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/leftypol/ - Leftist Politically Incorrect

"The anons of the past have only shitposted on the Internets about the world, in various ways. The point, however, is to change it."
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File: 1634172368847.gif (180.82 KB, 1200x900, poem.gif)


General discussion thread for all poems, socialist or not.

http://www.poemsfromtheportuguese.org/ (The Portuguese made great fucking poems)
I'll post 3 of them for now, maybe later I'll come back to this thread
>inb4 >>>/hobby/
that place is dead lmao.


>It’s after the flesh
>That the bones hurt
>And the face
>Recovers from fatigue
>And from memories
>After the flesh
>When our fingers meet
>We know the most real faces
>That inhabit us
>Are those of others.
by António Carlos Cortez.


>there is a smell, a scent
>between the gorse and you - the fig tree
>almond cicadas
>the sun’s uncertain step
>a sitting dog a hand
>a cat light and slow
>growing up
>the advancing afternoon
>so eager the world
>astonished hunger
>the hand
>the way to the lighthouse
>through the dusty earth
by Maria Andresen.


>Lenin walks around the world.
>Frontiers cannot bar him.
>Neither barracks nor barricades impede.
>Nor does barbed wire scar him.
>Lenin walks around the world.
>Black, brown, and white receive him.
>Language is no barrier.
>The strangest tongues believe him.
>Lenin walks around the world.
>The sun sets like a scar.
>Between the darkness and the dawn
>There rises a red star.
by Langston Hughes.


File: 1634173774115.jpg (292.46 KB, 985x1280, ernest-hemingway-401493_12….jpg)

Based thread

<Champs D’Honneur

>Soldiers never do die well;

>Crosses mark the places —
>Wooden crosses where they fell,
>Stuck above their faces.
>Soldiers pitch and cough and twitch —
>All the world roars red and black;
>Soldiers smother in a ditch,
>Choking through the whole attack.

<To Good Guys Dead

>They sucked us in;

>King and country,
>Christ Almighty
>And the rest.
>Words and phrases,
>They either bitched or killed us.


>*Nothing Exists*

>Nothing exists that hasn’t had a beginning.

>Even in the distance, a clear lit speck,
>in territories stripped from all limits, on
>sands that flow from unknown seas,
>we only contemplate the extent of what we perceived.
>If fields in livonia lead to fields in masuria,
>if tiles are smoothed in tepid bath waters,
>and further on graveyard follows graveyard, and
>in their midst, inert in the lack of wind, the birch wood stands,
>if the sun is the flame of the olive oil crumbling the bread
>or the chipped lightening on the walls of helsingør,
>if the death plot is everywhere the same,
>be it in the santa maria flute or in the tallinn concertina
>it is because we modulate in one place what has seeped from another.
>Even unwillingly, or perhaps it’s the shadows on the move,
>we weave no more than a row of chances and discretions
>along a current which takes each one of us, separately,
>to the most sensitive final passage.
>Even if laboriously we detach the places,
>detailing their diversions and extremes
>– the similarity between what they are and what we thought they were,
>even throughout regions intersected by extensive trains,
>where night will fall in scales of lavender,
>we’ll follow the same story – we sink our feet in the same mud.
>In that which repeatedly sucks us in,
>as we yearn for whatever comes to pass further in the next cove
>smoothing with our hands the oak trees on whose bark we inscribe,
>like others before us, our sinuous names, our loves,
>we constantly return to the point where all is repeated and begun,
>of which we grasp a mere minute – an instant,
>the blade mediating between this year and the next.
By Rui Cóias


File: 1634485205454.jpg (384.5 KB, 1780x1166, bertolt-brecht.jpg)

Love this one.


Bertolt Brecht was fucking based. o7


That's not a poem, that's prose broken up into lines.


I dream of reunification,
Where we can discuss together as a community
Of leftists alike.
I dream of reunification,
Where we can stand together against capitalism
As leftists alike.
I dream of reunification,
Where we can stand true as the inheritors of chan culture
As leftists alike.


reject traditionalism embrace modernity

amanda lovelace:

Im pretty sure you have stardust
running through those veins


북두칠성 저 멀리 별은 밝은데
아버지장군님은 어데 계실가
창문가에 불밝은 최고사령부
장군님 계신곳은 그 어디 일가

적후천리 밀림속 밤은 깊은데
우리의 장군님은 어데 계실가
가을바람 찬바람 불어 올수록
따사로운 그 품이 그립습니다

자애로운 어버이사랑을 전하며
아침해빛 전사들의 길을 밝히네
장군님 계시는 최고사령부
기어이 기어이 찾아 가리라


shitting and farting
all over OPs trash thread
for being a fag


back to .org


you are burger, right?

Unique IPs: 11

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