Long Revolt Poems
Long Revolt Poems. Below are the most popular long Revolt by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Revolt poems by poem length and keyword.
Wake up,
there'a a rebellion going on
There's a revolt,
and the conspiracy is strong
Two hundred and fifty princes
against Moses the man of God
They all got their swords aimed
against the power of Aaron's rod
The leaders of this evil insurgency
are two lovers of Egyptian idolatry
Wicked men trying to resist the truth,
but their folly will be made known to all
Reprobate concerning the faith,
brother against brother is the judgment call
Now whose side are you on,
whose's it gonna be
Do you choose Moses and Aaron,
or do you vote for Jannes and Jambres
Whose side are you on,
now that you've crossed the Red Sea
Do you wanna be free and serve God,
or worship the idols of Egypt in slavery
Brother against brother is the battle call today
Do you wanna go back to Egypt,
or remain here in the wilderness to stay
Some say they'd rather have their bellies full
and be in chains
Then to die of hunger and thirst
in a land where it doesn't rain
Some say Moses is a false prophet,
who brought them to the desert to die
Some say there's no land of milk and honey,
that's just crazy talk, pie in the sky
Now whose side are you on,
who do you choose to believe
Will you stay with Moses and Aaron,
or will you follow Jannes and Jambres
Whose side are you on,
now that you've crossed the Red Sea
Do you want to go on to Canaan land,
or do you want to go back into slavery
Speaking for myself,
'cause I don't know about you:
I'm sticking with Moses,
and I'm staying with Aaron too
We got the Rock,
with the water gushing out
We got the Manna,
every morning on the ground like dew
Then the glory of the Lord
appeared before the congregation
Ready to destroy the whole Israelite nation
But Moses said, Lord please,
please don't destroy them all
And God showed mercy, letting only the rebels fall
into the pit, where the earth had opened up her mouth
Into the bottomless pit, where there would be no climbing out
Standing before the throne of God on judgment day:
Brother, whose side were you on,
did you follow the devil and pick wrong
Were you part of the rebellion that took place,
did the dirt from the pit cover your face
Brother, whose side were you on,
on which side did you belong
Did you help defend the two holy men,
or did you die with Korah and Dathan
She Goes Back
By Lillian J. Jeffrey
Whispers flow like a river
she will be sold
sold or rented like a cash crop
Born on a Maryland plantation
her mother works the big house
Harriet runs barefoot in the woods
side by side her brothers, nursemaids
her younger brother, childhood ends at five
She is rented, sleeps on a cold, cold floor
shares food scraps with dogs
wounds yarn slow they say
checks muskrat traps in marshes
barefoot in icy waters she looks
Her lungs fill, fill with fluid, her body burns
she is sent back coughing, coughing, holds on
fights off bronchitis and measles
her mother helps nurse her back
Rented to take care of a baby, clean house
the baby cries, she’s whipped, whipped, she runs
runs like the wind, tumbles into a pig pen
pig fights for potato peels
Her stomach empty, rumbles, she
returns to her mistress, the whippings set
her back on fire, she is sent back.
Rented, rented to load lumber
hears Nat Turner led a revolt
losses fighting for freedom
rebellions spark hope in her heart
whispers spread she will be sold
Her master dies, the new master
rents her to a local builder
the builder permits her to rent herself
she makes money, saves, saves, runs, runs
bends with the wind.
Empty of fear, full of dreams of freedom
doors open, slips of paper lead her way
through the Underground Railroad,
a network of shifting safe houses
Her heart skips a beat,
beads of sweat roll, roll down her cheeks
she crosses, crosses the Mason-Dixon Line.
Free at last, lonely, life stands still
like a still life of shells and bones
she is cut off, she longs, longs for her family
The sounds of rattling chains, cracking whips,
echo in her ears, she hears her mother’s
cry, hears her mother's cry, she goes back,
helps her family, friends escape, escape
on foot, through cemeteries, swamps,
around hills, she never losses a passenger.
A will as strong as a rock
a will to endure, persevere
a will to help others
nineteen times she goes back
Shoes worn, spirits strong
more than three hundred slaves escape
Harriet Tubman is nicknamed “Moses”
for her fearless bravery,
thump, thump, thump
bounty hunters on her trail.
The King answered back, "I love you as much as a king can love a son, but I love my people more, and you shall not be king." With anger, the third son raised his fist and spat, ‘When you die, I shall have this land and raise my army of children, forced into acting like men." And with that said, he stormed out, yanking his child servant behind him. Once out beyond the hearing range of their King, the three sons had a meeting. They were never kind to one another, but now, they had a new thing to hate together. So they banded as one to take the throne. The wizard posed and puffed his pipe. “But with them as kings the land would sure fall; would it not?” I couldn’t keep the question in my mouth. “Very wise,” the wizard said, before continuing on. “The three sons pillaged the land, taking the crops, raping the women, murdering the men and stealing the children. The land was at war, except their was no army to save the people from the three sons. The King; he wept from his death bead and called forth his only daughter. ‘My father,’ the daughter wept as she fled to kneel beside the King, ‘I have been waiting for you to call upon me.’ ‘Your brothers have brought ugliness to this land. They are starving the people, raping the women, murdering the men and making solders out of children. I am too weak to stop them from the cruelty they bestow on humanity. What would you do my child to stop them?’ The daughter sat back to think. "The people are scared, they're watching their mothers, sisters and daughters be taken against their will. Their husbands, fathers, brothers and sons are getting slaughtered before their eyes, and their children are being ripped from their arms, and their stomachs are full and blotted with hunger."Tears slid down the daughters cheeks, ‘I shall go into the villages. I shall ease back the pain with courage, and together we shall rise in a revolt against the evils my brothers have laid forth. With love and hope and truth we shall overcome the hatred that has swept through this land." The King smiled and spoke, "My daughter, I love you as much as a father loves his daughter and I see that you love the people just as much. Go forth, and save your people from those that wish them harm." The King kissed his daughter on the forehead with his dying breath.
>>1111>>THE AWAKENING SPIRIT<<1111<<
My analyzing subconscious telling me I have minor confidence in our people,
Full of resistance as high as church steeples,
Heads in the sand uneducated sheeple lost their ability,
Try this with consonance, question our existence,
Get it together and try it this very instance!
Neglected, Infected which brings great drama,
Buddhist monks call this negative karma,
Equip your mind with true armor,
Receive the weapon of writing stamina,
This isn't imaginary fiction,
This is an awakening conviction,
I'm trusting inner guidance for direction,
Taking my hand, introducing me to my pineal gland,
Connected to my tribal land,
I have found expressed to me internally in a sound,
Never contemplating turning around.
Find your way,
Stop listening to what government leaders say,
We need unity instead of broken community,
Unite and open up your vault,
Lets start a revolt,
But in an era of fear,
The average man inferior,
Never looking at their own interior,
Let me explain, in this society of personal gain,
It will make a human go insane,
Wealthy flying around in a private plane,
They have turned down the wrong symbolic lane,
You thinking i'm insane? Your thoughts are coming out in total vain!!!
I'm just a brother with a live spark,
With an inner vision destroying everything lurking in the dark!
A half cast mixed identity given the European surname Clark,
But I don't care, I have nothing to fear,
As I steer my life consciously aware I see clear,
Always near a book, that’s another place you gotta look!
Rookies thinking they're awake, but most cant find the time,
In psychological denial with excuse's saying its validly fine,
Working class living,
Resulting in limited self education receiving,
Which is the highest level of sinning,
In the beginning the universal consciousness was bringing,
What today I am seeking,
Connecting conscious thought together, Forever,
But individualism causing a crash of disconnection,
A world wide collapse bringing stagnation,
This is an invitation to break this current way of civilization,
Go back in time within the mind to make the connection,
Then you will receive true knowledge in a healthy neuron collection,
Listen to what the awakening spirit is saying!
African-American and abusive, my late step-dad
was a reverse racist:
an army sergeant; a Vietnam vet; and, a backhand,
face-hitting sadist.
I once bemoaned that I was a white child
(as if it were my fault!?)
and that he was black and resentful of me.
So, once in reckless revolt
against his ongoing abuse,
I rebelled under my breath
and uttered the "n" word at him
(so he beat me nearly to death).
Bruised, I never uttered that word again;
then mom and he divorced
as I grew older (which freed us at last!):
now unrivaled (with no remorse),
I suddenly was the man of the house; and life
for us seemed less stormy.
For the first time in years we lived without abuse;
and, at last, we were a family.
Then I got religion and met God;
and gave myself to Christ.
It was the best thing I ever did!
Born again, I thus was sufficed.
So the scars of my step-dad's abuse which
for years I had repressed
began to heal and disappear; and so I became
less and less oppressed.
Now old, my erstwhile step-dad developed
advanced swelling of the lung;
I had not forgiven him yet (back when
I was still angry and young).
Not yet able to forgive him for the abuse that
made our lives so unbearably grim,
I nevertheless still realized that the weight
of still having hatred for him
was far worse than my pain. I recognized
that in life we all transgress
and come short of God's glory: so, moved by
His grace and forgiveness,
I made the right choice to forgive him;
for me a daily, ongoing process,
I at last began to let go of the anger
and truly begin to move past the mess
that was my step-dad's legacy to me. Also, I
began to forgive God;
for He was not to blame for him (whose own
father, too, did not spare the rod).
Still, tho' I had chosen to forgive (him) and let go,
he was unmoved and unchanged as ever:
but I, however, realized that what truly mattered
was that forgiveness set me free forever!
When at last he died, I had already completely
let go (so that he was forgiven).
Now I can only ask of God whether my step-dad
was changed from his glimpse of heaven?
IF EVER I HAD A COUNTRY: LXXVIII
for Suzanne DELANEY, in appreciation
(Prelude: CAN THE WRONG MAN BE RIGHT ? ABSOLUTELY !
If only he were NOT guilty of the self-same crime !
For instance, here in Europe, acceding to « nationality»
status can be quite ludicrously irrational: those migrants
even "totally ignorant" of the host country’s culture
and official tongue obtain their "citizenship papers »
sooner or later, while clinging desperately to their
own culture and country to the exclusion of their hosts’- some more fortunatethough enjoy « dual nationality » and therefore DUAL rights to LOYALTY ! And talk tough once they take over responsibile positions in society. And the
ones on whom the latter prey most of all are precisely
those « other» less fortunate migrants at their mercy !)
IF ever I had a country, a country NOT « wholly" put together by
either IMMIGRANTS or REFUGEES, you see, but by conquering
IMPERIAL ENSLAVERS on the backs of blacks and
on those fleeing from hunger, from religious
intolerance as "indentured-labourers », mainly, you’ll agree
WHERE the indigene was routed and rounded up into
RESERVES through superior "fire-power" by the
COLONIAL and local ARISTOCRACY
AND where TAXES and LEVIES imposed by the « Foreign Power »
drove the locally-born MASTER to revolt against the MOTHER
COUNTRY
Until the whole CONTINENT united « nation » after « nation »
to become the foremost mid-twentieth century « COLONIAL »
SAVIOUR of the WORLD country
Only to find its internal structure and economic power usurped
by other NON-NATION constituting ethnies
AND one-by-one take over from the original WASP founding PATER
FAMILIAS confederacy
Yes, then, I’d keep the NEW-COMER from wagging his/her tongue or
shooting his/her mouth tout azimuth - despite the legislative mandate -
as though he/she were the backbone of the nation or from attempting to
take over my « dear » country as if it were their « god-given » patrimony
Even if I never ever had no country stuck together with spit and elbow-grease to look like a pyrotechnically-powere Bollywoodian jamboree
(c) T. Wignesan - Paris, July 22, 2019
She Goes Back
By Lillian J. Jeffrey
Whispers flow like a river
she will be sold
sold or rented like a cash crop
Born on a Maryland plantation
her mother works the big house
Harriet runs barefoot in the woods
side by side her brothers, nursemaids
her younger brother, childhood ends at five
She is rented, sleeps on a cold, cold floor
shares food scraps with dogs
wounds yarn slow they say
checks muskrat traps in marshes
barefoot in icy waters she looks
Her lungs fill, fill with fluid, her body burns
she is sent back coughing, coughing, holds on
fights off bronchitis and measles
her mother helps nurse her back
Rented to take care of a baby, clean house
the baby cries, she’s whipped, whipped, she runs
runs like the wind, tumbles into a pig pen
pig fights for potato peels
Her stomach empty, rumbles, she
returns to her mistress, the whippings set
her back on fire, she is sent back.
Rented, rented to load lumber
hears Nat Turner led a revolt
losses fighting for freedom
rebellions spark hope in her heart
whispers spread she will be sold
Her master dies, the new master
rents her to a local builder
the builder permits her to rent herself
she makes money, saves, saves, runs, runs
bends with the wind.
Empty of fear, full of dreams of freedom
doors open, slips of paper lead her way
through the Underground Railroad,
a network of shifting safe houses
Her heart skips a beat,
beads of sweat roll, roll down her cheeks
she crosses, crosses the Mason-Dixon Line.
Free at last, lonely, life stands still
like a still life of shells and bones
she is cut off, she longs, longs for her family
The sounds of rattling chains, cracking whips,
echo in her ears, she hears her mother’s
cry, hears her mother's cry, she goes back,
helps her family, friends escape, escape
on foot, through cemeteries, swamps,
around hills, she never losses a passenger.
A will as strong as a rock
a will to endure, persevere
a will to help others
nineteen times she goes back
Shoes worn, spirits strong
more than three hundred slaves escape
Harriet Tubman is nicknamed “Moses”
for her fearless bravery,
thump, thump, thump
bounty hunters on her trail.
She Goes Back
By Lillian J. Jeffrey
Whispers flow like a river
she will be sold
sold or rented like a cash crop
Born on a Maryland plantation
her mother works the big house
Harriet runs barefoot in the woods
side by side her brothers, nursemaids
her younger brother, childhood ends at five
She is rented, sleeps on a cold, cold floor
shares food scraps with dogs
wounds yarn slow they say
checks muskrat traps in marshes
barefoot in icy waters she looks
Her lungs fill, fill with fluid, her body burns
she is sent back coughing, coughing, holds on
fights off bronchitis and measles
her mother helps nurse her back
Rented to take care of a baby, clean house
the baby cries, she’s whipped, whipped, she runs
runs like the wind, tumbles into a pig pen
pig fights for potato peels
Her stomach empty, rumbles, she
returns to her mistress, the whippings set
her back on fire, she is sent back.
Rented, rented to load lumber
hears Nat Turner led a revolt
losses fighting for freedom
rebellions spark hope in her heart
whispers spread she will be sold
Her master dies, the new master
rents her to a local builder
the builder permits her to rent herself
she makes money, saves, saves, runs, runs
bends with the wind.
Empty of fear, full of dreams of freedom
doors open, slips of paper lead her way
through the Underground Railroad,
a network of shifting safe houses
Her heart skips a beat,
beads of sweat roll, roll down her cheeks
she crosses, crosses the Mason-Dixon Line.
Free at last, lonely, life stands still
like a still life of shells and bones
she is cut off, she longs, longs for her family
The sounds of rattling chains, cracking whips,
echo in her ears, she hears her mother’s
cry, hears her mother's cry, she goes back,
helps her family, friends escape, escape
on foot, through cemeteries, swamps,
around hills, she never losses a passenger.
A will as strong as a rock
a will to endure, persevere
a will to help others
nineteen times she goes back
Shoes worn, spirits strong
more than three hundred slaves escape
Harriet Tubman is nicknamed “Moses”
for her fearless bravery,
thump, thump, thump
bounty hunters on her trail.
This morning I woke up missing
Just a question mark in mid air
I spoke and no one listened
Cried and no one cared
Passed through my day
The missing life in my eyes
What, purpose stripped away
Was truth but not a prize
The book of life, open to see
Clearly now a missing page
The moral has been set free
And the plot has flown the cage
All that is sacred is not
All that would bear mention
Is as never and forgot
As is lacking its invention
Everything less and nothing more
The beginning gone as the end
Neither word nor pen or paper
Nothing where the writer had been
No clock or numbers for its face
No history or future time
No ever cleansing virgin space
No song, rhythm or rhyme
Not being right nor wrong
Not a who or what
All that could, being gone
I was and now was not
My shadow being almost gone
To reach out there’s only air
Left as the darkness in the dawn
The reflection has no me in there
No one crying or dying
No one wrapped in false hope
No one cheating or lying
No bad jokes about the pope
Mercy and penalties undone
Where there was a world
There was no thing or one
The cosmic dice never hurled
It occurred to me and not to me
I had not or had a choice
If I am and not to be
I could revolt and rejoice
Self creation, a two edged sword
The captain lashed to the wheel
Creation is such a dark house
If I had fingers I could feel
I could see beauty if I had eyes
Hear music if I had ears
I’d see hellos and good byes
Hear the smiles and tears
From nowhere every where’s close
Delusion or invention of being
By its occurrence of notion be
Nothing’s always filled by something
Yet the mind is tainted by the soul
All things known to its affects
The stage is set from what it is told
And what it sees is what it expects
To recreate the world subjective
By faith I declare my self alive
And faith attests to God above
Does reality by faith survive
Roam the earth and tell me why
Go search the hearts and minds
The best is only just getting by
To light a candle for the blind
What do you say if some one listens
What do you do if someone cares
I’d make a world that wasn’t missing
I’d make a world where I was there
Form:
I was caught up in a rapture when I encountered him for the first time. 6’1, Brown eyes, Style
beyond fly. A caramel cream tone, that draped over his “perfect for me” physique. His words
resembled eloquence, his story full of suspense. From thence, I knew I wanted to inherit his
every critique.
It was no ordinary love, we had been abundantly blessed. Usually when encountered with these
emotions, I would regress. But why suppress? Why deny? Why hide the feelings of me when 2
hearts could coincide. Why break the mold of surprise, when we could reverse the role of divide.
And it was so. We set the tone. We broke the mold. We got in tune with each other’s soul. And
normally towards this type of journey I would never go. But his gravitational pull was more
than my scientific being could ever revolt. He made my feelings remote, and we foreseen
together the existence of our eternal being.
But then I had to realize. I was only foreseeing our future through my eyes. I couldn’t so soon
finalize, when in fact that could be our demise. It’s TOO right. And I’ve learned my lesson from
the previous and most recent times. It takes two to fight. There is no union if there is no one
there for you to unite. So I had to just be blatant and asked him for the truth. To see if he
could provide some proof .
And this is what he had to say, It confirmed we felt the same way;
“Magic has never really made sense to me. Illusion. Confusion. It was all the same to me. Then
you came in to my life, like a thief in the night and took the disbelief out of me. Monogamy?
Could it be? That you would come and cast this spell of love and bring my heart to relief? At
first sight it resembled fantasy. But your kisses, like a pinch, always let me know this is reality.
So fall deep with me. Who knew the pits of love would make us rise to destiny? What you
foresee, is the very thing that I have envisioned, contemplated, and always relived in my
dreams!”
After that I was sold. No law. No piece of paper. Could ever confirm what God has bestowed.
Why do we need acceptance from the world, When all that should matter is what our hearts
and our spirits know!