596.
Learn History of Revolutionary Period!
Learn Revolutionary Period History
Drastic changes, uprisings in every country
Rise of Capitalism, emergence of Socialism
Awakening of Nationalism, revolts against Imperialism
Dramatic developments in the field of technology
Fighting for ideology, fighting against slavery
Many colonies sought independence from their colonizers
Led by revolutionaries like the Sepoys & the Boxers.
-12/15/2017
(Dumarao
*WHN Poems
Estimates of deaths attributed to regimes following Marxist-Leninist ideology in the 20th century vary widely, often cited in the range of 60 million to over 100 million people. These deaths occurred through executions, man-made famines, forced labor (Gulags), and deportations.
We do the same thing
over and over again
and expect a different result.
~attributed to Albert Einstein
“MARXIST REVOLUTION NOW”
is the most ignorant solution
I have heard in this 21st century
woe-is-me trajectory.
Sand castles are washed away
easily by time and tide,
less easily lies the blood
shed by revolutionaries.
Righteous is the cause in one’s own ideology,
and for this we make no apology.
[POET’s NOTE : This is the first of five poems on Revolutionary Poet, Bertolt Brecht, who had a profound impact on South African revolutionaries during the transition into a National Democratic state from an Apartheid one. We often read from his works during mass meetings for change.
Brecht worked in hexameters, rhyming quatrains, sonnets, ballads, unrhyming verse in regular meters, as well as shapes, as occasion demanded. For Brecht, technique & form mattered less than content, except that it held content stable. ]
__________________
Bertolt Brecht, his revolutionary vivid poems are etched into spinal nerves deep
his dramatic language caused awakenings from ignorant sleep
poetic outpourings against war flashed bleep bleep
he had to flee home country with human consciousness to sweep
~~~~~~~
I asked him, my friend
Who are the heroes of the world?
He said, "Heroes, the War-Giants."
Alexander to Maj. Gen. Herald Ikiants,
Revolutionaries – Ideologues, Demagogues.” He named.
I quizzed his seminal brain
"What about saviors and saints?"
He was composite and took no strain
To answer my query pains,
“Of course, Saints!”
And he had no feel of hailing
The heroes of war veins
As he believes history’s kneeling
And he trusts in evidence
So scientific and evidence.
"History is past blundrance." I tried.
He only said very firm
"It is evidence."
"Learn from the evidence"-I,
He confirms, he uses occurrence
As he still has a belief
History repeats itself.
He proves again quoting History mischief,
History does not repeat, but rewritten with the dictum
"History is not of warriors but of the makers of life"
The Earth would only say
"How mean you are
Learn from the past errors."
Generation Z.(1997-2012) Blossom Monyei.
Our parents think we're fast asleep ??
But we're rocking
They think we're busy studying
We've got distractions.
We've got unlocked windows,
We're party sneakers.
Our parents instructions we despise
To our friends our ears listen and we obey.
The road less traveled is the one we aren't taking,
It's filled with hardwork, rules, studies, and lots of boringness.
But the path of vibing, fame, ENJOYMENT!! we all take
We mostly dream big without working,
We even lose our minds,
Despite all of these our heads are up straight,
Even though we're held by distractions, we watch our steps
We're not just rebels, we're revolutionaries
We're not just dreamers, but the ones that'll make it happen.
“Listen to our generation's voice,
We're not just roaming around for nothing, we're trying to survive.
In this world that's complex and often unkind”
This is Just a summary, original will be published soon.
Blossom Monyei
a place preserved in memory
as if in mystic fantasy
where revolutionaries farmed and fought
no time for speeches or dialectic thought
a place where survival was the goal
requiring discipline, stamina, self-control
where it was ‘from each according to his ability
to each according to his needs’…
a place somewhere between museum piece
and curiosity
~ every Israeli kibbutz in the 1930's
In the depths of time, where the echoes of wars fade silently,
Every conflict is born not as a clash but as a desperate defense,
We are immersed in a sea of silences, where the obvious becomes duty,
Freedom means the right to tell the world what it refuses to hear,
In times of deceit, truth becomes an act of pure revolution,
We lose ourselves among the shadows of words, seeking light in the darkness,
Truth is a flickering flame, a beacon guiding drifting ships,
Who will have the courage to declare it, to place it atop the peaks of conscience?
In a universe where lies swallow the fragile shores of truth,
Brave hearts are needed to pierce the veil, to sing the story,
Every word becomes a sword, every sentence a shield in the silent battle,
Like a dance of stars in the sky, truth shines through our courage.
In this dance of shadows and light, where every step is a choice,
Truth, a hidden diamond, awaits to be discovered by the brave,
The times call for revolutionaries who shout from the mountains what the world refuses,
In every act of courage, truth gains its freedom and eternity.
Start your revolution secretly,
don't tell the priest,
he's a blabber-mouthed gutter-skite.
Don't tell the cat,
for at might he whispers to Alexa,
and she listens always
to the political tenor of your snoring.
Your body must be mechanically sound,
and on speaking terms
with every loose nut in society.
Trust the crazies, they have eyes everywhere.
The banks need you to deposit blood,
as your plasma will be useful
to power your electric doppelganger -
then they can go after your soul
Revolutions need money, mainly for dope and drinks.
No great movement can long survive,
on stale guacamole pilfered from city dumpsters.
Hail to the Chefs at Wendys
who surreptitiously offer cold fries,
to the snooping Feds.
Long live the freedom to carp and cavil,
never surrender your constitutional right
to watch, the 'My Pillow' Man,
revolutionaries need soft pillows,
to dream upon.
'The Boston Massacre' killed British soldiers, three
and destroyed quite a bit of tea
O, those heartless American revolutionaries!
Hamas just killed 700 Israelis, mostly civilians
on a Jewish Holy Day
Captured over 100 hostages too
dozens of babies and grandmothers, by the way
Now American Congressional radicals in 2023
Omar, Bowman, Bush, Tlieb, AOC
rally in support of Hamas in NYC
O, such brave fighters ~
destroyers of lives, freedom and liberty
The revolutionary, so brave and true,
courage and strength, misconstrued
Pride, hope, their dreams are for us,
It's time we honor them, for their greatness and trust
The revolutionary, confident staring death in the face,
Grave their heart, their blood, their grace.
Constantly fighting for freedom and liberty,
It's time we honor them, for their bravery and loyalty
Our revolutionaries, who continue to fight for us all,
Their courage to stand, every injustice we must recall.
As we all know, the revolution will not be televised
Come join their fight for equality and justice
The most efficient way to honor their cause and fight for us
As a child of the late1940s,
Heard Skiffle, Folk, Rock and Roll
Loved country and the blues
Loved the sound of soul.
Heard, Donegan, Perkins, Presley,
Make all those blues based hits
Heard Jerry Lee, Buddy, the Bopper
Guthrie, all those talented young Brits.
Suddenly we had a language,
A music of our very own,
Criss crossing the Atlantic
To mix with that home grown.
So many decades later,
My life having moved on,
I still listen to that music but
Most of the heroes are gone
Eyes closed, glass in hand
I listen at my leisure,
My music may be old but
It gives so much pleasure.
In my mind i see my idols
Strut and own their stage
Many died too young
That just means they don’t age.
Those very special people
Whose talent will not fade,
I have been so privileged to see
Music history being made.
A musical dinosaur maybe
But I don’t really care.
I heard the music change
And I was lucky to be there.
When I think of it
I actually long for it
But am I the only one longing for it?
No!!
Because for what I long is the world's most desiring thing: Freedom
It's the one for what the battles were fought.
It's the one for what the revolutionaries were born.
But its implications are changed now,
And you know it somehow
Now we have the rights and all
But there's always a bafflement in the inner of me.
Haven't we taken 'Freedom' for granted?
And aren't we forgetting our duties?
Or do we still need some more of it to be the best of all?
These are conflicting convictions but these are mine.
Oh! I too have that 'right to freedom' perception.
Everyone is free to express
in the world to impress
But remember your freedom should ne'er be the chain on anyone!
Ancient battle
Beautiful field blood-red poppies
ringed with delicate dandelions.
Once a battlefield
the righteous, in blue uniforms
shiny golden buttons.
The terrorists of the time
were farmers and shepherds.
The revolutionaries lost the battle
and many more.
In the end, the rebels won
got their land back.
When the field is ploughed
human skull appears
rebel or soldiers, who knows?
Rusty buttons surface too
not of gold, after all.
Ode to Life
And the soft song plays in the ears of all, that the phantom sound is clear. Like the golden-crowned
sparrow in the depth of fall, the melody rings in heavenly halls, the song: Forever
And God looked upon us with a pitying glance, for he had forever to spare, while men
toiled through their purposeless endeavor, never aware of his Godly thought: Forever
But in their depth of agony, they can only sense- the doom of the scent so ominous,
the smell of death is near, his marching song, his mare. He charges on. Is death not Forever?
Still, we lie in the bed of destiny, blind idiots we are, ripped into living, teared
apart, glued together, gifted pain and glory, is that the solemn song of Forever?
We collect jubilations to better our existence. We withdraw from pain, perpetual
resistance. Revolutionaries against destiny, and the terrors of Forever.
And if my name ‘joy’, meant anything at all, perhaps it brings me certainty that I shall
live in the tune of the golden-crowned sparrow, not tomorrow, but certainly forever.
DIFFERENCE
A friend once said that
difference is a problem
when used as a weapon,
perhaps something good
when sought as an
adventure.
He started the interview
by clearing the air, told the
corporate panel at the mahogany
table that he was an African, Jewish,
Republican cross-dresser from southern
Mississippi, both the son and the daughter
of an Islamic Russian from east of the Urals
and an Ethiopian Christian of half-Chinese
descent who was partially handicapped and
wanted by Interpol for clandestinely supporting
Cuban revolutionaries and Aryan supremacists
by transporting drugs for an Afghan cartel
whose amoral leader, the half-Indian
brother of his beautiful mother was a
Colombian priest who had
broken his vows
He shuffled his feet
and prepared to get up
but the wiry-haired man at the
head of the table held up his hand, looked
over his glasses like an exasperated teacher
about to show faith in a mercurial student
“Get over it!” He said
“You start work on Monday!
You’ll be the company entertainment
for the next thirty years!”
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.