensure overflowing hypes
Ebb tides,
And Alam , one madman.
With him, I also reach my predestined tears, bursting ones
A drag of memorable gems!
Some of those days, graveyard walls Index finger, boasting higher,
All that loudness in noisy speeches, acted up, yet no lies
Alas! Utterance of these intrepid, bold truth, yet
Abandonment for ages!
Tonu, Muniya, Sundarbans, Black money, Tears of Mountains
How all those synagogues and worship places
are burning into ashes for race and class
Cities are burning down,
Neighborhoods, Maps, Palestine, Brussels, Paris
Angry fire of greed is burning down countries
Alleys and unknown cities.
Men are getting killed in broad daylight
With his proud civilization.
A saddened soul, I, return to my window
The tree branch, on the other side of windowpanes
greets my forehead, with its shadow, gently
And I simply wonder,
Everyone is acting quite fine these days
except
the one and only, Alam , the madman.
October 14, 2022
Tribute: This is an effort of a translation of a poem of poet Ehsan Nazim
At six o’clock in the morning
Upon the sixth of June
Came Michael-Paul O’Higgins
Into this bustling world.
At school he was but middling,
He never cut much ice
In English, Maths, Geography,
In Scripture, Sport or Art.
In early adolescence
On the back seat of a bus
He found a tract on how we must
Seek out Salvation’s path.
Soon at the local gospel hall
He preached with fire and zeal.
“Put all your trust in Jesus,
In no prelate, prince or priest.”
He learned a thousand texts by heart,
Knew the number of the Beast,
And having read the Bible through,
Turned back to Genesis.
His school performance soon shot up,
He banished ease and sloth.
No dirty jokes would pass his lips,
Like they might from other folks.
N this world, too, is virtue blessed.
His hard work soon bore fruit.
He gained a place at Oxford.
His ambition was the Church.
But lofty halls of learning
May stifle simple faith,
And Michael-Paul had fits of doubt
That caused his lapse from grace.
He switched to Economics
And flirted with Karl Marx.
To a secular millennium
He strove to find the path.
Soon active carrying banners,
Their colour deep-dyed red,
He got caught up in fisticuffs
And was bundled off to clink.
They noted his particulars,
Affiliations, too.
The magistrate just said “tut tut”
And he was free to go.
However minor was this brush,
He aimed to live it down.
He learned to mind his P’s and Q’s
And be just plain bourgeois.
Forgetting youth’s illusions,
For a salary safe and sure
Than ran into six figures
He sold Babylon his soul.
Up higher, ever higher,
He climbed each echelon
Until the plum job of his dreams
Was juggling on his nose.
But in some data memory bank
Was that record from his past,
The which, recalled in a routine check,
Gummed up his future plans.
He lost his job, his house, his wife,
He lost his heart and soul,
And now he’s palely loitering
In the long queue for the dole.
O wise man, give an answer,
O say what devil’s art
Has turned his world reformer,
This promising performer,
Into a mere statistic
On an economic chart?
The naked truth sprinkles holy water
at curfew hours with touch of morbidity.
I'm on the brink of shortages -- of food and faith,
parading before my eyes the endless stream of bodies
dispatched to crematorium and the more summary procedure of
temporary burials in city parks!
Suddenly the bright idea of a volley of oaths
takes center stage, the winged angels of death
plucking up inequality and the monopoly of
the privileged, striking rich and poor with the
same perverse velocity, a great equalizer rejoicing
Karl Marx in his grave. The proletariat of virus
turning up its fury in shanty towns and
castles like an unstoppable killer with the watchman
sleep at the wheel. It cannot proliferate without our
internal polarization.
Victims of coronavirus unite, throw away the chains
of dogmatism, embrace the contagion's challenge of
human solidarity, across the great divide of
capitalist exploitation and greed breeding
ineptitude and designed failure bespeaking a
great betrayal.
~ My Fellow* Americans ~
(Regarding Presidential Elections)
Let us amend the Constitution
so we can find a fitting solution
for every election where the selection
of any candidate means indigestion
Here is what I propose
knowing that many will oppose
whatever upsets the status quo
'cos at heart most change is a no-go
Let us put a box on each and every ballot
for 'Neither of the Above,' and then shall it
poll a majority of electoral votes -- Hear, Hear:
We'll leave the Oval Office empty for four years!
Now before my idea you diss and you ding
Consider carefully this very significant thing
Your house is white -- Do you need a boss?
Well, neither does our nation ~ All is not lost
____________________________________________
*By the term 'fellow' I have no intention of offending
anyone undergoing gender reimagining, racial
composition detoxification and reincarnation, or sex-
ual preference alteration, so help me 'God,' The Force,'
'Ms. God,' 'The No-God,' Zoroaster, Zeus, Jupiter, Jesus,
Mohammed, Allah, Buddha, Antifa, BLM, AOC, Jeff
Bezos, Mark Zuckerberg, Karl Marx, 'The Current Oc-
cupant of the White House,' whoever ze, zi, za, zu, zo
may be. Whew! Thank you! :)