Best Dissenters Poems
How would the world react,
too the verity of Al-'Alaq?
Would the unbelievers believe,
would the dissenters assent,
would combatants humble thyselves?
I've seen the bloodstone,
i've held it many times...
i've written about it...discreetly,
in a short series called,Laskrizon,
many have quested,many have questioned,
but,the one thing you cannot
........is doubt,
once you behold it's wonderful uniqueness...
*sura 96
Then I knew what lay over the distant horizon
For the sun dared me to follow it to the other side
Where light took shape in a proud day’s kaizen,
Morning accompanied yesterday’s journey inside
The frolic of the night where dragons had come to hide.
I awakened to the sound of recorders and flutes
Neatly clad pedestrians hustling to the cities’ centers,
Skyscrapers built like working men in sturdy boots --
I watched from subway steps one hurriedly enters
While my country’s powerful slept like mad dissenters.
My peace was suddenly shattered by earth's shaking
One hapless hemisphere grating against a silent other
Trying to foresee the future, theirs for the taking,
Because passivity and paucity of concern smother
Devaluing the halcyon days of my father and mother.
The sun bade me follow upward to the eastern rim
To view objectively another point of view in time
And space, that I shall experience in lessons less grim,
Awakening my heart chilled, then fluttered in mime
Seems humankind, en toto, has a rugged uphill to climb.
EIGHTH PLACE WINNER
written February 3, 2022
especially for "Quintain (English)" Poetry Contest
sponsored by Emile Pinet
#76 on Poetry Soup's Best Poems List
February 25, 2022
Breaking ground, well trodden path,
boiling cauldron of troubles past.
Injecting theories, humanities veins,
cryptic messages to dispatch.
Puzzling pieces, testing fit,
exploit emotions, effects are best.
Impel the masses, blind ignorance,
dismiss dissenters from public view,
construct the stories, elected few.
Orchestrate, a mind control,
obedient throngs, the unstated goal.
The Bishops bathe in Babylon
while Princes, prancing on the lawn,
watch Queen deflowered, pale and wan.
The King dares not defend her.
The Horsemen, holding broken reins
the Morning of the Hurricanes,
sigh “it’s no use, it’s all in vain,
the Saints will soon surrender”.
They wonder why they ever came,
they have No One whom they can blame,
they have no face, they have no name,
and even less, a gender.
The empty-handed Vagabonds
smoke stale cigars, stroke faded Blondes
while waiting at the walls beyond,
but kneel as Chaos enters.
They’re gazing through the window panes
in hopes that distant Hurricanes
will twist and break their iron chains
defying life’s tormentors.
The Fantom of the Opera frowns
as feeble minded Cleric-clowns
mouth hollow hurdy-gurdy sounds
when blessing doomed dissenters.
The Pirate wields a wooden leg,
with pupils dull and visage vague,
and if by chance he spreads the plague,
it really doesn’t matter.
His Princess, pale, no longer feigns,
foresees instead (down ancient lanes)
the coming of the Hurricanes -
the Stones stir, staring at her.
And Jackals scrape the river bed
as Savants soothe the underfed
and Crows, collecting scattered bread,
adorn, with crumbs, the platter.
The Jokers Wild and One Eyed Janes
weep, winding up in rundown trains
mid whispers of the Hurricanes,
and Priests refuse to christen.
They’re fleeing from the Leprechauns,
the cuckoo birds, the dying swans;
while pitching pennies into ponds
their eyes opaquely glisten.
The spectral Clocks with spindled spokes
remind the Mimes to tell the Folks
the time of day and other jokes,
yet No One looks to listen.
The Hunchbacks with contorted canes
galumph before the Hurricanes,
in melted sleet, in frozen rains,
in bruised and battered sandals.
Their Groans engulf the land of gulls,
the land of stones, the land of nulls,
and lurk between the blackened lulls,
for Nighttime brooks no candles.
Their prayers to Dogs and Nuns and Dukes,
(and other long forgotten Spooks)
are more than random crazed rebukes,
though taunting to the Vandals.
Continued in Part 2
Through the mist ...
vision blurred by the bias of our views
clouding our reason
unable to walk in another men's shoes.
Blinded by the fog ...
thoughts offered by signs in hand
daring others to cross
convinced we are right, our dissenters lost.
War is declared ...
the air thick with opinion.
Battles commence ...
destruction of all that is held dear.
Guns blowing smoke
Swords red hot metal forged
Wrapped in the rising haze of heat
Voices raised dirty the streets.
Nowhere in sight ... clear rationale
no time to hear; no effort to see.
Air, a toxic mist, release the inner pain that i feel
eyes blinded by tears - no more chances, my friend.
Through the mist ...
no one hears.
This our reality when ideas supersede our fellow beings.
Through the mist ...
I see no love - hate guised as ideas.
Oh if they could see through the mist...
That is us on both sides of the street.
18~12~2014
Maurice Yvonne
Dissenters dominate the streets,
The public dominion of demonstrations.
This POTUS threatens military domination.
Just forget the pesky First Amendment.
Sowing seeds of civil war
The best path to reelection.
Yet remonstrations rally relentless,
One man’s terminal chokehold
A symbol of structural racism.
A metaphor for the socioeconomic suffocation,
The clamor and commotion
torn and tormenting in every town.
Protestors street hue and cry,
voices of the marginalized and forgotten .
A human chain of disputant dissentients,
Occupiers striking for a new order.
Rebels demanding
a new systemic justice.
Two Moons
‘I am the Goddess of Hellfire in spitting disguise when I travel alone and
need all support I can enlist to water my flames lest it gets out of hand’
proclaims the sun all rays shine and glory scorching the poor souls below
grills leathering skin deceives and strokes brains before mid and after glow
‘My parchment cannot be inscribed in solar solitude quite simply reverse
the orbit would gravely go out of sink kilter descend lower as I traverse’
scare the living daylight with radiant blindness imbalance’s solitary pursuit
thus convenes the basking star in solemn dialogue with moonlight’s tribute
The lovers eloped therefore together full steam under cover of darkness
left critics and envious rival dissenters behind because and regardless
of convention moronic norms social etiquette when passion erupted
with lunar pleasure in hearts body mind and soul never once obstructed
They made love and spooned their moons in wax and in wain they melted
pushed into each other pulled mingled as composite thoughts fusing and felt it
decided one sun is never enough and that light needs shelter and darkness
to contrast and heighten the elevation coronate union luminous sharpness
All previous heartfelt damnations the voices of doom slowly evaporated
once universal bonding moons sun and earth and their essence conjugated
they seem raving mad to embellish the sun with interplanetary spheres
but relish new horizons the soothing of hellfire admonish wisdom from tears
16th September
Never, Always, Sometimes
Stretched across the years of time,
memory plays hide and seek.
In the foggy daydreams, shadows find
early life rarely has a voice to speak.
Hidden in the quiet corners
low profile is an easy escape.
Never stepping boldly forth, always the loner,
and in hanging back it is best to hesitate.
Sometimes though, some inner spirit rises
and takes the dramatic leap forward
Voices shout speaking what the world despises
of life, liberty, justice is not just words.
Never do the masses speak in unison
always there are protesters an dissenters.
Deep in the thoughts of freedom lies the fusion
sometimes we only see the adventure.
Never is such a negative aspersion
drowning hope and dreams of life.
Always is too much an elaborate excursion
holding back for fear of the daily strife.
Sometimes, now there’s thought and possibility
that success can reveal it’s way
Sometimes then, there is less futility
in being self and loving every day.
Exercising belief about unknowns.
Makes sense to take your best guess.
Using history, numbers, extrapolation.
Getting the trajectory right for re-entry.
Few dissenters left for climate change, evolution.
Nuclear power brings a process to earth
that occurs only in space. Dangerous
but necessary? Not a risk-averse weasel.
One among many mammals is the weasel,
not known for its consideration of unknowns
but, for its extreme caloric needs, considered dangerous.
My wife says in England violent gusts
forced a locomotive off its tracks. One interpretation
might reasonably be that the mother, earth,
has stopped mothering man. We're entering
a period of unknowns and must evolve.
What might this involve
and what adjustments are possibly feasible?
Walking rather than riding to the subway entrance,
using less electricity until more is known,
preserving agricultural soils and forest land,
buying fewer plastic contraptions.
My brother's washing his pajamas less often.
None of this may make the slightest difference
in how the earth and the sun and universe revolve.
But we are human and addicted to action,
the probable less attractive than the possible.
Also, there's no percentage in respecting death
unless it's imminent. Better to remain centered,
focused on food, child-bearing, war and the poem.
All driveways plowed, all lawns mowed.
Just in time before the first snow, I raked our leaves.
Two eight hour days. What percent of all time is that?
Draw a ray with point A the first pile of leaves
extending to the extrapolating end of universe.
.01 of Aaron. Zero of Zach.
Hawks playing, hunting, mating, canaries in the mine.
Having been too many places to count.
Sex bars, infant formulas, fire crews, last rites, permanent jobs, traffic
tickets, judges' chambers, out houses, wedding banquets, boiling
teapots, frantic centuries, facial tissues, presumed innocent, clear
intentions, stainless steel.
Spiderweb glove. Deerfly earring. Daddylonglegs seeingeyedog.
Memorized songs. Privatized loans.
You cannot know what you're doing until you've done it.
Erudite sweep the floor. Articulate make the bed.
Infrared town hall. Crab nebula. Your last crap.
Eye of the tropical January sun. Slouching toward temperate zone.
Villanelle: The Dilemma of the Non-Violent – 25
Followers are made from day one in the womb
Not gods but by men in the full-length skirt
Pavlov mice all salivate stunned stark in tomb
Do not men in frocks drive terror promise doom
Those who heed not words they stuff into gods first
Followers are made from day one in the womb
Can honourable men raise gods from the tomb
Invite them back to earth slake believers’ thirst
Pavlov mice all salivate stunned stark in tomb
Who split their gods’ words plunge followers in gloom
Make dissenters fight staunch believers first
Followers are made from day one in the womb
Sexless men tear each other under own dome
Then order robot men to give up the ghost
Pavlov mice all salivate stunned stark in tomb
Who forbids men from praying under one dome
Don’t middle-men stoked by sybarite Sophist
Followers are made from day one in the womb
Pavlov mice all salivate stunned stark in tomb
- End of Part One –
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2015
Human life deserves a platform to unfold
Away from straitjackets of pious scrutiny
Whose eyes, ears and hands feel so cold
They reject freedom and project a mutiny
Born from the scorn society pours on freedom
Curtailing every progressive move towards expanding
Frontiers of free thought, thought outside the stricture kingdom
Where dissenters earn the label of antisocial branding
Perceived by untested notions whose dubious value
Lies in objecting to new ideas, new approaches
To matters where life suffers because critics with no clue
Claim innovations and expansions in thinking circulate cockroaches
In citadels that preserve culture and tradition
To limit the extent to which inhabitants expand the scope
Life ought to enjoy without any undue restriction
Imposed by custodians of traditions whose pope
Preaches limitations on abortion and exploration of modernization
In the wake of disruptive technologies
That spawn conundrums in which efforts of socialization
In traditional societies and African mythologies
Die a natural death
When social media facilitate new ways of communicating and connecting
Whose wealth and health
Diminish and extinguish mores, norms and customs, projecting
Arguments whose cogent basis tenuous at best
Can’t stand reliability and validity
Scrutiny and which traditionalists attest
Matter to defend the utility and solidity
Archaic notions offer to society’s progress
In which the worth and splendor of life
Matters more than efforts to suppress
Moves to eradicate and eliminate wife
Battery and slavery in the context of gender based violence
Rife in African townships and homesteads
Where traditionalists promote the importance
Domestic violence plays in subjugating stubborn heads.
I'm a speech punk; kind of a menace
Not sure if the word is permissible in these parts
But that's the word I need, life's a furnace
So flush that. Gosh, you leave me no choice
I'm trying to speak, hear my voice in the whisper
Through the walls of disparaging noise
This is the true genesis of your lyrical nemesis
Within the lofty walls of these subliminal premises
So join me in these choruses
If you are tired of all those empty promises
I know some will hold on to being cynical
And insist that so and so is not tyrannical
On the offensive, trying to sound authentic
I’m getting tired of these old nonverbal diatribes
Untried ideological theories from war times
Self-proclaimed superheroes asking for more time
Descending heavily on dissenters
I find it interesting. You insist on destruction
But cry foul over the consequential sanctions
Questions leading to more questions
Your overarching approach is nonsensical
You're overreaching, overreacting
Flashing knives and talking peace treaties
I choose reason, so I'll be philosophical
Through and through until people know the truth
I'll show you who is master in this class
Through the looking glass, looking straight ahead
Hard forehead set against their hardcore hearts
Delicate apples of eyes rolling upon these surfaces
Don't forget light shines in the darkness
These are obviously obnoxious princes of madness
Gospel hardened bumpkins, hard of hearing
Pluck off their ear muffs and remove the earplugs
I don't know, it's the starkness
Of their skewed vision and aversion to reality
Posing, for whatever reason, as minimalists
And all of us losers attempting to look strong
Strolling roughshod on dog dump filled terrain
They say without travail there are no babies
So, I'm caught barefoot in this hell of a place
No name, upstart among folks with no faces
Clasping hands holding back nervous chuckles
Upon the sight of my adversaries' bleeding knuckles
Section such and such paragraph this and that
Yeah, voiceless man quoting verses
Telling the man with the pitchfork to get lost
And when it ends suddenly, unexpectedly,
You start to count.
First on the days, then the hours - then
Just counting until 100
Then
Beginning again.
The dead find their faces
The living count faces
Then most forget
Unless the face has your DNA in it,
But you remember the body bags
Being moved around in the night,
The nurses crying,
The lies being spread,
The excuses,
The obfuscation,
The blundering incompetence
Of bureaucracy and officialdom.
The elderly kept in deathcamps
that used to be nursing homes.
The grinning mayors
And governors.
It’s going away now.
Less and less each day.
It’s going away now
It’s going to a place
Where the living cannot find it
It’s going away now.
And suddenly you are very angry
About the stupid shut-ins and the shut-downs,
The politicization of tragedy.
The muddled and slanted statistics
The ridiculous projections,
The false data.
The contradictions and bluster.
The draconian regulatory and government
Sponsored power grabs.
The gagging and intimidation
Of workers.
The trashing of basic freedoms
People
Jailed,
Fined,
Harassed.
The banning's.
The right to collectively worship denied,
Peaceful protest denied.
Businesses forced into bankruptcy.
The unemployment
The waste.
And destruction.
The sundering of families,
The needless school closures,
The suffering that led
To clinical depression and drug overdoses,
The disdain of those
Who rejected commonsense remedies.
The manipulations
And machinations,
All the willing useful fools
Chorusing together to tread down
Democracy.
The grinning talking heads
Who doctored the news.
The attacks and the cancelling
Of those who begged to differ.
Dissenters labeled conspiracy theorists.
The cover-ups:
Gain of function.
GAIN OF FUNCTION.
The dumb mantra of the ignorant
Demanding we 'follow the science'
But the science was wrong
The scientists lied
They lied.
They all knew
AND THEY LIED!
And I am still counting
In case it returns
And I have a lot more things to count,
Lots more to tally and be made
ACCOUNTABLE.
All the marches suppressed
And dissenters in jail,
Fascist troops are in charge of the mall,
And God’s churches now given last rites,
While our Statue of Liberty melts at Trump’s touch
As our President fiddles unburdened by tune,
The fat Savage finds joy in the sights.
Yes, the demon possessed
Are a sign of our times,
Reasoned change and consent put to death,
Shameless greed put destroyers in charge,
Human politics swallowed by goose-stepping tools,
Only hope of the small now in “noblesse oblige”
And the “slightly” used beer of the large!
Though a "mandate" assures,
It’s the “greatest” of lies,
For both parties indulge in this crime:
Subtle fraud of redistricting’s laws!
Swing states sabotage people entitled to vote,
Evil Santa Claus kowtows to corporate Gods,
Middle class ripped by terrorist's claws!
Filth just floats to the top,
Like the scum that it is,
Criminals take top posts in the land,
They don’t care if the people get wise:
It’s Republican PLOT to make Government SMALL
They control by just fear, death to those who’d build trust
It’s just DICTATORSHIP in disguise.
For the evil like Trump
See just “greed” in the glass
Good Samaritan doesn’t exist,
Can’t trust gain past the tip of their nose!
“Forget ‘God,’ there’s no chance of ‘YOU’ caring for me!”
The "survival of fittest" is number one law,
“Screw you first” only chance of repose.
Under Trump now the rich
Are law unto themselves,
Yes the foxes now shelter the hens,
Little lambs, lions smugly debone,
It explains why so many have death on their mugs,
Why Republicans hate the “Obama’s Care Plan,"
For they love to hear misery moan!
Long Tooth
January 30, 2017
IN THE WORLD OF
HACKABLES
CONTROLLED BY MACHINE'S
NOTHING IS WRONG
ON THE SURFACE IT SEEMS.
WITH NANO TECHNOLOGY.
KNOWN AS THE KEY.
CONTROLLERS CONTROL
ALL FREQUENCIES.
GENETICALLY MODIFIED
AND PROGRAMMED HUMAN BEINGS.
WE WON'T BELIEVE
THE THINGS WE'LL BE SEEING
THEY FEAR FREE THINKERS
WHO OPPOSE THEY'RE VIEWS.
THEY DON'T LIKE PEOPLE
TO LIVE AS THEY CHOOSE.
CAMPS FOR DISSENTERS
GUARDED BY THUGS.
FORCED TO EAT MEALS
CREATED FROM BUGS.
DIVIDE AND CONQUER
AND DESTROY UNITY.
CHAOS AND MAYHEM
TO THE POINT YOU CAN'T SEE.
ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE
COLLIDES WITH FREEWILL.
OPPOSE BIG BOTHER
THEY'LL SEND YOU THE BILL.
THEY'LL FREEZE YOUR ACCOUNTS
SEIZE YOUR ASSETS.
THEY WON'T BE HAPPY
TILL YOU'RE DROWNING IN DEBT.
CENSORED THEN BANNED
DESTROYING FREE SPEECH.
YOU'RE ONLY ALLOWED
TO SHARE WHAT THEY TEACH.
TRACKING AND TRACING
TO KNOW WHERE YOU ARE.
DON'T WANT YOU OUTSIDE
OR GOING TO FAR.
PERMISSION IS NEEDED
TO GO OUT AND PLAY.
REWARDS ARE GRANTED
AFTER YOU DO WHAT THEY SAY.
YOU'LL OWN NOTHING
AND BE HAPPY THEY SAY.
I GUESS HAPPY TO LIVE
TO SEE ONE MORE DAY.
THIS IS THE WORLD
OF PSYCHOPATH POWER.
THEY'RE TURNING THE SCREWS
WITH EACH PASSING HOUR.
THEY DEMAND OBEDIENCE
INSIST YOU COMPLY.
EXPOSE THE TRUTH
THEY'LL INSIST IT'S A LIE.
THIS IS A GAME
OF DECEIT AND DECEPTION.
TO DESTROY ALL YOUR THOUGHTS
AND ALL RECOLLECTIONS.
WELCOME TO THE WORLD
OF THE SO CALLED , RULING ELITE.
THEY'LL DESTROY THE WORLD
BEFORE EXCEPTING DEFEAT.
Michael E. Harris
03192022