Long Junta Poems
Long Junta Poems. Below are the most popular long Junta by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Junta poems by poem length and keyword.
Ex-presidents
There was a man, not very tall, selling
pornographic pictures at a corner of a
street
Once he had all the power, one could
dream of, as a military junta took his
job, and since all he had was grand
villas were in the name of the state and
Furthermore, he had neglected to pay
anything to his retirement fund
Hence, reduced selling of naughty
picture of visiting statemen having sex
in some sleazy hotel
when those who had bought the pictures
took a closer look, they realized they
had a goldmine
the man on the corner was smuggled
to
Brussels got an offer he could not refuse
He lives in Rhyad and takes delight
counting all the rolling heads in Europe
Nothing is new; it's what politicians do
when losing power, he joined the TV circus and
get interviewed telling the same sorry story
and the more fibs they tell, the more we
enjoy gossip and slander.
The Trojan of our heroic struggle
The heroic struggle against chains
Which beckons with pains
That tends to make us insane
For we are already stained
As they offer us disdain
Nowhere but in the scorchy rain
From the cradle lipping with light . . . of wisdom
Grew to be part of the struggle against the kingdom
Clenching fisticuff against the host hoarding our freedom
For the student movement’s struggle against the fiefdom
Reigned like others that thinketh not of the days of doomdom
Whilst the 80’s have those that have seldom
Bothers not about their selfishly accrued freedom
And bear brunt and boredom:
The late Chris Abasi
The late Rotimi Ewebiyi(RE)
Lanre Arogundade,Emman Ezeazu
Olu Oguibe, Labaran Maku
Ogaga Ifowodo, Bamidele Aturu . . .
Who scrawl their sobriquet in the Ingrained
Annals of the Nigerian student struggle
Those whose names sends
Cold and shiver to the Military junta
Chima, a born Trojan
Had no laurels and medals to display
Except for broken ribs and
Bruised lips with a bloodied head
For a cause he believed in
Ubani, a masculine Amazon
It just occurred to me that your demise has left
A big lacuna in the revolutionary kingdom in Nigeria
You remain the unassuming link amidst
The ultra-leftist, the progressives
The right activists, the social critics
The liberals and other change seekers
All along, you raised the slogan of
System change and Regime change
Craving for a working class mass based
Political party to take over
So that we can move over
Whenever we see the sign of cross over
In order not to spill over
In our quest to possess our possession
You remain a Trojan in the gully
Having kept your head above murk
In the human right trenches
You have scribbled your name boldly in
Gold on the sand of history
The road claims another Trojan
Unable to lose us out of your life
We gain from the blood and pains
A living testament to earn us new hearts
And firm us on the more
Forever in the struggle till we wet out
The blood of our tormentors and oppressors.
Alayande Stephen Tolulope
September 27th 2005
4.45pm
Form:
Born before the war
The sky was sullen and sorrowful
was the mist smoke from hot cannons
on crackling radios, people listened to
a man shrieking and thought
what a useless idiot
my birth was painful for my mother
she cried
my brother entered the room
slapped my face for hurting her
He was four years old and born,
a mild fine day in May
thus of happy disposition
expert in telling jokes
and in later years, wore my leather
jacket I had bought in Buenos Aires
October weather has much to answer for
my gloomy opinions are banned
on the Woke sensors on Facebook
who says, if you cannot be pleasant, send
a picture of a day in May
Me, I was expelled when the junta of four
colonels who ruled Greece for drinking ouzo
and be critical of them
Sent to an island for the mad, but six
month later, the hapless four officers
joined me and became orderly, cleaning
bed pans
I begin as a covet, dulcet demure
pure in play, unbound to a dogma or tablature, a luscious lure,
I find that nerve of passion's verve nestled 'neath narcissistic comfiture
a covey of tingles taunting the ambition you serve, swift and swill I swerve,
in you I introduce a tempo of truth trailing a kiss along your spine's curve
a persuasion of perversion purring patiently in almighty allure,
reaching your pinnacle pulse I assure,
Entwining myself around your libido with nibbling nurture
binding you to the alter of painstaking pleasure I relieve with analgesic swelter
hoodwinking your will with a delicate dominance I am the prima donna capture,
embellishing the envisage of eros, I burnish organs keen with aphrodisiac welter
you become a devout captive to me, the divine dominator,
I am the matador confronting your impulsive power
the target of your sexual tremor,
spear tipped with warm vigor
into you I pound a wonder,
vice and virtue surrender
to principle superior in passionate plunder, for you become the conquer's lover,
taking my spirit from specter to flesh victor,
I will make a woman the vessel of volcanic velvet,
revolutionize female thighs, simmering the sighs in eyes,
make the wrap of a man's arms a hearth of healing heat soul felt,
his tongue a torch pinging with paced pause within mouths magnetized,
A coup de tat taken to your Shangrila,
weaknesses my wayfaring, strengths the servants of my junta
my sweet magic of mayhem laid upon your lithesome lips, the coup de grace -
J.A.B.
David Hurleys run away, he placed a sign just the other day.'
Closed till further notice I've heard.? It's beggars belief upon my word.'
I wonder if his door is round.? Like at bag end? And bolted sound?
He didnt want those visitors sure.' 1 million people, mostly sore.'
Old scomo didn't breath a word.' Or Barnaby or the other nerd.'s.'
Like sauraman their peering out, Australians are rising all about
Their coming in like swarming bees, the junta will be on its knees.'
The henchmen wear the deathmasks still, it's a sign of the sickness on the hill
I can smell it's stench.' There's a sweat of fear, though I'm in the UK it's travelled here
What can be done.? Know its begun..The unravelling of the number one
The fear of fear.' They fostered here, on captive city (what oversteer)
i'll bet they sold them noble ideals, they were almost Swiss-Canberrans is this, (for real?)
They're the most jabbed people in Oz I hear.? No flies on them, nor covid drear.?
You can't be sick and dead at once.' Or even be sacked.' It's the covid jab bounce.'
Maybe they're not Australian even? Makes you wonder bout (even stevens)
He might just show, you never can tell, just ask old scomo on the edge of hell?
Good Grahame Hood, and Riccardo Bosi, they've stood it well and gave out plenty
It's pleased I am in both of you, two worthy Aussies, just see thisl° through
I can see you're not in each other's pockets, from different positions you fire some rockets'
And that's to the good.' You and all the rest; you're building an army; best of the best.'
John Larters sound, and Craig Kelly seems too, the Gibson ahead of the other crew.'
Your in my prayers, and in my toil, in the tears I've shed in my blood that's boiled
Keep it good, your cohesion is key' you've lifted my heart a time or three.'
God bless you all just stay the course, I'll cheer you on till my throat is horse
And then I'll cheer you on some more, one the pilot I prayed for; who came to the fore.'
And a Colonel I spoke of' might one stand?, dear God you heard and that's so grand'
Now stick it to them.. Until they fall.) Our God is leading He's (the all in all)
A HELL DATE
Like an order from the military junta
He swerved the steering off our route
I was surprised... not really scared
It was four days after my birthday
Where are we going?
What's happening? tell me
We are going to a Fast Food... ok, that's it
Ok, then, the General has spoken
Any word from his mouth is a decree
For we are in a military junta
Was ordered not to pick expensive menu
As I glance through the menu list
I asked what he wanted ... nothing!!! he answered
Just hurry up, I've got things to do
I could barely eat my cheap menu pick
He looks at me irritatingly...as if I am worthless
My cutleries fell off my hand severally
Must I eat this so called food
It was one hell of a date... to compensate for my birth date
Hurriedly like maid and Boss, we left the place
It all ran through my mind?
What was this for?
Did I force you to take me out on a belated date?
I felt reduced to nothing as I wish I vomit the food
I should have known better... worst off in all
I felt like a nuisance on a date
As I wish there wasn't a date in the first instance
All kinds of date I mean... birth date or hell date
AST
1.55am
15/04/2015
Conjure from a true life story
As they leave,
They leave for us
Calabash full of sorrow and agony
They leave for men a plate of frustration
And desperation.
As they leave
They leave for women nothing
But cups of tears and fears
As they leave
They leave for old ones a basket
Full of fruits of ultimate death and shame
As they leave
They leave for workers a big bowl
Of empty promises, unpaid salaries
And incessant strike actions
As they leave
They leave for students a stabbed
And crippled students’ union,
Ramshackle and “Renopainted”
Halls of Residence
As they leave
They leave for our generation a loss compass
From which we can find and rediscover our
Moral values, valuable culture
Instincts of deliberative governance and
Leadership cum administrative acumen
As it is
We are living with fear of gbu-a-gbu-a
Of daylight gunshot of the emboldened to
Extort, encouraged to maim and induced to kill
Ultra-fascists campus cult groups commissioned
To crush all seeming oppositions
As is it
We are living with:-
Biochemists without reagents
Microbiologists without modern microscopes
Linguists without modern language laboratory
Computer students without
Being opportune to hold a mouse
Physiologists without bloodbank.
As it is
We are living with
Dike archaic books and non books materials
Students and staff basking in the euphoria
Of stone age and ancient facilities.
As it is
We are living in a garden that detest truth
Genuine intellectualism, dissent views and
Contrary opinions but rather nourishes in
Multi-colour ignorance, white lies,
Ever green concocted disortions,
Oceanic blu-i-sh sycophancy and reddish intolerance
Which is only reminiscences of the black jackboot
Days of the Abacha junta.
Alayande Stephen. T
20th,September,2005
6.00am
Form:
In the heart of vibrant Africa, where democracy should reign,
Two shadows lurk, two specters haunt, two faces of the same pain.
One a soldier, gun in hand, the other clothed in suit,
Both rob the people of their choice, both the people's voice they mute.
The military coup, so stark, its violence loud and clear,
Ousts the leaders chosen by the people, instilling fear.
An iron fist in velvet glove, the power it seizes tight,
An eclipse of freedom, a darkened sun, a never-ending night.
The electoral commission, oh, how it wears a gentler face,
Yet hides beneath a veneer of law, a similar disgrace.
Votes cast in trust, a people's hope, but when the counting's done,
The rightful winner cast aside, the injustice has begun.
One uses bullets, the other, pens, tools of power's game,
But look within their hearts and see, their purpose is the same.
To usurp the will of the people, to claim a stolen throne,
To silence the voice of democracy, to make the power their own.
A coup is a tempest, fierce and wild, a storm that shakes the land,
Election theft, a poison slow, a tightening of the hand.
Yet both are a violation, a rape of trust and right,
Both leave a wound upon the land, a scar both deep and bright.
Africa, oh Africa, the cradle of mankind,
In your heart democracy’s seed, these usurpers try to bind.
But your spirit is resilient, your will cannot be tamed,
For the flame of freedom, once lit, cannot be maimed.
And so your people rise, against the bullet and the pen,
To claim the promise of their vote, to find their voice again.
For whether by coup or stolen vote, the truth remains the same,
Injustice anywhere is a threat, to justice's sacred flame.
Each coup, each election, a battle in the fight,
For the heart of Africa, for democracy's light.
Yet, hope persists, the struggle goes, until that glorious day,
When Africa is free at last, come what may.