Kamalovia – A Poem

Kamalovia – A Poem

Author’s foreword:

This poem was one of my first ones I wrote ever since I started writing, but I hesitated often to put it up due to its subject matter and sentimental value for me. Nevertheless, I will share it now with everyone and I’d love to know what your interpretation of it is!

Kamalovia

By A. A. Kamalov

Down with the Tsar, down with the Tsar!

Inside voices, heard afar.

I must tell none.

Silence is the best policy

To maintain peace and harmony.

.
Obedient citizen, I feigned loyalty,

For I would cease to exist;

Your wrath, iron fist

Of tortures, oh carrot and stick!

The blatant lies, it makes me sick.

.
Drunk with power, hung-over, disconnected from

Your subjects; you decreed that

Your word is law.

A kingdom? A dictatorship?

It matters not to His Lordship.

.
Divine right to rule – the ungodly hypocrite;

Joseph Stalin would be proud!

Cast out the soul,

Memories, owned by the state.

Lifelong servitude, my fate.

.
A serf, a kulak, prisoner in the gulag;

You think lowly of me. Why?

I cry and cry.

Vodka in hand, poison sweet,

Sharp quills pierce my wrist to bleed.

.
These quills are rifles, they’re Kalashnikov-made –

Look at my scars: bullet-holes,

Black ugly moles.

Loved you once, but you killed me.

Firing squad, my liberty.

The Sweatshop Master – A Poem

The Sweatshop Master – A Poem

The Sweatshop Master

A. A. Kamalov

“You should be grateful, leech!

My pockets are empty, because of you.”

Despicable lies, repeatedly uttered

By the millionaire himself,

 

For nothing could be more satisfying

Than to see his conception slave away

With delusion in mind, constantly ringing:

“Money’s motivation.” But is it?

 

Always inferior, deprived of

Not cash but care, reduced to abuse

By a vicious, miserly capitalist,

Imposing a convenient inferiority

 

Upon his accidental creation.

It costs a lot for the upkeep,

The drink and feed and shade

And air, it only makes sense to get

 

Something in return for it, a profit!

The dollar-sized eyes widen

In hungry expectation for

Cheap labour exploitation.

 

Subsequently, it was shipped to

A brain factory, to serve the

System with non-stop cycles

Of work, work and work.

 

Social life? Rest? Such things exist?

No, it must work, day and night

Or else, its penalty: a cut

In that costly lifeline.

 

It will pay off, eventually.

It’ll leave the factory to

Other factories, toiling more hours.

But as a show of gratitude, wages sent back,

 

Back to the bastard businessman.

Author’s Afterword:

This poem was inspired by a video about the manufacturing industry I watched during school. I don’t want to comment much because I’d love it if you can come up with your own interpretations of what The Sweatshop Master is all about. Is it literally about child labour? Is it a metaphor for something else? I’d like to know! From what is clear without revealing too much, I don’t tend to view big business very favourably.

That said, I have written this poem quite a while ago and I am having a little trouble with coming up with new ideas to write about. I tend to write out of impulse, when I feel really upset, triggered or angry, but not so much when I am just calmly sitting while sipping a hot mug of coffee. Maybe I should read more genres of poems first before I continue writing any more. If you could suggest me any hot topics you’d like to see me write, tell me in the comments below and I’ll definitely consider it. Thanks for your support!

Daily Poetry Assignment: Day 4 – Limericks, Enjambment, Imperfect

Daily Poetry Assignment: Day 4 – Limericks, Enjambment, Imperfect

Turn on the TV and flick to a news channel – do you see what I see?

A truly imprefect world we live in, a sea of silliness and tragedies.

I composed for thee, a selection of playful limericks;

Childish rhymes mask painful realities with joy and levity.

Enjambment employed not as generously as previously, nontheless

I welcome thee to my weird and wonderful political poetry! Continue reading