Best Outcry Poems
In every way I carry myself
In every word I say to thee
In every glimpse of light I catch
I am one step closer to being free
In every second I am away
In every hour thou art gone
In every bone of my body
I know I've been here too long
In every ice cold stare thou hast given
In every ice cold touch
In every tremble of my legs
I know that it's too much
In every day that passes us by
In every attempt I've made to escape
In every attempt to let go of it all
I shall never forget the ra....
In every poem that I write out
He watches, he touches, he's there
In every aching minute now
I'm living inside a nightmare
Dissenters dominate the streets,
The public dominion of demonstrations.
This POTUS threatens military domination.
Just forget the pesky First Amendment.
Sowing seeds of civil war
The best path to reelection.
Yet remonstrations rally relentless,
One man’s terminal chokehold
A symbol of structural racism.
A metaphor for the socioeconomic suffocation,
The clamor and commotion
torn and tormenting in every town.
Protestors street hue and cry,
voices of the marginalized and forgotten .
A human chain of disputant dissentients,
Occupiers striking for a new order.
Rebels demanding
a new systemic justice.
Even my mind not stilled by silence
my thoughts outraged with hurt and hate
as Im dumbfounded with confusion
leaving the cause to no debate,
I cannot tell you what is wrong
to tell you means I'd have to trust,
and my heart no longer feels willing,
beating only cause it must.
I feel a dead man live my life
I see his cold abandoned heart,
I hear his agonising cries
as he is torn more apart,
knowing no peace, no rest I find
having no comfort, stuck in a bind
a vagabond, alone in his life
Ive been cut off, betrayal was the knife.
awaiting death, and still much worse
my whole life upon this earth
seems like a scheme to take my worth
and bring me to nothing,
such is my curse
and i fear the effects
may never reverse
and make believe that I am cursed.
the way I feel too great for words
too great to bear such constant hurt
my soul depressed and left prostrate
before God to help, I hope it works. . .
What can I do to stop this terrible aching in my gut?
And yet, I am glad that I have not lost my sense of caring
That something inside of me still hurts when others hurt
My heart is damaged when I learn of the callousness,
The lack of concern when those who have the power
To effect change do nothing but equivocate and preen.
I am appalled that otherwise intelligent people make
Excuses, putting forth arguments to support their cause
Who will do nothing…nothing, I say, to effect change.
What is giving up your AK-15? Nineteen children died!
Nineteen little souls, with a full life to live, are dead.
And what if they were your child, or your grandchild?
How could you live with yourself if yours lay cold and dead?
Because some deranged boy got his hands on your AK-15,
Some misdirected lad shot up the school where you
Or your wife worked, or where your children attend?
Have not enough children already paid the ultimate price
For your right to own a damnable assault-type weapon?
And if nothing is done, if there is no outcry for a change
How long before we go through the nightmare again?
Will it happen in the school two blocks from my house?
Perhaps the school in your neighborhood? You think?
No, of course not, it could never happen there…or here
In a small town like ours, like Uvalde, Texas, for God’s sake.
What can I do to stop this terrible aching in my gut?
And yet, I am glad that I have not lost my sense of caring
That something inside of me still hurts when others hurt.
My heart is damaged when I learn of the callousness,
The lack of concern when those who have the power
To effect change do nothing but equivocate and preen.
I must do the only thing I know how to do...cry out!
I must write, but I'll never get this horror out of my system.
I still hurting over Sandy Hook, Parkland, Stoneman Douglas,
Now Robb Elementary School...tragedies of epidemic proportion.
And when will it stop? It should stop. This is America!
But it will never stop, I fear.
Seeking the justice
The lost life of innocence
letting the world hear.
The outcry is loud
let's unite for good of all
that's were wrong amend
The thrill of just and
fair will live in every hearts
that's when life flourished.
The countryside was their homeland,
Buried in the rich soils were their sons’ navel strings,
Nothing of their history was bland,
Not even the stain on their names or grit on their rings.
They toiled at life as if it was their last day,
Their dignity and self-respect was all that was left,
Making a sacrifice that little know of today,
Even their identities were liable to theft.
How lives are changed in this modern world,
The white lies tell of no more enslavement,
Yet we are groomed to fit into their mold,
For a moment of liberation and enjoyment.
Such is the world’s cruel reality,
For the sake of sustenance and survival,
The wealthy living is given to the minority,
And the poor man works and cries in deprival.
Third world societies’ demise in hind sight,
Yet they gloss it over with petty mess,
Dealing with trivial matters that concur their might,
Than those that seeks to make progress.
With their soft voices and layman words,
Who or what can they confront with their distaste,
If their dissatisfaction always go unheard,
What can a young child do to feel less displaced?
PEOPLE STAND ON THE SIDELINES
IN THE NEWS READING ALL THE BYLINES
WONDERING, WHAT IF, WHAT IF THEY COULD SUBTRACT ALL THE OUTLINES
THEY'RE SUFFERING WITH. . .
Putting ketchup on tomatoes
suffering with skiing on mashed potatoes
there is no summertime without the rain
won't be seeing you again
I MUST RECEIVE SO THAT I MAY BELIEVE
NO MATTER HOW HARD I TRY
STANDING TALL STILL CAN'T REACH THE SKIES
YET I TRY, I TRY, FOR THE OUTCRY
I CRY OUT I TRY I CRY THE OUTCRY
places burning fires forest trees are burning
everywhere I keep reaching and reviewing
all those things that can' never be explain
can't be right about the rain cause ain't no clouds near
I MUST RECEIVE SO THAT I MAY BELIEVE
NO MATTER HOW HARD I TRY
STANDING TALL STILL CAN'T REACH THE SKIES
YET I TRY, I TRY, FOR THE OUTCRY
I CRY OUT I TRY I CRY THE OUTCRY
WE CRY LIKE NEW BORN BABES, WE CRY, (SIGH!!)
WIMPERING LIKE LITTLE BABY PUPS
NOW PUTTING KETCHUP ON TOMATOES
DOES IT SEEM LIKE CANABALIZM
I MADE IT MY DECISION
TO SKI ON A HILL MADE OF MASHED POTATOS
THERE IS SUMMERTIME WITH THE RAIN
AND I WILL SEE, SEE YOU AGAIN
I MUST RECEIVE SO THAT I MAY BELIEVE
NO MATTER HOW HARD I TRY
STANDING TALL STILL CAN'T REACH THE SKIES
YET I TRY, I TRY, FOR THE OUTCRY
I CRY OUT I TRY I CRY THE OUTCRY
IS A VISION NOT A RELIGION
I STAND ON MORALS NOT IDEAS
MANMADE PHILOSOHIES
I STAND TALL, I'LL BE STRONG
I CRY, LOUD FOR THE OUT CRY
NO MATTER HOW HARD I VOW
KEEPS ME HONEST AND HOW WELL NOT I CRY OUT FOR THE
OUT CRY
written by James Edward Lee Sr. June 26 2012
The roar of the waves
is as wild as the loud sound
of the river's flow.