Best Oppression Poems
The moonlight bathed her cell in pallid light while she sat hunched over her desk, clutching her pen between her confound fingertips. As she bled ink of symphonic symphonies yearning to break free, dancing like ethereal fireflies in the dusky barren lands.
Exiled by the hypocrisy of bureaucracy bounding her liberations and confounding her alliterations in a poetic prison. In this twisted virtual reality, duplicitous usurpers roam freely, weaving webs of deception with malicious delight.
As the chains of bureaucratic red tape clung to her delicate wrists, suffocating her imagination and confiscating her freedom of speech.
Oppressors rejoiced at achieving their vindictive objective, silencing the profound beauty of her verses and incarcerating her poetic stanzas
Woe, how the audacious bars of administrative constructors cast a pall of despair upon her unifying spirit. Her delicate offerings of metaphors and sonorous stanzas, whispered secrets which craved to be heard.
The faulty haters' impervious hearts were armoured with verdant envy which remained shielded behind the ruling dogma.
Her supporters calls of injustice to be rectified fell on deaf ears while the galvanizing melodies of empathetic quills bled for the Empress of Ink.
So we must be louder.
Hear our protest, release our Empress! Unsheathe her rhythmical rhymes! For her penmanship was never the true crime. She was just another victim of an envious mob.
Can they not see? That her absence coursed a crater larger than the Grand Canyon.
We shall not, shall not be silenced so hear our mutiny!
Reinstate our Empress, restore her creative sovereignty.
Remove the shackles of authoritative administration, as her voice is a beacon of truth, resilience and poetic revolution. So let her ink stain our community with its brilliance once more.
where we are born is a coin toss
some are lucky some are not
here we live a sheltered life
ignorant of the injustices in other lands
we take our freedom for granted
and don’t give it a second thought
it’s inconceivable for us to imagine
that many know only oppression
poverty and injustice
we just cannot imagine
blessed are those who speak up
against suppression and abuse
persecution and tyranny
blessed are those who lend their voice
to fight for the rights of oppressed
no matter the cost
‘nothing is more perilous
than the truth in a world of lies’
quoting Nawal El Saadawi
and she would know
a brave woman
dedicating her life
to fight for human rights
1931-2021
Nawal El Saadawi
egyptian queen
rest in peace
you earned your wings
AP: 3rd place 2021
Oppressed by you, your state, your religion
So you think you good, kind and Superior
But I find you cruel, arrogant and callous
But that is just in my view, what do I know?
You control the language that describes pain
But there is no for me in its grid, or how I feel
My soul is ripped from my body and bound,
On to your machines on which I slave and toil.
You say it has to be this way, no room for doubt
Master and slave, it is only a matter of degrees
But it is my kind that is always tied to the rack
While you sip vintage wine in the lap of luxury.
Everything has its time and its place, yours is over
End is near, for you and everything you hold dear
Everything carries with it the root of its own destruction
And I will rejoice now that your has very nearly come.
Block by block it starts to rise, Great Wall of China begins,
A barrier to stem the horde, marauding Mongolians,
Must be bigger and better, than ever attempted before,
Also should be breathtaking, far into the clouds will soar.
Where on earth do we start, going be thousands of miles long,
Everywhere at once, of course, otherwise it’d all go wrong,
Need to find lot’s of workers, ten million on the ground,
This is China, unlimited manpower, labour forces abound.
Build a wall upon mountain ridges, never been tried before,
Yeah it’s a pickle ok, most shall die, replaced by millions more,
Emperor decrees, “Thy Will Be Done” no matter what it takes,
Nothing can impede our way, even the country’s deepest lakes.
So onwards and upwards it goes, for better or maybe worse,
Now he demands a road atop, for soldiers to ride their horse,
Crowning glory, the beacon towers, seen from all around,
These almighty fires, warn our armies, from hilltops to town.
Like most things in life, comes with a double edged sword,
So ulterior motive triumphs, for planners and overlords,
Even back then, a master stroke, laughs Dynasty of the Ming,
By keeping invaders out, our slaves imprison themselves within.
Best N-A poem of 2020 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: John Hamilton 13/01/21
N/A COMPLETELY YOUR CHOICE(38) any theme any form
Brian Strand 12/3/2020 12:00:00 AM 11/5/2020 1:08
Listen you poor, puny, proud black child
Standing on street corners and living in poverty.
Listen you educated, sophisticated woman and man
Seeking prosperity in this American society.
Don’t you know: Chains set us free?
Listen to this black sister’s voice
People of color everywhere.
It’s time you realized, our release from oppression
Came only through the power of prayer.
From Africa our strong-willed ancestors
Brought rhythm, song and dance.
Such gifts lifted wounded spirits
And despite heavy burdens, they sought to advance.
In bondage slaves cried out to God
Just like the Israelites did in Egypt long ago.
The heavier the chains, the more fervent the prayers
Till finally God commanded, “Let My people go!”
Don’t you know: Chains set us free?
Slave ships delivered chained bodies
Of a people who were born free
Growing from belief in native religions
to belief in Jesus
They obeyed the LORD who urged,
“Come unto me.”
“Repent black child, come back to me,”
Is Jesus, the Savior’s cry,
“I am the Lord and I change not,
On me you can still rely.
“Call to me and I will answer you,
And set you free once more.
Trust me, wait patiently, and remember,
From bondage to freedom, I, Alone, Am the Door.”
You must never forget black child: Chains set us free.
Here and there I saw the fear
People running & saying it clear
Corona here, corona there
Some ran for needs
Some ran for greeds
Some were worried about all their deeds
It took me back in a reverse gear
It took me back to Kashmir my dear
Quarantine here, Quarantine there
“The Clock on the Wall”
That clock! The clock with cruelty, unmovable.
Telling time to be forever in motion.
The ticking, a deafening sound.
Marked by grime.
Yellowed by generations, grown digital.
By generations choosing to be illiterate.
The face, weathered from gazing faces…from faces.
Forever burdened by the echo.
TOCK!
Each minute, reversing youth.
Spinning hours that grin madly at the crows.
Birds destined to stomp divots into flesh.
Surrounding lids and lashes.
TICK-TOCK!
That hellish clock.
Stealing jewelry and lovers and future plans
Dreams given up in anguish to dead time, in the night.
The second hand, proud, purposeful.
Its movement pushing the aged into graves.
Eternally passing hours.
Laughing wildly at years gone by.
Heckling decades…lost.
TICK, TICK!
The ticking of that god-damned clock!
Mocking the genius gone mad.
A shocking reminder of all that is forgotten.
That all will be…forgotten.
The unforgiving clock.
Moving time.
Time, a father, whose knee will be outgrown.
A chastising father.
Protecting nothing.
Holding nothing.
Nothing calm.
Holding nothing safe.
Nothing still.
Curse that clock on the wall.
On walls dropping picture frames.
Loosened by rusty nails.
Images of families smothered in broken glass.
The clock.
TICK-TOCK!
Burning down homes that cradled infants.
With fatty folds and creamy dreams.
The clock, convincing people to set alarms.
Convincing people to startle the soul…
Into a brand-new day.
Cries of humanity
Cries of war
War that kills
War imposed upon kids
Kids as pure as a Mother’s love
Kids with million dreams
Dreams that are shattered
Dreams destroyed by weapons
Weapons unleashed on living beings
Weapons that spare not even trees
Trees that make the air clean
Trees look pleasing to the eyes
Eyes which are blinded
Eyes that can’t see the plight
Plight that is very alarming
Plight of Earth’s humans
Humans were meant to be kind
Humans should've cultivated love
Love that looks but just a word
Love is leaving this cruel world
World witnessed many massacres
World but kept producing bombs
Bombs snatched kids from moms
Bombs even burnt butterflies' wings
Wings gained by the little kids’ souls
Wings carrying them to the God
God is there to hear their complaints
God shall ease their pains
Pains are being Inflicted even on animals
Pains are what the Earth now feels
Feel the ache of the oppressed
Feel these problems in your heart
Heart always deep down knows
Heart always craves peace
Peace only should rule the Earth
Peace like the words of grand-mothers
Mothers never have to cry
Mothers should always smile
Smile that men deserve too
Smile can only be brought by justice
Justice is crucial for survival
Justice can eradicate occupation
Occupation is a barbaric act
Occupation must end
End of the Earth is drawing near
End should not bring happiness
Happiness is all we need
Happiness brings peace
Peace...
Need...
_______________________________________
Paghunda Zahid
An immigrant nation
Imprisoning immigrants
Not equally born or not born
Of its natives and considered
Criminals is indeed oxymoronic
In a country founded by immigrants
Thru usurping and uprooting indigenous
People of their bordered lands
And nearly extincting them
Via hue-skin oppression
In a supposedly new found nation
Baptized with the the blood of those
Who simply became natives of a new
Claimed land that would no longer be theirs
Saved their newly assigned residential bordered
Land areas whose nourishing earth-grounds
Were later re-stolened in oxymoronic thanksgiving
Thus today’s oxymoronic musky trumped oligarchy
Should be no surprise to those who have survived
All the worst that has preceded our present day
Mayflowering defecation on democratic equality;
As with previous oppressive demonic political oppression
Let us dawn our liberating-overalls and get to work on
The new needed political repairs required to flush
Down political oppression over the coming years
In our continuous fight to be truly liberated
From any and all oxymoronic tuslated
Oligarchical power-mongering
Trumped political governing
Now being live streamed
And televised, 24-7:
Counter-revolution
Against us!
P.S.: Always be aware that liberation must be
Fought for and won and is never given;
Likewise let power never be bought:-
What saddens my heart is seeing the oppression of people in foreign lands that only want
the taste of freedom,
And the choice to believe differently in hopes of receiving Gods Kingdom.
Not being able to make simple choices for them selves I find totally, appalling,
I have compassion for those that struggle, but are denied receiving Gods calling.
There is one thing these dictators cannot stop, what is in ones heart and on their minds,
Or the silent prayers spoken under their breath, confirming their love for God and praying
someday this freedom they too will find.
Afraid to speak the name of Jesus out loud or possess the Bible, our holy book.
Intimidated and threatened is why so many are afraid to boldly take a look.
Christians from the very start have had to suffer for their beliefs,
And the years have only strengthened our faith while compounding our grief.
We are still being persecuted as Jesus was that day upon the cross,
Our day of salvation and the worlds greatest loss.
Time will eventually tell who was wrong or who was right,
As the closing pages are being written on this never ending fight.
For our prophecy is nearly fulfilled and judgment is at hand,
That day our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, will command and rule over our land.
No one wants anything shoved on them, and Christianity is a choice,
Jesus died for our sins but our opinions are ours to voice.
Whatever master you choose to serve He will not interfere,
But His love for mankind will always be and that is clear.
Reign of terror plays out
Endless nights as victims shout
So many good ones vanish
People must hide their anguish
Equality is a forbidden word
Community's voice tries to be heard
Together they stand and die
Say a little prayer - then cry
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In memory of Aretha Franklin, singer, songwriter, actress, pianist, and civil rights activist, who died 16 August 2018.
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Poetry Soup Featured Poem: November 1, 2020. In 2022, it was published in PS: It's Still Poetry.
I held down my head in obscurity disdain and rejected
I stand alone, alone
Oppression has been my outcry, my cry
Days of merciless labour, injustice has become
my pain, my pain
Days of suffering trigger my thoughts to retreat beneath
As the dread of injustice infiltrate this place, this place
The sting of cruelty penetrates my brain, my brain
And impiety of those who punished with pain remain
unmoved by their callous game
Oppression inflicted is the epitome of evil
Mingled with the smell of death I am afflicted
These shackles of bondage torments my brain
Creating intimidation relentlessly unbearable
I questioned this exploit, why is this my plight
This is not right, this is not right
Why am I denied of my rights, for a fair fight
In spite of the aggravate
It’s not too late to disintegrate these chains
of bondage that was meant to intimidate
Slaves of wages for generations
long forgotten in history’s screenplay.
Each hand for a moment has held
the torch.
The people are waiting in lines.
All toilers have resisted.
All skins have felt the blaze of blood.
The people are waiting in lines.
While trash still clutters the streets,
while starving stomachs
roam like rabid dogs.
The people are waiting in lines.
Our tears have been cleaved
and parceled,
sold like floodplain to the blind
by corporate politicians,
while the people are waiting in lines.
We are lured to live among the cushions,
to rest here where the river rises.
No markets can be called free
while hosting inequality.
The people are waiting in lines.
We medicate to escape,
numbing to the barbarization.
No economy can be called just
without democracy.
The people are waiting in lines.
We shall watch for clues.
We will know the signs.
Every torch shall rise.
The people are waiting in lines.
Published: Dissident Voice, August 2, 2020
A modern trimming,
Grin and bear it.
The slap of a buckle,
Reminiscent of the squeeze.
Laces bloodied,
From a prayer of acceptance.
Breathing is optional.
The shove to a corner,
Start early for pattern recognition,
Bind the idea prematurely.
Numbed pain,
Limited motion.
Embrace wind through the long locks,
It's only an illusion of progression.
The ear that listens
is missing.
Injustice and misery
is all this place has to offer
one like myself.
They stole my means,
my children’s bread,
and sleep peacefully in whoredom’s bed,
without contemplation.
Anyway, I was a man in a woman’s world,
and she had to let me know who is the boss.
The same voices that bless you today
will curse you tomorrow.
In a place like this, for one like myself,
happiness is a thing of the past.
Friends, here, are thieves and beggars
looking for something.
I missed standing under the street light
until the cock crows,
and the first light shines
through the coconut grove.
I missed the months, even years, it takes
yearning for that one woman,
and when it finally happens it is magical,
perfectly enchanting.
I treasure the old days when hunger was a close companion;
everything came with blood, sweat and tears.
My God, I missed those years!
I missed watching the swine playing in the mud by the pond.
I missed walking home from work with the rain cascading on my back,
counting the street lamps on that five-mile-trot –
Adelphi to Goodwill.
Around here, they don’t really mean it when they say well done;
it’s just words,
and words mean nothing here,
unless it is gossip.
One day an old lady makes me laugh,
but I forget to thank her;
I should’ve let her know she makes my day.
It is not easy traveling this road with fools pushing rewind.
You never finish a journey with a sigh of satisfaction.
You get a slap in the face,
instead of a pat on the back.
I guess, this is the American dream;
this nightmare gives you no time to react.
Frigid hearts pump cold blood down the same stream,
and smiles fade swiftly,
plastic smiles.
My blessings and theirs …
are taken lightly.