Best Rebel Poems
In the library, at last I am freed
from others’ wishes for what I should read.
Book after book I most gladly peruse
with all these free hours I now get to use
finding books that I love; not just books that I need!
The books about science which teachers all feed
our minds with are making my eyes start to bleed!
I think I would even prefer reading news
in the library.
How much more enthralling are aisles that lead
to books of pure fiction! I will not heed
strict teachers, for romance and drama I choose.
Just see, I’ve already picked novels that ooze
suspense! Yes, indeed, I’m doing the deed
In the library.
She doesn't believe in quiet love
wasn't born to bleed shyly,
couldn't care about the cost of conquest,
Too beautiful to be bitter, and too young to be cynical,
a cerebral seducer, a critical killer of caution,
too clever to be a casualty of competition,
the antithesis of a quiter
a warrior woman first,
the woman for whom I thirst,
When the battles are long
with the night swallowing safety
and your armor heavy
come to me with body ready,
be naked in my handsome hands
which grip your fatigued feet as if they are my clay of choosing,
sit into me in a bath of luxurious warmth, chamomile lavender calm,
Rebel Girl, happy and hugged with your back against my caring chest,
trusting my rubbing, loving my touching,
your lips moving in silent approval,
The war will return for us
testing our bruised wings of heart,
but tonight we defend this castle of loyal love
sheltered from storm and suffering -
J.A.B.
Archetypes flash straight from a pack of Tarot cards
anti-terror Jing Jang synthesis with neuro-spiritual precision
implants explosive animation from the deep unknown
like a taro rootstock growing wings to fly with found suspension
Stereotactic stereotypes archetypes semi-circling soothing storm clouds
thunderbolts and enlightening darkness are my enema of anxious anger critique
of the mono-morph collision of the scalpel shadow ‘Prozacian’ nemesis
neology of ‘animusity’ of ‘newfoundlandel’ comprehension
Dialectical complementation rises higher and higher culminates in
ethereal transcendence where collective personal unconscious
presents my animus in wishful thinking and projections as
soft and gentle revel rebel raising entropy in tender conservation to escape from
Dogma categorically demanding artificial classification replacing with dimension
flow and rivers stagnant pools of stream of consciousness evading
sexist fragmentation disenfranchising marginalisation assigning male
and female emasculated o-variation where seminal origin implantation
Precedes nurture socialised indoctrination assignment of celibate promiscuity
My animus refuses to accept in emotional rejection whether Jung and I read
symbols from the same page or not of masques façades and liberated self
where academic artistry split hairs and personality for the premise of debate
I am a rebel and claim no higher lower ground of superior distension
He or she who animates friendly animosity is right and incorrect whatever
common ground belies the provocation I propose but possibly my
presentation of what others mean in kindness is too neutral neuters psyche
While anima and animus illustrate conclude a symbiotic destination
the starting point of this and that left right up above and side by side
is far too circular an argument when we should start not end in union
Male and female are constructions of disparity of power and repression
Archetypes are not therefore I am
11th June 2016
Animus-Anima Part II—Animus – Poetry Contest
Sponsor Tom Quigley
Authority figures, teachers and scholars
Tell me to think for myself;
Then grade my answers right and wrong
Based on an answer key kept on the shelf.
Write a poem that’s unique and original;
No structure - of your own free verse,
But before you put pen to paper,
Please listen to these strict rules first.
You will never get anywhere in life
If you don’t conform to societal rules;
I’m told by mentors in lemming suits
Taking me for one of their fools.
“Flowers are red young man,
And green leaves are green.”
Quoted from the verse of a Harry Chapin song;
Words I find so very obscene.
So give me an “F” and flunk me out,
Cause I finger my nose at you,
Tell me my free verse doesn’t conform
To its definition in your view.
I go to the formal in my birthday suit;
I use the salad fork to eat my meat;
I don’t care to conform for conformity’s sake
And don’t care if you find my position weak.
Be proud of yourself for sticking to your guns
And being exactly like every other clone;
I have no problem being the only one
Living on my own island all alone.
I’ll write a poem and call it free verse,
Or call it Charlie or Plankton or Pete,
And chuckle at those I’ve offended so
Knowing my portfolio is quite complete.
The Hollywood hills still echoes with his
Rebellious yell, we are the forever young
Generation.
An iconic American symbol, to this the lost
Age of innocence.
Nay did this rebel die without a cause,
I think not, in my humble opinion, he
Died for his desire for speeds acceleration,
In death's ironic twist of fate, James Dean's
Name became immortalized as an epic tragedy,
Of youthful hearts seeking to be wild and free,
Without any consequences.
A teen idol who went out in a blaze of glory,
Revving His engine hell bound for destiny's,
Rock-n-roll Hall of Fame.
A nation wept in despair mourning for the
Loss of one so young and full of life.
Sorrows children cried in disbelief laying roses,
At his final resting place.
The jukeboxes remained silent with respects,
Reverence, and bikers gave him a rebel send off.
A generation whom believed they were bullet proof,
Realized how human life could be extinguished,
Within the flash point of on coming head lights.
James Dean's ashes were swept away swallowed,
Whole by time itself.
Now he's nothing but a tarnished star in histories,
Memorabilia case on display for all to see,
And remember, this the first easy rider.
JFK dream vision illusion of Camelot has faded to gray,
And Elvis now sings in a more heavenly chorus,
In the great beyond.
But before these man took the center stage, another
Walked the thin line of immortality's rebel fighting,
For a cause.
One lone figure rides into the night across freedoms,
Highway, and his name was James Dean.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
The rebel who came to town
In search of inner peace
She roams the American West
Specifically, the Texas Hill Country and South Plains
She keeps a journal of her adventures and fights
injustice where she finds it
With a revolver and her dead father's sawed-off
double-barreled shotgun!
Cried out in pain, needed to heal,
Nothing from God did I feel.
Demobbed from the army,
In a terrible state,
Dumped in civvy street,
Where I had no mates.
Heart as cold as bayonet steel,
Me, Love God? Get real.
I hated my life, wanted it to end,
No one there on whom I could depend.
Never did drugs, except to ease the pain,
Got drunk, slept where I dropped,
Woke in a daze until a pill I popped,
The pills I took were heroin based,
On a good day the pain was erased.
Sometimes it just would not go away,
One pill a day, the doctor would say,
But it took four or more to make it stop.
Then four more at night I would pop.
Life in the "street" was hard for me,
Most of my life I had an army family.
Now alone, abandoned by my peers,
Filled me with dread and nightly fears.
Couldn't hold a job when the pain was bad,
Waited for my giro, the only money I had.
Had to go home like the prodigal son,
Living there, I assure, was no fun.
Cried into the night for pain relief,
God still not there was my belief.
Then out of the blue when at my wits end,
My Fran turned up, I had a friend.
She couldn't help me to get well,
But she rescued me from my living hell.
It took her years to bring me back,
Even now sometimes I feel under attack.
She gave me the hope that I'd been denied
She nursed my penniless hulk when I cried.
The surgeon worked his skill on me one day,
Whatever he did made the pain go away
It took many years for my heart to see,
That God had always been there for me.
He heard my cry when I was at my worst,
That was the time when I felt I was cursed.
He sent my Fran and the surgeon too,
Using both of them He pulled me through.
Nearly 50 years have now gone by,
I'll always be His even after I die.
© Dave Timperley 22/10/2019
Rebel BE-Cause
When they say stop i go
They say hold on but i let go
They say stay behave
but i disturb the peace
They try to put me under control but i break the leash
They want me to only take a few but I settle on a feast
These people are 2 dimensional they fold at the crease
I'm fly of the chain and I bust at the seems
I make my own visions there is no American Dream
I have come to a realization this life belongs to me
God gave me a direction but choices are still left to me
With a 360 view and good fix on what i need
A desire to live strong and forever breathe free
I write what I say cause you should already know
These are words to empower so you gain control
Like making you the aces so that you never fold
Everyday is a path but no yellow brick road
Be a rebel be-cause you have so much to uphold
~ Was He a Rebel? ~
Was he a rebel
a son from hell
He left his father's home
for a destination unknown
Took his childless bride
and his nephew aside
Said that his essence in order to know
There was no choice, God told him to go
To leave his home and his homeland
To find out what kind of man
he truly could be
By now his name you may have guessed
That's right - He was Abraham
~ This was his first of Ten Tests
Uncompromising Authenticity,
And An Intent To Find Beauty
In All Understanding Is A
Weakness; A True Vulnerability.
-Gray Squirrel
10-07-2025
standing alone in the eye of the storm,
he doesn't care that he's seen
as an iconoclast.
not afraid to defy conventions.
a non-conformist to the core;
strong sense of independence,
zags when everyone zigs,
leads, never follows.
he stands alone;
marches to
different
drum
Revolt! We must do all we can!
Empire rising! Stand strong!
Better fight if you want to stay free,
Emperor Palpatine must be stopped!
Let it be known here and now
All must fight for freedom for all!
Leaving no creature behind,
Leaving no planet unprotected!
I Leia, will lead this Alliance,
Against anyone seeking to harm us;
Never have I backed down!
Can we all do our part?
Each of us must stop the Empire!
The Rebel(1922).
Original Bangla : Kazi Nazrul Islam, Translation : Sajed kamal
Proclaim, Hero,
proclaim: I raise my head high!
Before me bows down the Himalayan peaks!
Proclaim, Hero,
proclaim: rending through the sky,
surpassing the moon, the sun,
the planets, the stars,
piercing through the earth,
the heavens, the cosmos
and the Almighty's throne,
have I risen?I, the eternal wonder
of the Creator of the universe.
The furious Shiva shines on my forehead
like a royal medallion of victory!
Proclaim, Hero,
proclaim: My head is ever held high!
I'm ever indomitable, arrogant and cruel,
I'm the Dance-king of the Day of the Doom,
I'm the cyclone, the destruction!
I'm the great terror, I'm the curse of the world.
I'm unstoppable,
I smash everything into pieces!
I'm unruly and lawless.
I crush under my feet
all the bonds, rules and disciplines!
I don't obey any laws.
I sink cargo-laden boats?I'm the torpedo,
I'm the dreadful floating mine.
I'm the destructive Dhurjati,
the sudden tempest of the summer.
I'm the Rebel, the Rebel son
of the Creator of the universe!
Proclaim, Hero,
proclaim: My head is ever held high!
I'm the tempest, I'm the cyclone,
I destroy everything I find in my path.
I'm the dance-loving rhythm,
I dance to my own beats.
I'm the delight of a life of freedom.
I'm Hambeer, Chhayanat, Hindol.
I move like a flash of lightning
with turns and twists.
I swing, I leap and frolic!
I do whatever my heart desires.
I embrace my enemy and wrestle with death.
I'm untamed, I'm the tempest!
I'm pestilence, dread to the earth,
I'm the terminator of all reigns of terror,
I'm ever full of burning restlessness.
When Hell Comes
When Hell comes
War becomes a b**ch
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
David Bowie - Putting out fire (full lyrics)
https://youtu.be/2f99YKyrOmc
His title roles were all misunderstood
An angst ridden protagonist, dark outcast
From East of Eden to Giant one could
Not know that Giant role would be his last
...a cultural icon was soon to blast
I toast to you, the late and great James Dean
A man whose trade is one of arts cuisine
His method acting brought him much applause
As his emotions crafted every scene
He was a young Rebel Without a Cause