.

Biden Kneels Before the Red Beast

by Damian Robin from a scenario of Evan Mantyk

On silver-smoke-screen in mid air
__the Red Beast’s horde has beckoned.
Its full face groomed, a beauty rare,
__but breaking up each second.

And through each giant flick’ring smile,
__a hint of mad, like Nero’s.
Beneath It, by the super mile,
__whole Hollywoods of heroes.

Our costumed saviors, muscled might,
__defenders of the demos,
Our demigods who never fight
__communism’s chaos.

They carry gadgets, glitzed-up screens,
__hand-held or high wall-mounted,
All mirror-clear, all two-way scenes
__we watch while being counted.

On these dazed frames reflections show
__silk ribbons cut for op’nings,
Handshakes, backslaps, ‘there-you-go’s,
__the cash-slave-trade of choke rings.

The Beast’s red body’s bloated, sick,
__and dirtied with its praxis.
Each fang and claw a greasy stick
__with heads and hearts on axis:

The massacred of Falun Gong,
__pandemic whistle-blowers,
The overthrown of old Hong Kong,
__democracies’ bestowers.

Joe Biden, rag doll of the Left,
__forgetful as a strainer,
The floppy figurehead of theft,
__leftover, limp vote stainer,

Hobbles to the Red Beast’s throne
__with aids to stop him skidding,
With bowed head and a pleading groan
__requests the Red Beast’s bidding.

.

.

There Is So Much Corruption

“O nation miserable…when shalt thou see thy wholesome days again.” —William Shakespeare, “Macbeth”

by Usa Celebride

The CIA, the FBI, the DoJ and more:
there is so much corruption in the U.S. at its core.
The techno-tyrants, Congress, and the fraudulent machines,
there is so much corruption in America, we see.
The minions of the CCP, the courts, and Hollywood,
there is so much corruption in these vipers and their brood.
The media, the greedy robber barons and elites:
there is so much corruption, dirty sea to dirty seat.
Since he was not elected,
if Biden is selected U.S. President as well,
this will be our poor nation—the United States in Hell.

.

.

Hail to the Thief

by Joe Tessitore

It’s no surprise
He has dead eyes.
A lifetime built
On blinding lies.

A mind that strays,
The price he pays—
Relentless guilt
Will have its ways.

His chilling smile
Does not beguile.
Support will wilt
In a short while.

So very, very evident;
Joe will be no one’s president.

.

.


NOTE: The Society considers this page, where your poetry resides, to be your residence as well, where you may invite family, friends, and others to visit. Feel free to treat this page as your home and remove anyone here who disrespects you. Simply send an email to mbryant@classicalpoets.org. Put “Remove Comment” in the subject line and list which comments you would like removed. The Society does not endorse any views expressed in individual poems or comments and reserves the right to remove any comments to maintain the decorum of this website and the integrity of the Society. Please see our Comments Policy here.

25 Responses

  1. Joseph S. Salemi

    The fraudulent rigged election that brings a senile Biden and his vicious left-wing bitch-mate to power is being contemplated with blithe indifference by the Average American Jerk.

    It only proves what Mencken said: “Democracy is the idea that the people should get what they vote for, and they should get it good and hard.”

    Reply
  2. C.B. Anderson

    One question, Damian: In stanza 1, line 2, did you mean “horde” rather than “hoard?”

    All three were on point, and I am waiting to see how things play out in the next few days. Unlike Sleepy Joe, Donald Trump is unlikely to be caught napping.

    Reply
    • Damian Robin

      Thanks, Kip Eagle Eye. You are right. In stanza 1, line 2, I meant “horde” rather than “hoard”.

      Maybe our super-clearo, Mike Bryant, can come to the rescue.

      Reply
      • Damian Robin

        Also, maybe Mike ( with Evan’s OK ) can expand the by-line to

        “by Damian Robin from a scenario of Evan Mantyk”

        as the poem was written from a sequence of images at a request from Evan.

        Thanks, in advance, to Mike and Evan.

      • C.B. Anderson

        How did you find out about my true native American name? Have I now been caught out, like Rumpelstiltskin?

  3. Joe Tessitore

    We are plunging through a bottomless pit of unreality.
    CBS’ resident doctor is reporting that Big Pharm expects their vaccines to be effective for six months, after which the troops will need to be re-vaccinated.
    He further reports that the vaccinated will need to continue wearing masks.

    The old days of vaccinations lasting a lifetime are far behind us.

    Joe B is gearing up for a million injections a day.

    Reply
    • Paul A. Freeman

      As far as I know, most vaccines we get as children require boosters in adolescence. Some years ago I needed a yellow fever vaccination which lasted 15 years and a hepatitis A vaccination which needed renewal after 6 months.

      At the moment no one really knows how long these various vaccines will protect us because Covid-19 is a new virus. And of course profit-making pharmaceutical companies might have ulterior motives for wanting to vaccinate every 6 months.

      These are just a couple of observations and thoughts.

      Reply
      • Joe Tessitore

        Let me add to these an e-news item that I just read;
        Andrew Cuomo, the governor of the state of New York, will make skipping the vaccine line a crime.

      • Joe Tessitore

        Dear Big Pharm,

        I’ve heard the alarm.
        Please stick your needle
        In my arm.
        They say your vaccine
        Is the charm
        To keep me safe
        From germs that harm

        Yours in fear and trembling,

      • Paul A. Freeman

        It’s a healing balm,
        just grease the Big Pharm palm
        and stay calm.

      • Joe Tessitore

        Andrew Cuomo – Senryu

        Isn’t he the guy
        Whose executive order
        Sent thousands to die?

  4. Damian Robin

    More grist for the turning wheel.

    A MEDLY ON THE NAME OF BIDEN

    This blank imposter — What’s’Iz’Name ?
    We know his name — Joe Biden.
    Anonymous and blank, the same,
    What’s’Iz’Name ? — JOE BIDEN.

    In literature, his call to fame
    would come from Pope or Dryden
    Who’d make him last in righteous shame —
    as just a name, “JOE BIDEN”.

    Within the Music of the Spheres,
    there’s one bum note for Biden.
    Tradition’s chorus chokes his ears
    with Bach, Mozart, and Hayden.

    This stealer’s din is communist,
    this limp-skinned drum of Biden,
    Who, banging on does not resist,
    his syllables keep sliden’.

    With slippy sloppy principles,
    there’s lax resolve in Biden,
    Extending dates of baby kills —
    is it with God he’s siden’ ?

    With votes and ballots rearranged,
    the dark’s no longer hiden’.
In urbane paragraphs he changed
 ‘forbidden’ to ‘for Biden’.

    Someone who’s pumped and partizan
    may shout, “Let’s douce down Biden !
    His air head policies, his clan,
    who build him as a Titan !

    “Let’s rain on his parade of pomp,
    Let’s call on old Poseidon ! —
    His fans made this Election Swamp,
    Fetch firetrucks, hose down Biden !

    “O god of horses, earthquakes, sea,
    come shake your mighty trident !
    Lift it high in levity
    then poke the butt of Bi-dent !

    “Was it not you who shook the land,
    land-slided Trump, not Biden ?
    You won’t ride roughshod on what’s planned —
    No ! No ! So NO to BIDEN !”

    To end with what’s not partizan:
    we can’t choose Trump nor Biden —
    We have to follow Heaven’s Plan —
    there is no choice — NO BIDEN.

    When gone from Earth, when silenced, numb,
    no sign of him, no Biden,
    Warm sun will dry his final sum:
    wet shoulders Biden cried on.

    Reply
  5. Christopher Flint

    Mr. Tessitore —

    Another ingenious effort. You might want to consider holding the meter in the last four line stanza by going with something like “In just a while”.

    Also, semicolons connect independent clauses. You’re stretching poetic license just a bit there. Might want to think about something more like

    “It seems so very evident;
    Joe Biden’s no one’s president.”

    Or a single sentence like:

    “It seems so very evident
    that Joe is no one’s president.”

    Or taking vour meter all the way with something like:

    We’re certain Joe’s
    not who we chose.

    As always, just thoughts. Very clever design!

    Reply
    • Joe Tessitore

      No worries, Mr. Flint.
      Mr. Mantyk suggested changes before it went to press. I think that the more people suggest changes, the more it shows that they found the poem interesting.

      I was thinking “This man is no one’s president”, but opted for “Joe is no …” to catch the internal rhyme.

      Reply
  6. Susan Jarvis Bryant

    All three poems are hard-hitting, spot on takes of today’s enslaved society, where the global governments are no longer elected by the people… they are there to serve themselves and themselves only. It’s too bad they fooled so many for so long. Thank you

    Reply
    • Joe Tessitore

      “…fooled so many for so long” indeed, including me. The toughest thing to get over are my own cherished delusions.

      Reply
    • Damian Robin

      Hi, Susan. More powerful than governments, and more removed from the law, are the global corporations. The main exception being the CCP that is above government and integral to big business in China (and beyond).

      They ‘fooled’ us because we are nearer to purity t h e y cannot copy or be.
      They banded together like bats of flint skin-er-y, feathered to burn in Hell’s Sea —
      Big media outlets, Big Tech, and Big Dosh, with the backup of Red CCP.

      We may be naive and have nought up our sleeve but a sense of what’s Good winning through.
      We must keep it just in our ongoing thrust, to our Heavenly Selves must stay true.
      To break out today in a murderous way would but keep us on earth, through and through.

      Could we then transcend or in earth’s mud all end with that glutinous communist stew ?
      Or worse still, good heavens, at sixes and sevens, pour down to Hell’s Sea with them, too,
      For ever be buried in pots where we’re ferried, in cauldrons of sick SEAsoned brew.

      ANTIFA’s deception, the DEEP STATE’s connection. that PENCE must have known of before,
      Police’s collusion, the leaders’ profusion of underhand coaxing and more.
      Some officer’s knew, and some Congressmen too, and some Pressmen who chose to ignore.

      And Trump could have called out the army to give clout to fraudsters and vote-rigging fray.
      But risk civil war or repression for sure and then not be much better than they ?
      Would that be a way through to make us become new or only make principles sway ?

      If murder or arson is done by a person and those who should look after us,
      Should we not step in, alleviate sin, with the least of aggression and fuss ?
      Such acts of protection are not insurrection if done with good conscience and suss.

      They ‘fooled’ us because we are nearer to purity t h e y cannot copy or be.
      They banded together like bats of flint skin-er-y, feathered to burn in Hell’s Sea —
      Big media outlets, Big Tech, and Big Dosh, with the villainous Red CCP.

      Reply
      • Susan Jarvis Bryant

        Damian, a wholehearted thank you to you for your foresight and your poetry. I will admit to sitting here licking my wounds at the moment. I thought that justice (government style) here in America would prevail, and I shouldn’t be, but I’m shocked, and more than that – sad to my core. When I moved here to Texas, my son said to me, “Mum, we’re only a day away from each other”, and now I feel I’m a decade or two or three from travelling back to my family unless I bow to the rules and regs put in by a global draconian government who tell me everything is my choice, but withdraw all I need to survive if I don’t comply. I’m sick to the pit of my stomach… if it wasn’t for my belief in God and the beautiful words from people such as yourself, I’d give up all hope… but I haven’t. I’ll do all I can to fight this oppression. Thank you, Damian, for your poetry and your honesty and for standing with me. It makes a huge difference.

  7. Damian Robin

    Thanks for your sanity, resilience, and determination to get through this global crisis.
    Here is a 50 min video of an investigator of the global ‘market’,/government –the personnel are unseen and unknown but she tells of what they/it intends and how.
    Knowledge is often a heavy burden. I hope what the video puts forward does not depress you. (If it does, I may have a mini-poem-pick-you-up on hand :^) — but I think you can take the vid’s deep message).

    Reply
    • Susan Jarvis Bryant

      Damian, I have sent this video link to all those I think may listen and I applaud this brave lady for speaking out. I am fully aware of the situation. I am also fully aware of the term, “ignorance is bliss”, yet I cannot help but pursue the tragic truth. Any pick-me-up poem is welcome. I am so utterly pissed off… and I am the sunniest of people… I need to see some sort of hope on God’s green earth. I feel I’m destined to burn at the stake for bringing the truth to light. This quote: “speaking the truth in times of universal deceit is a revolutionary act” has never been more apt. Orwell had it 100% right!

      Reply
      • Damian Robin

        Hi Susan,
        thank you for your heartfelt response and for passing on the video link.

        Thinking is powerful. Feeling a fake. So think something diff’rent than burning a stake!

        The real antidote to the alien witch feeling is the quote from Mike on another page of SCP. (Is he your husband or brother?) I presume you have been doing this a long time and are, at present, fatigued.

        Mike Bryant
        January 7, 2021
        “Don’t underestimate the power of truth. There’s nothing more powerful. Now in order to speak what you might regard as the truth, you have to let go of the outcome. You have to think, alright, I’m going to say what I think, stupid as I am, biased as I am, ignorant as I am, I’m going to state what I think as clearly as I can and I’m going to live with the consequences, no matter what they are. Now, the reason you think that, that’s an element of faith. The idea is that, nothing brings a better world into being than the stated truth. Now you might have to pay a price for that, but that’s fine. You’re going to pay a price for every bloody thing you do and every thing you don’t do. You don’t get to choose to not pay a price. You get to choose which poison you’re going to take. That’s it. So, if you’re going to stand up for something, stand up for your truth. It’ll shape you because people will respond and object and tell you why you’re a fool and a biased moron, and why you’re ignorant. And then if you listen to them, you’ll be just that much less like that the next time you say something. And if you do that for 5 years, you’ll be so damn tough and articulate and able to communicate and withstand pressure that you won’t even recognize yourself, and then you’ll be a force to contend with.” – Jordan B. Peterson
        [Mike finished by saying:] You, Susan, have been doing that for as long as I’ve known you. Don’t ever stop! You ROCK!”

        May I add that you can be a rock. And as strong as daylight!

        The promised mini poem-pick-you-up that I hope does what it says …

        In Sight of Paradise

        Today’s a shadow on the ground,
        a dark to which I’m falling.
        Though all it does is lie around,
        it acts like it’s my calling.

        Night drops — Cramped feathers in a pack —
        No light can crack between them —
        No starlight — Trapped in their black sack —
        How heavily I dream them —

        Hard payback — Fear begins to race —
        Stacked sins of karma cover —
        Though here’s my mortal body’s place,
        my soul knows of another . . .

        This consciousness yields lightning spears . . .
        My human weight lifts, briefly . . .
        I’m briefly one with godly peers . . .
        want to go back . . . completely.

        Then this sight’s gone, as are the night
        and shadows of contention . . .
        But mem’ry now is soft and bright . . .
        and true, not my invention.

        Keep solidly rocking, Susan.

  8. Damian Robin

    Hi Susan. I think I went ‘too far’ (or tried too hard) in my last Comment poem to you, above.
    You talked of needing “to see some sort of hope on God’s green earth” and what I sent was not that. It was relying on escape, though an other-worldly one.
    I’ve seen your fine sea poems. We all need some time out (on a cruse or a beach, maybe :^) ). They are a practical and grounded escape. I’ve said before that I see you as well balanced. And a wonderful poet. There’s wonder at the sea and its creature. Your lines are a spendour – too flowing to go into detail about. There’s too much that’s good (and too little time to echo back what you know you have achieved). But, a big thank you, Susan. The Masefield poem is one I was introduced to at school and am lucky to have had a teacher who kept the joy of it above the study.

    Here’s something that may give me (maybe you as well) closure on the topic of this pocket of poems on this page. Hopefully you can stomach reading it after the inner, calm sway of watching sea life.

    Post-Trump-Bump Review

    Though Trump has left, God’s on his side —
    his overcast achievement
    Does not suggest what’s Good has died
    though I may feel bereavement.

    Things did not turn out as I hoped.
    My mind’s dropped Virtue’s placement.
    What’s Righteous may have better coped
    if I’d been less complacent.

    I did not speak out as I should,
    was shocked at Truth’s distorting.
    How can what’s Right display its Good
    without more Hearts supporting.

    How Evil turns and twists and snakes
    from tasteless steps to queasy
    Until I’m sick with my mistakes
    of one who thinks Good’s easy.

    In trust, I did not test or try
    the binds of kin or friendship
    But docked at home, part-dumb but dry
    then witnessed longed-for ends slip.

    I did not risk the shambled streets
    nor gambol thought in public.
    I stayed indoors and blinked some tweets
    in praise of “The Republic”.

    Now Vict’ry’s stifled, right and left,
    behind the scenes and curtain.
    It waits with wings too weighed to heft,
    re-entrance time uncertain.

    For now, the Red Beast has release,
    and tars across earth’s fairways.
    The mucus of its swamps increase
    and suffocate the airways.

    Its grease and sweat have long been here
    since Marxists started egging.
    Their omelettes bung me, toe to ear.
    I won’t breath free by begging.

    If I rely on rhyming charms,
    make these my main endeavor,
    My Mind will squeeze-fry in Red arms —
    I’ll rue my chance forever.

    So, I mustn’t get stuck on letting the bigger guys/guyettes taking all the flack.

    Happy recuperation, fellow-rover Susan,
    “And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
    And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.”
    Damian

    Reply
  9. Susan Jarvis Bryant

    Damian, thank you very much for your considered comments and your admirably crafted poems that hit all the right notes – they have assisted me on my journey to peace of mind with a touch of joy. It seems you too are prolific when it comes topical pieces… well done… don’t stop!

    I love John Masefield’s poem, and the sea has great healing properties… as have cups of tea. I think I’ve drunk more tea in the last few weeks than I have in the whole year! That’s how you know I’m still British at heart. In fact, here’s a poem for you. It’s a play on “Sea Fever”. I had great fun writing it.

    Tea Fever

    I must boil the kettle for tea again – I’ve a thirst for a burst of PG,
    And all I ask is a china mug and a fruity slice of Dundee,
    And a glug of milk in a sip of silken heat to quench this yearning
    For the peaceful glee of a rosy-lee while the toiling globe is turning.

    I must boil the kettle for tea again, as that yen for the tang of Earl Grey
    Is a wild yen and a clear yen that cannot be kept at bay;
    And all I ask is a lemon twist in a mist of fragrant steam – 
    That trace of grace in the sun-laced taste of my heavenly beverage dream.

    I must boil the kettle for tea again – I’ve a longing to read those leaves,
    I’ll sup it up and drain my cup to see what the hand of fate weaves;
    And all I ask is a brimming flask of golden, nectarial brew,
    And the luscious flow of that liquid glow in afternoon tea for two.

    Thanks again!

    Reply

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.