Best Demonstrators Poems
It’s early
Not a sound from the street
Newspaper lies in the driveway
Where it landed
Some time ago.
When I get up
The sun is also up
Brightness
Clarity
Not a cloud in the sky
So why should I read the newspaper
On this beautiful morning
To read about politicians
Taking bribes
Projects stalled by demonstrators
Economy still in the toilet
An actor arrested for God knows what.
They say
Not reading leaves one uninformed
But reading leaves me misinformed
Avoiding the need to choose
Between the devil and the deep blue sea
I choose to read the comics
Yes, those cartoon characters
Amusing
Unbelievably funny
Occasionally making a point
On things we ignore.
I take the comics seriously
As I sip from a coffee cup
Carefully placed nearby
Casually savoring each drop
As I contemplate the day
And the morning leisurely wears on.
Categories:
demonstrators, life,
Form:
Narrative
Wrong place wrong time
big crowd in the market square
demonstrators milling
heavy atmosphere
tourists exit coach
I kind of see a flash
feel a thud
am covered in
the blood of a child
suicide bomber
mixed with flesh and blood
of fifty others
as I stumble to my feet
and much later
I wonder what must the
suicide bomber feel
when they detonate
the explosion tears
them apart so fast
yet in that instant
when your body mass explodes
you must feel just
some of that
utter violence.
Categories:
demonstrators, abuse, analogy, anger, angst,
Form:
Free verse
Exhaust fumes and flower blooms
Acrid smells, gentler scents
& pungent decay
Hot molten gold flows out of a clear
blue sky
Cars rumble down streets made into
alleys through the trees that tower
over them like Eiffel
Or Freedom
With the rain age old mud mixes
into the seams of recently laid
concrete
My city is a cyborg
With kudzu wrapped telephone wires
weaving away from its heart like
veins through body
Carrying life-lines to its extremities
Steel office buildings rise from the
ground alongside the trees that we
plant on the sides of downtown streets
Because we don't want to forget
what the land was like before we
came
And our quarries carved down mountains
and our progress intruded on mother nature
We don't want to forget what things were like
Before the South started to
become "new" and king Cotton lost
his right to rule to the steel mills, quarries and commercialization and
became a peasant
Before industrialization changed the landscape
And Birmingham earned the nickname "The Magic City"
Civil Rights demonstrators marched
some of the same streets we walk
And the 16th Street Baptist Church
has an exhibit that reminds us that
sometimes progress comes with a high
price
right across from the Civil Rights Institute
Part of Martin's dream came true in some places
Black and white children play
together now
But you can still see the Confederate
Flag hanging from a pole at the side
of the interstate as you go down
towards Florida
The Klan still holds rallies
and buzzards can still be seen eating
road kill in the middle of the suburbs
This is still the south
What some call the country
....and minders of the past are
never that far away.....
Categories:
demonstrators, black african american, city,
Form:
On the northern plain of Africa,
Tyrannically tortured tongues wail for revolution of injustice
To embrace the prescription of democracy by neighborhood
Amber anger of our pitiless god has now being awaken
How many million tongues shall lick this ripen death?
The aftermath begun the ceremony of blood-bath in Benghazi
When peaceful demonstrators were battered by rage of military strikes.
And anger-drenched folks without training fell in love with deadly weapon
Unimaginable anger of winged weapons handshake the fine faces of Misratah
Blood-dripping vibrating limbs were separated from their sources.
And human blood was made the entertainer of the day
The laughing horror stood by his principle of apocalypse
A thousand children without parents, lost
In gaze of orchestra of flying missiles.
The broom of earth now intervened
The god of the stars and stripes-the mouth-piece of mother earth
Led the assembly of giants worms who donated their agents of death
"No fly zone", "Operation odyssey" wore the mask of death
The Dead and companions were invited for a feast of Missile-roasted mortals
From your screen, smiling skull smile at your astonished eyes.
Who will lead the dreamt resurrection of justice,
When Zeus has refused to let go his sword?
The lost just began!
Categories:
demonstrators, peacegod, lost, anger, earth,
Form:
Free verse
My Love
I love you much, my love, therefore I beg you
Give me that which till today, nobody have asked you
Don’t puzzle, I hope, you’ll help me in this regard
Best beloved and well wishers have supplied essentials
Of lovers always if we turn back too pages of history
Don’t worry; I'm not hurting you demanding your life
Your assets, requires you much rather than to me
I don’t care darling what other guys evaluate upon my asking
Because I don’t see more valuable things than that
Which can easily, you can offer me
Even it doesn't hold any cost just some dedications
Which till today no one has dared to offer?
I love you heartily so I want to take stand in this regard
Projecting out as if in the hill some inscriptions in ridges
To draw the attraction of demonstrators
Don’t afraid, I’m not wishing you to make you show piece
To others at you or my cost, you’re my every thing
Why should I believe you in that easy way?
Definitely my intuition invokes me from within
You will offer me that instinct for my pleasure
Cause, I've noticed in your bright appearance
Deliverance of love is in different mode
Your juvenile desiring to oblige somewhere in the custom
I believe, as we are reared in the same village
In the same brink of the river.
Many times we have rained with completely
Our cows and herds also could not differ them
Swollen brooklets have helped us to unite body
Catching in hand hugging you and adding your body with mine
While crossing you know we used to become one
You can guess your feeling would have crossed the height of Himalayas
To understand, what body wants to be done?
Your drowned eyes and dropping down drops of water
Used to provoke effort
Beyond that down through the throat, running paths for drenched water
Was explicitly witness, the curved part would be seizing more for that
As a trunk of elephant’s those beautiful thighs
Used to give witnessing purity ascribe for judgement of love
Slowly, crossing plain, stepping towards hills and
Demarcation of two grassy lanes, when used to welcome
To separate, I know my pinches would cleave you
With high breathe. My love, I love you, I confirmed my decision to you.
Categories:
demonstrators, boyfriend, girlfriend, love, river,
Form:
Free verse
(for those in Kwangju: May 18, 1980)*
after Dante
Taking this peach within the mouth, the tongue
hovers around its sunset skin like a lover
and its Sappho sweet bite is heaven. A song
of honeysuckled rivers is like your
kiss… The night is in July. At once
Platonic love is redemption or
when the world is beyond our Kwangju…Please
let the streets be freed from anticipation
of the bayonet and gun… Let litter seize
this street or any avenue… Plan
my kiss and we will be happy and free.
The night is the peach---the dead sun…
Recall the dress you wore as a weapon, me
wearing---I forgot… Your raven hair, soft
yet sharp by its embroidery
of strands being held by one silver pin. The left
hand of God and right hands of angels
must have done it… It was my dry throat
drinking from Styx River which made the chills
even more pronounced at the sight of you.
The dress’ print was you. It was petals
of prints within splotches of orange, gold, red, too…
and white--- bandages… Horrible bandages.
I’m wearing black/white. Suddenly we choose
to hug underneath those flickering pages
of streetlights… we an arrow’s color shot through bodies---Rage…
*Excerpted from Chalmers Johnson’s Blowback : The Costs and Consequences of the
American Empire: “General Chun did not wait long after talking with Gleysteen (US
Ambassador to South Korea) to complete the coup d’etat he had begun the previous
December…On May 18, 1980, a few hundred demonstrators in Kwangju took to the streets to
protest the imposition of martial law. They were met by the paratroopers of the 7th Brigade
of the Korean special forces, known as the “black berets,” who had a well known reputation
for brutality going back to their service on the American side in the Vietnam War…Gleysteen
wrote, “Rumors reaching Seoul of Kwangju rioting say special forces used fixed bayonets and
inflicted many casualties on students… Some in Kwangju are reported to have said that
troops are being more ruthless than North Koreans ever were.” [When asked of the decision]
Gleysteen replied, “I grant it was the controversial decision, but it was the correct one. Do I
regret? I don’t think so.” (112-113)
Categories:
demonstrators, history, introspection, political, romance,
Form:
Terza Rima
The brutalized girl breathed her last in faraway Singapore
She met her fate returning home, a couple of weeks ago
To shift the focus of the masses on an issue so emotive
And moved to a hospital in a distant land with a purely political motive
Reputed for organ transplants in which their hospital specialized
What good did it do to a grievously hurt girl whose condition had not stabilized
The six hour flight to the distant shore was surely a misadventure
The government was uneasy with restive crowds near their hallowed seat of power
The government paid lip service to the girl who is no more
Making promises to a nation, both aggrieved and sore
But in the interim, another girl in a neighbouring state
Ended her life, harassed and denied for weeks from recording her rape
The administration’s handling of such incidents
Are not far and few and have many precedents
A woman parliamentarian and doctor to boot
Said something very strange in a television interview
Referred to a victim from the past
And on her character, aspersions she cast
Pronouncing to media that it was not rape at all
But a call-girl’s transaction gone wrong; what gall!
Another MP, this time the President’s son
Sought to have fun with his knowledge of the English lexicon
And portrayed the women demonstrators of civil society as ‘painted & dented’
The backlash was so vicious, on national television he recanted
With red lights marking them as their sirens wail through the streets
Breaking traffic rules and followed by a bureaucratic fleet
Politicians think that from their ivory towers they have seen it all
As elected office bearers they never cease to appall
In times of crisis you can sense the disconnect
But democracy is about people’s choices, who do we elect?
And to men, I must ask why bestiality has become our way
Together we can surely change the world for a better day
Please resist if opportunity demands when you see a girl harassed
Or at the least seek help fast, you have to save the lass!
Categories:
demonstrators, angst, death, girl, girl,
Form:
Narrative
Each of us is given a mission by God that's deemed essential
one is protecting the rights of the most vulnerable in society
when society socially tramples on these virtues removing values
we have the authority from the bowels of the Word to act
Marching and praying for the abomination against Justice to end and stop
where law and order is breaking down corrupted by vice
standing up for something we do not fall for the deceit
life is short its easier to stand for something good rather than bad
We are all given gifts mere mortals if we use them wisely we will get more
peace and harmony needs to be restored rather than conflict
the quality of one's soul can be seen in the vice they support
a moment of mindfulness can focus on something greater called the truth
Figure this one out when brought to the light of transparency
demonising demonstrators gets the desired effect pushing ugly narrative
They want to shut down all opposition that will overthrow this system of ruling
because they have gone so far left they can't return to what is normal
At what stage do we say enough of this nonsense
we are heading on the wrong path
to be honest I do not recognise this world anymore
it's gone so ugly and loveless turning against Holiness
This is what happens those hypnotised by this mass global deceit
Many will wish they lived their life free from these hardships
because the slaves are those that submit to worldly powers
and most of them are afraid to own up taking the wrong side
So the argument is between nothing trying to make something stick
Categories:
demonstrators, betrayal, christian, conflict, faith,
Form:
Free verse
An Alligator Poem of Course
Fed potent sweet potaters to some alligators
Who later in life liked to and became demonstrators
And will all swim along in water single file
When opening long mouth have a languishing smile.
Back and forth each one will wiggle long tail
While on wide back while wear many a scale
Big eyes out of water both are protruding
While branches and stumps will be eluding.
Alligators have own way of doing things
And with whole body each of them brings
An eye considered to be a constant rover
Always liking to look for a leftover.
An alligator never will want to alienate
Or while at it start to or try and agitate
Mouths become unruly like a rubber stamp
Putting impressions on you when down do clamp.
Sounds like a North Carolina Politician of one sort or another.
James Thomas Horn
Retired Veteran
Bolivia, NC
Categories:
demonstrators, philosophy, political,
Form:
Couplet
Is there really a beautiful heaven?
Is there a red and black hell for sinners?
Basking on this, I told myself that the beautiful heaven is this we see now, argue with the sky and cloud on this.
Father Francis told us that there is no heaven,
Pope Thomas told us that paradise is within our hearts,
and those who fall and fall on the altar of deliverance are miscreants.
We believed him on a platter of Sunday school morning.
He gave us lies and lies of truth about the World Series of lies.
In this pantful world where children wear disgrace,
In this world' voodoo, where sorrow back treasures of preachers,
In this train of earth where girls wear tears,
In this shattered world where our pride are whores,
Nothing is precious under the sun and nothing that the sun has not seen.
Man is home to himself and have choices about himself.
The clergy men that had their skulls littered in the evil graveyard of my village can tell of this.
To this voidness,
To this coldness,
To this yonder of shattered images,
Xylem of mannered eloquence of the devil,
To the world demon's demonstrators,
To the Halloween and the Dejavu,
To the magical cloth verses of the Indian,
To the cries of unholy pages of those holy book tabled before we were born,
I have a way that seems so right to me; and those are the choices I have made.
To the shrine of Illinois of the Illuminati,
To the pyramid of underworld,
To the coldness of death,
We will escape from this drum of world,
This is darkness!
This is darkness!!
This is darkness!!!
Darkness of the black spirits.
Voidness lies in the bag of red colours.
This gory miseries of the world keep us in the fold of grey.
We don't know death but death knows us,
We don't know life but life speaks of us,
We don't know abstract painting of demons,
We don't know the abstract imageries of sins;
The beauty of sin lies in the consequences that lies aftermath.
We are train of shadows,
We are feathers of spiritualities,
We are blood of feelings, emotions. anger. Carcass. Faded colours. Sadness.
Pains. Revenge. Vengeance. Evil.
Emptiness. Vacant. Void.
We are the opposite of day, synonym of good.
Is there really a beautiful heaven?
Is there a black and red hell for sinners?
Search your soul and answer to its voidness.
Yours Poetically,
©John Chizoba Vincent
Categories:
demonstrators, africa, art,
Form:
Blank verse
Eyes strained,
Breath held,
Waiting has been too long...
to add to the chain started by so many pioneers…
Then it was time for one to make the change.
So many rise with ambitions to be "The one"!
Oh, but midway they are just lost and
giving up, leaving them all more frustrated than before.
You thought you could be that agent of change: From there!
Long awaited by the desperate ones in the queue
who were not chosen to wear those lucky shoes,
you felt you only worked hard and you deserved it: from here!
Right! But you were chosen like so many to be the change.
Alas, you let yourself be carried away like lulled
to doom by the sirens' enchanting voices; rewards, money and
power; they gloat your fame and boast about your abilities….
Sadly all fake demonstrators and opportunists who fly with birds of…
"fine feathers in fine weathers"!
Open your eyes to overcome your blindness and unlike your predecessors,
Think about why you were chosen…...
For there is always, still time for improvement!
9/12/2016
178 words (checked on howmanysyllables.com)
Categories:
demonstrators, change, conflict, grief, society,
Form:
Free verse
I don't believe that a security officer
can shoot a crowd of demonstrators
without batting an eyelid behind
his protective helmet.
I don't believe that a doctor
can switch off the oxygen machine
of a person in a coma,
without shedding a tear deep
within his white coat.
It is said in history that the one
who dropped atomic bombs in Japan
become irrational at one moment,
seeing houses and bridges
melting like wax in the fire.
Perpetrators of the 1994 Rwanda
genocide still wallow in guilt,
remembering how they cut innocent
women and children with machetes.
No matter what kind of brave face we put,
or heartless, cold eyes we show,
a spark of compassion will always betray
our pretense and expose our humanity.
Categories:
demonstrators, humanity, identity, imagery, life,
Form:
Free verse
A field of angry faces fume
with mouths agape as spittle flies
from lips best used for other tasks.
Upon the green , the rolling lawn of angst,
demonstrators wave paper placards.
Group A never nearing Group B.
Flags drape the bandstand packed
with pomp and politicians give lip-service
to the trodden rights of man.
Unequal, but present, women, fe-males
present themselves in all manner of vehicles
from stroller to walker to wheel chair, we are here.
For one hundred years, we have been ‘given’
the ‘right’ to own property,
but still
our labor is worth less.
Un-joined, un-backed,
if alone, many are left
in the ranks of the poor.
A field of angry faces fume
no child care, no child left behind,
inadequate health care, still we struggle on
in the twenty-first century,
where politicians preen and prance
and misuse our votes.
The divide ever present,
our ranks rife with unrest,
our creative powers used to shackle us
given only lip-service.
Still, we will prevail.
Categories:
demonstrators, angst, confusion, introspection, political,
Form:
Free verse
Those Successful
No comment upon the richness of science
It glamoured lives offering meagre chance
A class of successful notes
Further tyranny from unwanted games.
May be in the form of war or peace
A nudity of success hitting the target
May be it would form from the nozzle of gun
Or the big books of philosophers
Always I found clapped hands to admire both
May be to drop the bombs or to send for charity
Confusing all the time I have walked through
The streets of square raising fresh news
Kidnaps and rapes in the freedom of survive
How can I show my sigh to other
While I nod head down all the time failure
These days even in dreams,those successful failures
A kind of win in brain while emerges
Scattering hopes in the morning sun
Parching and horrid dirty sweats flow
Finding the path of temple
Soaking my old cheeks from both sides
To fumble those successful notes
Whether, is it the stagnant step of human being
Only dropping down to get the peace path
Or raising dews of morning vapour
Could provide them those successful notes
Saints in the world debate bring reality in breath
Miracle of humans think the pages are errors
All are right and true if they play game
According to norms set before hand
To give pleasure to demonstrators
Those successful all are who abide by rules.
Categories:
demonstrators, abuse, change, hurt,
Form:
Blank verse
Mideast Peace: Oxymoron
Though descendent of Jews,
I feel boggled at the brutal,
nasty and wanton war between
Israelis and Palestinians.
Many innocent victims
bred to know and hate their enemy
impossible mission
to reconcile one Semitic
group of peoples from another.
The bloody English
begat and fomented
debacle between Israelis and Palestinians.
little more than a century ago,
particularly usurping territory
courtesy aggressive premise
might makes right.
The human species
hell bent on making war
reprisals rank as a ,
and can never even the score
I harken back to childhood,
when our family lived
at Lantern Lane, and the Dailey's
(who threw rocks at Georgie
our Dalmation/Boxer)
rightfully earned before their time
the title fear thy neighbor
an altercation such
as aforementioned above,
would easily earn a spot
on Investigation Discovery
though deadly crimes violently hardcore
reenacted minus the explicit killing
fields not healthy for children
and other living things,
nevertheless even the most pious
and peace loving
exhibit fervent bloody ardour
if kith and kin held at gunpoint.
The annals of civilization
since time immemorial
replete with chronicles
of battlefield bravura
touting (with laurels of profuse praise)
for ultimate sacrifice
unnaturally, unstintingly, and unwaveringly
bravely giving oneself
to father/mother land.
Beneath the surface of the skin
we all bleed;
mortal kombat inked
in Mesolithic Europe
likewise dates to circa 10,000 years ago,
and episodes of warfare appear
to remain "localized
and temporarily restricted"
during the Late Mesolithic
to Early Neolithic period in Europe.
Idyllic as the fantastical utopian yen,
I feel pessimistic patriarchal wheelman
who steer autocratic
leviathan of state (witness Tiananmen
Square student-led demonstrations
known in Beijing, China
as the June Fourth Incident
lasting from 15 April to 4 June 1989)
cuz twentieth century ruthless demagogues
wanted to squelch
pro-democracy movement,
and not only stole demonstrators thunder
but forcefully co-opted with lightning force
their toys such as:
sophisticated erector set and playpen
for dolls loving buoys Barbie and ken
the former coming to life
as a miniature equestrienne
experiencing magical realism.
Categories:
demonstrators, abuse, anger, angst, arabic,
Form:
Rhyme