Long Riots Poems

Long Riots Poems. Below are the most popular long Riots by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Riots poems by poem length and keyword.


Premium Member I Hope He Comes

Eirene, Greek’s Goddess of Peace, is watching the earth closely.
Twenty-twenty
A year the earth needs more love and unity since 1918.

They are so divided! She tells the other Goddesses. What else can 
I do for them? 
Let’s merge the angels, the spirit guides, the power animals. Let’s call everybody.

Mars, Roman’s God of War, heard their plan, and knew he had to destroy it.
He had been enjoying the pandemic, the marches, the riots, burnings and divisiveness.

So he enlisted the help of others who were on his side, and they decided to kidnap
Eirene and her followers, and lock them up for as long as it took to completely destroy
the love people on earth had for each other.

But first, they had to burn up California, for he had just begun that quest, and his pyromaniac
side could not tear itself away from those wild fires.

In the meantime, Eirene was warned of his plan, and clued in the Amazon Women.
I hope he comes, they said. We will be waiting.


2020

The year of 2020 has come to an end.  
It has been a rough one for sure 
Covid-19 caused a problem for most. 
A virus without a cure 

Early on in the year we all had hope 
of what this year would bring 
When you could go to church if you chose 
and heard the school bells ring 

Hurricanes, floods and tornadoes 
swept across the land 
Protests, riots and looting, 
falsely in the name of justice for a man  

politics this year have been
 a nightmare and a joke 
Politicians doing underhanded things 
trying to persuade the vote 

Our country was locked down this year. 
Many businesses had to close. 
Many different places require 
a mask covering your mouth and nose 

Things are so much different now. 
Things have Changed a lot in one short year 
During these uncertain times 
Our future seems quite unclear 

2021 gives us all a chance 
to start this year anew 
My hope and prayer this year will be 
that it's the best one yet for you. 
1/1/2021
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Fireguards On the Windies

FIREGUARDS ON THE WINDIES


Growing up in Belfast, through the troubled ravaged years
Some days where filled with laughter, others steeped in tears
A normal decent childhood, where my life seemed complete
Though we had fireguards on the windies and soldiers in the street

Bombed out shops and barricades, were a normal sight to see
An alternative children’s playground, an exciting place to be
There was no health and safety, no risk assessments then
Just the local council workers and the vigilante men 

We played pretendy riots and had shields made out of tin
Clauded stones for ages, though no one seemed to win
The parks were closed on Sunday, so we couldn’t go and play
A bylaw, from a bye gone age, to protect the sabbeth day

We collected army badges, and we’d sometimes hold their guns
Playing on the scout cars, mother gave them tea and buns
A normal Belfast childhood, where life seemed so complete
Though we had fireguards on the windies and soldiers in the street

Premium Member Mixed Messages

Mixed Messages

One last ticket. 
One last seat on the train. 
Running fast, 
to make it, before there is 
no chance to escape, 
the fate of the ages. 

Stone statues, 
frozen in time... 
put up, taken down, 
pulled apart and destroyed. 
Toys to the elites, 
making sweeping decisions... 
that effect us all. 

Shooting rays at the sun, 
that warms our world. 
There... there is life bleeding out, 
in torrents of colors, 
red, gold, blue, and even green. 
Soon there will be 
no living thing... 
left. 

The rich man buys up acres, 
and lets the land go fallow. 
The homeless starve in their tents
downtown. 
Food lines, and riots by pirates, 
a caravan of the starving
mongrels, zombies,
and the lost.

The journey coming to an end, 
the roller skates stopped on the concrete... 
signs that say go home, 
but there is nowhere to go.
© Ann Foster  Create an image from this poem.

Roses and Love Riots

"I filled the night's chalice with knots of desire..."
For you have set my untarnished heart on fire

"I learned how to live unkissed, until" we met
Now, we dance all night long, a romance duet

"The moon is an honest Manipulator"
Gives us away with its light, like a traitor

"It's raining roses and love riots" tonight
Together, we make an enviable sight

I'm the passionate pulse that beats in your veins
Wholly yours to explore, 'coz you hold my reins

The midnight stars groove to the rhythm of our souls
We are in a place where amour, us controls

Let's share our ardency with milky moonbeams
And with the sleeping world, our soft stardust dreams

Hands joined, lives intertwined, we will never part
For you and I, we live in each other's hearts...
Form: Couplet


Premium Member Hinged or Unhinged

It’s disturbing to see
The rise in unhinged left-wing violence.
A Leftist cause-celeb dies of overdose
With a policeman’s knee on his neck
And the nation erupts in chaos, riots, killings
And cities all aflame.
A Right-winger is martyred by a trans loving kid
And prayer and candlelight vigils and waves of peace
Spread out like a tsunami of healing.
Could the contrast be any greater?
Every day another unhinged shooter
Takes more lives, in some vain attempt at relevance,
And nine out of ten times it’s a Leftist.
When did the lie of Leftist peace begin?
Maybe when they were just dreaming
Because from the very beginning
It has been the side of revolution
And revolutions always justify the means
To achieve their ends.
But revolutionaries always get a pass
Because they dream big and try to change the world
But no one ever asks to and from what?
The time for death and destruction 
Revolution and change for the sake of change
Is past.
Now is the time for the revelation
Of something new
Which has been here all along.
Something grounded in the best we have to offer
Not the most we can take.
What do you have to offer that makes you
On the whole a giver not a taker?
Because that is the turning point
Between being a child and adult, 
A turning point we each need to face
And discover for ourselves.
Hinged or unhinged is not a matter of chance
It is a choice, our choice,
And when we feel unhinged 
In the face of some terrifying void
We need to remember, true change 
Only comes from within
But then opens out into a renewed world.
And those doors 
Open best when their hinges
Are firmly in place.
And if we find ourselves too shaky to stand
And can’t see a way forward
Maybe it is as simple as recognizing 
We are still like a child
In need of something to eat, a good rest
And simply a warm loving hug.
Being unhinged is not by chance
It is by choice
To destroy in the name of change.
Destroy because our fear
Has replaced that love.

(9/25/25)
Form: Narrative

The UK was never innocent just cowardly

The uk is guilty too
Stop hiding behind America 
You were involved too
It's time for you to take the stand
Reveal the blood on your hands 
Accountability is calling your name 
America can't take all the blame 
When it was them who followed your lead 
Joining the slave trade from your influence

Don't hide behind black American history 
When you have black history of your own 
Centuries of history condensed all into one 
In a textbook written in lies and cowardice 
Erasure of pain that could testify against your guilt 
History books written with whitewashed ink

Don't feign innocence 
And don't feign guilt
Your plan to cower in the shadows 
And try to run from what you did
Does not absolve you from blood spilt 
When you were the ones who tipped the bucket

Your covert operations are not secret anymore 
When the deeper we look the worse the horror 
Of what our ancestors had to endure 
An island of secrets yet to be explored 
You can't keep hiding forever when they turn up on shore 
From race riots to Bristol bus boycotts
The erasure of black soldiers
And the Bristol slave ports
The secrets you try to keep are in storage no more 

Silence isn't your friend 
It will hold you accountable 
The many crimes you have committed against black people 
Your ignorance will be your downfall
Your island maybe small compared to the rest of the world 
But your crimes will be indicted in the court of law
Your punishment a cage with no doors 
Since you like to hide history your freedom will be no more

About Ceuta, Spain

Ceuta is a Spanish city in North Africa (population: 80K people). On July 30-31, 2026 it was invaded by over 60,000 mostly young men (no women or children) who breached the border from Morocco. Some went back, but many thousands stayed or went to Spain and no one tried stop or expel them

To those who let the hordes come in:
You are the enemy within
And care not for folks of yours
The fiends walked through the open doors

They didn’t care for the law
The riots worst we ever saw
Payback when Spain Okay’s their stay
But own people they betray

Somewhere hides the “greater good”
Netflix or even Hollywood
Should pick the story of conquest
About how we lost the West

The Muslim savages are best
Failed breaks, all riled, brutal fest
They didn’t stop, run amok-crazed
Yet Spain’s “left” remain unfazed

They don’t belong, the devil’s seed
In our world, with our creed
Projection of the things to come
Continue play blind, deaf and dumb

August 5, 2026
© Ed Kay  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

The World Is Turning Upside Down 2020

The world is turning upside down
Covid 19 is all around
Numbers are growing without bound
Protests, killing, riots
and lots of bloody fights

The world is turning upside down
Most of the world leaders are just clowns
The best in the world pound for pound
For telling lots of lies
While the world just cries

The world is turning upside down
Who the hell is the fkn crown?
And why is she wearing such a fancy gown?
Statues are tumbling
As the crowd is are a'rumbling

The world is turning upside down 
2020 will go down with a frown
Never in history to be found
Lots of people will die
No matter how much they cry
Form: Ballad

When I Learned About Juneteenth

I never heard or read that Texas slaves
were captive still, by masters so depraved,

till June nineteenth of eighteen sixty-five,
when news of freedom reached those still alive.

No passage of my school books ever claimed
there even was a day with such a name.

At forty-five, I had the chance to learn,
amid the news of riots, tear gas burns

of Black Lives Matter, president’s loud shouts,
of Juneteeth’s name and what it’s all about.

That made me ask what else about our past
does not get taught in schools, but should at last?

Who else’s triumphs over any hate
should all kids learn about and celebrate?
Form: Couplet

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace