In Chains(P) Poems - Poems about In Chains(P)

It was in the morning When I heard him snoring Like loud like a lion He who falls from my eyes Every sense feeling nonsense Early lights in goosebumps Served myself a red riddle Leaving me tortured and energetic Shooting my lungs to no air My kidneys helped me breathe Each cough counting complaints In a peaceful war against the...

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No trumpet blew, yet thunder came, From streets once hushed, now lit with flame. A tyrant's crown was cast away, By barefoot hearts who dared to stay....

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A muted echo in the bone, A world I cannot call my own. The breath I take a heavy toll, A restless sprit, losing soul. Not darkness craved Nor fading light. Just weary limbs, That cannot fight. The endless climb, The endless fall. I yearn for nothing, Least of all. This constant thrum,...

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The white man stole their land now the red man has the blues the white man sold their families and the black man's still ill-used the white man shot the American buffalo now the red man sings the blues the white man put their people in chains and the black man's grief accrues the white house is to blame the Government just the same the...

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Your name leaves a bruise on my lips, like a ghost that lingers, life to strip, with eyes that threaten as they smile and a voice that cuts, low and vile. My heart cries out in silence dark, which you incinerate with careless spark. Your compassion's rage rules my life, twisting love into chains, sharpening strife. I speak my truth and ask for...

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Slave without the chains hurt without pain Wild yet untamed Born with out a name Why stand out while others are the same. They tell me I'm free— but my alarm clock owns my mornings, my boss owns my days, my credit score owns my dreams. the commute becomes pilgrimage to a temple of fluorescent lights where I sacrifice eight hours for numbers in an account that...

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Steel bars whisper cold truths at night, A jungle of killers, no room for fright. Survival ain't luck, it's blood and bone, Earn your name or die unknown. Respect ain't given, it's taken in war, A blade in the dark, a fist to the jaw. Weakness is death, don’t...

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They came with books and broken laws, With poison veiled in noble cause, Whispers of "freedom" in their breath, But all they brought was silent death. "Athens," they claimed, "birthed this design"— Yet nowhere did the ancients sign A pact to force this frame on all, To raise some up, to make most crawl. When they arrived on Africa’s shore, They found no beggars...

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They came not with swords, but contracts in hand, With smiles that curdled like poisoned sand. World Bank, IMF — dressed in divine intent, But behind every loan was a nation's lament. They called it aid, we called it debt, A collar on the neck, a future beset. They promised bridges, but built no roads, They promised freedom, then handed codes. Our children’s...

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Another drag... inhale, exhale, inhale, lungs fill with toxic smoke another sip... fire glides down her aching throat another croaking whisper to the one beside, although aloof and remote. She laughs in the face of sorrow, trying in vain to hide behind her eyes the sound is an open coffin, a high hysterical plea filled cry I imagine she has...

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I remember wishing for her happiness, for if she smiled, all would be fine. She was a tempest, a storm of anger, sadness, and despair, Allowing the darkness to consume her, an abyss too deep to repair. She let the shadows dictate her life, Surrendered to the pain and grief Her laughter was a distant memory,...

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the years of clutter sum total feel much like a noose around my neck the memories both good and bad exhausting in their tonnage trinkets on shelves reminders in drawers paramount to the anchor out to hold me back the sea beckons all around me but i’m fettered in a stalemate hovering when i should be sailing how i envy the minimalist who has mastered the art of...

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Someone has said to me: Brother, if God is everywhere, Why should I go to church? And I said to him: Brother, the atmosphere is full of water If you get thirsty, you just don't drink right away You have to go to the source of water or a well In order to quench your thirst. Same with our spiritual life Your soul...

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Most of us linked in this world by chains or by freedom When we leave ~ by grave or mausoleum ...

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The sound of wheels on tarmac Keeps me focused Keeps me grounded Keeps me present The sound of wheels on tarmac Takes me farther and farther away From everything I have ever known Chained up like a worthless dog The sound of wheels on tarmac Reminds me that rebellion Always comes at a price You just have to decide if it’s worth the prize The sound of...

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