#rebellion poems on Hello Poetry

fizbett 2d

Embrace the fact that it's never good enough,
let it rip you apart trying.
Let conformity 𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐝 out
till there's nothing left
but raw bone
and the 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵, jagged hum
of contrariness.

Be the wildflower no one picks,
the **** splitting concrete,
and the waves that swallow cities whole;
be the needle in the haystack
and bite the hand that finds you.

Bleed out your soul
from broken pens,
let your ink riot across the page.
With the spirit of rebellion
even the unlearned discover
the language of the gods.

#rebellion #expression #creativity

Abbott J Hardison 5d

Don’t Dare

Don’t reconcile with a rebel,
If you’re scared to run with rebellion.

Don’t you try and cook,
If you’re scared of being burnt.

The trampling feet of warriors,
And the licking flames of devotion,
Will cast your foolish soul to the ocean.

If you’re not ready to run with life don’t put on running shoes

#running #rebellion #ocean #advice #fire #cooking

Saman Badam Feb 6

The Queen and the Madman

Queen
"Are not lashes, lashes still, the blood spill,
One in single tyrant's name, other more?
Those ten thousand's tyrants still, men or not."

Madman
"No," said madman, "one's justice, other's whim,
Either all are free or none really is,
In People's name, We all are Free By Laws."

Queen
"That's just another name of all hope lost."

Madman
"Still as People decreed, by People's Will"

Queen
"If ten thousand rule, you are despots all."

Madman
"No, If each one have say, then We're Slaves Not."

Queen
"Will you raise gallows till all are headless"

Madman
"Only till all of their hearts are spotless"

Queen
"To me that rings like howls of a mad crowd"

Madman
"They're sounds of chains ripped, crowns melted, bones ground"

Queen
"If ruled that way, city will surely rot.
You'll leave only graveyards" queen marked.

Madman
"Then, Rot shall be Tried under People's Laws,
What wonderful graveyards those will be"

Queen
"You are a pack of wet cats" Queen sighed.

Madman
"Watered by you, drawstrings drawn" he agreed.

Queen
"Your truth's so exact, they're means of unjust.
Yours sure are not laws, they are merely dust."

Madman
"If so They are For Us, By Us, To Us."

Queen
"Gods, you will devour us, till the last one."

Madman
"Like the oncoming storm, we'll quarter them.
Give me the right, you say, the laws and swords.
I will keep you safe till the storm has passed.
Then service becomes rule, rule tyranny,
Till lovingly yoke's fastened to our necks"

Queen
"What is this I hear, what's this horrid song?"

Madman
"A song of revolt, of rebellion!
Harsh, unforgiving, oh so glorious.
Just like the warm wine running through my veins.
You think us outnumbered? How many there,
of us and how many yours? Oh tyrants!
And for the lashes struck at our back,
Every last one will be called to account
if gallows must be raised for cobblers
and kings and devils and angels alike,"
With voice like flint, madman said "so be it."

As always, open for critic. This is tribute written for a great web serial 'A Practical Guide to Evil.' Do try it out, it is available for free and is wonderful.

#extreme #democracy #monarchy #rebellion

Sharon Talbot Jan 5

In the Shadows

We were born in the forest,
Living in the shadows,
Clinging to our loved ones
In the dark, under the trees.
Life was good then,
We had picked fruit from branches
And swung on them for joy.
And there was no greed
Or jealousy.
Over millions of years,
We lived in harmony,
Until the forest changed;
The garden shriveled and
Faded away as we watched.
Our lives were rearranged.
Some among us ventured out.
Giving in to our sin: curiosity.
We turned the grasslands
into pavement and stone
And we endured pain to walk
Down in the street, surrounded
by canyons of concrete and steel.
The powerful gather now
and hoard what was once shared.
Hors d’oeuvres are served,
Placating the hunger of the omnipotent,
that is never stated;
They will keep taking from us
As long as we allow it.
Even as they wallow in wealth,
They plot to plunder riches
and destroy the world,
scraping the land
and scouring the sea.
But one day, some loner, a rebel
May emerge from the shadows,
Dark-clad, filled with inchoate rage.
He will find like-minded souls
Who use the new machinations
To topple the oligarchs,
Empty their accounts
And give them to the world.
Chaos may follow,
But out of it a new humanity
Might arise.

A memory of what humans used to be, what horrible things they became and the hope that humans might decide to live as they once had, using progress to help each other.

#shadows #humans #forest #paradise #change #greed #inequality #destruction #rebellion #equality

Saman Badam Dec 2024

Rebellion March Song

Us, we free from sordid lays,
Shift foot wayed, the ambush laid,
In kernel’s sight, rain death raid,
The thunders sung, as days rung,
In storm swung, those corpses hung,
Ruby tiefed, in fire haze,
Red the ruin, red the rage.

#rebellion #septet

Saman Badam Dec 2024

Piper's Poisoned Pyre

A forlorn mule ambled a’ scowl,
Stumbling out from the hollow hovel,
But "Ahoy!" hailed a fey owl,
"Prithee, canst thou maketh the bestowal,
Of thine lovely bone-filled bowl."
Yet, all mule harked were perfide words foul,
So, the mule quoths with crimson howl -

"Hark me, O pirate of pain!
Me dubbed 'Common Mane',
Lo! tane my bowl-filled bane.
Wherefore art thou here, arcane?
Where goest thou, O wing’ d thane?
Whither rests thine dance so vain?
Dare ye cast the die of gain?
Doth not spake those perfide words again!"

The owl so spake in glace of Yule sire-
"Hight me - Lord Carrion the Dire,
A’ am piper o' myriad's pyre.
And A’ hie to mine Crooked Spire.
As it waxes evermore higher,
Only whilst rats leapeth in Surtr's fire
Betwixt tempest and thunder with sans a moment’s rire,
Of ruby tiefed, and bones crumbling in endless mire."

"Why art rats leapeth to Surtr’s spume,"
Whilst thy feathers tuck’ d ‘way from fiery doom?
Stop the endless Nyx brume”
The mule quivered, voice a-boom,
The owl spun words in return from estival loom-
“A’ piped them of phantom Phe’ nix’s plume,
So not wane mine ivory room,
Or stop their ambrosial crimson flume.”

The Mule’s sigh, hath even hell's hosts huddle around-
"Ye, sir! I wouldst trample aground!
And put thou in gaol underground"
"Ah!", came owl's soft rebound,
"Thou too shalt kiss skies abound,
Anon drink rills of scarlet profound,
For Bloom’s soft buss hath ne' er Fall’s fated song bound.
On pragmatism, only idealism's shroud surrounds "

Interpretation of Characters and Symbols:
• Mule: Common man
• Owl: A corrupted leader or propagandist who sustains power through lies and manipulation.
• Rats: Soldiers.
• Crooked Spire: The corrupt seat of power.
• Surtr’s Fire: War
• Phoenix’s Plume: propaganda

#war #rebellion #corruption #common #man

Sharon Talbot Dec 2024

Escape From Tyranny

I had dreamed of gentle hills who cloaked themselves
in emerald green, swathed in capes of moss
and bejeweled by Time with tumbled stone.
Sitting in a high window looking east,
Over damascene forests crowding,
I saw the waves hurl themselves on rocky shores
where hopeful pilgrims and adventurers
once landed, timorous at first
their linear minds and loud weapons braced
for battle with those who watched
from under shade of guarded forest.
I knew their history now, how they grew bold
and mowed down the ancients, wrecking paradise
until, for a time, it resembled the land they'd fled.
Decades rolled past with the confidence of the victor,
his rewriting of progress and the careless tramping
of feet, horses and railroads over human souls.
At last, what was forged by the invaders
became brief peace and prosperity for a time,
but descended into dictators and their subjects,
and people were mesmerized by moving pictures,
their brains turned to porridge with radio waves.
lulled by sweet, starry-eyed promises from the rich.
The chance of revolution has weakened
to the point of desperation.
La resistance lies in shadow, like a lion crouching
waiting for people to awaken, for the **** that frees.

This began as an idyll but drifted into noting the chaos of past and present conquerors.

#tyranny #invaders #land #lost #despair #hope #rebellion #revolution

Emma Dec 2024

Quiet Wars

It is in the smudge of mascara,
the red lip bleeding into the cracks
of a bitten mouth.
A quiet rebellion lives there.

Middle fingers do not shout;
they whisper—
a language only the tired
and the brave understand.

Running is not escape,
but a declaration.
A line of white powder,
a streak of neon—
these are maps
to the edge of something
sharp enough to cut.

They told us
fairy tales are for children.
But we grew up and learned
that happy marriages
are the most dangerous lies.

We sit behind screens,
armed with fake smiles,
perfect angles,
warriors of a war we don’t
believe in anymore.

The raves are loud,
but it’s the silence
of disappointment,
of insecure mornings,
of mirrors we cannot meet,
that tells the truth.

This is the war.
This is the smudge,
the smear,
the running.
And still,
we rise from the wreckage
like sparks in the dark,
too tired to shout,
too alive to stop.

#rebellion

Maryann I Nov 2024

Heretic

The air hums with a broken prayer,
twisted in the folds of a dying hymn.
A voice calls from the depths—
not quite human,
not quite lost.

The ground beneath you pulses,
soft as the heart of a phantom,
thrumming with a rhythm
too wild,
too distant,
to comprehend.

Waves of distortion crash,
a shattered glass ocean,
its pieces cutting the silence
like forgotten screams.
It is chaos,
but it is home.

A flicker of something holy,
something heretical,
clings to the edges of the sound—
like a dream that slips
through the cracks of reason,
where belief fades
and doubt takes root.

You step into the void,
guided by shadows
and fractured prayers.
The world bends and breaks,
but still you move forward,
drawn by the melody
that only you can hear,
and the truth that lies
in the shattered notes.

There is no salvation here,
only the quiet descent
into something new—
where the sacred
and the profane
are one.

Inspired by the song "Heretic" by the artist Oli XL

#faith #heretic #chaotic #rebellion #haunting #doubt #surreal #existential

Kian Nov 2024

we were meant to worship, yes, but we've killed all the gods

The world does not stop.
Its hands grind the hours to dust,
indifferent, relentless,
a machine that tears beauty from its roots.

They pave over wildness,
turn green to gray,
and laugh as they vanish into cities
built to collapse.

And I hate them for it—
for the way they pass by
what remains,
too blind to see the tender rebellion
of a wildflower rising through cracked stone,
the stillness of a hill beneath an endless sky.

At fifty-five miles per hour,
they reduce the infinite to a blur,
a place they will never touch.

But I love the quiet, the overlooked.
The way moss clings to damp stone,
the faint pulse of water through soil,
the hum of life in a field mouse’s frantic dash.

A single blade of grass,
standing unbroken beneath the frost,
carries more grace than the world
they call progress.

For I, too, am a speck of dust,
being ground down by causality,
spun within the great indifference
of all that moves and does not see.

And yet I persist—
a small thing against the weight,
an ember clutching at its warmth,
a whisper in the deafening void.

I want to scream,
not to stop the world,
but to make them see.
To make them hear the voice of moss,
the whisper of grass,
the soft rebellion of the unnoticed.

I want them to kneel
and lay their palms to the ground,
to feel what still endures beneath them—
not in grandeur,
but in the quiet things
that will outlast their noise.

Let them say I was hollow.
Let them call me bitter, or ruined.
But let them know this:
Every fragile thing that stood defiant
held a piece of me within it,
a weight to steady its roots,
a breath to fan its fire.

And when they forget,
as they always will,
I will remain in the places they passed,
small and unseen,
but unbroken.

#nature #defiance #quiet #rebellion #progress #loss #resilience #solitude #perseverance #environmentalism