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Best Poems Written by Robert Allen

Below are the all-time best Robert Allen poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Assange in the Ministry of Love

Encased in inch-thick glass, Assange displayed;
The plaque upon his cage reads "DISSIDENT;"
The withered man in court is laid;
Imprisoned corpse announcing precedent.

To those "who hold these truths self-evident,"
Behold the Press awaiting punishment;
To be delivered to your government,
The Law so torn in wreckless brandishment.

Abuse! And ursurpation! Tyrant! Swine!
One Nation under God? Or under You?
Your boot does stamp upon that dream of mine
Believing "We the People" to be true.

Reclaim Your soul! For God's sake free this man!
Redeem the meaning of American.

https://www.truthdig.com/articles/the-annihilation-of-julian-assange/

Copyright © Robert Allen | Year Posted 2019



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The Plastic Cross

A matted cross of gray does catch the light,
In muted form it shines atop a peak
To all of us who hate the dreary sight
The massive model church awakes to speak: 

"Embrace the waste! Industrial people!
For whom are you to say, 'I stand apart?'
The Earth constructed this plastic steeple
Because you molded dreams with plastic heart!"

"So bow to your God! Industrial men!
The plastic veins inside me gush with you!
You're made in my image! Say it! Amen!
We'll write a Good Book, friend -- gray plastic, new!

But like all gods to which humans pray,
To wake from kneeling dreams, god fades away.

Copyright © Robert Allen | Year Posted 2019

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A World in a Tree

I look upon a tree in windowed box,
A summer lover planted in the grass,
Inside the tiny window vision locks
A living painting made of shimmering mass. 

From on my chair out through transparent wall,
I stare at what appears more orb than tree;
No trunk in sight, this verdant crystal ball
Does tell a fortune set in marbled sea: 

The wind! It roars through branched societies,
who vy for fickle glory, bending fate.
They spread their kingdoms, crushing enemies,
But in the end they're beaten home by hate. 

For all that Wind -- Its name "Desired Fame--"
Can only for a moment sway the Frame.

Copyright © Robert Allen | Year Posted 2019

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The Capitalist's Son

I keep your time, so brief, all to myself;
It liquefied and forged in sheets of green,
And stamped with faces on historic shelf – 
The marbled Fathers' perch; they claim you’re free.

Those vultures from on high look down like gods,
Upon the carcassed wastelands they have wrought.
Perhaps bemused, but more amused, by rods
of Iron that the One Percent hath bought. 

The prophet John foretold in dreams our right,
We kings of sickly visage understood;
But idle lives so spent will drain ‘till Blight 
Unless our fangs may sup the Worker’s blood.

I want a thing no more, to shed this curse,
But on this neck my kin to dine? Far worse.

Copyright © Robert Allen | Year Posted 2019

Details | Robert Allen Poem

Tears for the Earth

Of all the world this century I see
What shimmers – artifice devoid of soul.
Pneumatic truncheons burying dreams of She,
The Mother, under satin sheets of coal.

If would mine eyes deceive me not I’d think
It just a putrid fantasy, from which
The shadows formed by tortured lids could blink
Awake into the rays from which no niche

Could cling like pincers holding darkness gripped.
Inverted it would seem the very Laws,
When God can’t stop in poison water dipped,
The baptism of Earth in fossil maws.

I pray that life – eternal Hope so fair,
Can snatch redemption from morose Despair.

Copyright © Robert Allen | Year Posted 2019



Details | Robert Allen Poem

King of Kings: 1-90

1	A plume of dirt and grime envelops sky;
		The hellish slug of gas does creep along.
		It casts an orb three hundred stories high
		Over the Sun and ends his morning song.
		The birds and trees now stand a silent throng,
		Before this rumbling mass with lightning veins,
		Announcing from its depths un-living Wrong.
		The cloud unveils from its ashen rains,
	A haunted prow so steered by sinewed mains. 

2	Behold! A rotted snout in shattered disrepair,
		Reluctant nose of mad, titanic head,
		Emerging from primordial earthen air,
		The Lizard King returning, dripping red.
		That oily blood His putrid skin does shed
		Out from the seams ‘tween rotted flesh and flags
		That iron wired stitches weakly wed,
		An undead Rex in form with skin that sags
	From conquered kingly flesh and bannered rags. 

3	Revolting stench. It wilts the grassy blades
		As He does near, the fields bowing low
		Before this Beast in sickly browning shades
		He leaves behind a wake that Death did mow
		And only offers wretched blood to sow
		Those massive drips of blood in rhythmic beat
		Do form dark ruby ponds so far below
		But kingly blood alone the ground does meet
	This monster floats in air, no legs or feet.  

4	Above the Rex’s form, a massive wing:
		A host of silver zepplins bred for war;
		They bear upon their sides a scripted ring
		of “DEUS EX MACHINA!” circling core;
		On this he hangs suspended from the floor. 
		Supported by three slabs of giant stone
		His body seeping t’ward the dying moor
		Devoid of proper structure, missing bone
	The makeshift monster slowly glides alone. 

5	Protruding ‘long his back in lumpen form
		Stand satellite receivers, glossy white
		The china saucers cut through ashen storm
		And throw back to the sun his hated light
		They crave instead the call from Endless Night
		Eternal Acheron, the void of space
		Where floats the Ferryman in powered kite
		They hear his oar disturb as he does race
	Across that sea which life and death encase. 

6	His vessel only seen among the dark
		Imposter laid amidst the noble stars
		Revealed by its constant moving mark
		For Charon never sleeps, each night he mares
		An undisturbéd sky he always bars
		That Beast, he makes it so from constant blight
		Upon the land, his stooges, kings and czars
		They gladly do his bidding claiming right
	To speak for God through horrid death and might. 

7	The fools, their eyes so blind to monstrous ploy
		Mind not for what the King of Kings commands
		Who seeks all life outside him to destroy
		He only satisfied in wasted lands
		His subjects there he lovingly remands
		The forests felled, the creatures turned to slaves
		To serve the Great Machin’ry’s many hands
		The kings and serfs alike would claim He saves
	They freed from States of Nature and the Caves. 

8	“How good this world be!” They do exclaim.
		“My every need be eas’ly met
		No fear of violent death that horrid game
		I gladly place myself in Rex’s debt
		My loyalty upon his feet I set
		To vow upon my life to fight for him
		His en’mies hated blood I vow to let
		Upon the floor, in crimson baths I’ll swim
	Eternal servant be, it glad or grim.” 

9	Recited by the Monster’s brood this theme 
		Those men and women housed in flesh are plugged
		Into that ghastly Monster’s crimson stream.
		His blood they sup, in ecstasy they’re drugged;
		So tethered they remain, this tubing lugged.
		A bloody feed injected at the spine
		It weighing down their necks, the shoulders shrugged
		embedded by a vice of angled spikes, this line. 
	They mind it not, so drowned in pleasure fine. 

10 	This gift, the beasts convincing drapery
		that hides a sickly bride ‘neath ‘lectric veil
		Displaying text, it reads “SOCIETY”
		It crawling left and leading lettered tail
		Across that glowing screen with reddish hale
		But disappearing at the Western seam
		Returning only at the Eastern rail
		This scrolling pendulum’s hypnotic stream
	So grips our sated eyes in pleasant dream.

Copyright © Robert Allen | Year Posted 2019

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Long Live the King

They marched in millions chanting down the street,
Their captured likeness published in the Post.
Rewarded citizens retake their seat;
(His subjects satisfied) They brag and boast.  

They file back inside their business park,
No choice when keeping families afloat;
"At least on 'Climate Day' I made my mark,
At least that little history I've wrote." 

The King in roars goes stomping through this place;
He rends the trees and tears at mountain skin.
His human guards asleep in drunken space,
From royal gifts of blackened fossil gin.

An oiled Curse doth reign; the Earth He wrecks.
This evil Thing. Tyrannosaurus Hex.

Copyright © Robert Allen | Year Posted 2019

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Mikaela

I

You died at 22; left me alive
At 25 to write this sonnet tomb;
Block letters hewn, with fumbling hands I drive
This pen in metered clangs around your room. 

In desperate pause, I step away to see 
The ugly product of my trembling hands.
What is the use? These sculpted memories be 
But dross unfit for what your name demands. 

Oblivion. The void awaiting those
Who died before their fame could last.
I had no doubts; The noble path you chose
Was working, but the sickness worked too fast. 

I look upon this tomb, its failed role;
And for your sake, elect to sell my soul.

II

How many wives of Donne, their throats to slit,
Must I enlist? The author forced to watch.
“A thousand Holy Sonnets you shall writ!
Or else this woman too! I’ll butcher! Botch!”

A Monster I’ve become, demanding text,
Out from this poet’s brain like industry;
Extruding beauty, meter, rhythm, “Next!"
"You’ll write for Mine! My Love! In chains you’ll be!”

Until my thirst for blood be satisfied,
But blood so written out in papered rhyme,
Enough to fill soft veins of her's who died;
"Mikaela! Write it Man! Inspired this time!" 

I can't release the weeping poet Donne,
Until immortal fame this woman's won.

III

"Put down the pen!" I hear my lips exclaim;
And with a shudder 'waken in disgust --
Hungover mind arrested from the game
Of making all things right with blood and lust. 

The Fates, God! took you cruelly from this place,
You lying there, in gurney, bridging realms.
We prayed around your body holding space,
Your plastic altar donning wired helms. 

But now in Spirit, the Body finished,
I dream you're still alive atop a tree;
In that Garden, Eden, undiminished,
See "New Jerusalem" at peace; you're free.

You wrote your life: impassioned, selfless ink;
I pray you've found Utopia, I think. 

Copyright © Robert Allen | Year Posted 2019

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King of Kings: 91-172

11	Contracted in this state our marriage made
		And only far too late we recognize
		That gladly with Reptilian Flesh we’ve laid
		The veil torn away revealing eyes
		Of yellow flame exposéd we surmise
		Out from the darkened room these floating orbs
		No longer hidden ‘neath a nightly guise
		We try to look away but it absorbs
	Consuming all we are, becoming hordes.  

12	A vicious lie beneath a treachery
		A lie from which we cannot look away
		We love this all consuming lechery
		We love the Beast demanding that we stay
		“Absolve yourself” quoth Rex in gravely bray
		No need to rage against your master now
		All things I’ll grant to you just kneel and pray
		Eternal pleasure for your soul I vow
	Relinquish it! That awful burden. Bow!
		
13	So held in desperate stupor we must wait
		As New Jerusalem pounds at the door
		That bride adorned by God now filled with hate
		Against this Serpent’s kin she doth implore,
		“Release my love and rot! Deceiving whore!
		Return your corpse to hell and burn in flame!”
		No answer heard, collapsing on the floor
		She weeps for Human weakness, cursing name
	“Oh Father! God!” quoth she, “It’s you I blame!” 

14	O must I suffer like my mother, Eve? 
		So helplessly betrayed by wicked snake?
		A measly apple eaten? No reprieve?
		And this describes the justice that you make?
		So tell me God the rule I now forsake?
		The fitting crime committed by my hand
		That justifies the ancient vow you break
		To save my lover from their own remand
	And I Oh God! Left watching. Helpless! Damned!

15	If only I could tear with holy might
		These bolts out from the wall and wrap around
		That filthy gorge these hands, they gripping tight
		And strangle horrid Rex upon the ground!
		Its final kingly words a gurgling sound
		The lifeless corse, I’d leave in haunted stare
		Alone to answer for the sins it’s found
		In Hell, A massive stone to bear
	Upon Its scaley back forever there.

16	That rock which God himself hath built upon
		Behold his founding Church victorious
		Displayed atop that Satan’s earthly spawn
		Like Atlas holding Earth laborious
		My God I see it now! So Glorious!
		The evil of the Earth confined at last
		Under the heavy weight of furious
		True laws of saints and prophets of the past
	Those brave and persecuted righteous caste

17	And God now spoke to New Jerusalem,
		My child you know the answer to your cries
		Why spirits must not interfere with them
		The humans on the Earth, they must surmise
		Amongst themselves the Holy truth from lies
		The love we give must freely be returned
		Else what we love, mere slaves in human guise
		Not human anymore their freedom spurned
	Remember child the lessons that you’ve learned.

18	O spare me God! These lectures that you teach!
		That so called heart of yours lies buried down
		‘Neath heaps of Holy pride no love can reach
		That piece long lost and never to be found
		For I your daughter here in wedding gown
		Must freshly die alone each day
		While you so satisifed will watch me pound
		Upon this wretched door in vain and pray
	BANG! BANG! Come back to me my love I say! 

19	BANG! BANG! Explosive power shakes the air
		BANG! BANG! Release them you deceiving whore!
		BANG! BANG! In Rex’s eyes we deeply stare
		BANG! BANG! She thunders at the bedroom door
		BANG! BANG! The sound consumes the engine floor. 
		BANG! BANG! Dark shapes do tend the searing flames
		BANG! BANG! And keep alive the monstrous core.
		BANG! BANG! These servants with their sickly frames
	BANG! BANG! The sacrifice that Rex so claims. 
	

Copyright © Robert Allen | Year Posted 2019

Details | Robert Allen Poem

iMirror

Give the Ape his vice, electric device;
And watch him suckle at the Engine’s teet.
Abandoned child of Divine Person’s Thrice
Does see, no more himself, but Death in meat.

A phantom image lays in frame and clutched
By hands no more in contract with the thumb,
that lone appendage barks commands to such
who watch the face reflected turn to drum.

For with each click upon that mirrored man,
In vain, unknowing, strikes to gouge the eyes: 
In darkness happ’ly seeks his own remand,
But if in sight the chains appear, not lies.

Yet think not of these things my little lamb,
You have so much to see on Instagram.

Copyright © Robert Allen | Year Posted 2019

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