History. Poems - Poems about History.

Damn Red Cooper

Damn Red Cooper is a son of a ,
fast with a gun, trigger finger will itch,
all the folks say that he’s killed twenty men,
now he’s saying that I’ll be one of them.
Damn Red Cooper had his eye on a girl,
worked the cathouse, liked to give her a twirl,
now mad as hell that she done left

High Traffic

A highly trafficked public toilet:

Leftover excrement,
tissues of tears.
Hiding from an ex,
or meeting a perfect stranger.

Throwing up nerves of steel,
collecting hand sanitizer.
Making it just one more hour,
writing initials all over the stall.

The last moment of the night,
looking at the next event flyer
under the hand dryer smiling.

Phone numbers,
hearts, and bragging rights. 
This venue has changed names,
the bathroom

A riot born of flames and rage

A burned up system of control
A revolt spoken with flames 
Silence was no longer an option
Peace had been exhausted 
The only language they communicate 
Violence 
The police man specialises in brutality when it comes to the black man

'Stop and search'
An excuse they use
To abuse 
The 'blacks"
Used as a slur
By the oppressor
As if it's poison, as

Concrete Requiem

Written August 18, 2025, for contest Sponsored by Vanya Evangeline

              ****************

Orpheus in the Underpass,
strummed not strings but a tape untied, 
melodies muttering on weathered stone,
beneath the urban sprawl—
where shadows reign,
And graffiti whispers tales of kismet.

Eurydice donned her headphones,
When the cab clipped her soul,
She

Hidden histories: herero and Nama

The holocaust.
A historical event known worldwide 
Taught in every history class
The point being is its known
Why is that important?
It overshadows
It takes the spotlight
It is also white history 
Because even though it was mainly the persecution of Jews
At the end of the day they are still white

But what about another holocaust 
Another genocide of people
Those who

On Becoming Obsolete

Shall we once more, in mountains of our thought,
Gaze down upon the vastness of our ground,
And know that for the meadows newly sought,
The flowering fields shall not by us be found?
Shall we recall that bronze took place of stone,
And then in turn to iron did yield its way;
That ships of sail no more the oceans

black days of history

Black Days Of History
Rating: ?5.0
?


(10/25/12)

The black days of history that many do not know
And many refuse to accept of how the black man
Helped AMERICA to be the greatest country yet.

They were brought here as slaves because the
Color of their skin!
But their minds was never searched to see
What lied within.

Every ethnic group that came to the

Insightful Praise of a Pretty Little Liar

Chiaroscuro ballerina,
Rond de jambe in chaînés
Jeté, jeté
Grand jeté

Mariana Victoria,
Your Seiren eyes speak in
Adamantine lies
Forbidden apple gates

Amina Afrikana,
Runes enjambed in chains
Adamantly denying
Grand opries

Bloomeria guro,
Your six-petaled cries sing
"Beaujolais, beaujolais!"
Forbidden pomegranates

We Co-Exist Panacea or Pain

I like Pain! 
Thats why you can call me "panacea" 
It and I is the same.! We co exist with pain,!
Since i was often used to cover up a pain,!
A solution to every hard problem they may have,!
Regardless of what disease it carries...
afflictions to any...
Difficulties to bear...
You dont need to worry... 
For you got me,.

Between Museum Piece and Curiosity

     a place preserved in memory
        as if in mystic fantasy
     where revolutionaries farmed and fought
        no time for speeches or dialectic thought

     a place where survival was the

Our Futuristic Past

Nephilim, a curious thing
Said to be Giants
Angels and Women bring
(Not Artificial Insemination)
But what if somehow this were all wrong
That the words were really different
When they sang that song
What if we change the word Giant
To mean Genius instead
Wouldn't that lead us to somewhere 
Different than we were lead
And what if all along It were staring 
Us

Playing Chess with Rudolf Hess

I’m in Berlin. It’s nineteen eighty-four,
The Army on the Rhine, and I’m a nurse.
I’ve got an ego like an exocet,
(it’s safe enough, if regularly flattered),
and I have had enough of NAAFI-lore.

Four Powers – us, Froggie, Yank and Soviet –
have brought down on ourselves an endless curse:
we dance a careful monthly minuet
whose point is to uphold

Cartographer Of The Stars

There are millions of stars 
Those are just the ones we can see 
But there are many more 
Lost to time and the universe 
Each one is a long-lost dream 
Or a love which went missing 
However, at one time, they shone brightly 
But there is a single man A
A cartographer of the stars 
He

I’m a dumb rooster’s beak

I’m a dumb rooster’s beak
 pecking broken chunks of cheese
                             from every event
every moment is astonishment
           

History doesn't matter if its aesthetic

Hot summers dry up the land 
The dirt crumbles under the heaviness of disrespect
Fresh flowers adorn the land 
Covering the uneven burial grounds 
Overshadowed by privilege 

What better way to claim superiority 
By soiling the plantation they stand on
Ignorance crowds the air 
Cast aside by vows of love 
Tainting history with a wedding
The stories of

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