political poetry

12 May 2007

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Militainment

How to die, the radicals teach us. — How to Die, the Radicals Teach Us.

Militainment

Believing in but never seeing
The Heathen, a lesser demon
It’s scheming on my soul
It’s infrequent but never leaving

Ether bleeding out of my pores
My spirit leaking
Soaked into the Earths rotted core
A saddened creature

A battered preacher
How to die, the radicals teach us
Students teaching the teachers
And they dying to reach us

Why is it that we shackle ourselves
Then cry for freedom
Metaphorically speaking
Our hearts are terminally weakened

Infirmaries are full of the lives we have forsaken
Mating with injustice and giving birth to complacence
Strangle life choke off our health, the end is nascent
Worshiped like a calf that is gleaming with gold plating

We clothe ourselves with spurious truth
Yet we lie naked
Corporations feed off the blood
Of dying nations

The seat of Christ is vacant
Siddhartha said time is wasting
The sound of one hand clapping
Is God getting smacked for faking

Jesus told me
“Son calm down, you’re talking dangerous”
I killed myself
So I could come back as Buddha’s patience

This world’s a patient
In Gods House Of Sick Creations
Prescripted with a dose of common sense
That we ain’t taking

Instead we medicated on war
And common hatreds
The politicians gore us with words
And pretty phrases

But really they just corporate whores
With pretty faces
Money is the root and the plant
Is grown in acres

Cultivated dug up and eaten by militainment

Back to Sentiments of the Cerebral

More Poetry by Silencio Barnes

More Poetry from Eternal Figments of Reality

By: Silencio Barnes Poetry, Writing Tags: Eternal Figments of Reality, ether-bleeding, Gautama, httpssilenciobarnes-nettagpic-included, militainment, militainment-poems, military and entertainment, pic included, poetry, poetry about media, poetry about militainment, poetry about politics, poetry about revolution, political poetry, rhyming, Sentiments of the Cerebral, Siddhartha, Siddhārtha Gautama, stream of consciousness, Writing

31 Mar 2005

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Dying Stream

Why cry when rivers feed oceans
Tears can cause movement but connections cause motions
From time out of mind a flow written then spoken
The words given freedom till the concept is broken

We gain so much nothing but lose the whole notion
Of knowing what’s real and what’s strictly emotion
Of knowing what’s fact and what’s strictly promotion
Of knowing which track or which path; where we’re going

Proper grammar for propaganda, beyond that they kill
But before that they dampen you’re ability to feel
They teach sheep how to construct their very own shields
That they use in their ignorance to reject and repel

This prevents them from learning to channel their will
Through the pen, through the sword on the side of what’s real
The lifestream is dying, they destroy and rebuild
But their constructs are shoddy yet made with such skill

How else could their words create something so ill
How else could they brainwash your colors to nil
Or whitewash your dreams and your life up until
You start to believe that you‘re really fulfilled?

More Poetry by Silencio Barnes

More Poetry from the Eternal Figments of Reality Series

By: Silencio Barnes Poetry, Writing Tags: brainwashing, dying stream, dying-musician-poetry, Eternal Figments of Reality, poetry, poetry about motion, poetry about movement, poetry about revolution, political poetry, Propaganda, propaganda-rhyme, rhyme-word-to-make-a-long-story-short, rhyming, sheep, Whitewash, Writing

22 Dec 2004

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Empty of Heart – Poetry

Empty of Heart

Empty of heart is he that states
That he will but does not

Church and state will rebuild
The Earth and take what they killed
Rebirth a clone of man’s will and
Worse claim that it’s real and
Works but only until it works

Then maybe the cycle will end
When the lust to take lose retake
And claim dominion fades

Maybe something better begins
When the greed consumes itself
And the sheep seek better ways

Instead of simply hoping to see better days

But what calls men to action
What must be lost before they rise
And take their satisfaction
Which faction dies before the lies
Are seen as manufactured

That is to say, where is the brave
To take the initial pain
That incites that initial rage

About Empty of Heart

While short, I was always a fan of this particular piece of poetry —
Here’s a mix that my good friend Zapruder Film made of it – I consider it as a part of an initiative I call SilentFilm (it’s kind of on hiatus at the moment)