Protested Poems

The Final Word

We set upon a journey 
That would make us great
We decided to love our neighbors 
Instead of embracing hate

We opened our hearts to the poor
A roof over every head
We measured our speech
Considering what we said

Discriminating unacceptable 
Not afraid of history
Truth not a fabrication
Helping others our ministry 

We took back handouts 
The rich had enough
Money for education
medicine and other stuff

We protested for others
Sacrificing what we could
It was not just about us
We considered the greater good

Right mixed with left
Divisions all blurred
America became Great!
“We the People” had the final word.

The above is my hope for America.

levels of it

stubbed toe / during a broken heart—
you said pain is pain, offered to kiss both.

we nursed the plot of a favorite episode,
argued over what constituted foreshadowing.

talking to you about the view was mostly talking to myself;
you liked cliffs, I liked what they overlooked.

on vacation with the lube,
you forgot to pack anything else.
we ate wasabi from the tube like astronauts.

being vegan, you protested animal rights
while wearing leather—not ironically.
I said nothing, ate a pork bun in your honor.

alive with wanting, horny as new hormones,
we ordered room service, slept instead,
called that a success.

our fifties came early—
you there before me, always a decade ahead
in age, on trends, with grief.

neither of us knowing we’d need 
a language for this back then.

Helens Hugger Bugger Ways

Helen’s hugger-mugger ways caused a hullabaloo
Her hoarder house hardly had room for two
Let’s trick her outside, someone suggested.
But Helen firmly and fiercely protested.
She’s got to go out sometimes said the throng.
But everything was brought in, so the bystanders were wrong.

How I Quit Jersey for Juliapa

It’s tattooed lightly on my upper arm
“I love my mom, and she loves me”, it reads.
A squad from Space Force dragged me in the weeds:
“We’ve nailed you, boy. You’ll do no further harm.”

I woke in Guatemala, feeling calm:
I knew that an American who pleads
such stuff as ‘habeas corpus’ oft succeeds,
and sought me out a lawyer, without qualm.

But asking for the consul caused alarm!
They deemed it, ‘most nefarious of deeds’.
The embassy said, “Out of all the breeds
of poison snakes, you lib’rals take the palm!”

“That mother-love thing brings no saving balm,
applying pressure to unanswered needs:
we’ve got your measure – tie-dye shirt and beads!
The type that once protested Vietnam!”

“You’re lucky that you didn’t buy the farm,
since MAGA’s down on surreptitious creeds.
Whoever hurts the orange leader, bleeds.
It’s anti-presidential, that there psalm.”

The Carrying of the Cross

He carried our sins as He carried the cross.
He walked up to glory through pain and through loss.
He fell many times but got up once again
As He carried our sins.

A man from Cyrene they had pulled from the crowd,
Who wished not to help, who protested aloud.
But in the end took up the cross of our Lord
And carried it forward.

A large crowd of people, women who cried
As they watched the Savior go forward to die.
They followed along, lamented and mourned
For the pain of the Lord.

He took up the cross, was prodded and pulled
On the way to Golgotha, the place of the skull.
Where He would do what He was born to do
For me and for you.

Take up your cross and follow Him.
Die to yourself and be born again.
Take up your cross and follow Him.

She is 'death'

I found myself falling for youth,
She was warm, she was sweet, she was wild,
She was everything one could ask for.
I chased after her,
She allowed me a glimpse, a touch
For a moment i felt the electricity run through me
I held onto her, 
And she stayed, until she wanted to go.
I protested and i screamed
I begged getting on knees,
But she left, never once looking back
I found myself reminiscing, regretting,
Thinking, only if i had done more, 
Until, she saw me
I saw how she waited patiently,
When i finally met her, she welcomed me with open arms
She was cold, and quiet and calm
Everything my dear youth wasn't
She was death
And she stayed.

the rotting of socialism

The rotting of a socialist

I knew of a young man, a rebel who wanted
his country to adopt the Scandinavian model of socialism.
He was elected to great acclaim by the people,
he wanted taxes to rise, especially among
the wealthy and upper middle classes, they rebelled
by slurring him in the newspapers, lurid tales about sex orgies
and a luxury living, people turned against him
  not re-elected
After some years’ people found he was not 
a bad egg
and he was elected as president again.
Now he was a changed man, didn`t care less about the Left
or the right, he just wanted to be president in his self-belief
gave tax relief to the rich, prices went up, and people
protested they wanted him to go.
He refuses to do so many people are killed
 he doesn`t care
turned from a good man into a bloody dictator
who will keep his power at whatever cost and has to
be removed by whatever means.
Viva Nicaragua.

healing

my child eyes had grown dim

seeing life's turmoils grim

upright i protested

with new sight contested

inner vision from Him.

November

For some reason not even the earth could change my mind
The wind banging against my ears
And the dark night couldn't disguise it.
The oak trees could protest their judgement
And the ocean can keep wailing 
But my ignorance can oversee it.
For some reason,there were more leaves than before.
The owls cries were easily ignored
Likewise, not even the doves were heard.
Reluctant, I had started to embrace the seasons
And with that, the leaves finally cleared
The ocean soothed
The oaks no longer croaked
For once
I felt blissfully unaware.
Yesterday everything was so loud
But tonight was so quiet
Even my mind no longer protested.
The only protests were the thumps of my very own heart
Even though the snow sourly embraced me
Summers' own spiteful touch lingered.
On that edge
A minuscule path of dying dignity
The seasons grew louder
For whatever reason.
And even in my bittersweet death
I was still nature's child
Caressed by mother nature herself.


November

White Privilege

I have never been arrested,
abused, discarded, neglected.
All because someone protested,
it’s my color they detested.

I have always been protected, 
accepted, respected, vested.
Civil rights never molested,
my freedom never contested.

No one has ever suggested,
because I’m black I’m now suspected.
To be so badly infected,
that it cannot be corrected.

Let this message be digested,
if we want this life perfected.
We must all become connected,
to a world that’s not divested. 
 

do not question santa

Santa told the reindeer to whoa in middle of field of corn.
Two helper elves were confused, what were they doing this morn?
He hopped out of his sleigh and pulled out a decorating kit.
We don’t have this kind of time! Protested Master elf, having a fit.

We have to do what we can for the creatures who asked for a tree.
They already have one, now, are you two going to help me?
The elves and Santa made short work of the December task at hand.
So many people drove by and said “Look over there! By the land!”

Love and joy was felt by so many more as they traveled by.
Now the elves do not ever question Santa or stop to ask why.
They do what they can to help him on every single quest.
One time they stopped to decorate a tiny wren’s nest.

blue barbeque sauce

Why does your barbeque sauce cost twice what others cost?
Because ours turns blue when it hits hot fries said Mr. Rost.
The grocer took a risk and bought one batch, to be nice.
People protested  the cost, which they yelled was over twice.

But this red sauce turns blue when it hits your hot food he said.
One mother bought a bottle to show off to her husband Mister Ed.
You thought blue sauce is a good thing? Hubby asked with surprise.
Ended up being a bad thing because no one likes blue sauce on their fries.

your head will have to be amputated

the infamous tornado mosquito bit Serena and her neck was infected.
The head will have to be amputated, doc said when he inspected.
But how will I see and hear? How will I let my family know I care?
Unsure at this point, but you will die unless we dare…..

We have to amputate the head, or the inspection will spread.
But protested Serena, can people live without their head?
The arms and legs will take over, the doctor quickly said.
Serena’s loud protesting stopped upon amputation of her head.

Protests

In the 60’s we protested
Out on the quads
With our armbands and banners and signs
‘Til the rage manifested
By police riot squads
Put a damper on all our designs.

We erected no tents
And we went home to sleep
But were sure we could orchestrate change.
Yet these current events
Which on campuses sweep
Seem, to me, very different and strange.

Stepping Out One Evening

A warped board on a bench seat
causing discomfort 
to an old bum, an aching foot,
a touch of pity all came to keep me
self-sealed inside a bag of skin. 
I took no note of the river
almost licking at my feet, 
the evening's prayerful quiet,
the sky slowly switching on
its nightly extravaganza of stars.
I was too far into myself
to see past my rim.

One can get lost in a stare,
that blank, formless blur 
reflecting the endless distances
stretching across the self.
I was bubbled there.
Then slowly things happened,
a tugboat went past, seagulls 
protested my presence,
the smell of river mud
thickened the air.
I stepped out and saw
an old man on a bench seat
who I have long known,
brushed the dandruff 
from his shoulders,
helped him up and walked
him home.

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