#protestpoetry - Hello Poetry

Regain, redeem Resign, retreat Dare you Overlook again, The potential beneath, Jump higher, Fall again, Dive deeper within, Blind the empty eyes, Mute the shallow words, Painful rather than dead inside. Bleeding scars, sarcasm dies. Bullied emotions, scared and dried. Wrong views, ill news just glance and deny. Write your pain with passion for life. Flood your rights with ink you buy. Speak for the weak and pull down lies. The power of your pen is beyond what you deny. Don't see wrongs and scroll ahead. Write the revolution and turn those heads.

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Nov 14, 2020

Nov 14, 2020 at 3:43 AM UTC

corpsetuxedo

Pen and Power

Regain, redeem Resign, retreat Dare you Overlook again, The potential beneath, Jump higher, Fall again, Dive deeper within, Blind the empty eyes, Mute the shallow words, Painful rather than dead inside. Bleeding scars, sarcasm dies. Bullied emotions, scared and dried. Wrong views, ill news just glance and deny. Write your pain with passion for life. Flood your rights with ink you buy. Speak for the weak and pull down lies. The power of your pen is beyond what you deny. Don't see wrongs and scroll ahead. Write the revolution and turn those heads.

20

(1)The Artificial Humans: Weird world evolves, Weird creatures Wired to gadgets Evolve. They articulate And gesticulate. They giggle And tread On the trajectories of living. Their brains brim With artificial intelligence, They act like humans. They are The artificial humans. Technology savvy humans Reconstruct our humanity, The religionists Resign to the new humanity, The ethicists Seek to etch Unethical on our minds. The elasticity of our civilization Stretches And stretches, Our civilization overstretched. Years to come, Our civilization Overstretched, Will snap. (2)I Am Poet Of The Streets: I am piqued When I am profiled A protegee of prominent poets. I am pained When I am pronounced Just a poet. I am poet of the streets. I walk the streets And sing My strident songs of protest, Giving succour To the indigent indigenes Of the streets, Impoverished By the scoundrels who rule over them. Mother muse Mills my inspiration more When I straddle the podiums And sing for the streets. The scorn, The sneer Of the scoundrels Give flip to my resolve To sing And sing for the streets, I am poet of the streets. (3)We, The Poets, We Are Protesters: All day, All night, We, the poets, we protest. We protest All week, All year, We, the poets, we are protesters. We, the poets, We seek Neither protest partners, Nor protest sponsors. We, the poets, We have no empty pockets to fill, We have no opponents to witch-hunt, We crave not For the potentates' positions Or their mouthwatering morsels. We, the poets, we protest "Cause this domain is ***** Made ***** By descendants of the devil. We, the poets, We are protesters, We are the mouthpieces Of the Supreme Deity.

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Sep 21, 2025

Sep 21, 2025 at 3:14 AM UTC

ChidiAnthonyOpara

The Artificial Humans And Other Poems

(1)The Artificial Humans: Weird world evolves, Weird creatures Wired to gadgets Evolve. They articulate And gesticulate. They giggle And tread On the trajectories of living. Their brains brim With artificial intelligence, They act like humans. They are The artificial humans. Technology savvy humans Reconstruct our humanity, The religionists Resign to the new humanity, The ethicists Seek to etch Unethical on our minds. The elasticity of our civilization Stretches And stretches, Our civilization overstretched. Years to come, Our civilization Overstretched, Will snap. (2)I Am Poet Of The Streets: I am piqued When I am profiled A protegee of prominent poets. I am pained When I am pronounced Just a poet. I am poet of the streets. I walk the streets And sing My strident songs of protest, Giving succour To the indigent indigenes Of the streets, Impoverished By the scoundrels who rule over them. Mother muse Mills my inspiration more When I straddle the podiums And sing for the streets. The scorn, The sneer Of the scoundrels Give flip to my resolve To sing And sing for the streets, I am poet of the streets. (3)We, The Poets, We Are Protesters: All day, All night, We, the poets, we protest. We protest All week, All year, We, the poets, we are protesters. We, the poets, We seek Neither protest partners, Nor protest sponsors. We, the poets, We have no empty pockets to fill, We have no opponents to witch-hunt, We crave not For the potentates' positions Or their mouthwatering morsels. We, the poets, we protest "Cause this domain is ***** Made ***** By descendants of the devil. We, the poets, We are protesters, We are the mouthpieces Of the Supreme Deity.

83

a scar built in wrapping under a blade made of , plastic a silver outline for a gracious new kind of great a burn built from melting under a flame spun of , plastic a clear cover for a calming new kind of good a wound built in bottles under spewing liquid , plastic a burning passion for a pelvic new kind of money a word built in language under a hand caught by , plastic wrapping, melting, in bottles thrown like messages into a dying sea

0

Jan 27

Jan 27, 2026 at 7:41 PM UTC

maebalatte

Plastic

a scar built in wrapping under a blade made of , plastic a silver outline for a gracious new kind of great a burn built from melting under a flame spun of , plastic a clear cover for a calming new kind of good a wound built in bottles under spewing liquid , plastic a burning passion for a pelvic new kind of money a word built in language under a hand caught by , plastic wrapping, melting, in bottles thrown like messages into a dying sea

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