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A man, who never believed in Gods,
Refused to acknowledge the supremacy of the imperialist British Lords,
Challenged imperialist world empire with stubbornness,
Wished to build a peaceful superpower country, with farsightedness.

Through his reading, kept himself on evolution,
Sowed in the hearts of Indian youth, the seeds of revolution,
Raising and threatening administrative tones,
Stood fearful and could only break his bones.

From, soviet World misunderstood,
Revolution a product of blood & bullet,
He approached and transformed revolution,
A product of inspiring pen and booklet.

Never limited himself to fight for boundaries of administrative right,
Expanded himself in the jail to throw away human plight,
Fought a death-nearing battle to regain the human right,
To finally set all things for his jail mates completely right.

Pen is mightier than sword,
His life bore testimony to prove that record,
When others attempted for freedom movement to nurture,
He dreamt and worked for building his country a beautiful future.

Born an ordinary Sikh man,
Misinterpreted a lunatic gunman,

Lived a life of comrades,
Hated in every step, caste, religious and gender retrogrades,
Wanted to save his country from blood-******* renegades,
Decided to break all the youth-distorting barricades,
And put his life to a mortgaging death trade.

Lived a life of an unselfish tree,
Decided to give his life to witness the country free,
Evolved his life, a chapter of sacrifice,
Offered overprice to fight the imposed injustice & cowardice.


His physical life remained short-lived and temporary,
Lived for the country to set an example for ideal revolutionary,
Beaten by humanimal imperialists, black and blue,
Opened the youths towards fight for freedom, on a new avenue.

Imperialist empire remained pathetically cruel,
His thoughts & phenomenon inspired a never ending fuel,
For the youths, to sacrifice themselves for liberation of the soil,
Through revolutionary paths, filled with constant sufferings and toil.

The world personified, revolution is,
Red, blood, blood and blood,
He defied and responded, revolution is,
Think, evolve, unite, and change, by the act of read, read, read and read.

He proclaimed a desperate need,
To get ourselves away from disturbing ****,
Sowed the fire of revolutionary seed,
Thus stated to read, read and read.

Imperialist empires killed people like blood-******* vampires,
He fought and responded, with the shot of a demonstrative gunfire,
When ordinary humans aimed to save their family,
Every millisecond, lived a life, personifying whole country his family.

Like a wood that offers light, and burns itself in fire,
Gave freedom a ray of light, submitted himself happily into the death wire,
For revolution, turned the court his Centre of propaganda,
Responded the ruthless imperialist, a warning memoranda.

On the imperialist death rope, he was killed
The batons he passed for the youths of next generations,
His final dream for India, still unfulfilled,
On the presence of present blood-******* politicians,

A baby that never cries on starvation,
A child that never starves for education,
A youth who never roams around to get dignified occupation,
Let’s at least work and fight towards, fulfilling this mission.
This poem is about the Indian revolutionary named Bhagat Singh. He was a Sikh youth born in India. He is wrongly misinterpreted with bullets and blood. But his approach towards freedom, worthiness of human life and knowledge, shows him distinct from violent loving extremists. He was not a terrorist. He was the most non-violent person, who valued human life than everything. The bomb he threw never had any harmful chemicals, it was thrown on an empty place of assembly to get the world to hear him. He killed a police, who deliberately lathi-charged and killed people involved in a peaceful protest. He sacrificed his life for Indian freedom movement. He was the highly-read and the best intellectual reader during his life short-lived (1907-1931). At the age of 24, the then imperialist British executed him by hanging him to death. His vision and clarity for India and his predictions are happening today. His vision and thoughts still ignite youths of India when we think of him. In short, he is an icon of the Indian youth and revolutionary.
OK, I know it isn't Christmas so please excuse me for either being late or a whole lot early... So keep it mind this was just for the fun of it!

*Twas the night after Christmas, when all through the foreclosed house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings weren't hung by the chimney with care,
It was too late for St Nicholas, this year he wasn’t there.

The children weren't nestled all snug in their beds,
There were no visions of sugar-plums dancing in their heads.
Mamma on the park bench and me in my box,
I wished that Saint Nicholas had brought me a new pair of socks.

When out on the street there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my box to see what was the matter.
Away to the curb I flew like a flash,
Tore open my snow mask and threw up last night's hash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snows
Gave the luster of mid-day to my frozen toes.
When, what to my watering eyes and runny nose should appear,
But a pimped out sleigh, and eight filthy rich reindeer.

'Now Donald! Now, Mike! Now, Hillary and Bill!
Oh, Soros! Oh, Al! Oh, oh George and Barack!
To the top of Wall Street! To the Banks and their vaults!
Take it away! Take it away! Take it away alt!'

With a little old lady, not so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment she wasn't St Nick.
Slower than snails with curses she came,
And then she whistled, and shouted, and called us bad names!

As dry heaves after the wild turkey does fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, to the nation's coffers they cry.
To the house and senate they quickly flew,
Mortgaging the sleigh full of Toys and Saint Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard all the proof
The scribbling of something horned with a hoof.
As I put my snow mask back on my head turning around,
Down the street came the old lady with a single big bound.

She was dressed all in fine fur, from her head to her foot,
And her clothes were all diamond with glitter and loot.
A bundle of tax returns she had flung on her back,
And she looked like a peddler, just opening her pack.

Her eyes-how they twinkled! Her dimples how merry!
Her cheeks were like roses, her nose like a cherry!
Her droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the hair on her head was as white as the snow.

The stump of a pen she held tight in her teeth,
And the stench of her breath encircled her head like a wreath.
Se had a long nose with a huge wart on the end,
It shook when she laughed, on that you can depend!

She was chubby and plain, a right ugly old elf,
And I cried when I saw her, in spite of myself!
A wink of her eye and a twist of her head,
Soon gave me to know I had something to dread.

She spoke not a word, but went straight to her work,
And pulled out my return, and then turned with a ****.
Laying her finger aside of her nose,
And while giving me a nod, she stomped my frozen toes!

Then she sprang to her sleigh, to her team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the curse of a missile.
But I heard her exclaim, ‘ere she drove out of sight,
'Unhappy New Year to all, and to all a good-friggin-cold-night!'
Terry O'Leary Oct 2014
.
            1. Big Brother
Big Brother's protecting his mice
with a secret eavesdropping device.
          If you hang up the phone
          he'll just send in a drone
when a warrant won't really suffice.

2. Neutrality
The internet's meant to be free,
yes for all, such as you, such as me.
          But now there's some doubt -
          will it lose all its clout
with the death of neutrality's spree?

3. Privacy
'twas surely our forefather's dread
all our emails would someday be read.
Now that push comes to shove
by the powers above,
private thoughts must now stay in our head.

4. Guantanamo
Guantanamo bay's a resort
where the fishing's a fabulous sport -
with your back on a board
tepid water is poured
spawning tales for a kangaroo court.

5. Banks
To bountiful bailouts give thanks
for there's nothing much richer than banks -
making money galore
taking homes from the poor
while they're managing mortgaging pranks.

6. Health
If you live in the States don't get sick
(lest a cut of the upper class clique).
Whether injured or ill
all they'll give you's a pill -
if you're lucky you'll surely die quick.

7. Economy
Our economy's doing just fine
lying dead with a slug in the spine.
So come follow the call
where there's money for all
and pure profit's the bottom-most line.

8. Safety
Vigilantes and cops are wide spread -  
as for justice… not even a shred.
The avengers of right
score when stalking the night
so beware of a cap in the head.
The Scribe Aug 2012
Left wing

The book cover symbolizes the dirt we've buried ourselves
Literary elixir's mortgaging the shelves
Words that can change the world lie dormant
When its author not in tune with performance
Dictate their emotions through graphic linguistics
A brains obtuse angles, for the world to take witness
The same words enter the ear cavity
And develops a picture in your brain, wether it's love or tragedy
A pen is the conduit for which we write
The tongue is the conduit for poets to recite
Evolution progresses outside of the shell
And wings, for when we decide to prevail

Right wing

Revolution wordsmith is out on the limb
Intricate words are like wings that catch wind
Visionaries we become when enabled to fly
Avoiding raindrops soaring above grey skies
Over 2 millennium our beaks pecked gravel
Through flight, the mystery of our talons unraveled
The preyed upon now does the preying
Eclectic chirps materialize into mental portraying
We migrate for survival, from the warmth of the Sun
Or remain penguin's, without wings to perform
KV Srikanth May 2022
A burden called the Past
A fear called the future
One we know everything about
Another we know nothing about
Knowledge and Ignorance
Are the greatest assets
Mortgaging them in return for burden
Is like  not the brightest light in the box
Going in a wild goose chase
Looking for a grindstone to blossom into a rose
Engaged in Sisyphean task of counting to infinity twice
Kurt Philip Behm Dec 2021
In the poverty of sound
hides a final goodbye
Mortgaging the silence
with debt to decry

A tenancy of sorrow
with melody banned
An orchestra homeless
—foreclosure at hand

(Dreamsleep: December, 2021)
Though predominantly skeptical
concerning divine intervention...
crushing desperation grinds heavily
kickstarting, mortgaging, pummeling
ripsnorting, unraveling, ar...wresting...
sense and sensibility...annihilating

joie de vivre exceeding Herculean powers
to defy overbearing blitzkrieg,
luftwaffe pounding psyche
wickedly, unbearably suffocating,
helplessly choking
impossibility to gasp

even one breath
lifesource within ******
dry as a bone,
hence desperation beseeching
salvation to triumph
over mailer daemon adversity

wildly analogous to aerialist
readily clasped linkedin
clenching tight teammate's hands
thwarting being pitched
feather head over tar heels,
whereby yours truly

grasps empty air
spiralling untethered from gravity
lost in space
scanning distant heavens
to espy prayerful rescue
courtesy winged warrior

benevolent endearing joyous
miraculous celestial being
rendering genuine ambition
to mend figurative fences,
with kith and kin,
where orneriness (mine) cleft

delicate whirled wide webbing,
thus me metaphorically dangling
bandied to and fro
hither and yon
free falling unmoored
grudgingly surrendering

mine mortality nsync
with manifest destiny
regarding death be not proud
of all corporeal entities
temporarily suspending atheism
in limbo where faith no more

steady Rock of Gibraltar
(though steeply entrenched)
peering skyward gleaning any hint
to perceive inimitable

otherworldly gifted helpmate
to usher deliverance, viz exaltations
experiencing unbridled affinity
toward kith and kin.
Mystification prevails stupefying yours truly
befuddled, he blindly stumbles along rocky
pathway illusory impediments strewn helter
skelter intangible obstructions hinder access
psychological barricades effective impasse

detains, deters, detours manhood maturation
manumission manifestation materialization
linkedin, when permanent submission arises
beckoning corporeal leaden entity into avast
eternal realm, where material disintegration

promises venerable salvation releasing angst
strummed plucked fretful existence denied
utmost exploration sequestered soul hermit
tickly sealed courtesy custom made NON-
GMO supercalifragilous expialidocious

airtight, vacuum sealed with trademarked
matts scott good housekeeping approval
lifetime achievement award maintaining
quasi pristine mint like condition afford
double (FREE for the taking) full refund

if dissatisfied with stutt...tut...tut tearing
functionality, yet batteries NOT required
and assembly unnecessary, but maximum
remaining life usage, asper garden variety
mutant requires preservation within sterile

bubble, lest exposure to human contact are
rouse dormant (latent) propensity breeding
biologically pre programmed predilection
to propagate species, this despite low libido
level, thus Memorial sale steal (actually no

expiration coincides with natural longevity)
slight depreciation before cessation arises,
which I project - little less than half life of
ordinary Earthling, whose quixotic, poetic,

ecologic, plus conscientious ethos promises
greater fulfillment, sans spirit, mind, and
body versus being addicted, hypnotized, or
tranquilized by latest technologic contraption,
boot cyber surfing mendicant surrenders self.

Yours truly beckons angel of mercy
or effective altruist to please intercede.

Though predominantly skeptical
concerning divine intervention...
crushing desperation grinds heavily
kickstarting, mortgaging, pummeling
ripsnorting, unraveling, ar...wresting...
sense and sensibility...annihilating

joie de vivre exceeding Herculean powers
to defy overbearing blitzkrieg,
luftwaffe pounding psyche
wickedly, unbearably suffocating,
helplessly choking
impossibility to gasp

even one breath
lifesource within ******
dry as a bone,
hence desperation beseeching
salvation to triumph
over mailer daemon adversity

wildly analogous to aerialist
readily clasped linkedin
clenching tight teammate's hands
thwarting being pitched
feather head over tar heels,
whereby yours truly

grasps empty air
spiralling untethered from gravity
lost in space
scanning distant heavens
to espy prayerful rescue
courtesy winged warrior

benevolent endearing joyous
miraculous celestial being
rendering genuine ambition
to mend figurative fences,
with kith and kin,
where orneriness (mine) cleft

delicate whirled wide webbing,
thus me metaphorically dangling
bandied to and fro
hither and yon
free falling unmoored
grudgingly surrendering

mine mortality nsync
with manifest destiny
regarding death be not proud
of all corporeal entities
temporarily suspending atheism
in limbo where faith no more

steady Rock of Gibraltar
(though steeply entrenched)
peering skyward gleaning any hint
to perceive inimitable

otherworldly gifted helpmate
to usher deliverance, viz exaltations
experiencing unbridled affinity
toward kith and kin.
Kurt Philip Behm May 2019
Liberals with a credit card,
Debts they’ll never pay
Mortgaging our future,
The present now ‘in play’

Conservatives with a checkbook,
The balance no concern
Hope now bouncing downward
  —when will we ever learn

(Villanova Pennsylvania: July, 2016)
Kurt Philip Behm May 2023
Memories are expensive
spent on looking back
Unpaid moments lost in time
debts for what we lack
Overdue nostalgia
debiting supreme
Clouded statements left unrhymed
—mortgaging our dreams

(Dreamsleep: May, 2023)
Kurt Philip Behm Feb 2020
Buying into the future,
without mortgaging the past

Each day a new indemnity
—a present made to last

(Dreamsleep: February, 2020)

— The End —