Long Despotism Poems
Long Despotism Poems. Below are the most popular long Despotism by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Despotism poems by poem length and keyword.
AND THIS TOO SHALL PASS...IF WE DO THE RIGHT THING
Shameful as it is, this burden place is still my land;
Though a broken house it may be, it's still my home.
Her foundation is cracked and rattled, but still, we stand;
Pity, her today's "Nero ego" has forgotten the story of Rome.
Despotism no longer hides in ambush along the power corridors;
Its venomous words and twin actions are now commonplace.
Each day the sunrises to waves of injustices and abject horrors;
And a once revered nation now wallows in its own uttered disgrace.
While it may seem that hate and bigotry play death games each day,
Infusing lives with their fisting bloody cuffs of "isms", let us not despair;
Reverse exodus has begun--the Noah-like political flood is on its way.
Rain clouds, lightning, and thunder of retribution have begun to prepare.
The Ark this time will be built with planks of liberty, justice, and undying love;
The Supreme Power of Blacks, Whites, Jews, and Gentiles is watching from above.
When frights are most appealing than sunshine.
That puts a stop to any remaining hope to shine.
Hell's dogs will wait with their terrifying teeth.
while a deadly famine swallowed them underneath.
When the sky is coated by a thick veil of darkness.
Covered a soul wailing with apathy and madness.
And that's what the stud horizon curves around.
A rainy, gloomy day that exceeds dismal enwound.
When all the land turns into a fiery, stuffy prison.
Where desire is a spider's obscurity, sensation
In a weak, fluttering flight alongside the grime.
Rafters and hitting its face toward a fetid crime.
It's raining slithering spiders of randomness.
Tear away the ice that traps us in landlessness.
Our minds have canals where water is flowing.
Yet those among us are of toxicity—blowing.
The chimes at once and angrily strike out.
And pierce the stillness with terrifying shouts.
As well as frightening vagrant and refugee.
Those who lack a home often hold shrill effigy.
Broad, quiet, hypnotic-rolling inurns are seen.
By way of my full being. A forlorn plea of ween.
Despotism takes shape from its terrible pain.
The hood of my dark cloak falls on my cruel brain.
Written: June 2nd, 2023
Bag Of Spiders Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Matt Caliri
Years of oppression and no revolt,
Continued sufferings of subtle minds,
I don't find girl rising!
Living in subjugation and cruel society,
Abused by her own beloved,
I don't see any girl rising!
Call for justice is far from cry,
Targeting her from every side,
I don't find any girl rising!
Awakening minds is the only tool,
Raise a voice against despotism,
Inoculate courage into the oppressed,
Sun will appear above the horizon,
Ascent with an active rebellion,
I can definitely see the girl rising !!
Form of poem is rhyme.
Written by Dr. Upma Sharma
June 2013
Awarded 1st place win
Entered for another contest
Awarded 10th place win
I like this poem because this is my first and only wish
to see the girl rising !
And I m absolutely hopeful for it will happen one day!
I walk the path of Human Secrecy
I belong in no Shelf
I put no labels to Myself
Hopeless of Heaven
Fearless of Hell
Unraveled my mind
Evoking turmoil in my Soul
In the mystery of my own Disguise
A stranger to my own Thoughts
Cradled with a Heartless Rive
That sees no boundaries
The emancipation of my mind
Subversive at its extreme
An agile Intricacy
The darkest part of my Soul
Where despotism forbids Denunciation
I've a mind of the highest Distinction
That holds me by the hand
Silently Saying
Look, Listen and Learn
I seek to understand
Rather than be understood
When God himself is in the Rough
It's time to summon Satan's Hell..
Abhorrent those phizog few,
At times they flood his mind.
He did not even know why them his mind drew,
He has got to get down, reasons to find.
His mindly nib, she oozes memories,
Of old and new… far but few,but many ,that he knows not.
On papyrus his mind scribbles and carries,
And then drains encapsulated emotions that afore are now brought.
His heart bleeds of porous feelings,
Bleached and dried by furious despotism.
Of people he knew real close in life’s dealings,
Of the ones he had no knowledge of their absolutism.
Blood flows from his weary eyes,
Tears flow from his broken heart.
But he has not yet learnt life’s game of dice.
All he has borne is the fury of the tyranny’s dart.
My thoughts like his lie chained ,
My mindly nib brings afore,
Glued stuck and stained.
Memories of the past eon all sore.
Get up my Goa…..
Can one dare to hope…
Instead of all in this darkness grope
All he can hear is Empty voices….. cold… dark and sterile,
Shapless dreams , but sought in the midst of peril
Black mirrored roads and murky simmering waters,
Is no place for perfect reflections, but for our dream slaughters
Leaving behind a land adorned by hungry eyes…
Its beauty diminishing like wisps of smoke amidst populous cries……
Get up stand up….
ElseWe will run blinded in the dark,
And meet the hard embrace
Of whispered truth and scolding truth without a scenario of a worser case
You are watched and inspected,
Governed , directed , censored and corrected.
You are told what to do,
You are told how far to go.
Where is that haloed glow?
No more a part of your grand show,
Have they driven your thoughts to a tangent,
Oh then even your smile could shortly become pungent.
Your sanity unseen
Your senses now dumb that were earlier keen.
I still cannot reconcile as to why?
Why why and why?
You still walk in sheathed in tatters of pride….
Lips closed but open eyed…..
How long……..
Do we have to be forlorn
How long……..
Do we have to be forlorn
socialism communism fascism despotism
buddhism catholicism hinduism zoroastrianism
territorialism colonialism imperialism expansionism
positivism relativism behaviorism existentialism
adventurism escapism negativism nihilism
puritanism fanaticism extremism terrorism
sexism chauvinism ultra-nationalism jingoism
hedonism epicureanism ~ stoicism asceticism
patriotism heroism altruism idealism
activism idealism individualism exceptionalism
atheism deism monotheism paganism
optimism pessimism cynicism romanticism
atheism secularism humanism utopianism
hypnotism mysticism exorcism surrealism
~ and what if there were a schism in each and every 'ism!'
Author's note: Talk is good, conversation is better. I don't know that any good ever came out of an argument, and in a supposedly enlightened society, no subject should be off limits.
In hallowed halls of ivy 'cross the nation,
In dorm rooms and classrooms,
Quadrangles and halls,
In locker rooms and laundry rooms,
In bookstores and malls,
Campus U's and coffee bars,
City trans and private cars,
Etc., etc., etc.,
Students and academics alike
Love to get up early and stay up late
To discuss or argue and debate
A plethora of currently controversial,
Debatably debatable,
Arguably arguable issues, i.e.:
Evolution or creation;
Salvation or damnation;
Missile ranges; climate changes;
Global warming; eco-farming;
Obesity; incontinence;
Casual sex or abstinence;
Free love or marriage,
Same sex or straight;
Labor or capital;
Minimum pay rate;
Democracy or autocracy;
Despotism or anarchy;
Christianity or paganism;
Civilization or barbarism;
Religion or terrorism;
More prisons or more schools;
Why so many grammar rules;
Why the federal deficit mounts;
Whether oral sex really counts;
Wearable technology;
Is war a perversion or merely perverse;
Our position in the universe;
To be or not to be;
Is there an end to infinity;
Etc., etc., etc.
And they always strive with utmost care
To present both sides of a question equitably
Because it makes them feel aloof and erudite,
Impersonal yet superior,
Open-minded, objective, and fair,
Detached from everything but essential abstract truths.
With meticulously researched facts
Neatly organized on index cards or iPads,
They argue passionately and hotly,
But behind the facts and figures,
And once they've gotten past the fads,
They have no real passions
Or even any real feelings about the issues
One way or the other,
Except the somewhat nagging concern
That they might be right…
Or wrong…
And then what?
Author's additional note: I'm not sure which "category" to put this piece under, dear readers. Any suggestions?
A monochrome of boho days
segue one another surreptitiously.
Endless pantomimes of idle chatter flutter by.
Cantilever bridge, a one stop halting site for gossip and suspense.
Small talk, bespoke winged creature, Combe of pleuron.
Turin shroud spotter in the mise en scene melting pot.
The spirited stride of pavement strollers prompted by
agenda.
Metatarsals on the march.
Street vendor’s spooky cry with banjo beating busker at his side.
Dirt pan bellow and brittle strum about the
orange alert ahead.
Crowded car park, careening bus, frustrated taxi driver rank and file.
Backstreet Barney or kerfuffle on the lawn.
Swing sign overhead, a pawn in every trending breeze.
Office block malarkey cutting capers for the press.
New age ante-fix, the cover tile for corruption.
Whistle blowing wag inside the
city centre fault line.
Brass neck
reservoir of hoodwink high and low.
Harassed mother, barefoot beggar
nervously extends her rusted tin.
Guilt edge coin as bandage to our shoddy scruple.
Bag lady on the fringe of some haute couture complex.
Stasi-like security whose bluff veneer belies an inner
bludgeon.
Crouton salad diner has his finger on the pulse but not his pulse rate!
Tycoon in transition with an open brief!
Teflon tyrant
back to the future.
Ambulance chaser …. legal eagle…..with fortune in misfortune their calling card .
To the limit and beyond like an offshore Ansbacher.
Noonday bell
interloper at the scuttlebutt tavern.
Seconds out,
moments out,
hours in a hari kari haze.
Sensei’s of the left filling void with vacuum.
Laboured diatribe against dynasty, trite slogans, empty rhetoric, mannah from heaven?
All this from the cadres of social despotism!
Passage, the
pollinating insect of aroha.
Behind the rhythm of the grind a broad leaf grain of hope may sprout.
Green shoots of bounty.
Latent sidewalk bloomer.
Blossom by default or tender impulse
Standing at the bow of the rugged ship,
Blistering tears cue up in the wrinkles
Of faces worn weary with anguish;
Uncertainty becoming a bleeding wound.
The raging storm swells with tormenting waves
Splashing on the shores of human dignity and honor;
Leaving the despotism of doubt and fettering fear
Frothing in the humidity of the politico-sands of time.
Yet, despite the toil and fatigue of the hour,
Hope remains on the horizon--rising with the sun;
And the searchlight of truth will dissipate the cloud of deceit
With its enlightening rays emancipating lost, stiff-necked souls
Seeking stillness of peace in the coming raging winds of change.
Senses defeated; defile of insensible
are stepping boldly, with motives ostensible,
to take pledge upon our platform honorable.
List of agenda is: Power extensible!
Frustrations of the mass is just regrettable
with a history of deeds abominable.
Who to address in moments insufferable?
Despotism in democracy: deplorable!
We oppose their resolutions reprovable.
Stand up to make those imposed rules revocable
and join the minority for action noble.
Or bear now, cowardly, those dishonorable!
24/01/17
Poem "Rules of th morons" written on 10/9/16, reviewed for this contest 12 by 12 monorhyme (John Hamilton)
12 lines 12 syllables (howmanysyllable)