Best Agitator Poems
Battle Rap
...poet in da house...
Now have a listen, for I’ll be a kissing…I’m on a mission
And you’ll be a pissing your hemolysin…a smelly emission
My words glisten worth the admission…full of ammunition
You’re under submission a life in prison…meet the mortician
Like a magician I’ll take over your vision…call your optician
You’ll be wishing you had a cosmetician…here’s my aesthetician
~~~
Like Mohamed Ali sting you like a bee…crush you like a flea
You’ll sing like a banshee on a screaming spree…cause I’m beastly
Like Mike Tyson run you like a bison…your blood I’ll syphon
Can’t handle my slicing with every word I ripen…I’m the word titan
Like Frank Sinatra and his mafia from Italia…will give you insomnia
In my euphoria and with your apaxia…you’ll be living with anoxia
~~~
You’re an agitator I’m a decorator…a word builder an innovator
I’m a verse creator a rebuilder renovator…a word generator
I have ambition you need a beautician…an ugly position
In my coalition you need permission…luck with the audition
I’m not a hater just much greater…a smooth operator
Like a Terminator I’ll see you later…your exterminator
~~~
I’LL BE BACH!!!
I'm not really a rapper...just having fun lol
May.16.2018
8 Mile Style Poetry
Sponsored by: Nick Trim
Full title:
LIFELONG, MEANINGLESS MUSINGS MEAN EVERYTHING OF NO VALUE
aka
OFF THE WALL RAMBLINGS
After upscale meals, I know no relief
until I somehow pick my un-fancy teeth.
Serve me good food in my own home
and these same teeth leave me alone.
At work, when I am approached by someone
who wishes to run some questions by me,
I silently laugh at an image most fun –
question marks toting briefcases as they run.
When my hands are dish-washing sudsy
or toting a large box for some distance,
an air fairy enjoys itching my nose nutsy
until I concede and scratch it roughly.
Any new clothes I hang up that are white,
closet creatures beat with yellow chains
and their marks will not wash out of sight.
The more I love it, the more yellow remains.
Things do grow legs and then walk away.
I tend to nest surrounded by my stuff.
I will not move, but my stuff will parade,
decay, migrate, and evade me, sure enough.
There exist an invisible, rude agitator
who throws dirt inside my refrigerator.
Every week or so, this frig mini-meanie does put
grime, spots, ice-hard raised trails and odd soot.
My air fairy, closet creatures and frig mini-meanie were all to me, assigned.
I know this because I often move and still, it is where I go that they find.
... CayCay Jennings
November 24, 2016
"All the Dark Stallions"
Calliope burns
ecstatic bright star
fire brands, all her marks
both hands
holding the ropes
firmly fast today
slow burn
tomorrow
warm whispers
gently towards
the unlit shadows
love wanting always stays
driving all
the dark stallions
towards heaven
where the
Whicker Man
claps for more Light
and
Judgement
patiently waits
(LadyLabyrinth/2020)
Miley Cyrus X Stevie Nicks - Midnight Sky / Edge of Seventeen
https://youtu.be/oRnxO9FRDbU
Miley Cyrus, Stevie Nicks - Edge of Midnight
https://youtu.be/IJgidX_LC4Q
"Ooh, you know it's true
That I was born to run,
I don't belong to anyone, oh no
I don't need to be loved by you
(Loved by you)"
"O Stars and Dreams and Gentle Night;
O Night and Stars return!
And hide me from the hostile light
That does not warm, but burn—"
LYRICS/ Edge of Midnight, Miley Cyrus
https://genius.com/Miley-cyrus-midnight-sky-lyrics
firebrand.
n.
person who is very passionate about a particular cause.
"a political firebrand"
Similar:
radical
revolutionary
troublemaker
agitator
rabble-rouser
demagogue
soapbox orator
incendiary
subversive
tub-thumper
2.
a piece of burning wood.
3.
one that creates unrest or strife (as in aggressively promoting a cause) : AGITATOR
mark
1. Noun
"Bright Star, would I were steadfast as thou art" / Keats
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44468/bright-star-would-i-were-stedfast-as-thou-art
John Keats/Poet.
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/john-keats
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Keats
"Ah! Why, Because the Dazzling Sun" / Emily Brontë
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/47644/ah-why-because-the-dazzling-sun
Emily Brontë
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/emily-bronte
The Brontës / Family
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bront%C3%AB_family
Doctor Martin Luther King Junior
a black man from Atlanta, Georgia.
An activist and visionary
he spoke against racial injustice.
This Nobel Prize-winning man of peace
preached tolerance and non-violence.
Challenging bigotries and hatred
he marched against discrimination.
He struck a match against ignorance,
lighting liberty's torch for freedom.
And boldly opposed segregation,
standing up to white America.
His public-speaking abilities
both enraged his foes and won him friends.
And government bigots denounced him
as a dangerous agitator.
A pacifist, he shared his dream of
whites and blacks united in friendship.
Unshackled from the past, free at last,
"thank The Lord All Mighty, free at last."
His light refused to be extinguished
when James Earl Ray shot him in Memphis.
And now his life is celebrated
each year, on Martin Luther King day.
(Blank Verse)
11/14/2017
"That is him, he did it I tell you"
"I got the rope, take him to the Oak tree"
An angry mob wants justice for the one that they lost"
Most likely, an guilty agitator stirring up the stew
Blind with anger and not on of them can see
Maybe an innocent scapegoat will pay the cost
We see all these malitas pop up, even on the Mexican border
A lot of loose cannons, fighting for a cause
Or just old pot bellies with a .45, looking for attention
Going to over throw the government, re-store law and order
"By God, get her back to the way she was"
Without any common sense, much less any direction
Taking the law into their own hands
Just hang someone so they can get justice
But maybe it is so to get the crowd to look the other way
Once a peaceful crowd, now murdering bands
"Oh it is him I tell you, just trust us"
"We are burning daylight, just do what I say"
This is the case, "two wrong don't make a right"
Most always the guilty dog will bark the loudest"
Pin the tail on the donkey and if the shoe fits, wear it
In time, the truth will shed it's light
The guilty, until caught most always will act the proudest
For vigilante justice, personally I have no use for it
My Rhetoric Rhapsody
Oh! I am a Poet
It’s me again pretty poet of the century,
Breaking through till I reach mercury.
A pretty poet with popping phrases,
A poor poet with perpetual personality.
Praying that my poems pulls out pieces of pleasure,
Arouses interest, motivates and inspires.
Oh! I am a Poet
Who teaches as he preach
On every inch that becomes a cliché
And leaves your ears aching when reached.
Who frees frozen feelings of Refugees.
Who unfolds fundamental mysteries of false phenomenon.
Who washes and enshrines shameful ships on a sea shore,
Assuring Sheppard of Shelter by Lord Krishna.
Oh! I am a Poet
A rock solid hardcore poet
Self proclaimed Fundi
A super duper verse creator
A self sufficient professor
A prodigy not a protégé
A dictator not an agitator
A toughie not a roughie
I don’t recite to hear myself talk
I don’t talk to be noticed
I don’t take Hobson’s choice
Nor hobble to a hoax
I don’t settle for a bird in hand
Nor crawl for half a loaf
My reaches exceeds my grasp
My wishes akin to my riches
My poems are my pillar
My wits are my tools
No hocus pocus for my hoi polloi
I’m not a hoity-toity poet who scribbles down hokum poetry
My poetry is impalpable,
Inexplicable and impeccable.
My creativity is infallible.
My verses so impregnable.
I am an imperious poetic licensee
I am a rusty epic epidemic through youth poets’ wannabes,
A penurious poet who indulge in perilous peripheries.
My masterpiece is not some common handwritten handiwork on handkerchief.
I craft them like a handicapped handyman with no haphazard!
And this is my Rhetoric Rhapsody...
See, when I rhyme my rhymes that hum like hymns
And step on my Poetic Stiletto heels to find open minds
And dine in a pile of my rhymes...
My mimes start to mime my rhymes
And this is a route where I quote that this is not over yet...
Gigantic gimmick a political gentlemen.
Genuflected genre mathematician gild fan.
Mirific misemploy a flamboyance rolling can.
Doxology douceur dormouse examplar excavator,
Agitator moisture nodulation a lepid swan.
“What’s One?”
Guru of algebra: One is One.
Suffrage agitator: One is vote.
Labour party leader: “Claps” is ONE.
Conservative party leader: ONE is “claps”.
Egalitarian: One is ANY.
Sociologist: One is many.
Psychiatrist: One is hidden.
Philosopher: One is what.
Brother polygamist: One is a quarter.
Dictator: 1 is I.
Home Office Minister: ONE is who.
Poet: two are halves of one.
Tunis, March 2010
With love from Venezuela to the people of the United States of America.
Once upon a time were one of the most prosperous nations of South America.
Our nation once upon a time was a democracy and a representative government. Elected to represent our beloved homeland. But our hopes and our dreams have been washed away by Socialist tyranny and a dedicator who enslaves.
And improvised its people. We do not have enough food to eat. We long for safe places to be able to sleep. All who fight for freedom, even those brave souls. Who came from the United States, were arrested as agitators against, our government. They were the true freedom fighters, who were not paid and trained professional communists agitators. Which are running rampart on the streets of America today! "If the black people are not careful they could lose their country." Almost just exactly as we have lost ours!
If America does intervene, they will become involved. In a qua mire worse than the Vietnam War. It was a promise engraved in stone by our El Presidenta. Who clocks his misdeeds under the guise of the highest title of a governmental official. When he is nothing more than a paid and highly trained Communist agitator. South America has been plagued by a series of dictators and revolutionists. Who made false mandates and proclamations to the unfortunate South American people. But he stands heads and tails above them all!
In America people are still free to protest and speak out about their governmental leaders. Anyone caught doing that in Venezuela today
would be taken out and shot. I would not be in the least surprised if they
choose the Mexican execution by firing squads! Any one chanting Viva La Freedom! Viva La liberty! Would be taken out and shot! He or she would be imprisoned and tortured!
I am speaking out for the people who have no freedom. I am speaking out
for those who have no voice or no hope of their own. I am beseeching the throne room of God on their behalf as well as the people of Hong Kong!
Love in Christ Jesus!
Roxanne Lea Dubarry
Roxy Lea 1954
Roxy 1954/ October Country
July 07, 2020
Well! sycophantic misanthropist, verbose agitator of spite
Club footed whore master, couldn’t goose step for his life
Malicious propagandist, spreading hatred in every breath
His wife willing disciple, poisoned their 6 children to death
Demanding patriotic nationalism, big speech carcinogenic
Snickers in vehemence, sardonic grin, genocidal eugenics
Never dirtying his hands, an aryan superstar, not by blood
Master race aspirational, looks into the mirror then shrugs
Doctor of nihilistic supremacy, swearing hypocritical oaths
5 ft 4” gigantic paradigm, inferiority complex, slow growth
Promising victory up to the last, faithful to his fuhrers flag
Cowers from nearby artillery, blasting Swastikas into rags
Hiding amongst his sewer rats, goes insane down a bunker
Mixing morphine with champagne, to alleviate going under
Saved the best cocktail for last, cyanide and bullet casings
Fitting end to crawling malaise, and cockroach infestations.
Biting Satire Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
24/02/2021
Things sacredly sworn should last forever.
Wedding rings aren't meant to be removed
but love doesn't always end like a fairytale.
This is a rendering of what was forsaken,
in a painstaking tale that wounded my heart
but all's well that ends well... after a sale.
Vile words spewed from inebriated lips...
daggers drenched with the stench of liquor.
Upon my left hand, I'd worn a wedding band.
For a year after leaving, it encircled my finger until
it behooved me to take it off.
There's no sense holding on to what is over.
Marriage isn't always as palatable as waffles
covered with honeyed clover syrup.
Removing that ring was easier than I thought,
but getting rid of it was something I fought to do.
I almost tossed it out, but put it in a box,
still feeling tethered though I'd weathered
the storm of sorrow. Courage to do that
came the day divorce papers arrived with a
"Please sign." I did and never felt more alive.
I smiled knowing he had to pay court fees.
I looked at the ring later that day,
knowing what I needed to do with the thing.
The one that once meant everything to me,
but now it was an agitator, an aggravator.
It dawned on me that I should pawn it.
So, to a hole-in-the-wall place called Fast Cash,
I drove without giving thought that my heart
would make me turn around.
NO! Not this time. I was going to win this round!
It may have been a rash decision,
but I took what I was offered because
divorce papers don't come with a provision
that states, "Rings given must be returned."
'Marriage adjourned' the document stated.
Give back the ring? I'm not addlepated.
I was better off without a wedding band,
no longer on the third finger of my left hand.
I sold it for less than the measure of its worth,
but felt like I'd given birth to a new me.
Free from the emotional chain around my neck.
Heck, selling it gave me more pleasure
than I would have known had I tossed it out.
by Robert(Bob)Moore © 2016
Do you remember Dolly Blue,
Carbolic soap and brownstone too
mam at the copper, stick in hand
to stir the clothes, so they’d look grand
squeeze out the water, through the wringer
be careful though, don’t trap your finger
‘cause that might hurt and make you cry
then hang them on the line to dry
Then came machines, with an agitator
just throw stuff in and come back later
still have to put them through the wringer
that’s still a danger to your finger
Then came spin dryers, they make a din
you just throw all of the wet clothes in
then hang them out upon the line
that’s OK if the weathers fine
Next came the dryer, to make them dry
just flick a switch, and watch them fry
don’t need to hang them out today
so the washerwoman just faded away.
A character study done here.
You always liked to stir things up.
Like a washer agitator
You thought your tactics a good touch.
Stirring, stirring until worn out
A good name you just loved to smear.
The fabric ripped, buttons cracked, gone.
Desiring to ruin a nonsuch.
You'd set the trap, you fishhook baiter.
Carrying on life, minutes later
You'll never change, your ways all set.
But sometimes now at life you clutch.
I had hoped you'd change soon, my dear
Doing your service still your waiter
This is actually a Bref Double poetry form but somewhat the same as Quatorzain.
Encumbered about with the many twists and turns of life.
Traveling down a long road, picking up every hitchhiker along the way.
Carrying each one alone; being conscientious to not drop one, not even the lowlife.
Contemplating each step, apprehensive of the outcome, will they go or will they stay?
Slowly sinking to the floor, the weight one can no longer bare alone,
Lamentably, there is no one who can to help; all the road signs were ignored.
Struggling with each step, knowing the perspicuous choice, the way has been shown.
Why carry this load that can walk on its own, the facts are there, this is untoward.
Unsure of the next step one by one they get set down disconcerted by this news,
Some begin to lie and claim they cannot walk, so they get picked up again out of pity.
Soon it becomes a revolving door, they begin to come and they go as they choose.
Weighed down again unable to breathe, there’s a need for a break through; a need to be free.
In one colossal move, arms stretched out like the horizon at sunset,
A spinning takes place, like the agitator of a washing machine.
All those hanging on are violently shaken off, thrown too far to pose a threat,
Running at full speed from the chaos of them all, creating all this space in between.
Unencumbered now, breathing never seems so pleasant, walking is now a run.
Flying isn’t far behind, as the relief and acceptance is now at hand.
Adding two letters to a word looks small on paper, like all that’s added is a un.
Per Contra in life it’s a freedom, it’s a matter of the soul, it’s a gesture of taking a stand.
C @ A.L.M. 2014
Follow the rules or what?
Will you hit me with a belt?
I am an American you know.
So, I don't dig the junk you blow.
I can see what's coming down
the pike!
You think I acquiesce and never strike?
It's an indoor arcapelego in California,
in case you don't know.
The ruse is the people here rejoice in
being lock downed, find it innocent
as snow?
I said this once is another poem,
But to repeat:
We have Stockholm Syndrome and
we just happily glow?
It's not funny nor acceptable to me
when I have no rights but an anarchist
does?
Californians' brains are covered with
Covid 19 fuzz!
I loathed Hitler and all he stood for
and more.
Covid is a virus Nazi, who will take any
freedom you do not fight for.
Better to be an agitator and take to
the streets.
How about " Freedom Matters?"
I would call that a respectable treat.
We need not burn down the town.
Leave that to anarchist clowns.
Stop being patsys, stop following
the rules.
We won't stop though,we already
bought the Syndrome tools!
Category Freedom
September 25, 2020
6pm PST