Long Meritocracy Poems
Long Meritocracy Poems. Below are the most popular long Meritocracy by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Meritocracy poems by poem length and keyword.
Some people
see reverse racism
as justified by genetic meritocracy
and historical seniority of sacred monocultural grace
not quite so generously bestowed
as one might more paradise
have multiculturally hoped.
So, some people
see affirmative action
as too liberal with love
too affirming reactionary.
So, some people
see assertive responsiveness
as PositivEnergy ecofeminist reply
to reverse racism
and sexism
and anthro-patriotic national supremacy.
So, some people
see anthro-supremacism
as RightWinged
patriarchal RedMeat.
So, some people
see patriarchalism
as red-faced egocentrism,
longing to rebelong
in green Paradise days
of GoodNews scriptured Olde.
So, some people
see xenophobia,
reverse ecological
and political empowering face
of rabid LeftBrain egocentrism,
and RightBrain eco-racism
and sexism
and anthro homophobicism
So, some people
fake *****sapien
shape-shifting eco-resonant WiseElder minds
with ego-resilient bodies--
inside spiritual climate redeeming health
proclaiming regenerative outside natured wealth.
I searched in vain for inspiration.
I even climbed the sacred Parnassus
Where all the muses reside.
I danced with them
Engaged in endless discourse.
All in vain.
Then I resigned to my fate.
Oh Pythagoras? How I refused
Ever to believe in your metempsychosis?
Alas that meritocracy should be reborn
Reborn to write again,
Reborn from darkness and void
Reborn to mock myself again.
With a splash of painted words,
Disjointed, without sense.
A sickly morbid earthling
Fed on the slums and dregs of earth,
Pampered on deadly drugs.,
Only to be haunted by a thousand empty dreams.
Now I solely scribble:
A mass of oddly disjointed lines,
Words upon words, a phantasmagoria of nonsense,
While ashes fall upon the yellow pages
Scented with nicotine of stale cigars.
"Same ol', same ol'!",
Cries the Sentinel.
"He pits the parties
To perfect His will
In His heavens,
And on His Earth!"
"I trust Him to do the right thing
More than I trust my own judgment."
"Same ol', same ol'!",
Cries the Sentinel.
"Their moral high-rank
Is only a Mirage,
Tricking a thirsty soul
That its way is safe!"
"I trust Him to guide my footsteps
More than I trust my own eyesight."
"Same ol', same ol'!",
Cries the Sentinel.
"His powerful help-
Irrelevant crutches
In their blind pursuit
Of deceitful wages!"
"I trust Him to keep on winning
More than I trust my own profit."
"Same ol', same ol'!",
Cries the Sentinel.
"The Savior loves you-
But there's no such thing
As acceptable sin,
Because it ruins!"
"I will trust Him and His choices
More than I trust my own reason."
"He comes, He comes!",
Cries the Sentinel.
"With Heaven's Armies
And all His holy ones
To keep His promises
For those who trust Him!"
"I trust Him to keep His Word
More than I trust the Meritocracy."
Democracy is a hoax
And it was meant to be
As it is, a set of sad jokes
A cheerful old trickery
You are offered to favour one
From the faces chosen not by you
The work is already done
It’s preset, in case you won’t do
So it’s always a meritocracy
No demos reserved, but elite
Travestied as democracy
Telling you what you need
It’s a master and slave metonymy
As it was, but the good news is
The elite can’t stand mind autonomy
Much more than in previous years
That’s encouraging, cause it seems
The democracy plot gets worn out
Age reveals those repressive schemes
I could easily live without
Friend,
Tell me no more...
Tell me no more about trust,
For trust is a barren risk,
A naked wire,
With no remorse or warranty
Tell me not about truth,
For truth has become a figment of imagination...
Truth has become propaganda, slander and mobbing
Tell me not about justice,
Justice have become solstice
Friend,
Tell me no more...
Tell me no more...
Tell me not about conscience,
For it is more than an open wound
Tell me not about decorum
What we have is audacity
Tell me not about knighthood,
What we have is dishonor
Friend,
Tell me not about meritocracy,
What we have is kleptocracy
Tell me not about love,
For love is cash and carry
My friend,
Tell me not about pain,
For without pain,
There is absolutely no gain
In opposition they criticize all that is wrong
and all that is good, according to their agenda.
They put clogs in wheels, aided by defiant unions
and often bringing the country to a standstill
with senseless strikes and organized protests.
Mud is thrown at government and individuals;
much of it sticks; the end justifies the means.
During the run-up to elections they use the media
to their advantage; the message drummed over
and over during house visits and heated mass rallies
rousing the rabble with heartfelt oratory.
They promise transparency and accountability;
fair sharing of wealth, help to the homeless and
to the needy; curbing favours to friends of friends
by resorting to the ideal concept of meritocracy;
lowering taxes and bills and introducing new social
benefits that would put all on an equal footing.
Most of all they harp on the eradication of corruption.
They hold roadmaps to solve all the country’s woes.
They promise heaven on earth; they promise Utopia.
Glittering manifesto is presented with much fanfare.
The gullible, switchers and uneducated are brainwashed.
As expected, election produces the desired results and
the party in opposition gets in power...on promises!
Promises that cannot be kept. The devil wants his due.
He grins, pointing to the small writing on the manifesto...
The majority had failed to notice it. It reads...SUCKERS.
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Contest: I Can’t Breathe
Sponsor: Cyndi MacMillan
Placing: 1st
The Heart of the Rising Sun
(In search of the place of the Igbo nation in Africa)
By the banks where the Rivers of Niger interwatered with Benue
Spreading their wild tentacles to the farms and gardens terrain,
Turning this gleams and divides, into food basket state called Benue
In the soil of southeastern terrain,
Lies a nation of millions, where honor resides,
And the roots of antiquity and meritocracy reign.
From the cradle of Ugwuele, timeless and deep,
To the bronze that Igbo-Ukwu cast,
Bordering the ancient People of Igala
They are keepers of secrets the centuries keep,
With a future as vast as their past
Endowed with gifts and ornaments beautiful like the Ugbala
No monarchs or tyrants could capture their soul,
For their freedom was woven in sacred and just law;
By the elders and age-grades, the village made whole,
Protected by Ofo na Ogu and in the councils the ancestors saw.
When the shadow of empire demanded their knee,
The Ekumeku struck through the night,
Aba women rioted to the disgrace of the Empires civilization.
And the women of Aba stood fearless and free,
To reclaim what was theirs by right
They found no monarch to cajole in their vandalization
They are builders of commerce, the engine, the spark,
From the stalls where the markets expand;
Through the bond of entrepreneurs' of
Igba-Boi, they rise from the dark,
Lifting brothers to conquer the land.
In the factories of Nnewi, the engines are spun,
and industrial cities of Aba, businesses run
With a genius no hardship could tame,
For the spirit of Biafra, though tested by gun,
Still burns as an unquenched flame.
From the ink of Achebe, where cultures collide,
To the starlight Adichie has shed,
From the mathematic prowess of Chike Obi
to the pure calculus eloquence of Peter Obi
Their stories travel global on rivers of pride,
By the rhythms of Afrobeats fed.
Though scattered by oceans, their legacy stays
In the diaspora's heartbeat and tongue
The Igbo remain, through the length of their days,
The proud song that Africa has sung.
We scooted back to Paris last week,
to the sweltering capital of romance,
where I took a series of employment tests,
in bright rooms where they timed my answers.
Let’s see, there was: a two day, two part
“statistics and aptitude test,”
a set of “analytical, quantitative screenings,”
a personality inventory, two cognitive ability tests,
a leadership judgment exercise and three, blind
structured interviews where they didn’t know who I am.
(that my Grandmère owns the entire circus.)
THOSE were fun.
There’s nothing like the humiliating theatricality of being
asked to summarize yourself in a job interview.
I’ll let the embarrassment speak for itself.
Don’t shed any tears for me - I’ve spent my entire life
being assessed, by teachers, family, strangers in bars
- as have you.
But it was the first time I’ve ever become entangled
in the machinery of respectable work and tried to look employable.
I think modern evaluation is half judgment, half performance art.
YOU know I’m a mess, I mean, you read me - but what do they know?
They never directly asked whether I’m sane, but I think
they wanted to know if I could sound sane in a boardroom.
I’m going to work for my Grandmère.
Part time, because I’m still going to be at university.
“Why do I have to take these tests,” I whined,
“aren’t I a nepo-baby - don’t I have *rights*??!!
“Anyone who’s being hired into management,
by any decent company has to take these tests,”
she assured me, as if explaining something to a dog.
Adding, “You SEEM reasonably intelligent, but I could be biased.”
“I should hope so,” I mumbled, pouting like a 5-year-old.
I won’t lie, there was some emotional pressure in all of this.
I mean, I DO deserve all of my advantages, don’t I?
If I was going to do this, I genuinely needed to be taken seriously.
It appears that I’ll be joining the bureaucratic meritocracy,
in September.
.
.
A song for this:
Triangular Girl by Pearl & The Oysters
Power analysis
traditionally follows investment
and divestment of money
and kleptocratic energy.
Which is all fine and good,
but, as I recall,
the truth of sustainable power trends
has more to do with the healthy beauty
and the unhealthy ugliness
of where we choose to start
our co-invested redemption narrative
and where we choose to end
fixation on independent
and anthropocentric
investment choices
Evolving from
our historical revolving global dance,
green/blue health regenerative
spiraling co-passion out
and holistically co-investing in
EarthTribe's organic pleasure life
Sacred integrity's
meaning fully saturated,
demeaning powers evaporated.
Hyperbole hubris
Venal penal
Avarice abyss
Bucolic tonic?
Ironic…sardonic
Or
Vitriolic bliss mate!
Mendacious salacious
Algorithm schism
Audacious outrageous
Vicarious or nefarious
Whatever geography
Clever hagiography
Moderate.. no berate
Generate..venerate hate
Casting various sordid spells
Schadenfreude morbid void
Everlasting..well..it sells well (swell)
But
Despotism urges Nepotism
Surges of Plutocracy
Merges with scourges of Kleptocracy
Purges meritocracy...dirges of Democracy
So
Resist narcissists trysts
Reminisces.. enlighten..persists
Sagacious benevolent gracious times
Redolent without malicious vicious
Murky mucky malevolent mists