Best Revolts Poems
Masha Amini was an Iranian woman who was kept captive in jail for clamoring for Women’s Rights. Later she died in police custody under suspicious circumstances. Her death led to widespread civil unrest and protests. This is in the voice of Masha/ Civil uprising in Iran-Year, 2022
What crime did I do to deserve this?
To be brutally beaten and imprisoned?
When rapists, rogues and robbers roam scot-free
What crime did I do to deserve this persecution?
I am a woman of self-respect and dignity
I believe man and woman have equal rights
I wish to see my sisters walk in dignity
I can’t but rebel against all man-made manacles,
That bind a woman’s hands and legs,
Putting shackles on her mind, and body.
My mind revolts when we can’t walk free.
So offensive it is to cover our heads with hijab
And wrap ourselves in several folds of linen.
I feel it a blatant denial of human rights.
I am sure the unreasonable restrictions imposed,
Will smother and cripple the fair sex.
I am allegedly arrested and am now in prison bars,
For violating and disrespecting Iran’s ‘Modesty code’
The fanatics dream that with my death,
The clamor for freedom will die down.
I am sure it will only blaze fierce in future days,
Thousands will join, holding hands,
Pledging their solidarity for a common cause,
Drawing inspiration from me and women like me.
Again, our shrieks for freedom,
Can never be stifled or silenced.
In cloistered darkness, I wait,
Hoping to witness a bright sunrise.
A cruel Jack Frost blows icy floss
(in front of spring a’ burstin’)
while shiftin’ sheaves of withered leaves
near freezin’ streams a’ thirstin’.
A pack reviled runs roamin’ wild,
the alpha wolf wakes howlin’
then scents a lean and lonesome scene
while on the lurk a’ prowlin’.
A cloud revolts with spangled bolts,
and starry skies start closin’
as wild geese soar beyond death’s door
neath naked moon a’ posin’.
Electric shafts, like fractured rafts,
sail night’s cathedral caldrons –
their cracking curse makes herds disperse
in random splayed and sprawled runs.
A she-wolf sighs with hungry eyes;
the ancient wolf waits, bayin’ -
with weary back, he’s lost the track,
his bandied legs betrayin’.
The brood’s somewhere in shrouded lair
with mama left to mind ’em -
the wolf, a’ drag with empty swag,
is on his way to find ’em.
The pack rejoins with weary loins -
perhaps its days are numbered.
In evening’s night, he’s feeling tight,
with aches and pains encumbered.
As morning nears, with shaggy ears
(one droopin’ down, hung over)
he’ll set the course with renewed force,
for, yes, he’s still the rover.
When snow enshrines the timberlines
and skies are ripped asunder
though young, lupine, they’ll stifle whines,
as gullies fill with thunder;
mid echoes in the mouth o’ death,
they bid farewell the lair
while panting puffs o’ crystal breath
float, hanging in the air.
Their path is black (they can’t look back
for herds long gone a’ missin’)
as dusk profanes the snow-bound plains
the sinkin’ sun was kissin’.
Neath northern lights, with barks and bites,
he keeps ’em all in motion –
the speckled scars of fallin’ stars
display the night’s devotion.
The sky’s a’ blushin’ in the east,
and hollow wind’s are sighin’
while buzzards freeze in gallows trees,
a’ roostin’, rapt and eyein’.
These ghouls of prey, they’re spooked away,
like tumbleweeds a’ blowin’,
by tilted head, white fangs tipped red,
and warnin’ wail’s a’ growin’.
...... Continued in part 2 ......
A little low-voltage humor in monoku form depicting a fictional day at the Watt home...
The electrical engineer's wife greets him: "WIRE you INSULATE?"
Husband: WATTS it to you? Don't go blowing your CIRCUITS at least I'm OHM!
Wife: "Don't you make LIGHT of this if this were our daughter, you'd be GROUNDED!"
Husband: "Let's leave her out of this she can CONDUCTOR own business"
Wife: "Don't revAMP your story you know it reVOLTS me when you do that"
Husband: "Honey, I'm sorry it HERTZ just trying to keep you CURRENT"
Wife: "Well, I apologize for my RESISTANCE I felt POWERless"
Husband: "I didn't mean to give you STATIC but I'm feeling the SPARK now
Let's go enjoy an ELO concert it will be a good OUTLET"
Wife: "JOULE be SHOCKed to hear this... that would really reCHARGE my BATTERIES
You sure know how to flip my SWITCH we should do this with more FREQUENCY"
Husband, now whispering to the viewer "I just can't RESISTOR charm"
*** Note: ELO = Electric Light Orchestra (70's rock band) ***
The last days are here!
There are wars
There are rumors of wars
Nature revolts every where!
False prophets!
With strange doctrines
Feed fat on human frailities
To man’s utter bewilderment!
Strange illnesses!
Stranger than fiction
Hold humanity
In deadly grips
Terror bearers!
Bearing human inventions
Kill and maim
In the World’s streets.
God said to our early parents
“ Go and multiply and fill the earth’’
But in disobedience
Sexual immorality rule the world
Let us repent and change our ways!
For the rapture is close at hand
The righteous will be heaven-bound
while evil doers will burn in hell.
A tribute to 159th Birth Anniversary of Dr. Jose Rizal
Soul of a hero ignites,
With the use of mighty pen he fight,
From the colony of other countries,
Hail your greatness, it stays in our memories.
Dr. Jose Rizal, your life was an inspiration,
Born to defend our beloved nation,
You are really an intelligent person,
Writing poetry was your greatest passion.
The spirit of nationalistic was in your mind,
Helping Filipinos shows that you are kind,
Your heart dictates to do the right thing,
To fight for freedom, history remember your writings.
Runs in your veins Malayan royalty,
Bloodless revolts spread easily,
By your pen that is considered mighty,
Shout for joy, Philippine Independence for our country.
This poem dedicated to 159th Birth anniversary of our Philippine National Hero
Dr. Jose Rizal
Written by: MPS
Conflicting are familial ties that bind
As my activist brother once declared
This summon for probing, he declined
In a crucial time when revolts had snared
Our birthmark of freedom, then endangered.
Harder the choice for Dad caught in between
Love for son and a general’s duty;
As nights set to embark on our planned scheme
Father hid my sibling across a far sea,
Believing in our home’s earned dignity.
…………..
My brother was a college student and leader
of an activist movement during the People Power
Revolution in our country.
Though under suspicion for violent acts,
we all knew he was innocent, especially my father.
Dr. Ram Mehta’s Hard Choices Contest
by nette onclaud
Anacreontic Verse
Forgotten
love has faded
forever now lost
in the lips of ice
What once was
is no more
Her body revolts
she heaves heavily
Get thee away
Deliver me Lord
back to sanity
Let her feel my eyes
let her see my needs
a soft bed for two
now scorned by my touch
Let me give my might
pray show me the way
I will not lose her
I cannot go on
My life is over
11/13/15
It all began with a man who owns a cart,
And the Tunisian government took it away.
Now a martyr, having no idea what would start,
The Arab Spring began on that day,
Causing the Tunisian leader to give way.
The revolt then spread to neighboring Egypt.
Thousands gathering in Tahrir Square,
But President Mubarak refused to give up,
So more and more people protested there,
Until finally, was forced to leave his chair.
By now revolts in Yemen, Libya, and Bahrain
Spread like a forest fire, larger by the hour.
The electronic media is mostly to blame
To organize the revolt against those in power,
And cleanse all corruption like a rain shower.
In Libya, there’s Gadhafi trying to hold on,
With the thousands of people massed in forces,
But the rebels have just gotten too strong,
With the aid of NATO changing their courses,
And Gadhafi, the next to fall to the ashes.
Now in Syria, the government is fighting still
To hold on to power and deny human rights,
With the people trying to match their will,
And spread humanity through the Damascus’ lights.
What will be next… the Golan Heights?
By Greg Stanley
February 1, 2012
For Francine’s “Spring Day” Contest
The original version of this piece is too long for me
to post in its entirety, so it had to be sectioned off. Of
all that I've written, I am most proud of this work due
to its historical accuracy. I hope you enjoy it as well. It
was an honor to write this.
Lying in this shallow ditch I hear as they arrive, the
miracle of God is all that's keeping me alive,
and it is that belief in God to which each day I strive,
surprised at this much faith? Just simply gaze into
my life.
Was born in 1800, month October 2nd day, and knee
high to a hopper when my daddy ran away,
before you climb your soapbox and begin to think
that way, remember these are times when all the
black folk here are slaves.
Imagine being sold like stock, to work when cold or
hot, the overseers beatin people if they're old or not,
do not defy the owner, best believe you will be sick,
of getting 10 to 20 lashes from the master's whip.
My last name wasn't given at my birth and that's a
fact, my given name's Nathaniel but they choose to
call me Nat,
the surname of my owner Samuel is what I claim,
you put it all together yes, Nat Turner is my name.
I think about Old Bridget, that's my grandmother you
know, they snatched her out of Ghana, brought her
here to freezing cold,
she ran the Coromantee who were known for slave
revolts, she watched the seeds get planted in me
grow and take a hold.
I thought myself the lucky one for I could read and
write, it brought me to The Bible and I learned to
read it right,
then spent my childhood years admidst the Spirit up
above, it fit my needy soul just like a mitten or a glove.
I ran away at first when I was only 22, I should've
stayed away because I really wanted to,
but 1 month later, picture this it's me a black man
free, a vision told me that I should go back and that
was key.
The visions I receive I know are messages from
God, Old Bridget had religion shining deep within my
heart,
I will inform the brethren and won't stop until they're
saved, The Prophet is the name that I was called by
fellow slaves.
As 6 years pass of this I know it never is too late, the
hands of the Almighty have me primed for
something great,
I carry heavy shoulders for a man of 28, until I
worked the master's field one faithful day in May........
To Be Continued
Rwanda
And man will fight with murder and destruction
When peace and negotiation can go no further
Heaven shed many tears; to see that man
Does not even try to find peace if he can
For man has turned against each other
Heaven is full of sadness; and brother against brother
Humanity await his greatest fall
While heaven pray for us all
In the midst of this madness and pain
Everyone should remember Abel and Cain
Save six thousand;one man, General De Lare
Risk his life, has love to share
As Belgium rules Rwanda, the child
The sibling rebels, revolts and runs wild
The Rwandan president is dead; his plane is shot
All hell breaks loose and the temperature gets hot
The Hutus,supporters of the foreign government
Decide to bring genocide on the peaceful Tutsis without armament
Men women and children,are mowed down with machete and guns
And so instead of helping, the Belgian army runs
France, Italy, Belgium and the Vatican see the massacre of a peaceful people
The catholic church loses its steeple
They turn their backs, turn up their noses
The people die and their families are forced to smell the roses
To take their ex patriots, the French, Italian and Belgian appear
And after they leave, hardly a Tutsi is found standing there
The United Nations Pull out, no diplomacy, no oil, no solution
Things turn seriously grave, the Tutsis are swallowed up in this revolution
When eight hundred thousand Africans dead
All across the world, not a tear is shed
In every nation, love leaves, and enters hate
Atlantis revisit, as man does not see his terrible fate
.William Morrissey 1/28/07
I have all these magazines, what did they teach me?
Rags collecting dust in a pile beneath me
paint splattered down my body - eccentricity
it excites me, moreover it revolts me
what would they say if i adorned them indefinitely?
then you know who I am, what I was born to be
but this cloth isn’t a product of my creativity
i am what you are and what they claim to be
always with one eye on the damned hierarchy
pick it up pass it on it’s tiring being free
rat race, faster pace catching up with me
blinded by hunger for futile individuality
but each day the face of anonymity
rears its blessed head for only I to see
when the rags of the riches are like gold dust to me
pick it up pass it on it’s tiring being free
Love is overrated
Misunderstood, miscalculated.
It is the morning mist,
A dew rested on the grass.
In the warmth, it ceases to exist.
with the heat of the sun, it's gone.
Love demands caring,
Demands nourishment,
The constant attention of 5minus4 senses.
Love always dies slow,
Suffocating agony, a hard ignore.
Love is the cancer of the balls.
It's a haunting acoustic of an empty hall.
Echo bouncing off of the wall.
Love is at first,
Stardust, a diamond that shimmers.
Gold that's glistened with worth.
It's the first rain.
The first poetry a poet pens.
It's the first word uttered.
It's all metaphorical yet all literal.
It revolts, it's a rebel and a revolution.
At its pinnacle, it's greater than God.
For Fu*ks!!!
A pomeranian with a pitbull's gut.
In between love is
Understanding, compromising.
a doormat, a doorknob.
It's a lock and it's a key.
It is two different things.
It multiples to cease.
It's the missing
piece, It's all, it is.
A boneless dick.
Puking sick.
It's a nefarious deed of a priest.
Love at last is
An unclean tongue.
A desire of a dying whore to become a nun.
It's constipation,
And stomach cramps.
It's the first kiss and the biting of the lips.
It's a fart that refuses to leave.
It's piss after a drink,
It stinks.
It's a bottled up perfume,
A wild bloom.
It's a ruthless warrior.
A headless chicken.
the vigorous flapping of wings without flight.
It's a dead eye.
And a lie.
It's the heaven of the scriptures,
And a hell of the mind.
It's the sinister divine.
An indecisive crime,
A bell that doesn't chime.
It's screaming on the prayer.
A word unsaid, deed unpraised.
Love is but a suppression of hate.
A mistake,
Poison of a sweet taste.
©su_tshant
in the rusty tide animating bones
of deluded gods reaching for the lie
etched on eroded steles in dead lisps
licking flames of seers tossing guts
filled with blue and red fascists
infecting the hands of the curious
willing to taste microscopic spiders
gulping their blood pumping poisonous
chants of starlit fevers soaking doubts
in baptismal orgasms growing fingers
measuring spirits down to the remnants
of angels sleeping in cellars drinking
emotions of residents disheveling linen
drenched fear perspiring throughout eye
movements of broken nightmares straining
to be painted in fixed oil imbued with lead
thoughts cracking in corridors hallucinating
dripping madmen sharpening revolts smearing
screeching phrases fed intravenously milking
the life of beasts for ravenous wisdom awaits
cold to the heart thuds of silence defy adages
preaching surrender to the surgeon’s pride
flashing silver pain pooling mercury bulges
of phallic power parading atrocity elements
churning in the metabolic circumference of Gaia
digesting busts of Caesars forgetting Romana
as peace basks in the annihilation of metabolism
directing the jet-streams crossing sunrise
and sunset like catholic rites glossy and gilt
flat personages etched by bright children
bending down to surrender to the priests
speechless in empty piety moaning high-
ways returning in internal engines conbusting
beside Masonic erections adorned with devils
sliding between walls where innocence lived
yellowed pages of periodicals recall fabrications
stitched into the screens of televisions changing
until the entire hymn of Satan rests in every palm
It all began with a man who owns a cart,
And the Tunisian government took it away.
Now a martyr, having no idea what would start,
The ‘Arab Spring’ began on that day,
Causing the Tunisian leader to give way.
The revolt then spread to neighboring Egypt.
Thousands gathering in Tahrir Square,
But President Mubarak refused to give up,
So more and more people protested there,
Until finally, was forced to leave his chair.
By now revolts in Yemen, Libya, and Bahrain
Spread like a forest fire, hotter by the hour.
The electronic media is mostly to blame
In organizing the revolt against those in power,
And cleansing all corruption like a thundering shower.
In Libya, there’s Gadhafi trying to hold on,
With the thousands of people massed in forces,
But the rebels have just gotten much too strong,
With the aid of NATO changing their courses,
Then Gadhafi: the next to fall to the ashes.
Now in Syria, the government is fighting still
To hold on to power and deny human rights,
With the people trying to match their will,
And spread humanity through the Damascus’ lights.
How long will this last… how many nights?
I now must understand, this will never end,
As it started long before the man with the cart.
It is human nature to fight and defend,
Even at the cost of tearing everything apart
And losing all love from his ever-changing heart.
By Greg Stanley
February 1, 2012
Modified on June 26, 2012
Nature’s Revolt
It was a day of woe
As we stared and uttered wails
When we beheld an awesome sight
Of priceless loss
It was a universal eve
When the world was sparkling the sky
With thundering shouts of joy
To greet the arrival of a saint
Who staked it, to be a saviour
But we were rooted out of our moods
With mortals wails taking us to the orients
Where we beheld nature untimely revolts
Against life in the Asian world