Best Oppressing Poems
we don’t appreciate
the sun until it r a i n s,
warmth of gentle rays
that subtly stroke
distressed skin
when time was f r o z e n
smiles were s t o l e n
and hope yet again
remains b r o k e n…
whilst I’m lying here
in the in-betweens of
procrastinated promises
along bitter breezes~
you use your poetic
words as a weapon,
oppressing the guardians
around my dreams,
oblivious to the
translucent truth
laced in trimmed nylon,
that you and me
we’re made of
the same s t o n e
we wear the same
crown of t h o r n s
sitting on the throne
of darkness, full of
stainless steel cages
and chain link fences,
turning
these emotions
into
cancerous tumors,
knocking on your
conscience, patronizing
the pigments of
my petal-like palette
by questioning
your own roots..
but now I’ve got feathers
in my bleeding heart,
and if these crimson wings
could fly, you’ll find me
soaring above seas
of solitude, that pushed
me down to an abyss
of n o t h i n g n e s s.
watch me unlock
the keys of jasmine doors
to seek serendipity surrender,
as my muse serenades
rainbow reveries,
amidst faded stars
and moonless nights
which
gaslit my
apologies and roses.
I have tried
to twirl through
ravenous ravens in a
carnival of carnivores
you’ve fed my mind
labelling me
as the serpent q u e e n
with twisted words,
whilst you whirl around
with
ghosts of p o e t r y
in your
cathartic h a z e..
your love
is a hand grenade
that shattered my aching
bones into scattered
s m o k e and f o g
they say
the biggest hearts
are the
biggest targets,
and the rifles you hold,
seems to have
my name engraved in
blood-soaked tears…
so, now that you’ve
pulled the trigger,
how would you stop
the ammo?
Will you remain forever
in your
unbending silence
a false humility
disguised
as k i n d n e s s
that flickers glitter,
to ascend brighter
as the bullet settles
upon my spine, halting
me from movement?
Or will you watch me
c r a w l back to the
spheres where I belong?
for I refuse to rot
as a victim of an
unwritten circumstance.
The women of the soup have been attacked again this morning
the King is on his soapbox, with profanity and warnings
His credibility is gone as he swears and says he he
why keep tipping the bowl, just grow up and let it be
I guess the old boy network is still trying to survive
they keep oppressing more women, in every corner of their lives
This subjugation must be stopped, it’s exhausting and getting old
men and women are both equal, how many times must you be told
I’m here to ask you sir, please terminate your childish games
don’t make your peers here on the soup, disappointed and ashamed
I’m not an electronic signal, I’m a man of flesh and bone
stop spewing out your hate, and leave these women here alone
Please cease your propaganda, and your foolish need to fight
These women are protected, by the bulldog and his bite
I want to dedicate this poem to the following ladies of the Soup for showing support and standing up against those who seek to destroy this haven of poetry
Maureen McGreavy, Heidi Sands, Jennifer Proxenos, Jenna Logan,
Jan Allison, Susan Mills, Indiana Shaw, Constance La France, Tania Kitchin, Pangiota Romios,
Sunshine smile, Connie Marcum Wong, Sharon Keely and the many others I may have missed.
Thank you for your integrity, strength and leadership here on the Soup. None of you deserve to be dismissed, disrespected or degraded here on this site. All of you matter and are appreciated!
My heart shrivels dry, blackened rose in bitter anguish, ...
Do you feel my pain?
Why must the flame of day dwindle dim?
O' fortune, like the moon, changeable, waxing and waning
Oppressing me, first with power's soothing stroke
To take it all away!
Poverty of my spirit lies in love's immortal wake
Why fate of fortune, cruel regard, forsaken me?
Vain, and shadowed, I waver between the balance
Such agony is mine!
Day and night, everything defies me?
Great is my grief!
One cure, escape me from the throes of my misery !!
I beg, the Gods... hear my wail, hear my plea
Would fate be cured by kiss, one look, one sign, devotion? !
This wretchedness is black, I taste bitter ash!
Keep dark night hidden in the depth of your heart, o' moon !!
I am like a leaf, played with by the wind
I am like a light hovering bird, chains cannot bind me !!
Salvation comes with desire, one touch
Do not turn the eyes away...!
I cannot be shamed!
Torment me not, o' heartless moon!!
Wheel of fortune spins my heart...I beg to win love's prize !!
Without it, I will bemoan the wounds of fortune with weeping eyes
.... and I am cursed as I fall from the peak of glory....
into the depths of the valley of despair !!
________________________________________
protogothic entry: for Amy's Contest:
________________________________________
Inspired by the classical music, "Carmina Burana"
A cantata, written between l935-36 by German composer Carl Orff.
This passionate work was based on ancient poems hand-scribed in Latin...these parchment
manuscripts discovered in a Bavarian monastery in l803. They were believed to have been
written by students of the clergy (monks) sometime during the 11-13th century.
This familiar music has been used in numerous film scores..quite dramatic and powerful
Africa's children blighted in the rich land of birth
Persecuted by the oppressing hand of foreign greed
Agitate for love to find in ancient pigment its worth
Rights of human beings trampled like common weed
Time changes nothing, it's the blind heart that deceives us
Humanity in Marikana overthrown fore Malema took his stand
Erases what is progress while business stays the same
Insensitive in its selective structure, insolent in its plan
Democracy condoning plunder has a resume of shame.
ii
Souls of men worn with toil and danger
Trespass with their plea for aid and freedom
Rulers riled cast disdain at telling hunger
Imposing tragedy that shows the faked ransom
Kins and comrades in the long struggle paid
Economy is a forked tongue serpent on parade
iii
In protest of the 44 miners who died Marikana
South Africa, I cannot support a pax humana
Till the guilty are brought to justice, children fed
And true equality becomes the legacy of the dead.
"I would rather be on a leaky ship that is mine, than aboard a more seaworthy vessel going where I don't wish it to go"—Poet's alter ego
Yes, I know what I’m doing
I’m the master of my fate
The captain of the sinking ship
Seeking harbor in ports whether safe or rocky
With gusto I plow through uncharted frontiers
Why do I do these things to myself? you ask
Perhaps I’m a rebel in search of what's unbeknownst
to me, in search of virgin long lost horizons pristine
Horizons others deem unreachable
I’m bold, brash and yeah sassy, brassy
And irrepressible! You can’t love me you see,
I’m a Lonewolf, and it's quite fine, to be…
Untamed as the wild northern wind
Sweeping the prairies with a gusting woman’s surge
Nature's raw elements try in vain to halt my advances
But I laugh and mock at Mother's efforts
Although I’m tossed and torn
In the grips of Her relentless tempests,
Her storms of fury suppressing, oppressing
Her stern and staid demands to obey, tame and domesticate
You may say I’m the constructor of my own chaos
A free-spirit, challenging myself
My integrity intact, place not your pity on me
Respect is my hallmark and independence,
my calling.
The salt water
baubles washes
gently
upon the jetty sent
from lands distant.
Pushed by a hovering
yellow moon,
sometimes built into
thunderous waves
of hurricanes.
Change comes rapidly
and dangerously
as the sea meets
yesterday coming
back.
It speaks to me and
it does say,
I give no quarter
and furthermore
I ask
for none.
As I stare outward
at the placid waters
I feel heaviness
deep inside my
chest.
The sea has become
humanity to me,
With its powerful
and hushed rage,
not seen before.
Heretofore I have
been persuaded
by wanderlust to
skim the surface,
to walk on by time
without end,
miss nothing that
may be something.
I linger here.
The moon is playing
peek-a-boo,
reflection on the
water seems sad.
Stories are to be
told, perchance
to a much lesser
degree of now.
But
not yet.
Ink-black dark, I
cannot see;
even Luna appears
quite uneasy.
The peaceful lapping
of water
distresses me; I
don't know why.
Devouring soul?
So tranquil you
could hear a
tear drop, or a
salamander fart.
My nose detects an
exotic odor
Arabian sand carried
by wind.
Wind
words.
I squat on the rock
jetty,
look for ghosts;
probe my own.
My intimate séance
annoys
what I have kept
concealed..
I see what I see.
The serene sea is a
patient anomaly,
so serene I fear
there are things
unsaid.
The night bitter
black when moon
hides,
I sense an
oppressing evil
attributed
to dreams.
In 1840 the Treaty of Waitangi was signed,
from then to now the government can't hide,
freedom the Maori wanted, from oppressing minds
but what they got was almost cultural genocide.
First to go was the land,
next was the language suppressed by force,
legislation wrote favored only one man,
the marriage they talk of was now a divorce.
In 1980 Maori was finally recognized,
as a culture in this land, now we had a voice,
140 years it took to realize,
we educated ourselves,so we have a choice.
32 years later our fight still goes on,
still fighting the system for retribution sort,
they acknowledge now that they were wrong,
we always knew this, this is why we fort.
M.Mahauariki © 2012
There’s a tumor growing deep down in my soul
Pleading with me for full control
There’s a fire burning beyond within
Suffocating me in all my sin
There’s a revolution brewing beneath and between
All I have ever known and seen.
At times my life feels like a dream,
At times my life is not what it seems.
There’s a rabbit hole I’m falling through
Transforming all I’ve ever knew
There’s an emptiness that fades to black
I’m not sure how I will ever get back.
At times my life feels like a dream,
At times my life is not what it seems.
Pressure squeezes the essence of me
Its dark inside…I cannot see
Banging my head against all I find
Waiting for a definitive sign
There’s a rebellion draped in uncertainty
Constantly opposing and oppressing me
There’s a heart that once pounded on purpose
Now I live inside this circus
But I’m the only clown in here
I’m the one I have to fear.
At times my life feels like a dream
At times my life is not what it seems
Self is worse than any enemy
It’s what quietly tries to deceive me
I must break away from who I am
And get back up and try again
I must hold true to what is real
Allow myself to heal and feel
I must arrest the attacker in my head
Forgive all the things I did and said
I must raise the banner in an attempt to make peace
I must once and for all kill this beast.
At times my life feels like a dream
At times my life is not what it seems.
By:
mr. buffet can’t believe that
so much “inequality exists
without people really getting upset” &
as he & some of his richest friends in the world
start to give up some of their moola
to cause that they see fit,
the fact remains that
enough are not upset---
it is time to get upset
it is time to get in the streets
it is time to do more than occupy
it is time to refuse to settle for the
crumbs
it is time to get more than
upset
it is time to get this empire to
squeeze more than blood from the stone
it is time to stop ignoring people who
are sick of being ignored
it is time to listen to ALL the voices being screamed
at night time & in the day
it is time to indict those who run the empire
it is time to squeeze the rich dry
of what they have gained from stepping on the rest of us
it is time to stop pretending that putting bandages &
ointments on our wounds is going to heal
the gashes inflicted by the history of classism,
racism, ethnocentrism, sexism, homophobia &
flat out violence to those who may seem a bit
different
than the rest of the abiding, ridiculous, flock,
baaaaaaaaa-ing the whole time
whilst breaking their backs for the banks of others
it is time to put an end to all that has been
unsettling the majority
it is time to put an end to all that has been oppressing
the majority
it is time to break down the walls built in front of those
just trying to survive,
smothered in the belly of the most threatening empire on the
planet,
who wields the club upon the domestic population as well as
the international---
it is time &
you know it,
to be more than
upset.
Riding in glides,
super-sailing in leaps-
going on and on about the otherside,
trailing to collide,
and oppressing in the peaks of my plight,
in the loneliest day which is just as night.
I now look to the sky!
Interesting in my sights,
interesting to deny of life,
and the rotating bike,
with some ivory fight,
I now look to the sky!
As your stand-up comedian,
as your rhyme of the eye!
A rye of the ripening fry-
an intrinsic like a cry!
I now look to the sky!
Melancholic,
systematic,
the intimation of procreating during a sustainment-
intonation,
allocation,
the moody croons,
and the wisdom drooping in swoons.
The ink-ur-
slowly to rise but lingers,
Trojan Horse!
'Enemy's Tinkerer!'
And yes also with a sorry clown in a finger,
does it right but still does it meager,
because he is a teacher-
and you reach her.
Every time the lurid outcasts are seen in the wooden brinks,
it's connection is formed through a grave mistake!
The next day is what you take away,
no matter how hard or faked we were in our try-
I sped into the curb but it took me dry.
I worked and worked but nobody saw my eyes,
I was always in a youthful wonder of how we die,
I couldn't peace out or even par-take,
I wanted the real thing just like my base.
As black birds, bad luck shadows us,
For we have many personas like trickster
Or ill-omened out caster, cast away
No matter how our broken speech sounds.
Our mere presence spark uncomfortable discourse.
How many chances can they take with our lives?
I’m cursed, within this unnoticeable room,
Where my only odds are fight or flight.
Except, my wings have been clipped, so it’s pointless.
Still, I’m dubbed as the freedom fighter,
And yet, I remain locked in a steel cage.
My sanity splits into delirium.
Fear burrow ever deeper into my fragile soul.
Anger begins to throb inside my once gentle heart,
When the sadness starts clawing at the darkened pupils.
All the while, the hunger instills its own painful symptom.
So, I peck, I claw, I snap at the lock,
While screeching the dialect, everyone forgot.
As one of them, I am voiceless.
A handful of grain is tossed in, with little care.
Above, the water rains down from the silver jug.
This occurred, till one hand unlocked it.
I struck her— blood had trickled down.
I clawed— I struggled for the sweet scent of freedom.
I hopped—I hopped from that oppressing cage.
Willingly, I followed her out of the devil’s domain…
Never to return.
Winged Lessons
by Odin Roark
Sitting astride his backpack,
A roadside nomadic looked up from his book.
The sun oppressing,
The sand distressing,
The bird noise progressing.
“From where came your right
To straddle fence wire and incessantly complain
With pompous cawing at a resting traveler,
As if he didn’t belong?
Who made you judge and jury for speeding cars
Trying to avoid your missile-like whitewash
As they chase setting suns
And see me only as a roadside shadow?
What do you know of windblown highway ditches as nightly shelter,
Or roadside memorials of white-cross remembrances,
All kinds of lives suddenly stopped?
Rather than making all that commotion,
Wouldn’t you be better off listening a little more,
Enjoying the fluttering quiet of those beautiful black-opal wings,
As you swoop in on sign posts and rusted-out abandoned cars?
What’s with your nasty disposition, anyway?
And why aren’t you carrying on like the raven you are,
Instead of the your noisy lessor specie, the crow?
Oh never mind.
Just shove off.
Let me have some peace
While I work through Poe’s take on your gnarly purpose.
Better still, just shut up and listen.”
‘And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!’
“See what I mean…
Maybe this Poe fella is trying to explain
Neither one of us is gonna live forever,
So…”
A modicum of triumph.
A moment of no regret.
Is followed in sadness,
And bitter loose ends.
When you don't know whats wrong or whats right.
Why do we even fight?
The weight of the world is oppressing and vile.
Its takes a great deal just to make me smile.
"'Cause when your back's against the wall
That's when you show no fear at all
And when you're running out of time
That's when you hitch your star to mine
We won't be leaving by the same road that we came by"
~Keane - My Shadow Lyrics ~
------------------------------------------------------------
There is no celestial place for you to guide my thoughts
Can you not see that I am free from you?
I am a black bird perched high in the treetops
You will hear my crowing and you may hate it
But my dear, you cannot take away my voice!
Yet still, as fire oppresses forests of life,
You can abuse my freedom to find your glory
You may discard these words for your love of gods,
And in so doing you may simply ignore
All the cries that I so passionately utter
But my infectious species will guide your mind straight back
To that once so lonely treetop where you merely glanced
And there will be multitudinous, oppressing thoughts
That shall enslave you and bind you unwillingly
The crows will only grow louder when you turn away—
When you pretend to ignore with your remaining, strangling pride
For my voice is a production sent from above
Dispatched to judge you pitilessly for your swelling lies!
And the choirs of ferocious beaks shall open forever
Harmony and dissonance as one
Intrigue
Curvaceous, Mysterious
Teasing, Shooting, Falling
Flutterbys, kisses, peptic, belches
Oppressing, haunting, revealing
Omnipotent, Divisive
Doldrums