Riots Poems - Poems about Riots

Nativist Riots, Kensington Philadelphia

Sit down, and let me tell you, son,
about the historic district, Kensington,
in the year eighteen-forty-four,
when the streets broke out in war. 

The Irish-Catholic were new arrivals,
impoverished, fighting for survival.
The existing population was disquieted,
and so, Philadelphia nativists rioted.

It was then that false rumors were passed.
In a bad light, the Irish were cast,
Propaganda and lies, the devil's tools,
"They want

Riots From Rhymes

There are only so many pages and so many stages
Of life I can riddle and write on through 
Until the paper's a waste, and the words are bad taste
And I can't tell fiction from true
Until the pen is bleeding and loves are leaving
And my cursive has gone too far
Eventually the trees start screaming that I'm

Paris, July 2024

Again it’s time to set some cars on fire
To smash some windows shouting out obsceneties   
With Paris riots on TV you can’t get tired
Like trashy sequels of the Chaplin’s comedies
The action breaks down into episodes and gags
The crowd goes berserk with animation 
They look quite serious, young lions and old fags
Rugged protesters, conscience

The Waltz Of The Werewolves

At high noontime, the tires are burning in the streets
The sound of barking dogs is everywhere; the cats of hell smell
Like never showered rats who are locked up in death row cells
Where the air does not go through sealed windows
No, my friends, I'm not dreaming; it’s a nightmare. The sun
Is warming the pavement and the

Strikes, Riots, Anarchy

Massive strikes in Germany
  Burning tires in France
    Drummers pound out a war dance
  
  But please do not worry
  Real change can't be hurried
    Except with a large cash advance

It's Not Like It's Their Job

The smell is overpowering 
My lungs, screaming for one
   for just one 
       breath of fresh air 

With prayers unanswered,
They are engulfed in
    yet another load 
     of these odorous toxins

The odorous toxins
   of humanity
Being burnt to the

Speechless

Chaos and riots
Epidemics and wars
Confusion like tornado hurricane
Confinement, speechless, quiet, calm, rest and unspoken words 
However people are drowned in the sounds of nature
Rattle of the rain 
Whizzing of the wind
Rustling of the leaves
Wheedling of the birds 
Chirping of the crickets
Echoing in the caves, jungles and mountains 
Roaring of the sea
Murmuring of the stream
Buzzing of

Who Do We Call Them

Walking
Running
Bringing impending doom.
Who are they?
They claim they're heroes.
But not a single hero was there that day.
Who are they? 
They say they are Patriots.
Peculiar for traitor to say.
They screamed and shouted
Creating such violence
They screamed and shouted
Spewing out venom.
The blue showed up
Not even stopping them.
Nobody seemed to stop them.
Why aren't they stopping them? 
Why? 
Why?
Why?
Because,
They are one

Twisted America

You can twist the way a man sees the world.
Do you think that sounds ridiculous?
What if you did it over time with subtlety and diligence?

The audience is largely uneducated, so remind them of their impotence; tell them any other source of facts must be regarded with suspiciousness.

Whisper to them over breakfast and slowly introduce corrosive

Black and Brown Lives Do Not Matter

Black and Brown Lives Do Not Matter – Welcome to Trump’s America 

Yet another death of a black man
Shot by the police
seven times in the back

His crime?
Other than being a black man
he was walking to his car
to check on his three children

He is confronted by the Police
Guns drawn

He tries to get in his car
They pull

Turmoil Soup

Turmoil Soup: 
by M. Griswold  09112020

Stirring the pot until fully hot.
Bringing the turmoil to it's boil.
Then to see what is and is not.
Add to the broth a li'l bit of oil.

Add a li'l more fuel to the fire.

Tasting now with ladle in hand.
Sipping again for flavored desire.
Is the soup well made as planned?
Is it

Pandemic Friends Afraid

Pandemic Friends Afraid
By George W. Clever-----27 August 2020

My pandemic friends are afraid
Perhaps like me, they are old
So vulnerable to die on news are told			COVID patients placed in retirement homes
							Governor Emperors abusing their power. 
							Steal freedoms without control every hour
Their retirement plans to travel
A cruise, grandchildren visit, escaping the cold
By government order all are on hold
							They

Plagues, Riots and Quills

as soon as this latest plague is over
and the riots dampen a bit,
the gentle muse can be coaxed from  
the leper's mask and rubble,
to pick up the quill and start scribing
about frogs-flowers and fawns
or maybe It'll be inspired by a goose
that offered it's feather for the cause-

Rise From Your Knee

Old friend Democracy
There you are again
Finally
We thought you might have left us
Forever

Breathe
God Almighty
Breathe from your knee

And rise for every one
Like a black statue of liberty
Over the old ways of Confederacy

Put away
The power that rules
The gangland world.

Inhale the air and take our fear
Exhale a new century of equity

Release a revolution of new riches
Made of healing and

Riots

People are angry
And feeling unheard
rioting in the streets
Homes being burned
Lives are being ruined 
"in the name of justice," they say.
But I pray that they 
can find a better way

How does ruining an
Innocent life seem right?
Violence and looting
Fires burning through  the  night
Wrong is wrong and 
Two wrongs dont make it right
I get the anger,
It comes from

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