Best Angry Crowd Poems
When the mind's disease is hate
it flows through the veins unchecked
I'm just a voice of reason in the midst of darkness
striking a match
a light for minds seeking refuge from a storm
and lift a crying child above hate's swollen river
that may sweep us away
People are angry, their Earth shakes
lighting flashes, children cry, crowds move as rivers
their mummers becoming louder
confusion fills their mind, fear fills their lungs
they are tossed between rage and reason
Demons rise to shackle their fragile souls
to a long history of claiming purity
frightened hearts beat louder
echoing through the valley of self-righteousness
as they march in step with unfurled flags
demanding all follow their worn graveled path
of self-illusion
the scythe they wield sweeps through the marrow
of anyone who questions
why they confiscate freedom in freedoms name
Who dare stands to lift the crying child
from the grasp of the angry crowd
giving hope, where there is madness
as the young stalk of democracy burns brown
withering away from a drought of common sense
urged on by those seeking power
using lies to move the mob, like pawns
because they see the world changing around them
and wear the heavy coat of brutality from their own history
fearful of their own sins of reservations and hangings
this is the same demon led crowd that yelled '' Give us Barabbas ''
8/21/21
History has often shown, that with acumen,
the sword pales in comparison to a Poet’s pen!
It cuts, not as does the sword forged from steel,
but with a piercing words, a conscience can feel!
With subterfuge and sweetness, it can hide
the acrimonious jealousy that may reside
within the soul of a scurrilous deviant poet.
Chances are, being well disguised, few know it!
A poet’s words can lull a fretful babe to sleep,
or move a Nation to mourn and weep.
Whilst those who seek ill deeds to conceal,
will discover his words will oft reveal
the bribery and corruption they’d committed.
Poetic licence, with words carefully submitted,
awards a poet the freedom, no sword is allowed,
as he subtlety sets out to sway an angry crowd.
The pen, oft proves a deadly weapon indeed.
Expertly wielded, a tender heart can bleed,
but used with reckless abandon? Of it beware,
for this deadly weapon, is beyond compare!
Rhymer. November 12th, 2016.
Many years ago I read a book entitled “Accidental Empires"
Of how a few men, from garden sheds, became multi billionaires
How could this be, what did they do, did they invent something new
Not really but if I say Bill Gates, Steve Jobs, Apple Mac or Microsoft to you
Microsoft is a huge corporation but Bill Gates openly admitted he was a fraudster and a thief
Because the underhand, double dealing, industrial espionage etc went beyond belief
Microsoft invented the computer or so lots, if not millions of people believe
Making Bill Gates just like the US government and its UFO are real promotion, another trick up the sleeve
As long as you think Microsoft is the god, its Bill Gates win and your loss, on reflection
UFO attention takes peoples minds away from secret weapon, Black Projection
Dirty double dealings from both corporate and state but hang fire, hold on, wait
You have a choice that costs nothing, downloadable, its called Linux, mate
Operating systems built by the people for the people, especially those oppressed
Third world countries, low budgeteers, the Microsoftic angry crowd and the rest
I spent good money on Windows XP, now the support updates have gone
Just another buy some more another Microsoft-con
Well thats no good to me, now I have to spend fortunes on Windows 8 or 7
Thank god for Linux, Debian, GNU, hundreds of free operating systems, heaven
Bit like Henry Ford saying he invented the autocar, piss in the wind, far fetched, another steal
It was bits and bobs,trial and error the stoneage had the wheel
Can’t ride to work on a wheel, need an engine, tyres my mates a chassis and components, maybe out of state plates
How many new operating systems will it take to make a man mega rich beyond your dreams
As many as Microsoft knock out by conning the public, or so to me it seems
Bob Dylan once says, you can fool some of the people most of the time, you can fool most of the people some of the time but you can’t fool all of the people all of the time
So get yourself some free software mine is Linux Lime
Returning to India, with a prestigious Award,
From USA after a long period of three years.
Some friends in Bombay desired and insisted
That I should stay at Bombay for a few days.
They insisted I should throw a garden party
To celebrate the Award and to meet old buddies.
The Party was arranged in the garden of a friend
Who was from film industries, my best friend Ravi.
I left everything to Ravi for party arrangement
To inviting common poet friends and the menu.
It was a small party around twenty poet-friends
Who wrote in their vernacular lingo and English.
I started welcoming the friends who arrived in time
And Ravi was just about to give his introductory speech
A not so fair a lady all of a sudden rushed into the garden
Followed by a huge crowd in great rage and anger.
Everything was turned upside down, including the delicacies
And there was a great peace after the battle.
Ravi apologized; he invited her as she was a celebrity
In the *Bollywood and a fair song-writer and a dancer.
The reason why the angry crowd followed her was
A rumor has it; she declared that she will pose naked
If India won the World Cricket cup, being played in Bombay.
*Bombay Film Industries
+++++++
August 1, 2014
Form:Free Verse
Dr. Ram Mehta
Contest: Rumor Has It by Judy Konos
I was not in a wrong place
Neither was it a wrong time when I met my fate
I was unarmed with my sweat’s worth
Another day’s dime in my pocket
I was confronted by a flood tide of an angry crowd
Their faces were unrecognizable, the voices too loud
I looked over my shoulder, there was no one in sight
Pointed accusing fingers rose, I started to take flight
It was too late to escape, the tide caught my feet
My whole body was stampeded and I failed to breathe
I tried to hang on to life but my arms where weak
I could not swim to safety, the shore was bleak
My defenseless body succumbed to the violence
In the attacking mob’s fuming eyes I saw hell’s darkness
As I gasped for breathe
My soul was unshackled from the earth
I ascended into the heavens in God’s hands
As my blood was dripping from my attackers palms
The vengeance became senseless, guilt swallowed their hearts
They left the scene heads down, could not look God in the eye
But I was now free like a bird
Rising above clouds the feeling transcends flying
I thought I would be dead
But on God’s right, I have just become undying
I cry for you now, you who are ladened with hate
I cry for you because the blood of the innocent is never drying
SAY NO TO MOB INJUSTICE
It is an injustice to an innocent soul, to your own soul and to all
Today the humblest and kindest men are few,
surprisingly the proudest ones also knew
that without their faith they were condemned and lost,
but reading the Bible they learned not to boast.
Behind the boldest human spirit which God redeemed,
one sees that soldier wearing the victorious shield;
he is not afraid to fight men and demons,
even Jesus fought them with very wise words.
Who doubts the writings inspired by God?
Were the Prophets those villains who shouted?
Didn't Jesus stop the angry crowd throwing stones?
Didn't He show them how gracious is forgiveness?
Can we imitate the boldest human spirit and stay meek?
Which thing do we despise the most: being strong or remain weak?
Never think you're better or more special than another;
if we have love, we can build a world that's loving and fair.
Written on 5/6/2017
when scorpions crawling on the boiling sands
dance the dance of death with tail culled up
the gaudy toadstools grow in the dark and dampest spot
in the wasteland, and as day progresses the never-ending
merciless killing under the very same scorching sun that hangs high above
the wasteland drags on and on in the urban, areas where people carry out
the activities of daily routine to sustain ordinary lives.
on the street and alley the children’s corpses
though laying here and there
no one knows how to stop the deafening roar
that comes from the blasting bombs and the report of the guns
that take more innocent lives away from loved ones which do not allow
even a moment to the bereaved one to mourn with own accord, and when
the tears of a woman in black burqa slaps forehead and bangs her breast with palms and cries, her maternal affection benumbed and become stone as her tears coagulate and harden.
a small rough and simple wooden coffin goes
carried by the stern looking bearded men followed by not requiem
but the shout of the angry crowd brandishing empty fists that won’t do
anything in air the agony of the incompetent father who incapable of
keeping his dearest daughter’s life
nor able to provide a decent funeral and burial services
for the child’s last journey overlays the new-soil-covered little grave
as many layers of sigh after sighs.
when the tanks and armored vehicles sweep through the street
where many, many of those horrible stories rolling and flying
all over like autumn leaves, the soldiers with dust covered
combat boots dash into the street with unceasing gun shots
that hit the shadows because it moves, only because it breathes,
and therefore must be slaughtered. the fireballs hotter than boiling
sun shoot in the air with loud report on the other side of the street.
and between those ear-piercing roars
another angry wave marches on the street
carrying a small coffin, and in this chaos
eventide with no tomorrow dyes the corner of sky
above the faceless battlefield with the red of blood.
An angry crowd was seething as Jesus hung on a crude cross,
Shouting in triumph as if being rid of their albatross,
Condemning the one who came to save all from the curse of sin,
Yelling with rage, “Crucify Him”, over and over again.
Why? What was their rationale?
Why was heaven aloof to the yells of the blaspheming throng?
Jesus screamed out, “My God, My God, why have You forsaken me”,
It’s as though the Father turned His back on His dying Son,
As the blood of Jesus ran from His wounded head, side, and feet.
Why? How could such silence be?
The hostile crowd scoffed as a crown of thorns mocked His dignity,
Not understanding they were killing the very Son of God,
They stripped Him of clothing; brought shame to His humanity,
Humiliated, He breathed his last before the lynch mob.
Why? What had all the ire gained?
At last, as His blood flowed to the hallowed ground of Calvary,
The earth rocked and shared the pain that few seemed to feel,
The Innocent had died for the guilty, those with sin’s malady,
Marks for all time and eternity, before this One all will kneel.
Why? Because Jesus loves us!
Go India , Go Back
..................................
My three-year old son
Is chanting the slogan 'Go India Go Back!',--
Seeing the crowd protesting in the street .
(His articulation is a melody to ears you know!)
While I sit inside
In the meadowy silence of my room--scared ,
His mother runs upstairs
And they are watching the angry crowd
Through the windowpanes.
For them it is fun!
While I wonder what's going on...?
Every time, i recall the history
And curse the ignorant Mughals;
And dream of a morning:
India and Pakistan call their armies back.
And that monster-border is dead.
The echoes reverberate, bouncing off distant walls like little rubber balls
Until they slowly conjugate into a meaning that’s leaning towards sanity
Dripping with profanity, as it slides inside my mind with its insidious intent
Hell bent on creating distress, as the shadows begin to coalesce into solid form
They transform, through shapes shifting and sounds drifting, it comes into place
Those words I could not erase, feelings rushing and pushing, like an angry crowd
Smothering like a shroud, drowning in the waters of guilt, in this cavern I’ve built
Racing through this barrenness, this construction of my own destruction
Adding excess to my distress, with heart hammering, nerves clamoring, I go on
The conclusion long forgone, beyond realization and revelation it hides in the dark
The great white shark, that’s calling for this morsel that’s falling into open jaws
No time for pause, the acid eating from within, formed from sin and consuming all
On this painful fall, through darkened caves and freezing waves of deep revulsion
Causing juddering convulsion, lying on the rock floor, breathing no more, dying alone
Esfahan beckons, a hot shining light so painfully bright on delicate balls
Scant remaining seconds are all it takes, no more mistakes can we afford
Crawling toward the sweet luminosity, through harsh viscosity on bleeding knees
Becoming Japanese, remembering all the obligation and dedication that it portends
On wings it transcends, that cloying coil and breaking toil to find a sparkle of peace
The hope of release stretches like a coiled snake with shining wake before the eyes
With absolute cries, all light disappear as he appeared and existence slowly died
Imagine yourself as a raindrop
Sharing space in a cloud
Will I be part of a morning shower
Or the member of an angry crowd
Will I fall to earth on a gentle breeze
Or ride the currents of a storm
Will I be cool or refreshing
or steamy muggy and warm
Will I bounce upon some rooftop
Or touch the leaf of a tree
Rising along a storm surged tide
Seeking some way to be free
Will I kiss the petals of a daisy
And glisten in the sun
Or fall into a lazy pond
That has no where to run
Will I gently touch the soft brown earth
Searching to find my roots
Attach myself to a passerby
Who is wearing rubber boots
Will I find myself in a glass
as part of a lemonade
Or settled in a sheltered ditch
As a puddle in the shade
A raindrop's life is ongoing
Like the angels tears Caressing the earth
Rising once again into the sky
Clouds symbolize rebirth
Just imagine it for a moment
And think of the rainbow in flight
A raindrop divided into colors
Bathed in heavenly light
Master and Lord, born of such a lowly birth,
You came and lived a human life on earth.
Loved by some, hated by others,
Opposed and doubted by Your own brothers.
Ridiculed and mocked by those You adored,
Despised and rejected - Your words, they ignored.
In agony, You prayed, "Not My will, but Thine."
Soldiers came and took You, by God's design.
Rulers judged You - found You guilty of a crime,
In fury, the angry crowd screamed, "He must die!"
So they beat You, tortured You and called You names,
Eager for blood, they caused You great shame.
Nailed to the cross, for all to see,
You suffered, bled and died for me.
In anguish, Your Father turned away His face,
No tomb of Your own, buried in a rich man's place.
Dutiful friends came to mourn their loss,
Every fear they had was soon given pause.
Emmanuel - God is with us - alive forevermore.
Death has lost it's victory. The grave stings no more.
You can twist the way a man sees the world.
Do you think that sounds ridiculous?
What if you did it over time with subtlety and diligence?
The audience is largely uneducated, so remind them of their impotence; tell them any other source of facts must be regarded with suspiciousness.
Whisper to them over breakfast and slowly introduce corrosive dissonance; outright lie to them at dinner,salting in some truth for spicy antithesis.
Those who run the country are up to something mischievous; their lives, their fine America, have been eroding with precipitance.
Remember empowered yesterdays with a sad and tearful wistfulness; twist the needs and rights of others with pernicious lies and maliciousness.
Invest their government with conspiracy and its policies with wickedness. Remind your audience that freedom was torn from kings by well-armed militias.
Introduce the savior as a shining instrument of religiousness; defend his faults as small and frivolous and his right to rule as unambiguous.
When shocking reality dares assert itself, denials must be vicious and officious.
A rescue mission must be launched and certainly they must be participants; banners from the gift shop will form a team identity and a certain moral equivalence.
The leader will whip the angry crowd, stoking resentment with fabricated incidents, swearing, “I will be with you on this great crusade and you will be my instruments”
As the mob storms off he will slink away; he was only there for stimulus.
Hear the old republic creak as the President flexes his insolence; he’s seen that no blame can touch him, so he’s filled with proud ambivalence.
What will it take to rein him in? What kind of obvious stimulant, with thousands already dying every day and our society marbled with brittleness?
Yes, there were three of us that day
All being crucified.
A King was in the middle and
Was one on either side.
No doubt, I got what I deserved
For the crimes that I had done.
I robbed and stole all that I could
From almost ev’ryone.
There was another one like me,
A robber and a crook.
Showed absolutely no remorse
For all the things he took.
In the middle, there was Jesus.
The one the call a King.
The man that Christians talked about.
The name that angels sing.
He shouldn’t have been there at all.
This man was innocent.
An angry crowd had put him there.
That’s how the story went.
He said he was the Son of God.
I knew this to be true.
The thief, yes, on the other side,
Began to hiss and boo.
Said “If you are the Son of God,
Come down and save yourself
And then, you see, I will believe.
It won’t take nothing else.”
And then, I said to him “Look here,
This man does not belong.
Yes, we deserve just what we get
But he’s done nothing wrong.
This man, He is the King of Kings.
The Lord of Lords is He.”
And then, I turned to Christ and said
“Lord, please remember me
When you enter into Heaven,
Into your Kingdom, see.
Oh, let me be there, yes, with you
Lord, please remember me.”
And then, it seemed, a beam of light
Had shined down from above.
The pain I felt had gone away
And was replaced with love.
My eyes lit up when Jesus said
“I tell you this today,
You’ll be with me in paradise.”
That what He had to say.
Now, paradise looks mighty sweet.
I love it here, you see,
It’s all because of those sweet words,
Those words He said to me.
The rain is falling down on me,
I’m standing barefoot on the battlefield,
The blood is frozen in my veins – the blind fear,
And I’m standing without move –
And all I hear them scream.
I fight for ashes, no one's bride,
I could've been happy,
But I'm on the soldier side.
I fight the world, against the truth,
I fight for nothing, because I fight with you…
You make want to give up,
You’ve herd me right-
I’m showing you a white flag.
All that I care is you,
And the troops are gone.
You’ve herd me right –
You won…
And I had to run to my own town,
And I saw it was filled with graves,
And tomb-stones where flowers should be;
And a chapel was built in the midst,
There I used to play on the green.
But the gates of this chapel were shut,
All it was razed to the ground;
Father told me listen the bells,
Till one day I’ll hear their sound.
But I didn’t believe its true,
Because one I hear are you…
When sun arise I ran to the Square,
It was filled with angry crowd,
A friend told me that I should prepare,-
They will take away my crown.
“Oh, you should beware,
Cause the trial they making it won't be fair,
They are the ones they care!”
And you know that I have no fear,
It’s only you I feel…
You make want to give up,
You’ve herd me right-
I’m showing you a white flag.
You’re so amazing,
That all the pain is gone,-
You’ve heard me right – You won!
You’re all around me, like an air,
You’ve built a heaven in hells despair!