Best Jackboots Poems
Encage us we are of collective souls
Display us in prisoned wallpaper as ghouls
Send us into these sepsis tanks, in tin cans
in torture dungeons, in faraway lands
Mistaken for us are the migrants
who don’t belong in our black hole,
ripped from their family’s arms,
and broken, it has a toll
Try to discern, unchain me,
give me the time of day
I’ve not done any of what you say
I’m here, do you not see me?
I’m tucked in all of your publicity
Before us you stand prestigious -n- tall,
your toughness shared inside our halls
Donning is the blood red Maga cap a telling of your gang
and Jackboots as they were worn by the Sturmabteilung
Wings reinforced by the sword’s blows, in your case
against the chains that contain, and any empathy inside
Keeping you safe an expressionless speech,
seal the deal it shall seal my unmerciful fate
Judged and sentenced without any assemblance
I see right through your imminent coarse leather, and
by the end of your reign, hard you’ll fall
And later the field forces in which you thrive
rotting torn in shreds, but still alive,
as shall be fathers ripped away from family
Have you not exhausted every remedy for me?
Infection is your reasoning,
concede for me and it shall be litigation of guilt
Rewards you’ve given, they’ve taken
and so, forsaken I be
Regardless of it, they have me in error,
as prison wallpaper
I work in the fields, a visa allows it
I wear pastel colors, a straw hat covers
possessing no tats, what of straw hats
What of straw hats?
Categories:
jackboots, judgement,
Form:
Free verse
Take heed, poet friends, you too, may be taken from your house.
Your money, your children, your lives maybe by our current
government be sought.
Oh, those chilling words, “Your children are ours”
You must fight….your lives nor theirs, cannot be bought”
This is time to awake, fight back now, you are not the
Federal government’s mouse!
Control and fear, these are their narratives, carried by fake
news.
A new viral disease is always en route!
Vaccines administered by sources.
Commanded by elected, killer ,jackboots!
The American flag, unbelievably, gets little or
no respect.
We are being neutered, too and killing the unborn
is out right?
Of course, since so many lost their souls, they chant,
murder for those who cannot fight!
This poetess prays for us all, that none of our lives
be taken.
And that God sees that no country, under His care,
be ever forsaken.
8/20/2022
~2~
Categories:
jackboots, abortion, america, freedom, integrity,
Form:
Couplet
Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde
Jovial Dr Jekyll played for juvenile Justice
a just jaspered journey
jokingly jumped a joyride
to juicy jukebox jabbering
in jackal jackboots
from nearby jungle
Dr Jekyll clasped a jackknife eating
jambalaya to justify a
juggled juxtapositional
jurisdiction jamming
as jugular vein jingled jewels
joyfully jauntily jaywalking
to a jay named Jim Jolly !
Onward he jumped to a
Jungian junction
Jupiter jocund watching his
journeying joints
journalese seemed a jibe jig
but neither Jewess, Jesuit
or jeweller jiggled this job
So he jerked his jess
like a jape for Japan
Jejuning onto January for the
next jangle of jasmine
No jellyfish was Dr Jekyll in Jordanian jerkin
though sometimes Mr Hyde
with jeroboam swirling alongside !
Categories:
jackboots, 12th grade, extended metaphor,
Form:
Alliteration
Limericks crochetés: Once a cardsharp comic called Don Dump
Once a cardsharp comic called Don Dump
Made father’s money jump during slump
Dreamed of ruling this earth
Joined campaign (in) stand-up mirth
Made people laugh without using trump.
He played to the gallery hirsute
Soon his jokes turned sauerkraut through soot
Before long they cried : Heil !
Jackboots clicked, people wail
In goose-step, give : Sieg ! Heil ! salute.
Moral : « Listen not to funny man Dump !
Migrants all know how to scale wall jump.
Ten million there love US
Minus some (who) think like louse !
Live not solipsistic world on rump ! »
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016
Categories:
jackboots, destiny, leadership, patriotic, rights,
Form:
Limerick
Before they silence my voice
Under jackboots and bone crushing dogs
I must set fort before dusk
As I am shielded
By his gore
And crafted like Daniel
In the lions den
And Jonah in the whales gut
I must scurry to ventilate
With my traducers
At the gate
Because they engage nocturnally
I shall not look for a black goat
At the witching hour
I discern they loathe me
And my kind
They hiss, gnash their canine
When they hear my strange name
They curse the day
I was sculptured
They question why
My palms, sole are snow
While my soul case nocturnal?
Their revered face, soul case is snow, innocuous
But entrails insidious
As a welders fork
Forty friend's, fiends, foe and counting
Looking for a straw
In hay sack
Sneaking, feigning, meandering;
They huff, puff,
Sniffle, shuffle and snizzle,
Insidiously, frantically, scamper
For a Judas
To bell the cat, dog
How do you bell a cat, dog,
With nine lives?
They mob, sop, smother you
Like ants swam honey
Then,
Forget that like amoeba
Your outer layer
Is a cyst
Which immune your entrails
From vultures insidious fangs
Alas,
Spider's web, bobby traps, mines litter around
But,
A tortoise never gets
Enmeshed in a spider's web,
Big Ben never irretrievably hushed
Or a monkey ambushed
Trailing a snakes shadow
This jaunt is not for the faint-hearted
I have journeyed forty days, nights
In the lions den
In my arsenal is locusts and wild honey
My traducers eyes are crossed;
They are hard at hearing
Their necks are stiff,
They love gold, silver
More than good name
I shall ventilate
What their fore fathers
Did to prophets before me;
Chastising them with whips, scorpion
And because they denied me honor,
I must shake my dust off
Their door posts.
Categories:
jackboots, black african american, bullying,
Form:
Prose Poetry
for Alan Painter
I have put into many ports
labelled:
handle with care
stood on the wharfs, bare-shouldered
up to the knee, unloading
cashew and coconuts
and then set sail again
finding no substance to trade
with
I have seen the waters rising
and the walls submerge
the roofs converge
the children washed on
the battlements
I have heard the chasm cries
Stifled under jackboots
the whimpering against walls
lost somewhere
in the hoarse
Gött mit Uns !
Come home, she cried,
strappadoed
in the lap of jettisoning tribes
Come home, my weary ones
home to toil and die
labour and sigh
curse and cry
Did he not withdraw to that
holy backwater by Milan
and with the cup of his Confessions
bathe his horrent sins away
I listened to a story
that our first quarter
remembered to tell
but the waters of the Himavant
had long curdled
in the breast
of the suttee wife
I listened long
in the myopic light
disfigured in the white heat
of our Enlightenment
to the trapped voices of inquiry
before all the mania of demigods
trumped through the weaning years
in
the delirious lust of revenge
And then, and then I
did not care what happened
what could happen
there was life
it was worth having
So I went
labelled: handle with care
Who are those people
skimming past the mortal coast
torch untouched by hand
in the drowning mists
have they no work to do
And that rope of smoke
A troubling dizziness
rising out of the funnel
of the Black Forest
where professors they say
guide the race
in the aftermath
of charred marrow
tissue
brain
Yet
I see no mists, no ghosts
No coasts, only torches
and parades and blocks and blocks
of beering beef and munition mounds
and in the not too open days
froth in the lolling oceans
and bowelling brain-splattered skies
even like unmapped sunset glories
now the Krakatua lies spent
fished out of some Japanese isle
the false auroras of enchanting horizons
when soughing metallic dust
courses through skulls
lava in an epileptic fit
(...continued in Part Two)
Categories:
jackboots, war,
Form:
Free verse
stopped in a crowd
didn't go with the flow
a brief second
lifted my head
from the ground
from the neon
the chitty chat
all the glitter and glow
nonstop static
from madison ave.
from hollywood and vine
(especially up pennsylvania ave)
beating up
my soul
abused spouse of life
government
family
your insatiable gods
a tax on the very air
(exhalation is free...for now)
as we squabble
we crow
we throw in for all our -isms
occupy
don't occupy
throw those bastards out
or keep 'em in
I don't care
'cause it's all about control
not about your sophistry
your jacking off into a microphone
a chemical imbalance
an ounce lost at death
but as we all feel specific gravity
of an unnamed need or pull
warm blanket
higher cause
justification for
all those purity laws
we'd all put someone up against a wall
and pull the trigger of our righteousness
(don't we all have a pair of jackboots
in the mossy closets of our minds?)
even Mother Theresa
had to wonder what it would be like
to shake the living hell outta someone
when they passed a leper by
and nothing is as easy
as it was yesterday
but no one cares
that it's not that the cage isn't there...
it's just too big to fly across.
Categories:
jackboots, political,
Form:
Prose Poetry
What i see is light
in this world of darkness.
what i find is glow
in this land of gloom.
what i feel is warmth
in this place of cold.
with the approach of night
the dark hides in the trees.
at dawn`s foot-falls
the birds betray my despoiled ecosystem,
in the eye of them that wrecked it.
but a noise of my voice is heard.
morning by morning
my lips ever scream their songs.
yesterday the jackboots resounded
upon my shores.
i too have borne the distraught
of cold whispers.
but more horrible is the stare
in the eye of the global village.
in this passing world
where tommorrow prepares the path
in silence and holy quiet,
i too havefound a song;
....a most solemn song
Categories:
jackboots, hope
Form:
Imagism
There are tall ones, and short ones,
Plastic ones, and leather ones.
Some made with thick rubber soles.
Others have soles full of holes!
That's right! Boots! Dozens of boots.
All types! Both ugly, and cute.
Some are made for walking over the moors,
Then others are worn by soldiers to wars.
There are those that come to the knee,
Made to keep out the snow. Maybe?
Rubber boots let us walk in the water,
Or go into places we didn't oughter!
Boots with laces, which may be pulled tight,
Others that slip on, might be dull or bright.
Some which we wear when playing a game,
While others carry a famous name.
"Wellington," named the boot of rubber,
Worn mostly by seamen and land lubbers.
Knee high boots buttoned right to the top,
Thigh high boots that appear not to stop.
Boots for riding, they fit in stirrups.
Really needed, when you go for gallops.
Some people love boots with a fierce passion,
They're always an important part of fashion.
Whatever your taste might be in boots,
Styles can be found, to match any suit.
Short, long, heavy, or light. Take your pick,
Even to Jackboots, with heels you can click.
To the rest of the world, we have found.
Boots can make statements. Most profound!
Rhyme. August 22nd 2016
Hauled this on out of my archives in response to Linda's Poem -Walking Boots.
Categories:
jackboots, fashion, , cute,
Form:
Rhyme
You!have turned a CROSS of simple hope into some kind of SWASTIKA joke!
you spurned sandals of protection into jackboots for vandals of destruction.
you were blessed by your pope!and the patriarch of jewish dope!
with those arabs you made emperors,using loose change from the templars!
you turned towards the latest threat and burnt the hordes of soviets!
like Jericho!you turn to Berlins walls!now you strike inwards for the final fall!
now all states!towns!and home!plows the devastated rounds on tv,s or phones!
You sit upon the throne of a pharaohs dream!to choose a BUTTON?HALO?..a scream?
Categories:
jackboots, education,
Form:
Classicism
in stranger shoes I amble forth
each print of sole measured by size of fit
heaven forbid i might one day break step
place foot in virgin earth
to wear ones own path
on earth and sole
unfettered by bonds of accepted gaits
but I must
I must rattle my cage
loosen the ties
kick off my cumbersome designer jackboots
and sally forth barefoot...
If even just once in a while
even momentarily
even just imagine so
Categories:
jackboots, life,
Form:
Free verse
The People will not forget me my convictions aren't uncharacteristic of me
sympathy will be victorious and comfort me through my demise a requiem mass
will welcome my day of death. Yes the suffering and turmoil the aggression and
genocide I imply was righteous by design, so with in confinement my blemished
rule seen as cruel but my supremacy as an infallible leader was instrumental in
the conquering of my people. This my formal brethren may label me a tyrant and
with out warrant denounce my doctrine as systematic murder but I see
glorification under heavy revolutionary sedation. My imperial voyage was historic
and the liquidation of the inferior folk was so incomprehensible that no one
spoke of it, in judgement I will be martyred as a ruler of profound sectarian
ideology this title will never evade me.You tend to forget my exquisite and
prominent authoritarian kingdom gave you power and now in my final hour I
stand a once unshakeable man in mercy of you. Gentlemen as I step down may
the ground erupt with the foot steps of loyal jackboots that march to the beat of
my unique drum, may the culmination of my greatness and building of a proud
civilization fall to decadence. Now bring me death into the hands of evil as angels
wept.
Categories:
jackboots, history, mystery, people, me,
Form:
Bio
The jackboots twitched suspended as they swayed upon the rope,
a sentence passed for hatred bred so shocking in its scope
a stolen Sanskrit symbol used to purge what’s deemed unclean,
the violent birth of safeguards passed to halt these acts obscene
As the seasons passed it seems the attack dog’s lost its teeth,
barking at the shadows cast by the one holding its leash,
the principles that once adorned the collar round its neck
have faded now to naught, along with its duty to protect
And so another power goosesteps straight into history,
wardens of the global capitalist penitentiary,
launching wars of aggression based on lies and spurious fact
using freedom as a pretence for the stock markets attack,
radiating countries as they condemn what they have sold,
denying millions futures so that the few can hoard their gold,
modern Christian crusades against those found in Allah’s fold,
a legacy of fragmentation whose ultimate damage is untold.
Where’s the condemnation of these principles violation ?
Where’s the courts indictment of the leaders of this nation ?
Where’s the trial to prove that justice has not been gagged and bound ?
And where’s the judgement, that once passed, will see a strong branch found ?
Categories:
jackboots, political, war,
Form:
Rhyme
And so the soup’s, coming to a boil
Very difficult, not to get embroiled
Rumour has it, Hitler’s on the rise
Goose stepping, in poetic disguise
Jackboots kick open, doors of rhyme
Acrostics embed, swastikas sublime
Vaxxers accused, of a new blitzkrieg
Covid deniers, offer vapid intrigue
Enigma encoded, in sonnets of fear
Lady Haw Haw, sobs crocodile tears
All together poets, salute Sieg Heil!
Conspiracy theories, jabs are on trial
Contagious haikus, causing upset
Biden instigating, everyone’s death
God’s gone paranoid, so we’re told
Playing both sides, to steal our souls
Armband stars, equal covid passes
Monoku writers, killing the masses
Limericks are evil, piled full of poop
No place for crap jokes, tainting soup
Poets reincarnated, in nom de plume
Childish dark magic, one has assumed
So do ends, always justify the means
In war and pandemic, mania’s routine
By
David Kavanagh
Categories:
jackboots, abuse, allusion, conflict,
Form:
Rhyme
What would you say
If after this time
You reawakened this day
Long out of reach, your prime?
Would you still ride the horse of your forms
Bequeathed by Poseidon forever to be
Or from your eyes
Would your reality emerge
Amidst this positivist sea?
Would it be theology you adorn
Like most of the lepers strive to see
Would you heal their eyes
With a synthetic judgment
A Kantian reprieve?
Philosophy is deceased
Or so many decree
Encumbered in Zarathustra's sleep
Like Jehovah into its blackened lungs
The breath of life -- could you breathe?
Would you still be the peripatetic mentor
Of Dante's "the master of those that know"
Or would you still wish to be the protege
The protege of he with no letters to show?
Would you defend your apology
Of a traveling heretic
A heretic for corrupting the young
With the idea that politicians and beaurocrats
Must abide by an inviolable ethical form
A form of chivalry this day much unsung.
And so this apology I must afford to you
For allowing the Sophistry
Of your age
To come anew.
Leaders still begin wars
With the flower of youth
Not their own
Petals wilted and crushed
Under the jackboots of those lacking
The concept of God or father.
Fear creates a protean enemy
As sure as the incited mob's voice
You witnessed at the ripe age of twenty-eight
Snatched your second father
And afforded him no easy choice.
Justice is not easy
Your life was about defining
Something this day has been lost
It's essence forgotten, always at a cost.
After this apology
Can we still have a hope
That you could rescue this world
Fill the holes and set it afloat.
After all of the centuries
Some forgotten
Some abhorred
Would you still be able to prove?
That all of human thought and hope
To you is indeed but a footnote?
Categories:
jackboots, history, life, people, philosophy,
Form:
Ode