Best Oppressed Poems
You can see, yet you do not see
A hole, where a heart should be
You can hear, but do not heed
The screams and cries of those that bleed
Can speak, but are strangely quiet
Oblivious to the disquiet
You can clearly see the discrimination
But are programed by the oppressors narration
Your humanity has turned to stone
Your hatred of the oppressed way overblown
“They are a different faith. Their colour isn’t right.
They are the enemy we have to fight”
You’re taught they are evil, your side is always right
Is it right? That people are harmed?
The child, the father, the mother, sister or brother
Who these tyrants say are bad, so they kill and smother
Beleaguered and desperate, they had arisen
Millions now sealed in an dilapidated prison
and still their homes and land being forcibly stolen
These unfortunate wretched people
The world has left alone and broken
Your logic, “the invaded should sit and take it,
We are justified to kill and maim as we see fit,
Slay all who oppose us, scare them straight,
How dare they fight for liberty,
They should just accept their fate,
If to the occupation they don’t submit,
Stamp them into the ground, defiance we can’t permit”
The women, the children, the men, and the old
All a viable target, a fictional tale can later be told”
What can be done? Pause. Let go of hate, Just a fraction
Give peace a chance, stop the territorial expansion
Split the land and each to his own
Let go of the loathing, leave each other alone
Just stop the killing, every life is dear
Better to live in peace than in fear
(just my thoughts, your free to disagree)
Categories:
oppressed, conflict, dark, discrimination, evil,
Form:
Imagism
VITUPERATIONS OF AN OPPRESSED MAN
Heaven will not smile on your home
Neither will the sun rise in your dome
For you have crossed my zone
And indeed crushed my bone
You fed me with doom
Just because my land is rising in boom
For almost two hundred and ninety nine nights
And extended to this night
My sprouts have not seen a bright light
You forced me out of my comfort zone
And make my kids prisoner of conscience
And lynch them with weapon of science
You cart away my wives’ brocade
By using religion as façade
Hence carry out your gruesome carnage
You pounced on villagers with no exemption to town dwellers
My city is not safe
Neither is the dwellers saved
I cannot compete with you
Neither can I combat you
What I’m left with is to beg you
To leave my land now
For the night is near
And the nemesis is close
Because the stage is set
And you shall face the music
Categories:
oppressed, anger,
Form:
Elegy
each stroke of greased fingers on the mohawk
was a result of a genius work of art
an outlet where my soul barely peeks
yet you cut with your hypocritical shears and your rusty hand
and you call it discipline
and you call it concern
I call it ********
the shadows on my
eyelids were davincis and picassos
sketched in a magnificent representation
of inner self which you all want to see
yet suffocate by your rotten curricula
and you call it quality
and you call it excellence
I call it ********
the silver that glitters in these ears
conceals the tortures of my youth
the horrors that dwell in my every sleep
yet you rip from my skin you are unworthy of touch
and you call it decency
and you call it suitability
I call it ********
An Entrant into SKAT ACE's POEMS OF ATTITUDE Contest
Categories:
oppressed, angst,
Form:
Verse
We all know 'America' is classed as the land of the free
But any country can only be so, if it includes you and thee
Just like life is, irrespective of your circumstances, they be
For no one should be oppressed, in stone scribed, decreed
But sadly this doesn't happen, be it in many walks of life
To being badgered in your workplace, or on the way home
Even amidst relationships, when actions become traction
No wonder minds become stressed in endless lost roam
Sadly amidst life and it's walkways, canals, motorways, mm
It'll always surface crawling to it's cringe-worthy extreme
Then there's suppression, be we you, us, she or them, him
For whence anger commits, thence throws, becomes, bedlam!
Sirens!
Categories:
oppressed, abuse, age, angst, bullying,
Form:
Rhyme
I will strive to remain cool headed and sane,
though many things are making me to go the other way,
Several appeals and resistance have been in vain,
Many times I remain bemused not knowing what to say.
Wastage and greed by the leading class I can no longer endure,
Severe hardship has made the weak to be relegated,
Poverty and disease ravage and life is no longer secure,
Honesty and unfaithfulness cannot be segregated.
In my dreams,I hear voices of many youths weeping,
To liberate the poor from this mess,I will fight,
I can`t live with this or leave this floor without sweeping,
Plenty homes have turned into graveyards which is not right.
Tiny few wallow in wealth,while plenty are being oppressed,
I would do anything to protect them ,say...I`m obsessed.
*Inspired by the song of Meat Loaf "I would do anything for love"*
CONTEST:"Songs of Poetry" sponsored by Debbie Guzzi.
Categories:
oppressed, passion, political,
Form:
Sonnet
OPPRESSED
A Poem by Debbie_Philly
" Life and feeling "
OPPRESSED
I feel so confined inside this sarcophagus that is my life.
Moments of highs, valleys so low.
I need to breathe.
To just be.
Be me for once
To have a clear mind
A driven vision
To shape it in techno color
A need for action of some value
I cannot sit here any longer
To wither away like a dying flower
I need to nourished
To be fed
Feed my mind with food for the soul
To drink in the sweet elixir of life
To metamorph into more then just a wall flower
I need to be a part of the grander scale
I will not be oppressed any longer
I will stand up for myself
Throw these death shrouds
I will not surcome to this disease called oppression
I will do more then just survive
I will live, laugh, love
I will fight for what is mine
The right to be myself
By: Debbie Kelly
2007
Categories:
oppressed, depression,
Form:
Black folk kept in sad condition
By owners without contrition.
What to do, what to do?
Wage war for emancipation
And forge a fresh slave-free nation.
The Forrest-Byrd Klan and Jim Crow
Surely are the ones you should stow –
What to do, what to do?
They rule and oppress your city
Blame them not ones who set you free!
Martin loved character content
With black and white talents lent
What to do, what to do?
Stevie and Paul in unity
Played in sweet keyboard harmony.
Smooth Barack cooed high in A sharp
As Hillary lowed in B flat
What to do, what to do?
So white folks, none playing a harp,
Chose the black, how racist was that?
Oppressed rainbow coalition -
All races rate full admission.
What to do, what to do?
Name trophy oppressor maestros
Amin, Mao, Adolf, and Castro.
Critical race theory, woke
Marxist, oppressive and no joke!
What to do, what to do?
Its rancid retro racist sin
Embalmed in landfill would fit in.
Categories:
oppressed, music, political, race, relationship,
Form:
Rhyme
Their bodies stumble
through the dark,
No mist of air to keep them high...
No circling the beaten ground tonight.
Voices won’t sing,
they will not feed
on single bough of welted tree
this day.
No, not today, not later . Perhaps
when evening comes again,
someone would offer
a morsel of rice on paper; and angels
will bless their clipped wings,
to live decently free!
..................................
Written for Richard Lamoureux's PEOPLE Contest
12.11.2017
Categories:
oppressed, discrimination, people,
Form:
Free verse
I do not fear one that bleeds like me
My death is certain, we are born and raised to leave
It is my name that shall live when my shadow runs to flee
It is my child that shall rise to walk my land as free
My enemy looks me in my eyes and tells me lies
he tells me, we are peaceful, but I can hear my people cry
This is my land, so please my oppressor tell me why
Tell me why, I should not resist until I die
Tell me why, I am evil when I ask for my rights
Why I should stay peaceful, and live among imprisoned minds
Tell me why, the genocide on my child, is called fighting crime
and when they cheer over a dead body, I should not cry
I cry for all that seek freedom, and are killed from the sky
There is no bravery in a coward, only in a lion on the mountain top
There is no martyrdom, for one that murders an innocent child
Oh you, who holds my life in your hands
How dare you tell me, with what God I should stand
God labelled me your brother?
But my brother, you are my oppressor and the thief of my land
It is you that deprived me of the pride that my ancestors had
It is you, that stole my history and taught me to kiss my murderers hand
You made me sing songs to praise the cause of my death
You say this land belongs to me too, but my name is not on the map
Categories:
oppressed, corruption, death, discrimination, freedom,
Form:
Ballad
Feelthe love and feel the pain, as i walk through the valley of the shadow of
death, entangled with evils that possesed. Making my life such a mess i could
not find a methodology that could justify such a tragedy, developing my life into
such a misery, lost in the wilderness & looking for harmony. Please allow me to
give you some of my insanity what relevance it may have is beyond me. Looking
over my shoulders at times that are best, who will be my saviour and sweet
caress & wipe away the prolonged misery. Perhaps love is the only thing that can
save me, or is it the only remedy is blissful insanity ?
Categories:
oppressed, confusion, love, peace, life,
Form:
Carpe Diem
The oppressed
It was twilight mist hung over the valley when I saw the big horse
on a knoll was a warrior, a charger, looking toward the east.
I mounted, and we flew to the land of hatred, the mount neighed
stamped its hooves ready for battle.
When the soldiers, who’s moral had become rancid, saw us two,
they throw weaponry away fled to the silent fortification and wailed
in terror, for the first time in 70 years there was peace.
The store- keeper soul, of the enemy of concord, wasn`t happy there
were murmurs in the ranks, they had wanted a higher percentage.
I was standing by a yellow sandstone rock, dreaming the impossible,
it is the only future the hassled people have, for now, but are patient
and will never leave their beloved land
Categories:
oppressed, arabic, art, assonance,
Form:
Sonnet
'The Spirit of the Lord is upon me',
Isaiah foretold, 'He's anointed me
to bring relief to the poor,
to show captives the door,
the blind to see and the oppressed set free.'
Jesus rolled up the scroll and sat down.
“Today this text has been fulfilled be it known.”
“Is not this Joseph's son?
How can such deeds be done?”
“No prophet's is welcome in his home town.”
Luke 4.16-24
Categories:
oppressed, bible, gospel, jesus, poverty,
Form:
Limerick
I wish to be a poet, like Oscar
I’ve got so much passion in me, it’s pain
I long to take an adventure; wander
I’ve got the world in my heart- unashamed
Sometimes I wake up, and swear I can fly
I wish but to experience my life
How could I leave my heart to be denied?
Balance me on the tip of your dulled knife
Caress my scars, and scream at me in vain
I need to feel my heart fill, then break
Tether me to a line, sever the chain
I won’t give you my soul, it’s mine to take
I need to drive too recklessly; faster
My trust is in my heart, my heart mastered
-s.c.n.
Categories:
oppressed, adventure, passion,
Form:
Sonnet
The Oppressed
Time is churning us in a mass of confusion
But something is forever the need to side with the downtrodden.
Two of my uncles, ordinary working class lad,
Spent time in jail and tortured because they helped the Jews
because they were in need.
Israel today doesn`t want or any use for men without education
Help was not political it was just human.
When I see the endless cruelty committed by Israel, I take side
With the Palestine people and try if not by heroic deeds but by words
To help the oppressed people, not for a political agenda
But a human one.
Categories:
oppressed, city, class, community,
Form:
Blank verse
What is it I wonder you don’t want us to see
that you don’t want included in the story
do you think just because
your big smelly marker says
permanent ink that it
can cover up history
Why are you so scared
that someone might care
about the true version
of how the past
should be told or how
the future might unfold
Did you think with a stroke
you can cross out the hopes
of generations
who came and went
or maybe prevent those
who have yet to dream
their dreams
Just because you erase the words
does not mean
we can’t be heard
because we can scream louder
than you can whine
we’ve done it since
the beginning of time
Categories:
oppressed, political,
Form:
Free verse