These History Social poems are examples of Social poems about History. These are the best examples of History Social poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
~2012 New Berlin Remix~
Rapid Eye Movements
cruise down the Autobahn,
driving dreams of soldiers
slaying the wicked Beast in the East,
seeds hidden in the cuff links
returning home for the victory parade.
The victory parade of the new millennium
is a mirage, as desert sand blows
through the desolate streets of Basra,
spray painted slogans of 'Aryan Nation'
scrawled across crumbling walls.
High level Terror-alerts
scroll across the Fear o' Dome,
breeding paranoid glances
of commercial-class passengers
flying high above barbed-wire compounds:
camps of cells in solitary confinement,
centralized secret service agents
unload the next set of trains.
"Son, do you forget all that we sacrificed?!
Have you lost all of your respect?
Okay, so maybe the Feds
became brainwashed by the Reds,
but this is for our freedom and safety.
This isn't about racial impurity,
but our Nationalist Socialist security!"
"You are all mixed now anyway,
doesn't matter if you are female, black, jew or gay,
we must unite together as a nation,
proudly wave our flags, fight our common enemy!
This enemy is trying to disintegrate
the very fabric of our free society!"
"Son, why can't you just see?!"
"Son, can you not see! Not see-notsee-notsea-notsi-notzi
I wake-up from a horrible nightmare,
remnants of images floating through my head.
Something about flocks of carnivorous sheep,
and rabid wolves for shepherds?
Jumping out of bed,
I quickly look in the mirror
just to make sure.
Everything looks as it should.
Lawnmower growls in the background,
sunshine leaks into the room
adding a warm touch to reality.
Through my bedroom window,
I spy the neighbour's Iron Eagle weathervane
goose-stepping towards the east.
Everything appears normal,
here, on the corner of 4th Reichstag Blvd.
Ain't a word, you said.
but it takes a daring gust
for things start to be.
From sagging huts up in the hills,
We watched the tourists flash their bills.
They piled our harvest on their plates,
While soup and scraps were all we ate.
The flames lick up from garbage cans,
Burnt brown like every working man,
Who shouts or sings or mutters low
Of the calluses that come and go.
They toss in straw, more flames shoot up
To light the faces, hewn and rough,
that need a creed, some faith to hold;
to make their insides proud and bold.
Right then and there, I stand to speak.
I will not play the lamb so meek.
The time has come to take back ours
from the wealthy dogs with fat cigars.
First cans, then cars, we overturn.
Now the boulevard begins to burn..
The fools shoot back, forget the cost,
The naked rage must not be lost.
We win ourselves some new recruits,
Some young; some old; some simply brutes;
I do not care where they heard the call.
The revolution now will need them all.
Our cause will die if all stays calm,
So I send out Juan with sweaty palms.
He won't come back, farewell, my friend.
Your blood will flow for greater ends.
Worn out, weary, our morale grows thin.
The feeling grows that we can not win.
We need more guns than we can steal,
But we do have one crop we can deal.
The rifles have arrived now. Good!
Excited now, they crack the wood.
My loathing of red, white and blue,
is spreading like the jungle flu.
Their army scatters, their leaders flee.
We've brought the country to it's knees.
With the capitol dead in our sights,
We'll soon assert the people's rights.
The grainy film does not portray
That it was a picture perfect day.
My second stands there, smart and trim.
It might pay to keep an eye on him.
We march them out in single file.
No need to bother with a trial.
Their baggy shirts and peasant lies
Betray them all as filthy spies.
Yes, the people had decreed this so,
I speak for them so I should know.
Your crimes have brought you here to die.
The people speak through me. Goodbye!
Their bodies jump in crimson leaps,
then tumble down in tangled heaps.
Scarlet skulls and splintered chests,
They'll surely air this in the West.
Bulldoze the bones and spread the lime,
For we all are on the side of time.
And tonight, we gather in the square.
Their blood has paid my ruling fare.
Imagine lakes of dreams
Blood contained streams
Imagine oceans that behold undiscovered beings
Imagine human life depended off of cheers and games
Man design’s umbrellas
And eventually would play a part in acid rain
Imagine not wanting to smell another rose
Or touch another soul
Because of despair and shame
Imagine in the mist of your demise
You have the passion to rejoice and sing
Imagine driving pass shattered glass
The interior is soaked with blood stains
Your mind can't comprehend the fact
that it's a dead family in the next lane
Imagine dreaming for freedom
As a result by your neck you hang
Imagine for the sake of progress
You whip a man on his back and call him a slave.
Rage, Pain, Fortune, and fame
You don't have to imagine this
Because that's what life brings.
like Bette Davis Sundays
and sitting in tears
which calm and confuse us
Confound us and move us
beyond golden years
like black and white vision
fuzzy and stationed
with grey rabbit ears
Lost in commotion
which break and betray us
which bullet gun lays us
compounding our fears.
On Independence Day
I declare independence
from American imperialism.
I declare U.S. out of Iraq.
And while I am at it
the C.I.A. out of the business
of supplying murderous thugs
with rifles and uniforms
along with the strategies
democracy in Haiti.
I also call for the pullout
of State Department funding
in the not so secret
of the fair and duly elected
President of Venezuela.
On Independence Day
I have the right to say
we need a new policy.
Therefore, I call
for independence from oil.
I call for windmills
and solar panels
and cool looking hybrid cars
getting 100 miles to the gallon.
I am tired of chanting
No Blood For Oil.
On Independence Day
I look to a nation
involved in war for war's sake
war to simulate the economy
and make our leaders look great
and call for a different fate.
I declare our politicians
give up corporate sponsorship
and live up to this great nation's
propaganda and torture.
on sovereign nations.
I declare transcendence.
I declare we live up to
life, liberty and the pursuit
for all humanity.
I declare world independence
from monarchies, theocracies
and otherwise puppet regimes.
And I declare we all share these
Including the right to assemble
organize and form unions.
Protect the health
of our elders
newborns and the environment.
And I refuse those who would
the same rights as whites
by suppressing their vote
with twelve hour lines
in the blistering cold.
Let us all have our say!
And while I am at it
give the poor a megaphone
on mainstream talk shows
let their voices be heard
in the court of public opinion.
I declare freedom from
billionaire owned media
Let independent democracy
infiltrating the television.
Thus let us all speak our truth
and be protected
from the tyrannical majority
and those empowered by the muzzle.
I declare that our forefathers
envisioned this and much more
in the age of enlightenment.
So that one day
every one of us
on this magnificent planet
regardless of class or culture
national and religious origin
sexual persuasion or gender
would be endowed and empowered
by an independent
human rights agenda.
Looks like rain, the old girl said,
As the sky broke stars and bled,
And the clouds all turned black with the swell;
The dingy streets were dim and grey,
The shadow people drained away,
And it seemed as though the town was going to hell.
Looks like rain, the people cried,
As the shop fronts closed and died
And the best days ground abruptly to a halt;
The fairground rides fell still,
And the view from up the hill
Was of streetlights suffocating in a vault.
Looks like rain, I wryly thought,
Just before the first onslaught
Of machinery oiled and primed for tearing down;
With the clanking chains and drilling
Someone made a quick-fire killing
By ripping out the heart from this old town.
Looks like rain, you sweetest child,
I know I muttered as I smiled,
And the oil-paint textures watered in your eyes;
Our own history set to burning
As the wheels they kept on turning,
In the hallowed name of progress I surmise.
"The budget should be balanced, the Treasury should be refilled, public debt should be reduced, the arrogance of officialdom should be tempered and controlled, and the assistance to foreign lands should be curtailed lest Rome become bankrupt. People must again learn to work instead of living on public assistance." Cicero , 55 BC
controversy over government nothing new
Civil War? oxymoron
in a country divided, there is no civility
protestors fume on Wall Street
Tea Partiers toss their caffeine into the mix
Federal Reserve makes unauthorized loans
but to whom we do not know
states debate seceding from the union
families learn to live on budgets
countries spend what they don’t have
why don’t we learn from history?
“Render to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s”
is there anything left for us?
look to Cicero and sages of the past
Plato and Socrates will set the disenfranchised straight too
*Entry for Brian’s “Anywhichway” contest
Towers collapsed to foundations,
The planes exploded in air,
To gratify firebrand preachers
Destruction and death everywhere.
Bus became coffin on byway,
Train torn up beneath ground,
Fanatics end innocent life,
Spin godless chaos around.
Child kneels broken at graveside,
Tears drip down to the earth,
A consciousness of pure evil
Deems human life of no worth.
Enemies fester within,
Harbour a doctrine and creed,
Under the guise of religion,
And nurtures a virulent seed.
Enemies hidden within,
Feral smiles, baring of teeth,
Approve of a racist agenda.
Murder by twisted belief.
Why should we drown beneath?
Fundamental waves of hate,
Why should we have to live
In this an altered state?
They can go to other places
Where their twisted creed is rife,
Where martyrdom and slaughter
Construe their way of life.
The simple, sorry factor
The ironic doctrinaire:
The places of their genesis
Won’t stand them living there.
Thus decent, honest people
Are left unto their fate,
A homeland under terror
Remains an altered state.
Holier than thou,
sacred as a cow
anointed with margarine spread;
a Sunday to rest,
some socks and a vest
and a penchant for laying in bed.
Sicker than sick
and thicker than thick,
drugged with a heroin chic,
bright light beams down
through a crack in the crown,
spearing a spoon-bending freak.
Speak unto thee,
the voice of a tree,
afire with gelignite balm;
whacky and wild,
abused and defiled,
born to succumb unto harm.
Lysergic the feast,
the mark of the beast,
halogen burned to emboss
symbols on skin
as forever begins
ripping infinite Christ from the cross.