Long Rebellious Poems
Long Rebellious Poems. Below are the most popular long Rebellious by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Rebellious poems by poem length and keyword.
brings world word ii gunnery duty
as extremely frightful flashback
which utterly displeases this elderly mortal
and such behavior moi aback!
Born in this same house
on Leona avenue, this oldster doth dwell
which neighborhood once felt like heaven,
but now seems like hell
pet peeves arise with ever more frequency
from increased unpleasant encroachments
along this very narrow street
some young hoodlum
left trash scattered on property
that blew everywhere pell mell
but also parks a slew of cars up and down
both sides of this narrow thoroughfare
blithely co-opting an unused driveway
by an elderly lady who lives alone
oh, or a male friend of his
who guns the engine of a rosey roadster
at the crack of dawn
and when confronted blurted out
“i gotta do what i gotta do”
these complaints, i feel a need
(albeit anonymously)
this doddering soldier
of misfortune doth wish to tell
hoping the police can crack down
e’en if they need (billy me) to be idle
voicing rebellious yell!
address and name withheld on request
on account to avoid getting
preyed upon via ruffian's quest
so…please do not misperceive me a pest
but feel grateful (before
being dead) to clear me chest
only a concerned citizen kane at best
and a harmless curmudgeon i attest!
June 21 Praises to God Bible Meditations Based on Psalms 48-53
Key Verse – Psalms 48:1 Great is the LORD, and greatly to be praised in the city of our God, in the mountain of his holiness.
PRAISE BE TO GOD FOR HIS GREATNESS
Praise be to God for His greatness:
Settling us in His salvation
Satisfying us along His sufficiency
Securing us around His sanctification
Strengthening our service by His sustenance
Sealing our stewardship with His shielding serenity
Psalms 49:15 Praise be to the Lord
for redeeming us from:
Load so loathsome
Lowliness and lawlessness
Leaving His loving leadership
Lasciviousness along lustfulness
Leniency of liberalism-licentiousness
Psalms 50:14 Praise be to the Saviour for
inviting us to offer unto Him thanksgiving since He:
Deals with us by His grace
Directs us by His governance
Desires to grants us His goodness
Delights us through His gloriousness
Defends us along His guarding guidance
Psalms 51:10 Praise be to the Almighty for
creating in us a clean heart that:
Seeks His will
Stays in His way
Searches His Word
Sticks to His wonders
Stands against worldliness
Psalms 52:1 Praise be to the Holy Spirit
for His goodness that enables us to:
Quit sinning
Quote Scriptures
Quiver by His shining
Question our selfishness
Quiet ourselves midst supplication
Psalms 53:2 Praise be to our Creator for
looking down from heaven while:
Renewing the rejected
Rebuking the rebellious
Ransoming the repentant
Restoring the regenerated
Reigning over the redeemed. Amen!
June 21, 2024
This field is crowded with competition
I won't share any aspects of my position
In a never-ending battle to stay alive
While our gaze was wide, we failed to contrive
Ever in search of some sort of growth?
Yet we decay in the dismal dust of sloth
As time goes on, the truth turns neutral
Realize that the current era is crucial
None have altered the way quarks behave
It's not yet time to swim and dive with a wave
Why have we been so productive recently?
Let's cast our conflicts behind us peacefully
Here, our core fantasies are the only limit
The sky is endless, and I never spent a minute
There is no room for gradual success
A pick that showed the finest fourth express
There would be no impetus for us to mature
Glad to have met those who let sense be secure.
Written: May 25, 2023
I'm a Pitbull Clown, so you know what I bring/
To the stage every time I perform with a string/
My guitar work is flawless, my bass drum is lawless/
I never second guess so my vocals are noisy/
I have animal instincts and a clown attitude/
My music is wicked, so they call it Devil food/
Longitude or latitude, I rock shows/
Magnitude a thousand, so I rock globes/
Put me up against the best and watch who the fans choose/
I'll gamble on myself, this is not a fan duel/
I do what I say, and say what I want/
It's a freedom is speech, so my foes I taunt/
I'm the chosen one, the best, it just comes as a gift/
These metal heads are pressed, so I give them a lift/
I work the graveyard shift to give people what the want/
Making The Death of My Soul on YouTube was easy/
Making You can't Punk My Metal on YouTube was cake/
And since I succeed, everybody mad at me/
A Pitbull Clown and I play both sides/
You don't wanna see neither, like the tale of Jekyll Hyde/
Jekyll Jekyll Hyde, Jekyll Hyde, Hyde Jekyll/
A Pitbull Clown and they label me a rebel/
Can't Punk This Game my music on YouTube rebellious/
Red alert, Red alert, Ring the alarm/
Armed with my vocals and I come to play/
All the politics, I stiff arm, so get out of the way/
They don't want me to shine, so I turn the night to day/
With this little light of mine and I'm on fire/
Burning up the air waves they want me to retire/
In a rocking chair with a pipe in my mouth/
But when my days are done, I'm hiring a scout/
To carry on my legacy, finish what I started/
And put these other dudes in check/
Competition only come around every so often/
So I won't stop till I put the game in a coffin/
I stay on the grind, I get better with time/
The longer I'm here, I get better like wine/
I keep working hard, because I want what's mine/
A Pitbull Clown, so I'm pushing the line/
The day my life changed came in the summer of'93,
and henceforth, I was never to be the same.
Before then, you could always find me in the fast lane.
Not just an epiphany, but fresh light for my destiny.
My entire life's course was rearranged.
Notwithstanding, there was some pain.
But this I have learned; no pain, no gain.
The career for which I had been trained
started to get stormy, bringing hale and rain;
so stormy that I switched both tracks and trains.
It was then I realized the weight of those heavy chains.
I remember the day my life changed from 'Yes' to 'No'.
Absolutely no one knew better than me that a change was due.
I'm not saying that my life involved 20 years of crawling without a clue.
Insanity is doing the same thing again and again and expecting something new. Never being diagnosed for insanity, but I needed something fresh as the
morning dew. So I looked my career straight in the eyes, standing toe to toe.
It never felt so good to change course from the normal flow.
It was not a rebellious 'no', but one that helped me to grow.
Since then, not all agree, but I have walked with a brand new glow.
032820PoSpCtest, The Day My Life Went Whacko, Caren Krutsinger. 3P
I wear the flame of your name,
traced in jaguar herbs
between pearl blades of angels,
pulling in the heat of your wildfire...
My soul branded with a burning love feather
molten madness stroking the light rebellious,
Your identity a touch of kissing curves,
I am mantled with a cloak of star rain...
Addicted, engrossed,
as my silhouette aches to be drenched
in rivers of your rushing rhymes,
breathing nothing but the dream
of being chained
to the footprints of your soul...
Tethered to the stride of my soul
heartbeat warmly pained,
You follow with yielding scream
my attention on your pulsing eyes,
I spread open the vellum
of poetry achingly inked,
scent of rose melting frost...
I've witnessed them christen
my night as lethal,
their prayers painting me as sin,
while I entomb their accusations
in a blood stained envelope,
laid to rest in a casket of poisoned lilies,
for I am no longer their Lilith
crowned with silken serpents,
jeweled in jinxed jasmines,
I am the rose gold rays of sunrise,
wrapping you in blushing silence...
But if love were your ink,
what would you bleed?
Within your bloom there is a violet innocence,
weaponized once for ritual license
a jewelry box of black magic temptations,
Tiara of bloodstones broken for love repentance,
A Goddess become Woman trueth,
the coffin become catalyst to living tears,
elegant gown now simple linen of lilac hope,
reputation now means nothing before heart's divinations,
You are no harpy, you are my revelation,
You are love beautiful,
the reason for my passion crystal...
J.A.B.
I.E
I wear the flame of your name,
traced in jaguar herbs
between pearl blades of angels,
pulling in the heat of your wildfire...
My soul branded with a burning love feather
molten madness stroking the light rebellious,
your identity a touch of kissing curves,
I am mantled with a cloak of star rain...
Addicted, engrossed,
as my silhouette aches to be drenched
in rivers of your rushing rhymes,
breathing nothing but the dream
of being chained
to the footprints of your soul...
Tethered to the stride of my soul
heartbeat warmly pained,
You follow with yielding scream
my attention on your pulsing eyes,
I spread open vellum of poetry achingly inked,
scent of rose melting frost...
I've witnessed them christen my night as lethal,
their prayers painting me as sin,
while I entomb their accusations
in a blood stained envelope,
laid to rest in a casket of poisoned lilies,
for I am no longer their Lilith
crowned with silken serpents,
jeweled in jinxed jasmines
I am the gold rose rays of sunrise
wrapping you in blushing silence...
But what if love were your ink,
what would you bleed ?
Within your bloom there is a violet innocence,
weaponized once for ritual license
a jewelry box of black magic temptations,
Tiara of bloodstones broken for love repentance,
a Goddess become Woman trueth,
the coffin become catalyst to living tears,
elegant gown now simple linen of lilac hope,
reputation now means nothing
before heart's divinations,
You are no harpy, You are my revelation,
You are love beautiful, reason for my passion crystal...
This composition was written
by J.A.B. and Ink Empress
as a collaboration expressing
love as a transformative experience.
Ink Empress wrote verses 1, 3, & 5,
and also the bridge line,
"But what if love were your ink,
what would you bleed ?"
I composed veres 2, 4, & 6...
During the writing process I decided to rhyme my end line words in reversed order
to her end line words...
So although our verses independently are Free Verse, I ryhmed the end line words in reverse order verse for verse, in doing so inventing
a new rhyme meter especially in contex of collaborative poetry.
The winds of change blow in time’s course,
waft from an unseen end to another unknown.
The momentum they gather from the power
of the flow of history goes on increasing ever.
The direction they receive from the message,
the geopolitical events provide, can’t be altered.
The future inscribed on nation’s landscape page,
people earnestly design, can’t be changed.
Totalitarian regimes blow away in gale of uprising,
empires collapse in due time in rebellious squalls.
All ordained to meet the change from the start,
their vestiges lie scattered in the pages of history.
The mankind seeking freedom as the birth right,
breaks the disparaging shackles of repression.
Indomitable spirit rises from the dust of suppression,
new generations of belief and value emanate
that survive as long as they can strongly defy
the forces of fated change the winds generate.
The strike of destined time arrows of rebellion
dismantles ultimately the authoritarian regimes.
The intriguing course of subjugation history,
turned the innocuous trader into the ruler,
letting British sovereignty in Indian subcontinent
enforce subjugation for endless agonizing decades.
Many valiant attempts of liberation failed,
the chains of domination remained unbroken,
till the persistent persuasion of non-violent protests
became the surging independence movement,
shaking ultimately the citadel of the empire,
whose sun was to set permanently in the east
on August 15, 1947, when the nation awakened,
saw the new sunrise with colors of freedom,
but with an unprecedented colossal human cost
paid by the millions of uprooted innocent people,
the displaced refugees losing their homes
in the wake of territorial partition of the country.
The generations down the timeline built new lives,
breathing free air in the independent country.
I have a wooden cedar box
Filled with precious things
Most of no value to you
But joy to me it brings
A copper penny, 1961
The year I was given life
A withered old white rose
From the day I became a wife
Two certified legal documents
That tell me that I am free
A US birth certificate
And a final divorce decree
Golden locks, adorned with ribbon
Clipped from the head of my son
A bag filled with tiny teeth
Exchanged for a dollar one by one
A report card, five A’s and one B
My sons first year at school
A tattered silken blanket
Still covered with infant drool
A book of poems that I had written
While I was a rebellious teen
Fifty plus love letters
From then, now and in-between
Old yellowed photographs
Of family long since gone
A dozen crayon pictures
That both my kids have drawn
Hospital anklets, pink and blue
That both my children wore
A stupid keep out sign
That I used to hang on my door
Each item within this box
Is a memory that I hold dear
I keep them for a distant time
When my memory won’t be so clear
So if you wish to see inside
To you I have one request
Do not call it just a box
‘Cause to me it’s a “TREASURE CHEST”
Unless…
by Odin Roark
Seems just yesterday the sun arced
Over precarious ice
The street’s one elm
Leaned its naked branches with the wind Bringing winter’s announcement
A Coney Island cat crouched puzzled
Gradual crusting snow layering
The boardwalk a ribbon of white awaiting the gray
Mister Cat sprung back into dumpster heaven
Closed his eyes
And returned to his lone-bird dream
The one always disappearing
Over horizon’s edge
A few blocks away
Anxious hormones kept rebellious teens
Of mere rip-torn jeans and NFL jerseys
Rubbing their friction memories
Into goose-bumped skin
Frozen leaves scurried left and right
Separated from their bark insulated origin
The once virile tree sap
Now but a cryonic life flow
Awaiting spring’s resurrection
Somewhere
A corner-park’s snowman
Bowed forgiveness to the stinging wind
Its shivering cold prepared girth and pride
For tomorrow’s collapse
Beneath Time’s Square lights
Heavy metal leapt from SUV windows
Igniting crystal air
Into a vortex of tribal dance sensations
Vibrations warming all in its path
Yesterday’s season-change
Like a surprise party
Thrown on a whim
Roared through the city’s trenches
Beneath skyscraper walls of protection
As if birthing another Also Sprach Zarathustra
Daring frozen tears to fall
Central Park’s tree branches
Clustered and embraced each other
Like mouths searching for lips of warmth
While a lone photographer
Adorned in raccoon coat
Pointed her camera at breathing drifts
Becoming icing for fantasy’s deep freeze cake
At city’s center
Twisting cables of struggling semaphores
Blinked for mercy
As the insistent primal howl echoed
Across pot holed roadways
And iron slabs of street repair
Above underground steel tracks
Awaiting metro’s ignited contact
As dawn broke
Veined tunnels continued swallowing
The rushing energy astride quickened steps
Running feet
Shoving elbows and shoulders
City dweller anxiety
Cascaded down entrance stairwells
Boarded subway cars
Merged into the city’s synaptic darkness
And awaited their stop
Most likely yet another insulated destination
Where nature happening
Might once again go unnoticed
Never to be recalled
Unless…