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Political Inspirational Poems | Inspirational Poems About Political

These Political Inspirational poems are examples of Inspirational poems about Political. These are the best examples of Political Inspirational poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Free verse |

Oneness

Oneness
                   Authored by Chuck Keys

It had no color,
Lacking shape, size and dimension.
It wasn't moving or breathing.

There was neither aroma nor taste, not here or there.
Touching was useless because it wasn't physical.
It was indistinct and limitless.

Thinking multi-physically
Multi-sensually and multi-psychologically 
It wasn't here or there and it was.

With no distinction, 
It looked like everything else,
Or it could not have looked like everything else.

It never made me feel good nor bad,
Nor happy nor sad
Nor quite nor trite.

In our world of joy and destroy, we sort and distort,
Looking more on the surface and less on the inside,
Ready to judge and be judged from outside in.

The "oneness" of mankind stretches beyond definitions and limits,
From outside to inside and from inside to outside.
We are one distinct and alike world of "oneness."

Differences exist for differences, 
Therefore, differences don't exist.
Only "oneness" exists.

DEDICATION:
This poem is dedicated to Dr. Clayborne Carson and The Gandhi-King Community,
For Global Peace with Social Justice in a Sustainable Environment.  
www.gandhiking.ning.com


Details | Lyric |

Fools and Mules

A fool was crowned
And now we`re bound
To serve and please
On hands and knees,
To hate and smile
Each day and mile,
We feel defeat
And kiss his feet.

The foolish kings
Cut off our wings.
Their poisoned knife-
Our foolish life.
And faith`s refuse
Won`t save our muse,
When banned to fly,
She`ll fall and die.

Still time will flow-
Kings come and go.
But teams of mules,
That choose the fools
To be ahead
Alive and dead,
Won`t change a bit
The fate they meet.

They`ll choke on pride,
They`ll run and hide
And in their shells
Pity themselves,
That life was cruel
To have set the rule-
“Do as you`re told,
Silence is gold.”

We pay the price
To hide our vice:
The coward `s role-
To lie and crawl.
And hope someday
Things`ll come our way,
We`ll find the might
To rise and fight.


Details | Rhyme |

There Was A Time We Weren't Ashamed Of God


There was a time in America, when the Bible was taught in the schools. The ten commandments were displayed, as “God’s set of rules.” There was a time in America, where the cross could be displayed. Even in public places, people came together and prayed. There was a time in America, there was no “church and state” separation. As people all across this country asked God to help this nation. There was a time in America, where people knew right from wrong. You could see it in the way they lived, and could here it in their song. There was a time in America where one was proud to be a Christian. One could take stand for holiness, without coming under “suspicion.” There was a time in America, when mom and dad were together… Now, any kind of a commitment to marriage seems lost forever There was a time in America, where many were proud of “tradition.” There seems to be a lack of any kind of “spiritual nutrition.” There was a time in America, where so many could proudly say; “I’m going to read the bible and go to church on Sunday.” This is the time for America, to wake up and try to understand. We need to seek God right now! All over this land! This is the time for America, to listen and begin to hear… The coming of our Lord is drawing ever so near! NOW is the time to seek the Lord, while he may be found! The word of God needs to be read in every city and town! Won’t you too seek God and listen to his voice today? Simply give him your heart and life… This could be YOUR day! By Jim Pemberton


Details | Rhyme |

Positive Hypothesis

The most positive hypothesis is:
And I, if I be lifted up from the earth, 
Will draw all men unto me. 
John 12:32 This has been tested 
Through the years,
 And it still stands true.
Will you test the hypothesis
Or still sit around being blue?
 The positive hypothesis is John 12:32.


wrote 9-14-10


Details | Rhyme |

Plockton - Wester Ross

The greatest holiday gift I ever received  
Goes back so many, many years
Before my life became turmoiled
And before my tears for fears

I was a child like many out there
Torn, strewn and split of kin
Mother and father in differences
Confused at seven, wearing their same skin

For I was one of the lucky ones
To a Highland Estate I would go
It's on the west coast of Scotland
Where my holidays desired me so

Secretly I internally smiled
For a whisper of where I was heading
To live with a movie star hero
No longer my life was in dreading

We were picked up by a man so fine
His manners were an absolute joy
Regimental he was in his approach
To me, just a seven year old boy

We travelled through the village of Plockton
Crystal clear waters edged to it's shore
I knew from this very moment
Being here ebbed previous family sores

On entering his house I was in awe
Movie pictures came to my view
They were images of James Bond
At seven I was totally through

A voice called to me
Hey James! sit down and I'll tell you me
Still in circles in walking awe
This is what he told thee

My name is Patrick Dalzel Job
In the Second World War I served
But this recognition I bestow
Humbles me to it's deserve

This honour that's been given
Was blessed by a colleague in war
What desired Ian Fleming to be so striven
Possibly, what we were fighting for

We served on the same destroyer
Fighting to make the future free
His tribute, in his novels I became
James Bond, it's incredibly me





Not many seven year olds have stayed with James Bond.
This seven year old Scot's boy has, maybe I learnt?
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Patrick_Dalzel-Job


Details | I do not know? |

HomoSexEquality

I breathe to succeed intelligence.

Even I am astonished by my benevolence.

My deep rooted spiritual elegance.

My keen disgrace by prejudice.

How people twist what God really said to us.

How people lust to discover how the Big Bang busts.

What a disgust that we can't even be free to discuss.

The must. The need to be emancipated.

Enough of our situations have been degraded.

We have made it. We've claimed the now to redefine history.

To become part of the evolution that it was written to be.

You see? That's why you refuse, defuse, cause you're confused by me.

Your laws I am to abide, but your laws deny me. Deprive me.

Of the freedom I was born into. Sworn to. I celebrate my independence in July just like you.

We have rights. Rights to the constitution as day is to night. And when we fight.

We do it like a feather floating out of the sky. Clever?

Very, because silence has never been involved in your endeavors. Never.

Strategically beating you like pollen during calm weather. Severed.

Separated from the rest of the world because of difference.

Erased from existence. You haven't said it blatantly, but these were your intentions.

But I still revolt. They can do it to you, but my rights they won't revoke.

I don't hope. Cause they can't deny us what's ours for long, this I know.

They may have control. But we have the power, the knowledge, the will to overthrow.

It's not a show. It's our right to fight, To be HOMO!!


Details | Ballad |

Martyr for the Unorthodox word

If I had over 10,000 dreams You'd be the only thing my mind could see Judgment couldn't be real Succumbing to the fear of this cold life Find a way to break through The self-destruction of wordly delusions Don't tell me I've lived so long in a lovely illusion Break me down until we find a Nirvanic state Then bring me a savior from transgressions An atoning sacrifice Send down to me a messenger for me to submit to Bring me the truth to break through The delusion Bring me the messenger to explain it all And let me leave behind Sorrow's caressing the earth The caliphate stole my heart Without a will to fight But I have the Means to be free I'll try to go with the word I believe But so many stones to be thrown Stakes to burn, limbs to break Faces to hate, scorns to taste Will I have the will to die Despite all of the tears no one will cry Sorrow's caressing the earth The caliphate stole my heart Broke my will Safetefied my soul Martyr for the Unorthodox word Sorrow's caressing the earth The caliphate stole my heart Without a will to fight But I have the Means to be free I'll try to go with the word I believe But so many stones to be thrown Stakes to burn, limbs to break Faces to hate, scorns to taste Will I have the will to die Despite all of the tears no one will cry Sorrow's caressing the earth The caliphate stole my heart Broke my will Safetefied my soul Martyr for the Unorthodox word


Details | I do not know? |

Solomon Mahlangu: My Blood will Nourish the Tree that will Bear the Fruits of Freedom

(special thanks to a friend who shared this tribute to Solomon Mahlangu)



Solomon Mahlangu: My Blood will Nourish the Tree that will Bear the Fruits of Freedom:



Solomon Mahlangu was trained as an MK soldier with a view to later rejoining the struggle in the country.


He left South Africa after the Soweto Uprising of 1976 when he was 19 years old, and was later chosen to be part of an elite force to return to South Africa to carry out a mission commemorating the June 16th 1976 Soweto student uprising.


After entering South Africa through Swaziland and meeting his fellow comrades in Duduza, on the East Rand (east of Johannesburg), they were accosted by the police in Goch Street in Johannesburg.


In the ensuing gun battle two civilians were killed and two were injured, and Mahlangu and Motloung were captured while acting as decoys so that the other comrade could go and report to the MK leadership.


Motloung was brutally assaulted by the police to a point that he suffered brain damage and was unfit to stand trial, resulting in Mahlangu facing trial alone.


He was charged with two counts of murder and several charges under the Terrorism Act, to which he pleaded not guilty.


Though the judge accepted that Motloung was responsible for the killings, common purpose was argued and Mahlangu was found guilty on two counts of murder and other charges under the Terrorism Act.


On 15 June 1978 Solomon Mahlangu was refused leave to appeal his sentence by the Rand Supreme Court, and on 24 July 1978 he was refused again in the Bloemfontein Appeal Court.


Although various governments, the United Nations, International Organizations, groups and prominent individuals attempted to intercede on his behalf, Mahlangu awaited his execution in Pretoria Central Prison, and was hanged on 6 April 1979.


His hanging provoked international protest and condemnation of South Africa and Apartheid.


In fear of crowd reaction at the funeral the police decided to bury Mahlangu in Atteridgeville in Pretoria.


On 6 April 1993 he was re-interred at the Mamelodi Cemetery, where a plaque states his last words:


‘My blood will nourish the tree that will bear the fruits of freedom.

Tell my people that I love them.

They must continue the fight.’



Mahlangu died for a cause!



Salute!



The Struggle Continues…




(special thanks to a friend who shared this tribute to Solomon Mahlangu)


Details | Haiku |

Environment pollution

We need to control
Environment pollution
By hook or by crook


Details | Free verse |

Generic Minds

generic minds listen to generic music
have generic thoughts that are unknowingly abusive
watch generic things talk about generic things
gee this generic *****is spreading like a disease
better get your flu shot 
thats what they said to me
a suicidal vaccine 
a subliminal killing spree
its contagious and the outrageous
thing about it is that the people are blind in an eye
that they didn't even know they had
it's sickening to watch these clueless civilians 
inside the looking glass
with nightmares of being free
without a key to their mind
for it is trapped in the frequency
in the illusion of time
bathed in our universe
killing all that refuse to see
those that admit to hypocracy
or see the message in hip hop
how cant you see
the message in the lyrics that
bring adolescents to their knees
from bullet wounds conflicting their flesh
contradicting that they're the best
but the songs keep telling them that they dont need no rest
that they dont wanna go home
that they should ride alone
with the gat as their only companion
and so the only path they choose is the one that they're told
until they grow old and hope turns to a window pane
inside a window pane, until all they feel is pain
they realize that the music itself is ashamed
so whats to look up to
when you cant even speak when you cant even walk because you look so bleak
your eyes are sunken from the tv you're infested with the dee zees
now its too late to turn around and live for your conscious
so when youre screaming oh please
close your eyes and bring your mind to life
open your eyes for the first time
and never wonder why
since the answer this entire time
has been inside
and you better find it before you die
you dont want your soul to be in a pool with all the others
a buncha brothers missing their mothers
but only seeing strangers
only feeling the haters
wishing they would have used their minds when they had them
and now its too late,
now it's time for another new born fate to grab them


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