Long Protesting Poems
Long Protesting Poems. Below are the most popular long Protesting by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Protesting poems by poem length and keyword.
Wasn't Robin Hood born with noble blood,
what made him betray royalty?
He had a grudge against Prince John!
As a bodyguard, he was loyal
to King Richard, but despised
the greedy and unfair Sheriff.
According to English folklore:
he was an outlaw, a skilled archer,
he became a legend in his own town.
I doubt if any Englishman of the era,
would remember him as their own
if he hadn't been the selfless one,
taking everything from the filthy rich,
who daily engaged in a-eat-drink-binge,
he gave all back to the starving poor.
Had he not taken their side and avenged,
the peasants would have felt anger
and fought against him and his King.
Now, see Robin Hood in a different light:
lacking humor, grit and self-confidence,
not feeling compassion for the lowly
who cultivated farms and provided swine,
bread and wine for those royal tables.
He could have threatened them with vile words,
" Give me all your grains, vegetables and fruits;
your fowls, your chickens and pigs for my banquet! "
Load them on my wagon, don't hesitate and refuse:
my arrows don't miss targets, save your lives! "
And with intimidation they would appease him.
But Mariam would rise from her grave protesting,
" My husband isn't a villain as you describe him,
he saved my king and my father and tried to save me
from Guy of Gisbournue! Hail to him who revenged
many injustices in favor of the ones who trembled
at clanking swords! Hail to him who reunited England! "
Riguel Meese
287 Limousin Drive
Cattle City, Ribeye
00280
------------------------------
Deer Serve,
I recently saw Saddles teaks
at the Market. Noun I think
these things were wrong with it.
Aint have no Wiffyoursista or
nothing. Ya'll no better than that!
And Broth or. I tell ya: ya'll no
better than that! And why those
heifers protesting the usage of
leather
in coats when it's cold. Y'all no better
that that. A long horn Steer!
A beliguim Blue
New York strips
and the Jersey's does too!
And where is the Cow
Palace. Do they serve steaks there?
Bife or beef.
Stable, down pasture there.
He aint noFlank, you think he's
a flank. Moo this man! Moo this!
Alage green, Change water.
_______________________________
Sent Steerly Yours
Angus Angus Cow
"Alfalfa Eater"
Too much for today's society
Too many deaths in the family
Too much violence in the streets.
Too many hostilities by the police
Too many deaths by the police
Too many murderers in the streets.
Too many innocent victims
Too many in the wrong teams
Too many are lost in the reams.
Too many hostilities by the police
Too many deaths by the terrorists
Too many bad things in the streets.
Too many criminals are on the loose
Too many murderers in the police force
Too many innocents on the crosses.
Too many elephants on the horses
Too many deaths in our family
Too much for today's society.
Too many unsolved murders
Too many slimy perpetrators
Too many cadavers in the craters.
Too many hypocrites in our democracy
Too many bullies are roaming the streets
Too many crazy ants are warming up the seats.
Too many are crying, weeping and sobbing
Too many are protesting, yelling and wailing
Too many are suffering silently and yowling.
Too many cries
Too many lies
Too many spies.
Things are now out of control
Too many officers are on parole
Too many vultures on the pole.
Too many innocents are sitting in jail
Too many bad cops are out on bail
Too many snakes are lying on the rail.
Too many bad laws for the masses
Too few students are attending classes
Too many judges are acting like foxes.
Too many children are lost in the system
Too many leaders do not give a damn
Too many will do anything for an iota of fame.
When will these mayhems end?
When will we see justice on this land?
When will we write peace in the sand?
Too many cops are on parole
Things are now out of control
Too many vultures are on the pole.
Things are now out of control
Too many deaths in the family
Too much for today's society.
Hebert Logerie Monday, December 15, 2014
I do not know how men many we were
or how we went, what we saw on the way
nor do I know for what ungodly purport was ours
or what goaded us on into deeper uncharted territory
despite our tortured souls and aching bodies protesting to refrain .
I vaguely recollect through my befogged mind
some arcane words like Shoggoth and Mi- go and Dagon,
so much gibberish and blubbering babble of deranged minds
gone at once numb and addled with sights and sounds
forbidden to man in his wildest dreams and thoughts.
Through crenellated valleys grey misted in their troughs
and crests and covered with slime or ooze as from some
white-wormed denizens from unnamed and should-not-be-named
lairs in regions in deep damp grottoes of infernal charnel mounds
did I and my ill-fated team wander wild-eyed and unkempt.
Do not ask me what we saw when we reached our goal
for what my skulled orbs beheld or what my brain deciphered
I know nor remember not all semblance of sense and sensibilities
having fled with a volition not my own but driven by transfusions
of thought telepathically imposed from without from the miasma.
I know not whether to thank those who found me in the sorry state
that they did - a blathering caricature of the human form more ape,
nay, an ape has more intellect and dignity, than man- a creature more
fit to dwell in the mire and morass of a cess-pit than tread the same
hallowed soil or breathe the self-same vapors as civilized man.
It was far better still that the group of kindly souls, most rightfully,
had left me to my own contrivances and let me wander in my unknown
quest for unknown and mysterious things best known to myself once
but now lost to me forever.
I find myself in these padded and strait-jacketedand dreary halls of Arkham
standing at the edge of the precipice of an insurmountable mountain with
an abyss at the foot, both of interminable depth and dark as the devil's heart.
I have leaped from this vertiginous height perhaps a dozen times to end my misery
but having felt all the terror and thrill of finding absolution, I find myself here again,
and again.
I lay with eyes closed
listening to birds tweeting outside my window
and my little cat purring by my side.
Oh, at last I open my eyes and stretch
to a protesting meow from kitty making me smile.
I kiss her head and rise.
Inner warrior calls,
and I visualize me, a strong forest tree growing
my arms the branches reaching for sun.
With the raising of arms above, I just let go
and with my hands in prayer, I ask for courage
strength and serenity.
Now, sun salutations,
gracefully I move through the twelve postures.
Then, on my meditation mat I journey.
to a tranquil lake and tree with great mossy roots
and rocks beckoning for me, slowly it all fades.
And NOW, I am ready.
_________________________
December 21, 2017
Poetry/Verse/Inner Warrior
Copyright Protected, ID 7-1025-05
All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym.
All inhabitants of the world are immigrants
We came with nothing and we will leave with nothing
We are all passing by for a few happy or sad moments
We don’t get it: we are nothing and we own nothing.
When the bells ring, tell me what are you taking with you
When the roosters sing, which flotilla will protect you
The streets are full of dirty snow and clear ice, and the residents
Are protesting against injustice, hatred and countless rodents.
Trash bags cans are served as barricades, the streets are dirty and filthy
The corners and boulevards are on fire, gas canisters are smoking hot
The crowds are cursing and running back and forth. The melting pot
Is on fire. We dream of more peaceful days and nights in the country.
We probably belong to the first, second or third generation of a country
Yet, we forget that we are all immigrants of this world which nobody
Owns. We still don’t get it: we are nothing and we own nothing
Yet, we can make something out of nothing to be somebody or something.
Copyright © January 2026 Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of several poetry collections.
I was born in the odds,
I lived through it,
dotted the lines on my path
I was born among hyenas,
these scrambling to stiffen the last breath,
Amidst hurts and hate first from home,
A lot cast in mirage and fantasies,
Hope too soon cut short,
Survival, a struggle,
Unexplainable Fratricidal warfare,
The closer in blood, the more bloodier,
A race without consent
A badge of calumny,
Shot on the heels like Achilles,
Bore cruelty from innocence to adulthood,
Unending miasma, the debacles of a short existence,
Abandoned, secluded,
for reaction occasioned by their own bile,
Childhood stolen,
set on a slippery path as they watch a peradventure slide to my ill.
From ambuscade, they drew their swords,
Their arrows bathed in blood unabated,
Aiming at my marrows,
I groan and mourn in the dark,
Enemies as friends monitoring,
Friends as enemies watching.
This path not by Choice.
I lived through it,
A thousand bands of beasts assaulting,
Into this war, enlisted.
I was born there, buoyed by troubadour,
Somewhere in Africa,
My right are taken away from me,
Where laws are drafted by criminals,
Where the police pay themselves on the streets,
Where certificate are mere papers with payments,
I was born there ,
Where criminals are protected and sanity deemed madness,
Somewhere in West Africa
where compassion is extinct
The survival of the fittest,
Street boys kills to survive,
Scholars abandon politics to simpleton,
Where the brightest are critics and cadres prevents the ambitious
I live there,
Where certificate is a document to escape,
Lawyers now charge and bail for survival,
Doctors protesting like urchins
Poets selling cosmetics,
bankers riding "Okada",
Amongst drug peddlers,
Amongst cultist,
Where clergymen induce the gullible,
In this cage we call country.
I was born there.
No Luck For The Masses
Reversed into a corner where there is no way out
Rehearsed by a performer who likes to scream and shout
Inverses like a reformer who doesn’t know what he’s talking about
A curse that comes from former earnings not to go without
Multinational corporations that occupy the economic terrain
Unilateral conflagrations that teach you best of all to abstain
Collateral in the conversations that leave you grimacing in pain
Bilateral renunciations that leave the desert drenched in rain
Devastations that demand solutions in order to comply to convention
Remonstrations of absolution that deny the condescension
Aberrations of convolution that are a bone of mass contention
Admirations of the communions of the divine Ressurection
Profoundly seeking absolution from a person bound by grief
Resounding personal solutions that require the blessing of a chief
Confounding immolations that imply the working of a thief
Impounding the convolutions that you want to remain brief
Stupefaction of the masses staring at their screens
Abstraction comes in flashes of animations, adverts and memes
Extraction of the molasses as they’re diluting your dreams
Retraction of the colossus that invokes a high pitched scream
No luck for the poor the broken the tired the vulnerable or maimed
A truck of sure defiance that protesting will remain
The stuck realm of more reliance is a place of unhealthy terrain
While the crux that bore all of this violence leaves you back out in that desert rain.
Copyright The End Elizabeth Moroz
The other day we met a woman…
who had two reactions to the shirt I happened to wear
at first she smiled…
then she walked up to us and immediately began to share…?
My shirt had a mouse reading a book on the front pocket…
this is what made her smile
but the message protesting book banning on the back of my shirt
is what connected us for a while.
(A little history…between March and October of 1933
over 25,000 books considered un-German…were burned in Germany)
This woman was born into that book burning’s fiery aftermath.
She grew up with the loss of all that literature and art
and still remembers that part of her childhood with sorrowfulness in her heart…
She said it was sad growing up in Germany back then…
and once the scourge was over she thought it would never happen again.
(A little more history: just as difficult to understand…
Since July of 2021 15,940 books across 43 states and 415 school districts In America…have been banned)
A few times while she was talking…
her eyes welled up and her beautiful voice would break
She couldn’t understand how America didn’t learn from Germany’s mistakes.
(A final historical note:
Hitler and his Nazi philosophy (which she hoped would fade into obscurity
was based on power, militarism, expanding his kingdom and racial purity.)
She said, “Good and evil down through the millennia have always been competing
and it’s up to us to do everything we can to stop evil history from repeating.”
So before we commit another Holocaust…or start another senseless war…
instead of listening to our politicians…
perhaps we should listen to the people who have lived through this before.
THREE BRITISH ANGELS
Three daughters of Britain, in a dance class,
their lives were viciously taken!
But, sadly, for many of us, you are, in our silence,
inhumanelly forsaken!
You see, as poets, our hands, forced to pen of things
only positive and uplifting?
Dare we do otherwise, many our weak-kneed readers may
halt liking us, and do a “quick-kill, downshifting!”
And so~ now, good, honorable Brits, are being jailed.
for protesting our young, bloodied,precious loss??
The removal, the matter of civility is lost, and honoring
wild anteduvians, no matter what the cost??
So, we think that…..we in other countries are safe?
I know the lying media, relishes brainwashing you!
We are no different than the three ballerinas~
Knives of “cancel culture” are out to lie and silence you!
But in or generosity and goodness, now must be silent as trees?
And we are now raped, beaten or killed by merciless, killer-men.
The bells in towers still do ring, government tells us we are free?
But the wise know, freedom is taken, by loons with government pens..
So be fearless, and do pen with your heart of deepest truth.
Sing you, songs of beauty and courage, but of course!
Stop, oh stop, seeking popularity’s meaningless friuit!
May you not live in this world, thinking you are wrong and full of remorse.!
Be then, who you are, no matter what the cost!
If you choose not to be brave, you are hopelessly, lost.
God Bless Britain
8/10/2024