Long Rebel Poems
Long Rebel Poems. Below are the most popular long Rebel by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rebel poems by poem length and keyword.
You were empowered by striving
for an ideal nature potential to another,
more intuitive, your inspired psyche.
A dualistic inner child.
A sister if you will,
or brother, of conscience.
The fragile critic of your ego
twinning being and discovery
wicker work woven into identity.
Jungian campfire archetypes
and coastal forest epiphany.
Dawns chorus, dew walkers
wise dumb, and moon guided.
Myth whisperers and sacred smoke diviners.
You have become one with the tribe of
Anthropologically informed Atheists.
Book readers and thought provocateurs,
engaged by the zeitgeist.
You don't want to play at the game?
You seek no comfort in their death cult.
For you the apocalypse is a shattered dream.
Reflecting their allegiance to delusional rapture,
while clutching self-fulfilling lists of disasters.
You are a threat to their device.
Enraging them by your very existence,
by networks of increasing number and influence.
An abuse they contend is their God's given to prevent.
Yet you persist? Offering humanitarian precepts
as the alternative for generations of:
genocide, war, and thought persecution.
Rebel defiance enforcing struggle and community.
Breaking through the concrete of their institutions.
Seeded in cracks of commitment and enlightenment.
Poet's words swept by love and dissent
across vast tracks of sterile pavement.
“There is…another…Skywalker”
Though she’s not a Jedi Knight
The force is strong in her
She fights darkness with the light
A woman unafraid of danger
Princess Leia is her name
The kingdom is at stake
She’s out to win this game
She has wit, charm and beauty
A treat for Jabba the Hut
She kills that slimy sick beast
Will not sink down into smut
She wins the heart of Solo
Handsome rebel on the run
He brings to life her feelings
For his smile rivals the sun
She fears her evil father
But her brother knows how to save
For he is a Jedi knight
The force in him makes him brave
Star Wars is NOT a movie
That you view on some grand screen
It is not merely fiction
Thought up in someone’s daydream
There IS a mighty battle
That is fought out every day
The good tries to win the fight
The bad tries to have full sway
The “FORCE” is ever present
To give strength to overcome
Sure victory is in sight
Won by the only true SON
We all can be Skywalkers
Every day we can decide
To join forces with the good
And to shun the evil side
So, be brave and strong of heart
The saber is yours today
Go in with a rebel yell
FIGHT in the galactic play!
For Star Wars Contest
By Poet Destroyer
August 20, 2013
An old black and white movie
took me back to my childhood
when cowboys rode the range
Major Adams and Flint McCullough leading the Wagon Train,
and Hopalong's ten-gallon white hat
rode the brim of John Wayne's stagecoach in back;
with Roy and Dale saving every day
as Tonto and the Lone Ranger hi-ho silvered away;
Gil Favor and Rowdy Yates blazed the Rawhide trails
as Ben, Adam, Hoss, and Joe laid the Ponderosa tails;
The Mavericks never bet against The Rifleman and Gunsmoke truths
while Wyatt Earp, Matt Dillon, and Bat Masterson made the law fool-proof,
the Rebel and The Restless Gun kept horses ever on the run
and Cheyenne, Davy Crocket, and Daniel Boone
fought both Indians and Trappers without showdowns at noon
those western stars of early radio and television shows after school.
These were the stories of so many heroes, villains and more jewels
the cowboys and cowgirls, and their horses too
revived the west for the fifties youth,
a blast from the past
of the fading western stars.
Sic semper tyrannis thus always to tyrants. Rebel rebel rebel ! Storms of rebellion topple his brutal regime capture the capital, Damascus liberation celebration. His brutal regime…millions fled for their lives while squashed beneath his iron fist thousands flee who stood by him as his subject's writhe and perish ‘neath chemicals unleashed. Luxury, an extensive car collection rarest of Ferrari’s, Lamborghini Diablo and Rolls-Royce there in his obscenely opulent palace while nine out of ten live in destitute fleet discovered models of his choice. His brutal regime new-found freedom explores an opulent residence torture chambers crumble, captive return to your loved ones as rebels seize the nation’s reigns asylum granted to an ousted leader. Bashar al-Assad in Moscow Assad has fled his country
see how it settles
upheaval with no clear path~
‘tis heaven or hell?
“The eternal mirror leads the minds of those who look in it to a knowledge of all things and better than in any other way.” Saint Augustine
Let us scrutinize the pandemic's mirror.
As in lesser and greater lights it
impresses its weird controtions by the
splendor of its ravage beyond the multicolored dome of
religious shrines east and west.
Il ne puet etre autre chose.
Molecule infused with viciousness and
darkness of its awe-inspiring glory
across earth's feeble plain with its
humbling effect without a token or trace of
mercy while April comes and goes like a
rebel without a cause in custody of
earth's listless life, a voyeur voyaging with
bones strewn in its cave seeking
death – the obscurant Orpheus' mirror sniffing out
hope's meticulous stance.
There are things one must do in this world to survive,
If one's to get through this life and contrive,
Not to lean on the goodness of those that we love,
And expect them to put our own welfare above,
The things that they need for their own livelihood.
One prepares for one's future as everyone should.
A rebel is one who ignores all the rules,
And looks on the wise as sheep and as fools,
For deciding to follow a straight, narrow path,
And steer clear of trouble and clean up their act,
For in making decisions you decide your own fate,
And trial and error brings wisdom too late.
You'll lose in the long run unless you can learn,
Your mistakes must be paid for and honor is earned,
When you take care of business and keep your nose clean,
And follow the rules 'stead of fighting the reigns.
You’ve stopped talking to me and I don’t know why...
I hate this - this feeling - this anguish, with it’s retinue of mysteries.
Was it something I said? I’m sorry - I curse my rebel lips.
Was it something I didn’t say? I’m sorry - I was the unaware child.
I’m just a girl – not some faultless machine
There needs to be a manual – a manual for... everything - so I'd know.
Is there a more contemporary narrative than disappointment at the hands of this Internet plaything - this toy-like trap we hope will inform us and we think we command?
I know questioning destroys some things.. but I don’t understand.
I don’t understand.
In spite of viewers and hearers discretion,
One might wonder and say,
"Fashion is growing from top to down,
Excuse my knowledge under tension,
All because the wardrobe is put in section,
Anytime the morning sun rise,
It shakes the room,
And it even seems so right,
Perhaps many years ago I made a choice for a moon,
"In the early eighteenth century, you weren't in the game",
An old person's rule,
"But just make this century your platform,
Since a Prehistoric man will let you be wild to conform,
Men and women fought for their own dominance,
No nutritional food on a furnished dining table,
Our source of power was the eyes of an unknown rebel,
Adam and Eve clothed in leaves,
Who admonished them of peace?
What inspired their beefs?
Can I guess their mode of reasoning?
Of course,success crowned their fears,
They weren't pioneers,
Subsequently,when the moon sets in,
"Fashion grows from down to top in a generation setup to fail" .
I’m writing of my neighbor,
Who sadly passed away.
She planted the poetry seed,
Of the poems you read today.
A piece of me left with her,
The day her casket closed.
She spawned my poetic inception,
For her, my work’s composed.
It’s been eleven lonely years;
Her poetic sun set, to never rise.
I’m still in mourning far from setting,
Illuminating the poetic skies.
Her presence cast infectious beauty,
But her life’s light untimely set.
Leaving a wealth of memory,
That my heart will never forget.
Her poems speak forever,
Reminding my tortured soul.
Of their creator’s radiance,
That sadly had to go.
I’m up here with other stars;
My poetic rays sting the eyes.
It's my time of day to shine,
And grace the poetic skies.
________________________________
For Chris' "Get Your Rebel On" contest
Don’t be mute spectator of the wrongs
Rise up and protest now
Don’t suppress your rebel voice
Speak up and question now
If intolerant fire blazes your heart
Be fire burn the flare and waft away ashes now.
Don’t count what you haven’t got
Disown the past and move on now
Don’t neglect what you’ve got
Embrace them and be happy now
If storm surges clouds in your mind
Be storm blow the haze and see rainbow now.
The precious life you’ve got
Live full to enjoy and celebrate now
If darkness falls on the festival
Raise the moon and dance on its beam now.
On fate’s track of ruthless time
Walk fearless and engrave footprints now
If you face the sea of turmoil
Part the sea and cross over to peace now.
May 30. 2019