A Capitalist, a Socialist and a Poet
A Capitalist, a Socialist and a Poet
Capitalist: What profit's there to be made?
Socialist: And how the workers will get paid?
Poet: Forget potatoes and your stocks,
The beauty's in the shining locks
Of my sweet darling-there she is-
An angel gliding through the breeze.
Capitalist: That's fine and dandy. What's the price
Of that sweet bosom and those eyes?
What is the bottom line, my friend?
Socialist: This dreamy nonsense has to end-
With millions walking unemployed,
What beauty's there to enjoy?
Poet: And in the starlight late at night
I see my lady burning bright,
And that is all I really need-
No public good or private greed-
I want my freedom just to be
Away from life's banality.
Capitalist: Good luck, my friend, but then again
You could've been a richer man.
Socialist: And while your comrades starve and hurt,
All you can think of is some flirt,
Who steals men's wallets and their hearts,
While you pursue your foolish art.
Poet: Foolish or not, and who decides
What to extol or to deride,
What we imagine, what we seem,
What we aspire to and dream?
And do we know who we are
Beyond some house or a car,
Beyond our jobs, beyond this life
That starts at nine and ends at five?
Capitalist: You could, my friend, be self-employed.
Socialist: Or one of many unemployed.
Poet: I find my meaning in my art,
While beauty lies within the heart
And shared equally with all,
Igniting passion in the soul,
Beyond appearances and lies,
Beyond demand, beyond supply,
Beyond your wealth or state control-
Mine is the freedom of the soul
To love and dream and to behold
The beauty of the natural world.
Not to despise, and not to claim
To have some answers to your game
Of rich and poor - it's all the same -
I want to live before I die
My life - not someone else's lies.
October 2,2009
poem by Alexander Shaumyan
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Your Boom, My Bust
So the he said
'Tell me capitalist
what is profit? '
He said
profit is what I earn
when I sell something for more than it is worth,
it is a reward for my effort.'
Ah, I said, if everyone did that
then the price of an object would
keep going up forever
since each person in the chain
would want their profft
and finally, the price would be so high
nobody could afford to buy
what the capitalist had to sell
and then we would all be in poverty
the last capitalist
would be the only one left with money
enough to buy up our properties
since the price would have dropped
because nobody could afford to pay
and in the end
the richest capitalist
would be the only one standing
and would own everything
while everyone else would have to sell everything to him
because all of the rest of us would be too poor
to pay the high prices its costs to live.
Sell something for more than it is really worth
on the grounds that a profit must be made
leads to disasters, and boom and bust.
Hello Wall Street.
And by the way
if everyone loses everything
who had the money to buy
it all up?
Hello Wall Street.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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The Poet I Am', And 'The Poet I Am Not
The poet I am, and the poet I am not
‘The poet I am’ says
To ‘the poet I am not’,
‘Why can’t I be more like you? ’
And ‘the poet I am not’ says
‘Because you are not good enough’
And ‘the poet I am’ begins to cry,
And ‘the poet I am not’ says
‘Real poets cry for more meaningful things’
And ‘the poet I am’ says ‘I am who I am and what I will be means so much to me. But still I am not the poet I wanted to be’.
And ‘the poet I am not’ says
‘Exactly. Were you less concerned with who you are and more concerned with others you might be a bit more of a poet than you are now.’
And ‘the poet I am’ is silent.
And ‘the poet I am not’is somewhere else being someone else
That ‘the poet I am and the poet I am not’ cannot see or dream.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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Poet, O Poet
Let not the dog out
The poet cried.
Poet, poet, O poet
Imagine, imagine and imagine
Your imagination is our wealth
Your imagination is our health
Imagine, imagine and imagine
Create things on your own
In your own world my dear poet
That is not known and that is owned.
Let not the dog out
The poet cried.
Poet, poet, O poet
We have no control over anything
We have no control over the land
That is dreamy.
It is only you O poet
Who can control us from that land
Where nothing to be shame
Where no body is there to blame
Where there is only fame and fame.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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The Socialist And The Suffragist
Said the Socialist to the Suffragist:
'My cause is greater than yours!
You only work for a Special Class,
We work for the gain of the General Mass,
Which every good ensures!'
Said the Suffragist to the Socialist:
'You underrate my Cause!
While women remain a Subject Class,
You never can move the General Mass,
With your Economic Laws!'
Said the Socialist to the Suffragist:
'You misinterpret facts!
There is no room for doubt or schism
In Economic Determinism–
It governs all our acts!'
Said the Suffragist to the Socialist:
'You men will always find
That this old world will never move
More swiftly in its ancient groove
While women stay behind! '
'A lifted world lifts women up,'
The Socialist explained.
'You cannot lift the world at all
While half of it is kept so small,'
The Suffragist maintained.
The world awoke, and tartly spoke:
'Your work is all the same:
Work together or work apart,
Work, each of you, with all your heart–
Just get into the game!'
poem by Charlotte Perkins Stetson Gilman
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The Austerity
My mobile phone rings twice!
I took and it's a familiar voice.
'Hey! I am close to your heart
And see I am behind you.'
I looked around but nobody's seen.
'May I know your good name please? '
'It's me your breath Catherine
And you're my poor Peter the Great.
I can see you wear a Red T shirt my poor Socialist
And a blue denim patches here & there my Capitalist Rasputin.
Not only that my Sweetheart
We missed our scanty breakfast
I can see you are without the underpant
And I saw it's on the washing basin
Darling we're poor lovers with borrowed smiles.'
I heard she laughed and she's kidding me
My beloved!
A humble dedication to the poetess Fay slimm in gratitude!
* 'True affluence is not needing anything.' -Gary Snyder
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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World view
Come to poet
And enjoy life.
Come to poet
And see beauty.
Come to poet
And know truth.
Come to poet
And have patience.
No non-sense can
Disturb you
And you have
At your hand
World view.
poem by Gajanan Mishra
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My view... would be that we are entering upon a new and interim society which is neither capitalist nor socialist, but in which we can achieve central planning without loss of individual initiative, by the mere process of absorbing initiative in the function of planning.
quote by John Grierson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Patriot
And the rivers shall open for the righteous...
And the rivers shall open for the righteous...
And the rivers shall open for the righteous someday...
I was walking with my brother,
And he wondered, oh how I am.
Said what I believe in my soul
Ain't what I see with my eyes,
And there's no turning back this time.
I am a patriot, and I love my country,
Because my country is all I know.
Wanna be with my family,
People who understand me.
I got no place else to go.
I was walking with my girlfriend.
She looked so fine, I said
"Baby, what's on your mind?"
Said I want to run like the lions
Released from their cages...
Released from the rages
Burning in my soul tonight.
I am a patriot, and I love my country,
Because my country is all I know.
And I ain't no communist,
And I ain't no socialist,
And I ain't no capitalist,
And I ain't no imperialist,
And I ain't no democrat,
Sure ain't no republican either,
I only know one party,
And that is freedom.
I am...I am...I am...
I am a patriot, and I love my country,
Because my country is all I know.
And the rivers shall open for the righteous,
And the rivers shall open for the righteous,
And the rivers shall open for the righteous someday...
Someday...someday
song performed by by Pearl Jam
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Very Inspiring Stuff
Where are you going?
'To the debates.'
I thought you stayed away from politics?
'That was yesterday.
Before I decided I would get into comedy.
Yesterday...
One of the debaters accused the other,
Of being a 'Capitalist'.
Because he actually stated...
He had 'no' lack of fear of cutting jobs,
To aid big business.
And...
Just a week ago they were all accusing,
The current leader for being a 'Socialist'.
With claims he was against 'Capitalism'.'
That's nuts.
'No.
That's politics.
I wish I had known earlier in my career,
It was this funny.
I am getting some great material.
Very inspiring stuff.'
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Silvery Beauty Vavroovahana Patra
Innocent silvery beauty passes on the way;
Poet beholds the beauty of Beauty with gay.
The creation of Nature is alluring;
Innocent Beauty is dazzling.
Beautiful face allures passes by;
Allures lovers with gay.
Beauty is the creation of Almighty;
Beholding, poet derives gaiety.
Beauty tranquilises poet's mind on the way;
Poet derives profound peace with gay.
Curly crisp wavy long cloudy hairs entice the poet;
Mind remains in the world of peace with delight.
Innocent beautiful face allures the poet in evening;
Poet's mind is delighting.
With a little conversation mind is peaceful;
Her sweet talk is delightful.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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Before a Poetry Reading
'Poet! Poet! Poet! Poet! '
I'm feeling nervous but I mustn't show it!
'Poet! Poet! Poet! Poet! '
I hope to heaven that I won't blow it!
'Poet! Poet! Poet! Poet! '
I mustn't reveal that I'm a second-rate poet!
I'm only a rhymer, but they don't know it!
If you've got no talent you'll have to grow it!
'Poet! Poet! Poet! Poet! '
poem by John Thorkild Ellison
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Innocent Face Vavroovahana Patra
The innocent face allures the poet in the morn;
The Beauty magnifies the beauty of the dawn.
Mind derives peace;
Poet lives with Divine Bliss.
Poet is a lover of Beauty;
Beautiful things enchant the poet with gaiety.
Loves Silvery face delightfully;
Loves innocent hearts silently.
Vernal chilly Breeze kisses the crisp hair delightfully;
Fragrance of Beauty bathes poet's body with gaiety.
Poet is inspired to remain in a world of peace;
Praying in the lap of Nature derives Divine Bliss.
Innocent rural Beauty proceeds silently;
Poet, a lover of Beauty, beholds enthusiastically.
Innocence provides delight;
Inspiration is a Brook of Delight.
poem by Vavroovahana Patra
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The man who is not a socialist at twenty has no heart, but if he is still a socialist at forty he has no head.
quote by Aristide Briand
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The home stands in contrast to all other capitalist institutions as the last stronghold of pre-capitalist isolation.
quote by C.L.R. James
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Votes Are In
The votes are in.
It appears as though,
The ones receiving more from life...
Are those not burden,
By a carrying on their shoulders...
A methodical mythical way to live.
With a happiness that shows upon them,
Dancing to live with that sparkle still twinkling...
In their unclouded eyes.
And...on the other hand,
Strange enough as it is...
Those with bills,
Piling up as they sit...
In those big fancy homes marooned on lush hills,
Seem more concerned about the basics...
They wish today they didn't leave behind.
As the times climb the trails to knock,
On those 'French' designed and custom made doors.
'Are you a materialistic capitalist on these shores?
Or are you just a bling wearing socialist,
Caring less who wears the titles...
As long as you get what it is you need,
Mingling amongst all 'wannabee' socialites?
Hmmm?
Which one are you?
How do you fit in with all of this,
Toxic display of diversity? '
~Good observation.
Certain things I like to keep private.
Where is the bathroom? ~
'Just to the left of that exit sign.
Hope everything comes out okay.
And just as you wish and hoped to find.'
~How appropriate placed and stated.
Your comments.
And the exit.~
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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I Am A Patriot
And the river opens for the righteous (5 times)
Someday
I was walking with my brother
And he wondered whats on my mind
I said what I believe in my soul
Aint what I see with my eyes
And we cant turn our backs this time
I am a patriot
And I love my county
Because my country is all I know
I want to be with my family
The people who understand me
Ive got nowhere else to go
And the river opens for the righteous
And the river opens for the righteous
And the river opens for the righteous
Someday
And I was talking with my sister
She looked so fine
I said, baby, whats on your mind?
She said, I want to run like the lion
Released from the cages
Released from the rages
Burning in my heart tonight
And I aint no communist
And I aint no capitalist
And I aint no socialist
And I aint no imperialist
And I aint no democrat
And I aint no republican
I only know one party
And it is freedom
I am, I am, I am
I am a patriot
And I love my country
Because my county is all I know
And the river opens for the righteous
And the river opens for the righteous
And the river opens for the righteous
Someday
And the river opens for the righteous...
song performed by by Jackson Browne
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Premier and the Socialist
The Premier and the Socialist
Were walking through the State:
They wept to see the Savings Bank
Such funds accumulate.
"If these were only cleared away,"
They said, "it would be great."
"If three financial amateurs
Controlled them for a year,
Do you suppose," the Premier said,
"That they would get them clear?"
"I think so," said the Socialist;
"They would -- or very near!"
"If we should try to raise some cash
On assets of our own,
Do you suppose," the Premier said,
"That we could float a loan?"
"I doubt it," said the Socialist,
And groaned a doleful groan.
"Oh, Savings, come and walk with us!"
The Premier did entreat;
"A little walk, a little talk,
Away from Barrack Street;
My Socialistic friend will guide
Your inexperienced feet."
"We do not think," the Savings said,
"A socialistic crank,
Although he chance just now to hold
A legislative rank,
Can teach experienced Banking men
The way to run a Bank."
The Premier and the Socialist
They passed an Act or so
To take the little Savings out
And let them have a blow.
"We'll teach the Banks," the Premier said,
"The way to run the show.
"There's Tom Waddell -- in Bank finance
Can show them what is what.
I used to prove not long ago
His Estimates were rot.
But that -- like many other things --
I've recently forgot.
"Advances on a dried-out farm
Are what we chiefly need,
And loaned to friends of Ms.L.A.
Are very good, indeed,
See how the back-block Cockatoos
Are rolling up to feed."
"But not on us," the Savings cried,
Falling a little flat,
"We didn't think a man like you
Would do a thing like that;
For most of us are very small,
And none of us are fat."
"This haughty tone," the Premier said,
"Is not the proper line;
Before I'd be dictated to
My billet I'd resign!"
"How brightly," said the Socialist,
"Those little sovereigns shine."
The Premier and the Socialist
They had their bit of fun;
They tried to call the Savings back
But answer came there none,
Because the back-block Cockatoos
Had eaten every one.
poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
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My Wonderful Beautiful Lady Has Golden Eyes
Your angel eyes cursed me from the first time I met you
Your eyes have magic made me follow you simply
Your eyes colors stolen the color of the honey
Because the color of your eyes its gold
Your eyes shining in the night same the stars in the sky
I had never seen like you in whole the world
On all these specifications in you is not finished yet because you are unlimited in the beauty
Your long blond hair is very awesome
When the air plays with your blond hair & its fly when you are walking
Oh my god
I'm dying on this section of your beauty
Your awesome beauty chasing me everywhere I go
I can't remove you from my head simply
I see your picture always in front of my eyes
You burned fire inside my heart
I woke up on a dream I can't tolerance it simply
I can't tolerance your love simply
You are very hard love on me
But at the end I must accept it because this is my fate
May be I can't do everything for you that you want
But I have a white romantic heart it's for you only
So please except this heart that it's in your hands
I don't have money but I have this heart
I can give you only the real love in whole your life
But I can't build castles in the air & all suddenly fail down on the ground
This is me my lovely lady
The answer is up to you
I'm waiting for your answer
I became a romantic poet because of you
I became a famous poet & everybody know my love for you how its looks like
I loved you from the first time I met you
You are always in my head & I had never forget you for a while
I will still love you forever in whole my life
To my last day of my life
To my death day
You are my first love & my last love in whole my life forever, forever
Sincerely
Your Lover Forever In Whole Your Life
The Romantic Man
Ali Sabry
God's Poets, Love & A Good Poem
GOD'S POETS
The prize jewels of any nation
Are the philosophers of the heart.
How they think is universal
For it's God who makes them so smart.
Most poets tell the truth of life
Though they may wrap it in beauty.
It's their passion, not their purpose
To compose is but their duty.
Poets have no reason to lie
When the truth is always so clear.
All that others say and do
Is but food for the poet's ear.
One merit of a poet's work
Which most cannot deny.
They say more and in fewer words
To illuminate you and I.
God sent His poets down to earth
With words of wisdom and of worth.
That they might touch the souls of men
And bring them back to Him again.
EVERY OTHER NIGHT
If it was left to me and my desire
I would seek satisfaction every other night.
I would enjoy your divine, God given love
And hold you forever close and tight.
Every other night would be Heavenly for me
Though I must respect and honor what you do and say.
My need for you is far greater than your need for me
As I patiently wait for our time of play.
I will always remain watchful, loving and caring
Not to hurt, destroy, mistrust, dissatisfy or offend.
Out of all God's blessings from Heaven to Earth
You're my greatest treasure, passion and friend.
A GOOD POEM
A good poem paints a picture
For both your heart and brain.
It doesn't need a second chance
To make its meaning plain.
A good poem is like the flower
The lily or the rose.
God plants it in a poet's brain
And there its beauty grows.
A good poem like a cardinal
Is pregnant with song
You can't help but hear its message
As it sings what's right or wrong.
A good poem helps us remember
What the joys of life are for
It makes us want to love someone
Till death comes knocking at our door.
Tom's 465 Poems Are Free To Share!
By God's Poet
Tom Zart
Most Published Poet
On The Web!
Tom Zart www.internetvoicesradio.com/t_zart/
Especially for my father it was a great change. He used to be a socialist and even a member of the socialist party. But then he became an orthodox Jew.
quote by Leon Askin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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