Best Dissidents Poems
They are in meaningless session again
Not seeking to serve but to practice the deception
Not seeking to lead but to mislead
Taking black and white, creating gray
Don't wave that flag if you do not honor it
Oppression by omission. You have given
NOTHING
But rights to the dissidents and wrongs to the citizens
Hear me now
I cannot replace the spine you're missing
ONE NATION UNDER GOD
If you cannot accept you cannot lead
If you cannot lead you are the problem
THE FAILURE
Authorizing condemnation and treason
Banning prayer and patriotism
Once filled with victory and pride
Now mired in failure
Represent or resign, serve or secede
Make a stand for once or fall forever
We no longer will tolerate
YOUR FAILURE
One nation UNDER GOD.
Beneath a shroud in mystery
was built a monument sublime,
where flowed a river endlessly,
her flow kissed the periphery,
ignored the grasp of time.
So great the span of her intent
she circled mound and battlement,
where roses sprang in every glorious hue,
and other vibrant flowers showed their worth,
as ancient trees spired mightily in view,
and full proclaimed the grandeur of the earth.
Behold the caves where lovers kept their tryst,
close hidden where the mountain swooped and shaded,
well guarded by the shadows and the mist,
a devil's place where dissidents and traitors kissed
in heated passion, and their love degraded.
Within the gloom a roiling and a bursting,
a waterspout came thrusting, thunder blasting,
and spat huge molten rocks like tiny pebbles,
the torrent coursing down, not merely dribbles,
the raging maelstrom flinging high and over,
revealed beneath the streaming sacred river.
She ran through dale and covert full continuous,
a journey never ending, until she reached the sea.
And then was heard a cry, a call to arms,
that neither bliss nor solitude becalms.
Yet music from the edifice and caves
o'ercame the sound of warring and of strife,
reverberations and the crashing of the waves
a mighty symphony in tune with all of life.
the sun-bleached monument regaled in gold,
the savage caves, calamitous and cold.
A dream of perfect grace I once beheld,
a lady with a voice as clear as spring,
a vision of my destiny
she sang of sweet eternity,
such joyful notes didst bring!
Would that I might recover
the beauty of her song,
the passion of a secret lover,
I might labor hard and long
to recreate this sacrament,
its sunny climes, its frozen spa,
a two-edged sword its testament,
a blessing and a curse both spent,
to dwell within that twin entombment,
a two-tongued threat beneath Abora.
For whosoever breaks these grounds,
and recreates conflicting sounds,
has tasted direst dark and Shangri-la!
Beneath a shroud in mystery
was built a monument sublime,
where flowed a river endlessly,
her flow kissed the periphery,
ignored the grasp of time.
So great the span of her intent
she circled mound and battlement,
where roses sprang in every glorious hue,
and other vibrant flowers showed their worth,
as ancient trees spired mightily in view,
and full proclaimed the grandeur of the earth.
Behold the caves where lovers kept their tryst,
close hidden where the mountain swooped and shaded,
well guarded by the shadows and the mist,
a devil's place where dissidents and traitors kissed
in heated passion, and their love degraded.
Within the gloom a roiling and a bursting,
a waterspout came thrusting, thunder blasting,
and spat huge molten rocks like tiny pebbles,
the torrent coursing down, not merely dribbles,
the raging maelstrom flinging high and over,
revealed beneath the streaming sacred river.
She ran through dale and covert full continuous,
a journey never ending, until she reached the sea.
And then was heard a cry, a call to arms,
that neither bliss nor solitude becalms.
Yet music from the edifice and caves
o'ercame the sound of warring and of strife,
reverberations and the crashing of the waves
a mighty symphony in tune with all of life.
the sun-bleached monument regaled in gold,
the savage caves, calamitous and cold.
A dream of perfect grace I once beheld,
a lady with a voice as clear as spring,
a vision of my destiny
she sang of sweet eternity,
such joyful notes didst bring!
Would that I might recover
the beauty of her song,
the passion of a secret lover,
I might labor hard and long
to recreate this sacrament,
its sunny climes, its frozen spa,
a two-edged sword its testament,
a blessing and a curse both spent,
to dwell within that twin entombment,
a two-tongued threat beneath Abora.
For whosoever breaks these grounds,
and recreates conflicting sounds,
has tasted direst dark and Shangri-la!
While my pen is free, I will write!
I will transpire words of truth on paper white with
Pen dipped from heart's crimson flow.
And what shall I write?
"Roses are red, violets are blue"?
My youthful "love" poetry is now far spent!
Maturity has now taken over.
What then shall I write?
What of social injustice:
Yesterday's "-ites" cloaked in today's "-isms"?
Shall I write of poverty and shame,
Oppression and tyranny's rule,
Enslavement, imprisonment, and
Murder en masse?
History is once again repeating itself!
Evil rulers and justices: "Tyrants" all,
Are sitting high and lofty,
Calling evil "good" and good "evil",
Demoralizing, demonizing,
Passing laws and rulings
Contrary to the Laws of G-D,
Vilifying and slaughtering en masse
Christians and Jews,
Babies, the elderly, and the handicapped
Throughout the world,
And without a public outcry.
And all those who stand in the way of their "agenda",
Political dissidents from all walks of life,
Are either silenced or removed.
"A 'One World' Order!" They say.
In their supremacy, they desire
To brainwash and indoctrinate the "leftovers",
Like refuse discarded.
Shall I remain silent when I, in the past,
Wondered how the Holocaust was allowed
By countless many who hid in silence
For fear of reprisal?
No! I shall mercilessly speak out
Against all inhumanity metered out
By evil tyrants' blows!
Go far from me if you seek half truths!
Go far from me if you desire
To hear words that tickle the ears!
For you shall find no such words written
Within the pages of my heart.
I shall not lull you to sleep
With comforting words!
What choice do you have?
What choice do I have?
The sinister walls of delusion
Have to be destroyed!
While my pen is free, I will write
And I will speak!
For I have found a voice
That has finally found its platform.
Beneath a shroud in mystery
was built a monument sublime,
where flowed a river endlessly,
her flow kissed the periphery,
ignored the grasp of time.
So great the span of her intent
she circled mound and battlement,
where roses sprang in every glorious hue,
and other vibrant flowers showed their worth,
as ancient trees spired mightily in view,
and full proclaimed the grandeur of the earth.
Behold the caves where lovers kept their tryst,
close hidden where the mountain swooped and shaded,
well guarded by the shadows and the mist,
a devil's place where dissidents and traitors kissed
in heated passion, and their love degraded.
Within the gloom a roiling and a bursting,
a waterspout came thrusting, thunder blasting,
and spat huge molten rocks like tiny pebbles,
the torrent coursing down, not merely dribbles,
the raging maelstrom flinging high and over,
revealed beneath the streaming sacred river.
She ran through dale and covert full continuous,
a journey never ending, until she reached the sea.
And then was heard a cry, a call to arms,
that neither bliss nor solitude becalms.
Yet music from the edifice and caves
o'ercame the sound of warring and of strife,
reverberations and the crashing of the waves
a mighty symphony in tune with all of life.
the sun-bleached monument regaled in gold,
the savage caves, calamitous and cold.
A dream of perfect grace I once did hear,
a lady with a voice as clear as spring,
a vision of my destiny
she sang of sweet eternity,
such joyful notes didst bring!
Would that I might recover
the beauty of her song,
the passion of a secret lover,
I might labour hard and long
to recreate this sacrament,
its sunny climes, its frozen spa,
a two-edged sword its testament,
a blessing and a curse both spent,
to dwell within that twin entombment,
a two-tongued threat beneath Abora.
For whosoever breaks these grounds,
and recreates conflicting sounds,
has tasted direst dark and Shangri-la!
How is the dew that came
Before rain and sun's flame
Gone so fast
Is it because its wet
Was only enough for shrubs
And shrubs are easy to forget
Or is that no glory last
Where the sun scrubs
White the sinews of trees?
You who once policed the law
Did also make the law
In City chambers where
Streets alone
Carry the exotic flower
Of your name
When they ask me,
What shall I answer for your shadowed fame
Between the cousins who broke your heart?
What was the legacy to the nation
Now that the Jamaican Workers
Trade Union was only root
For the almighty scion
That became the tree?
Busta gave you no rain
Manley pruned you excessively
And there was no seed after that
Except the truth
That the new Jamaica was your vision first.
I saw you once
Singing Sankey before the village shop
Canvassing the primitives
I saw a stone hit your lantern
And many more stones drop
Like bombs around us exploding your dream
The night was silent after that
Father Coombs
Had neither face nor trace again
How can a great man fall like that
The political ladder is a slippery slope
And those who climb
Must more than hope
To lead dissidents of the slime pit
Along with virtue must have grit
Buttered on the bread of wit.
And soon its May again
But now the time of workers memory is past
Until the rains fall again
Against the drought shall the dew hold fast
Will Father Coombs in white again
Raise his hands and turn and smile
To hear the fickle people call
The fickle father's name?
And shall I not tell them
Cobwebs are also significant
In the mystery of the world?
Dissidents claim they must reform
The life we accept as the "norm"
As Mother Earth said,
"Until you are dead
Peace lies in the eye of the storm!"
Beneath a shroud in mystery
was built a monument sublime,
where flowed a river endlessly,
her flow kissed the periphery,
withheld the grasp of time.
So great the span of her intent
she circled mound and battlement,
where roses sprang with every glorious hue,
and other vibrant flowers showed their worth,
as ancient trees rose mightily in view,
and full displayed the grandeur of the earth.
Behold the caves where lovers kept their tryst,
close hidden where the mountain swooped and shaded,
well guarded by the shadows and the mist,
a devil's place where dissidents and traitors kissed
in heated passion, though their lust's degraded.
Within the gloom a roiling and a bursting,
a waterspout came thrusting, thunder blasting,
and spat huge molten rocks like tiny pebbles,
the torrent coursing down, not merely dribbles,
the raging maelstrom flinging high and ever,
revealed beneath the streaming sacred river.
She ran through dale and covert full continuous,
a journey never ending, until she reached the sea.
And then was heard a cry, a call to arms!
that neither bliss nor solitude becalms.
Yet the music from the edifice and caves
o'ercame the sound of warring and of strife,
reverberations and the crashing of the waves
a mighty symphony in tune with all of life.
the sun-bleached monument regaled in gold,
the savage caves, calamitous and cold.
A dream of perfect grace I once beheld,
a lady with a voice as clear as spring,
a vision of my destiny,
she sang of sweet eternity,
such joyful notes didst bring!
Would that I might recover
the beauty of her song,
the passion of a secret lover,
I might labor hard and long
to recreate this sacrament,
its sunny climes, its frozen spa,
a two-edged sword its testament,
a blessing and a curse both spent,
to dwell within that twin entombment,
a two-tongued threat beneath Abora?
for whosoever breaks these grounds,
and recreates conflicting sounds,
has tasted direst hell and Shangri-la!
So few are they whose legion is peace.
Did Columbus chase the stillness
beyond tumultuous seas?
Sails and oars were manned by dissidents,
genocide is patent.
Prayers and spreads with huge birds
were answered with reservations,
provisions like prisons,
and birthrights lifted.
So few are they whose legion is peace.
Devoid of wings, souls fly
to escape the flaming towers.
Barren of truth, tongues lie
to secure legends of power,
and destroy past ally.
It is for youth to pursue truth
before the wicked moons glide by.
Leap with faith like ten Moses,
your Sabbath day is nigh.
Race is diversion,
kissing cheeks of cliché.
Is the spoil more than the sacrifice?
The new buds quietly fade;
their radiance slowly dies,
and the few whose throng is not peace
hold their heads so high,
while mothers blame the God
who watched their children’s suicide.
Children having children, promoted by our liberal laws
Congress taking tax money and playing Santa Claus
Third generation dependents don’t work, don’t even try
Sit home, collect assistance, stay home and multiply
Politicians have no conscience, the damage that they do
Their pockets getting larger while screwing me and you
You’ll be punished for working, it doesn’t fit their mold
They want a nation of dependents, doing what they’re told
They want you to be silent, please don’t ever rock the boat
They will choose your health care and ram it down your throat
They will have their own plan because they are the elite
We all should be thankful just to grovel at their feet
Under their new healthcare plans, let the patriots beware
Dissidents, prisoners and terrorists will get the better care
They found the funding for it, claiming it’s the only way
They’ll just screw the working man and take it from his pay
If you struggle and go to college, you’ll be forever in debt
But start manufacturing children and see all you can get
Those who will not work have found a bed of clover
Killing off the working man, socialists have taken over
We need to help the people who cannot help themselves
For permanent couch potatoes, we’re not Santa’s little elves
Punished for achievement, ambition is treated like a vice
Sit down, shut up, don’t think and they will treat you nice
Obedient subservient robots is what the elected officials seek
They want inconsequential citizens to be dehumanized and meek
They’ll tell us what to think and teach us to stoop and bow
If you think times were bad before, just take a look at US now
...inspired by 'Kubla Khan' by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Beneath a shroud in mystery
was built a monument sublime,
where flowed a river endlessly,
her flow kissed the periphery,
ignored the grasp of time.
So great the span of her intent
she circled mound and battlement,
where roses sprang in every glorious hue,
and other vibrant flowers showed their worth,
as ancient trees spired mightily in view,
and full proclaimed the grandeur of the earth.
Behold the caves where lovers kept their tryst,
close hidden where the mountain swooped and shaded,
well guarded by the shadows and the mist,
a devil's place where dissidents and traitors kissed
in heated passion, and their love degraded.
Within the gloom a roiling and a bursting,
a waterspout came thrusting, thunder blasting,
and spat huge molten rocks like tiny pebbles,
the torrent coursing down, not merely dribbles,
the raging maelstrom flinging high and over,
revealed beneath the streaming sacred river.
She ran through dale and covert full continuous,
a journey never ending, until she reached the sea.
And then was heard a cry, a call to arms,
that neither bliss nor solitude becalms.
Yet music from the edifice and caves
o'ercame the sound of warring and of strife,
reverberations and the crashing of the waves
a mighty symphony in tune with all of life.
the sun-bleached monument regaled in gold,
the savage caves, calamitous and cold.
A dream of perfect grace I once beheld,
a lady with a voice as clear as spring,
a vision of my destiny
she sang of sweet eternity,
such joyful notes didst bring!
Would that I might recover
the beauty of her song,
the passion of a secret lover,
I might labour hard and long
to recreate this sacrament,
its sunny climes, its frozen spa,
a two-edged sword its testament,
a blessing and a curse both spent,
to dwell within that twin entombment,
a two-tongued threat beneath Abora.
For whosoever breaks these grounds,
and recreates conflicting sounds,
has tasted direst dark and Shangri-la!
********************************************************************************
Composing a writ unto the highest court amid the universe *
To grant a stay of execution in regards to the decision once imposed upon
The dissidents from long ago fallen; cast out from that the throne....
Citing the King's very words as proof this, love, transcends all judgment!?
********************************************************************************
....“Document, `777`” *
His pelvis thrusts
awkward gyrations of a sickly man
Bruised sternum erupts will cream filled pustules
Enema pleasing dissidents fond of enigmatic words
Cursed with knowledge, forsaken with guilt, humbled with life
We are working with our foreign partners in Europe
to bankrupt all western nations.
The less we have, the less we need is the motto.
The President is working night and day
to make us greener than green in every way.
Some malcontents and dissidents complain,
but they just don't understand our great and glorious
global plan.
Gas and coal are obsolete, dinosaur fuels!
Now we have windmills - wind power
and electric batteries.
Imagine diesel trucks powered by
the wind and an electric motor!
An 18-wheeler roaring into the future
run on sun and eh, bubblegum.
A question or two for those rebels who take a knee
During the USA's National Anthem, openly, for all to see
When playing in Russia will you act similarly
To protest a regime which kills dissidents indiscriminately
What will you do in India or Pakistan when you are there
Will you countenance the torching of women who've had an affair
And against the Saudis, will you make strident demands
When for stealing an apple they cut off their citizen's hands
C'mon now, you heroes, and show us your 'cred'
Stand up for freedom when it may cost you your head