Best Insurgent Poems
at the mouth of cave
aqua insurgent brushstrokes
cry me a river
An Eyewitness Account
Did you see Jesus today in the temple?
His eyes were so full of rage!
He cursed and drove out all of the merchants. --
His actions were such an outrage.
He sought to destroy things and overturned tables
and hurled all the coins to the floor.
Why did he act like an insurgent preacher?
I pray, Sir, please tell me more.
Was this the same Jesus I saw at the Jordan
with John and the others nearby?
A loving voice spoke out from the heavens
and a dove settled down from on high.
Can this be the Savior sent down from the Father
to drive the oppressors away?
He swore to rebuild a temple in ruins
in a matter of only three days.
There seems to be much I don't understand here.
Can His conduct today be so wrong?
I can't seem to help but wonder about it --
I’ve followed Him now for so long!
If this is the Jesus I am to follow,
then I’m now somewhat at a loss.
For if He continues these outlandish actions
they'll crucify him on a cross.
Fighter
Insurgent man
Detonator in hand
Stone eyes watch the troops approaching
Killer
Awaits the optimum moment
Shouts "Death to Infidels"
Soldiers survive
Coward
vile venomous vermin
intriguing intertwined insurgent
petulantly promenading patrol
excruciatingly evil exile
ruthlessly relentless reptile
Like a mission you came tactically as if you're a hero,
You neutralized my heart intently without hesitation,
Just like a specialized cop you impressed me though,
And like a naive warrior I was fell with your actuation.
I never dare mesmerize you to lead the trail towards me,
Nor entice you just to show I've got a new buddy of my heart,
Nevertheless, I never gambit you to love me by plea,
In fact, you just forcibly enter into my den so smart.
Knowing you're my destiny, I trusted you wholeheartedly,
Believing every words you disclosed, you bewitched me so badly,
But every pieces of your hidden agenda investigated vigorously,
Bingo! I discerned the truth beyond reasonable doubt discreetly.
You are as rogue as insurgent like we used to eliminate,
Such a treacherous kind and sham alibis to totally hate,
You turned my life into a war zone, I don't care about my fate,
There's no other way but to quit before it's too late.
Unknowingly, God is such an enigmatic author to my story,
Since I am a damsel in distress, He sends me a knight in shinin' armour,
From nowhere a tough yet compassionate man crossed the said border,
Piece by piece my torn heart cautiously fixed by that army.
No amount of depths can deter if your intention is pure,
Or either a disaster can intimidate you if your love is true,
Cultures might be a big differences, it's not an obstruction for sure,
Because true love conquers all and torment is about to cure.
Combating the misery I've felt before is quite an inferno,
Yet an intruder sneak the terrain through my being like an ammo,
Invading my camp and save my bloody heart as such a Commando,
And as I open my eyes I realized you're my other half as I know.
Shoulder to shoulder Army and Marines
21st century soldier lethal killing machines
Were to take this strong hold and set nations free
Starting with ridding this city from insurgent filled streets
Gave civilians early warning tomorrow we invade
Closing in to the center until our enemies are laid waste
If you remained in the city then you're presumed to be a threat
Honestly I've never felt so alive to see so much death
Removing emotions, suppress fears, then move on to the bridge
No mechanism support for this battle just our strong wills to live
From house to house we kicked down every single door
Fueled by adrenaline and hate from the first twenty-six days at war
Prepared to engage in any hand to hand combat
Enclosed battle zones allow for these kind of attacks
Its a different feeling to pull the trigger and watch the bodies fall
Then to fight human eye to human eye bare knuckled in a brawl
Pulling blade from sheath then stabbing the threat seven times in his side
Compassion is a but ghost when its his life or mine
Three more times into the ribs until there was nothing left in his eyes
The day I befriended fear and I brought my knife to a gun fight
Fallujah 11/9/04
3rd Battalion and 5th Marines
Wandering amidst the cosmic pieces,
the tiny star moves ahead.
shadowing along nature's quest,
and surpassing nature's tiniest thread.
With the sharpest vibration,
it manoeuvres above the galactic abyss.
Entrapped, in the gravity of celestial charade.
Distorting the restrictions,
it pulsates to the gates.
a sound so unknown drives away,
A sonic boom so makes it insurgent.
encompassed in the harmony,
it crafts up the path to end.
surrounded with the galaxies,
dancing to the tune of the triad.
Vibrating pulses thrill the cosmic bed,
a mystic nature the light creates.
gazing at the end of an abyss,
the tiny star starts to emancipate.
I tottered to the bedroom window
then, painfully, clumsily
drew back the curtains ‘pon my today.
At first glance
morning blinded me with wilful extravagance
reminiscent of a woman at a certain age,
bling-ful, blinding!
Until - unwrapping my senses
I awoke to facts, figures and self-made fake!
Time dripped into view, stuttering
cruel reality, t’was
four thirty-four of too early the clock,
too cruel a symphony,
conducted by maestro insomnia?
Stripped of silver veils
a near final chorus of pink-tipped stars
slipped ‘tween two soft breasted hills
they, distant enough, moist with dew..
an I smiled, drawing my blue towelling robe
around my insurgent wakefulness
denying dreams.
Old oak clock chimed irreverent
as mile away waves thundered gainst a covey of
ancient cliffs, their Jurassic throats
echoing the satiated depths of time past
where soft played the reel
luring me quiet the salt
coating my cheeks ‘tween sanity and sleep.
Trembling my empty mind to work, slowly, slowly
my eyes opened wider than wide
sleep-walking the stupidity of my role
tiI now unaware.
Nary a word penned, nor a need to.
A few blinks away time calls reality:
‘Hello, Monday, welcome to my world!
The trainings and drills were rigorous,
Most of the recruits came out victorious.
The khaki, boot, helmet and rifle were given,
Soldiers. Ready to defend the country for a reason,
With their fists and guns - they believe to be glorious.
Their posting and peace keeping missions were politically and tribally influenced,
Left with no option, they obeyed - an unobjectionable inference,
Giving their tomorrow with their bloods for the protection of today,
Still dies in a way they have no say,
As the General's commands remained effluence.
At the Sambisa forest,
A battle ground where shootings and shelling seem the hottest,
Many of them were shot down, slain and left on the ground to form a manure,
While those that politicked and set them up continued their tenure,
As they satisfy their own selfish interest.
Daily, bullets whiz pass their heads and they take cover,
Because they still wish to see their friends, family and lover,
Sometimes, they wonder why their lives were made brief,
Leaving their parents and community in grief,
To be withered like a fallen clover.
Many of them are running away from the infantries,
Because the Boko-haram sets are sending them to early cemeteries,
The survived casualties are now scared,
They are physically, emotionally, psychologically marred.
Lord have mercy! At the end in our motherland, the insurgent groups are still glorified adversaries.
Dedicated to the 157 Task Force Battalion in Metele, Abadam Local Government Area of Borno State, Nigeria, that were massacred at about 6:00 p.m by the Boko-haram members on the 18th November, 2018. Rest in peace.
Like fisherman caught
Using earthworm as live bait,
Catch fish through its mouth.
Farouche.
By Feo.
I am shy child la rock,
Self - effacing, who seeks harmony,
A maze of thought,
The introvert from the clan of the bizarre,
Planted in the decaying garden of sympathy,
The seeds - demons of devotion,
Alone together,
Bashed and befuddled, at dawn till dusk again,
Distinguished from the average victims who devour relations,
To rot in fire and brimstone, to burn in the flames of misery, to soak in the thirst of knowledge,
To question life, to ignore our meaning, to make up the rules of freedom,
Curious of the other half, who hasn't been discovered,
The birth of Lucifer, the first rebel, our descendant,
The birth of man has yet to happen, until we destroy ourselves,
Pawns of myth, believing in the belief in divinity, to automatically warden the unbeliever, who may be unity,
The redundant, my brethren, hymns of the fatherless, raised by the virgin,
The saint of oafs, drink my blood and become lush, never will you be excommunicated,
Blood that runs thick with revolt,
Inspired by the insurgent, to be the future revolution,
Each day I am born into a symphony. Tones and chords eloquently choreographed in minor keys of insurgent melancholia. Lumbering contrition escorted by virulent humiliation where no penance can seem to be found. A drum beat of loneliness as bitter as flour, marches an aging reflection that can only scowl and mock. This beat, beautifully and relentlessly recited as a tempo for horns. The onomatopoeia of these horns is my recalcitrant social seclusion, played by the trumpeter that is my refusal to accept the world as it was handed down to me. The horns, escorted as a prisoner by his guard, are the strings. Strings of repetitive failure drawn by the bow that is my incompetence and inadequacy. Each morning, I awaken to Mozart, to Stravinsky, to Mendelssohn. Each embodied by variations of my own melancholia. Each piece written so perfectly as if I were only ever meant to feel this way, that I cannot close my ears. Each days emotions crafted for me with such care, that I believe it may lead to some heightened level of introspection or enlightenment, that I force myself to learn to dance its waltz. And, each day, the piece comes to a close with no edification to be spared to me.
On a patrol for the good so far from their home
Professional in their minds, never to roam
But this is a world, where feelings are forgotten
Damning souls of destruction fuelled with gun-cotton
For on rocky outcrops and deserted sand paths
Lie hidden dangers to take life from it's grasp
Coalition troops, our children just boys
Doing their duty for their orders employ
On missions they set out to rid insurgent scum
Against a tactic so great, guerrilla warfare hit and run
Recent news has informed us, that another has been downed
A father, uncle or son, leave another family tear drowned
Another hidden device in his face has exploded
Their hunger to hate once again has been loaded
Medics rush in to save the life of their soul
Knowing when he's home, another stat for wars toll
Many weeks he recuperates, behind bandages and care
Visited by friends, but only his children do stare
His strength now regained, but not the man he once was
A silence beckons then turns to applause
Assisted by comrades as he is led to collect
His medal of valour whilst inside he reflects
In his future years knowing his children grow strong
For he's in a dark world, where he doesn't belong
Emotions so many will follow his years
For when this blind man cries, we must share in his tears
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/war-6.php
Living in the fragment
Shards keep me stagnant
I’m both plaintiff and defendant
Daily tried in my own lament
Choices within myself I resent
Down on my knees I repent
No answers leave me discontent
Or are angels ever sent
Pulled by the devil so evident
Mired in midlife not my intent
My poems where I vent
Giving and taking advice lent
Days slowly pass and there’s no dent
Lost souls are my life’s precedent
Sickened by my own ailment
Painted with emotions so transparent
Love adds to my abandonment
Pain penetrates like an insurgent
There’s no way to circumvent
To trust again I’m ambivalent
The pleasure of pain coexistent
Looked upon as an embarrassment
Dreams realized are only a figment
My story no one could invent
These words written are blood sent
Of a life forever being spent
Seeking a valid endorsement
Blood , sweat, and tears are a requirement
For we have to be diligent
So all can understand what we meant
The life lived unknown as the poet…
Sometimes i'm quite and serene
the might tsunami
ever effluent and bright
a new youth of dawn
the cruel axe of ancient king
i shall kill enermy with unsuming nature
and bring harmony and agreement
Insurgent inside me
raised my head over this harsh world
far above the ground and unccompanied
That is who I'm