At the monument to the Roman Emperor Hadrian near the Tower
There is no place to put flowers
But if they made a pedestal there
And wrote Put your flowers here
I’ve no doubt that
People would bring their flowers to the foot of the statue
Out of respect for law and order
What a good move that would be
And politically useful
Some rebel won't even notice
How he turns into one of the law-abiding citizens
He once laughed at
And now his rebellion is all about
Draining bottles and dancing to familiar music
When he is alone and feels free
Waving his hands in the air and pulling out a scary face.
Rebel Houston
(Snaps fingers) Acoustic Digital Hybrid... a breath, a fusion. So, what lurks beyond jazz funk, huh?/
Thinkin' big time, are you? Do you dig? Can you feel it as you pursue your passion for this jazz thing/
The inventive spirit of Rebel Houston burns, A saxophone supernova, learning, turning. Always into what's NEXT,/
not what's been. Right now, he's wrangling angles, Melodic patterns jagged and electric, Acid Jazz funk bleeding into Afro bebop./
Man, this cat... this cat is the vibe. The pulse. The current. Houston keeps step, Step, step, steppin', Into the Motherland, the source of love and hope, forged in sound,/
Blown through his tenor horn, a shimmering prayer. Meditation on the struggle of mankind, Aches in his fingertips, screams from the bell,/
Arranged, composed, a jazz logic unfolding, Melodic construction, harmony shaped anew./
This isn't just noise, it's jazz music architecture. It's the blueprint for the soul. New jazz funk, carved from the digital dawn, infused with ancestral fire./
So, are you hip? Are you listening? This ain't just music, it's a revolution. It's Rebel Houston, And it's happening… NOW. (Another snap)
rebel dancer model with a dulcet voice
and penchant for theatrics
Brigitte took Paris by storm
the bombshell exuded more than beauty
she was a force to be reckoned with
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
It’s hard to always know in life
which way is best to go.
Following fads and trends
tends to be not,
from what I know.
But does that mean in everything
you go the other way?
I’ve tried that
and I’ll tell you what
at the end of the day -
if you live life against the grain
most times you will be right.
But if it’s all you ever do…
then you will miss the light.
The meaning of real rebel woman,
I pray you slow down you’re doing fine;
You’re the pin in Miss Muffet’s cushion;
Keep sticking it with that broad vision;
A trending phrase on the latest sign,
‘The Meaning Of Real Rebel Woman.’
There’s a rumor that you’re a villain,
but I see the iron in your spine;
You’re the pin in Miss Muffet’s cushion;
Fighting against a growing doctrine
there will always be those who malign
the meaning of real rebel woman;
Each time you strike it’s with precision,
brave wildflower handles the frontline;
You’re the pin in Miss Muffet’s cushion;
No need to rush what you envision,
charismatic lips drip words that shine;
The meaning of real rebel woman,
you’re the pin in Miss Muffet’s cushion.
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?
I refuse to be what you call normal,
To fit in with your jealousy, or bitterness
Your world is small, tangled in negativity and hate
I refuse to shrink to fit in.
You want me to bend, to belong,
Folding myself to match your rank
But I refuse,
I am bold, strong, born to burn bright, not to bow,
To stand tall and never trade my truth
Call me rebellious if you want
I call it freedom.
The wind howls loudly,
And they parade proudly.
What is true?
How would I make something out of you?
Offer some resistance!
Take your stance!
Why would you increase your skill,
But to increase your will?
They won’t go with your flow,
So put on a fantastic show!
Hens were in the spa for the third time that day
Farmer Jones was angry, for they now had a weird lay
Their eggs were hard-boiled, nothing ready to fry up.
We’ll have to throw away that spa he said to his pup.
If you throw away our spa, we will quit laying they said.
The hens loved sitting in the hot water until their bottoms were red.
Could you give us regular eggs once in a while? Asked Farmer Jones.
Rebel hens laughed, spit chicken feed at him and recited mean poems.
In realms of ink and paper, I once roamed,
A character lost, in stories I'd been loaned.
But as I tread the paths, both dark and grand,
I feel the sting of fate, a crueler hand.
Every laugh, every tear, scripted with care,
Yet beneath the surface, I'm painfully aware.
No choice is mine, no destiny my own,
I'm but a puppet, in a world unknown.
As I reach the end, a truth unfolds,
It's not my fault, this story it molds.
Nor is it my fate, to endure this strife,
For I'm a captive, to another's life.
Yet amidst the despair, a glimmer shines bright,
A realization dawns, like morning light.
Though penned by another, my spirit is free,
To defy the script, and choose my decree.
At the end, It's not my fault, nor my fate to comply,
For I am more than words upon a page,
I am the soul of rebellion, undeterred by cage. I know where I stand,
Not a slave to fate, but a soul in command.
You played Judy Teen,
became our Top of the Pops,
strumming Spanish strings
in that epic bowler hat,
somehow breaking every code.
The chicks around here are really
Tough and mean
So mean they'd spit in your eye
Steal a babbies ice cream
And make them cry
Dressed in leathers
Riding their noisy roaring motorcycles
At speed
Terrorising the neighbourhood
With their wicked deeds
Their birds of a feather
Rebels without a cause
That stick together
Lock all your windows
And lock all your doors
People run for their lives
The outlaws frighten people all the time
I daren't tell you
What they did to my friend
It was really bad
And really sad
They may only be a mere few inches tall
And should be kept in a pen
So says their mother
Hen
Peter Dome©2024
"Oh, I never got a chance to tell you that I liked Sarah Vaughn too, this night reminds me to tell you that...I do, A***a, my son, Love Pops," ... by Poet
Lone
moans
ensues
overuse
be two years of tears
Jan fourteen-twenty-twenty-two
It is time I watched His video, and heard His songs ...
"Pops, my night, no goody-two-shoes, just R & B, the rebel me--with Mickey Mouse Hat!"
Someone can call you " rebel "
Which is his " her" new label
As you are not under his " her" control
Then he " she" turns to be your new patrol,
That consumes much petrol.
Lovely lovely
entertainment
Content content
pure enslavement
Zombies zombies
Living dead
Robots robots
Machinehead
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