#sociopolitical - Hello Poetry

Reapeth the withered with a tear laden cheek, plucketh the ripe with a laugh of pride, his own lass , would daughter second be known, such care he hath cherished , for the soil and its sown. from the foul of weather-weed, to the stare of corvid eyes, canst he protect and flourish his land, but gets stabbed by a dagger , of the papers he signed, with the count, with the lender , with the crown , with the dealer.

0

Mar 12

Mar 12, 2026 at 4:02 AM UTC

OneIII

Persephone's Sickle -

Reapeth the withered with a tear laden cheek, plucketh the ripe with a laugh of pride, his own lass , would daughter second be known, such care he hath cherished , for the soil and its sown. from the foul of weather-weed, to the stare of corvid eyes, canst he protect and flourish his land, but gets stabbed by a dagger , of the papers he signed, with the count, with the lender , with the crown , with the dealer.

8

There is poison in the air we breathe There is poison in the food we eat There is poison now in the mind of men There is poison in the writer’s pen Poison may spew from the way you talk Poison is shown when you strut and walk Poison is there when you gossip about others Poison is visible when you stab your own brothers Poison in your heart when avarice is there And you covet, but do not want to share Poison in minds of leaders of our world Poison in the hearts when missiles are hurled Wherever you turn, poison is there World is bereft of Sympathy and care Let’s realize that we are sealing our doom Unless we find a cure very soon

0

Mar 7

Mar 7, 2026 at 11:57 PM UTC

nafisa-sb

Poison

There is poison in the air we breathe There is poison in the food we eat There is poison now in the mind of men There is poison in the writer’s pen Poison may spew from the way you talk Poison is shown when you strut and walk Poison is there when you gossip about others Poison is visible when you stab your own brothers Poison in your heart when avarice is there And you covet, but do not want to share Poison in minds of leaders of our world Poison in the hearts when missiles are hurled Wherever you turn, poison is there World is bereft of Sympathy and care Let’s realize that we are sealing our doom Unless we find a cure very soon

16

You're not just a laborer, you're a source of value! You carry the burden, you build, but you're the one with the lightest pockets! They call you "hard workers," but that's just a cover-up to cover up the "harsh system" that saps your energy! Don't ask "what for," but ask "why" — why do you produce everything, but all you get are scraps? Your fatigue isn't destiny, it's evidence of structural injustice! Unite, because you're the ones who should be —not the ones being trampled on— but the ones who determine the direction of history!

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Oct 4, 2025

Oct 4, 2025 at 6:41 AM UTC

Ayatullahnurjati

Construction Worker

You're not just a laborer, you're a source of value! You carry the burden, you build, but you're the one with the lightest pockets! They call you "hard workers," but that's just a cover-up to cover up the "harsh system" that saps your energy! Don't ask "what for," but ask "why" — why do you produce everything, but all you get are scraps? Your fatigue isn't destiny, it's evidence of structural injustice! Unite, because you're the ones who should be —not the ones being trampled on— but the ones who determine the direction of history!

5

In the sky as the children gazed, They saw not a prism of rainbow But ***** of fire- Burning orange, reeking of death. "Ceasefire, they said" the words betrayed A mother of two lay dead A father of three; beheaded The echoes of joy, no longer reciprocated; Only the cold shrill of silence repeated, "Abbu, run faster" "Ammi ! Behena ! Bhai ! The skyline burnt with the missile's glare, Children- elder, in smoke- filled air With each minute; a corpse found, Their homes now buried underground. Their leaders chant "We'll avenge, we'll maim!" So they trade blood in the same old game- Missiles for Missiles, name for name. The cartographer's pen trembles Drawing borders in erased pencil, While the land bleeds real ink. Hospitals bombarded, Cities destroyed, Only the schools remain, But what use of it? There are no students left to train? At the UN, they count the toll While the cemeteries overflow- Your calculators can't handle the numbers! The suffered missed on countless Decembers. Oh God! What sins have they to repent? How many dawns must break? Before the children see a rainbow again.

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Apr 11, 2025

Apr 11, 2025 at 8:10 AM UTC

GG

The Missiles and its People

In the sky as the children gazed, They saw not a prism of rainbow But ***** of fire- Burning orange, reeking of death. "Ceasefire, they said" the words betrayed A mother of two lay dead A father of three; beheaded The echoes of joy, no longer reciprocated; Only the cold shrill of silence repeated, "Abbu, run faster" "Ammi ! Behena ! Bhai ! The skyline burnt with the missile's glare, Children- elder, in smoke- filled air With each minute; a corpse found, Their homes now buried underground. Their leaders chant "We'll avenge, we'll maim!" So they trade blood in the same old game- Missiles for Missiles, name for name. The cartographer's pen trembles Drawing borders in erased pencil, While the land bleeds real ink. Hospitals bombarded, Cities destroyed, Only the schools remain, But what use of it? There are no students left to train? At the UN, they count the toll While the cemeteries overflow- Your calculators can't handle the numbers! The suffered missed on countless Decembers. Oh God! What sins have they to repent? How many dawns must break? Before the children see a rainbow again.

31

God, we love to vote Because it matters, truly So let the Man slit your throats To hold the ballots of duty Making promises they'll never keep Letting our hope fall out so cruelly But then they speak the right words And we're seduced back to its beauty Hope, change The serpent is a slogan Enticing us to taste A fruit that's just a poison Constricting all around us Silencing all commotion We don't question anything All just contained within devotion And when it's time to speak We are proficiently dogmatic Erupting in a fervor To endorse the fear and panic Raising religion in our minds Until our hearts become mechanic Programmed to hear only the system We've come receptacles of static Critical thought has been abandoned Our introspection is a phantom We just follow without question Each submissive in tandem Each corrupted in our minds Indoctrinated to ransom That we pontificate belief In an eternal anthem Every generation Becomes another aggressor Serving violence to the world In an unlimited measure Every belief passed down To form a tyrant of successors Who cannot think a thought themselves And turn hostile with pressure All culturally pompous As dependent as infants A congregation held together Through processes so stringent Throwing tantrums in an instant At the first sight of a difference Just to mask the very fact That their whole being's deficient We fill up the stadiums And stare towards the podium The passion in our minds Conjure the soul of Napoleon For the State is our faith It form's a world that's dystopian We see the absence of slavery As just pure pandemonium That's why we vote Because we're trained that it matters That without coercion and violence Our whole world would just shatter So we increase regulation Profess a dictum of manners All hailing this corruption And our enslavement to masters © GaratheDen © HeartOfBabel

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Sep 22, 2021

Sep 22, 2021 at 2:29 AM UTC

HeartOfBabel

[ Cultural Ballot ]

God, we love to vote Because it matters, truly So let the Man slit your throats To hold the ballots of duty Making promises they'll never keep Letting our hope fall out so cruelly But then they speak the right words And we're seduced back to its beauty Hope, change The serpent is a slogan Enticing us to taste A fruit that's just a poison Constricting all around us Silencing all commotion We don't question anything All just contained within devotion And when it's time to speak We are proficiently dogmatic Erupting in a fervor To endorse the fear and panic Raising religion in our minds Until our hearts become mechanic Programmed to hear only the system We've come receptacles of static Critical thought has been abandoned Our introspection is a phantom We just follow without question Each submissive in tandem Each corrupted in our minds Indoctrinated to ransom That we pontificate belief In an eternal anthem Every generation Becomes another aggressor Serving violence to the world In an unlimited measure Every belief passed down To form a tyrant of successors Who cannot think a thought themselves And turn hostile with pressure All culturally pompous As dependent as infants A congregation held together Through processes so stringent Throwing tantrums in an instant At the first sight of a difference Just to mask the very fact That their whole being's deficient We fill up the stadiums And stare towards the podium The passion in our minds Conjure the soul of Napoleon For the State is our faith It form's a world that's dystopian We see the absence of slavery As just pure pandemonium That's why we vote Because we're trained that it matters That without coercion and violence Our whole world would just shatter So we increase regulation Profess a dictum of manners All hailing this corruption And our enslavement to masters © GaratheDen © HeartOfBabel

66

were it easy, we would be so lucky but, alas instead, here we're found where our ground is scaffold its tarrish glue fractured the brown boards we walk, cracked the whole thing creaking under its own weight poised for collapse

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Nov 16, 2020

Nov 16, 2020 at 8:11 AM UTC

manx-kronos-pragna

America

were it easy, we would be so lucky but, alas instead, here we're found where our ground is scaffold its tarrish glue fractured the brown boards we walk, cracked the whole thing creaking under its own weight poised for collapse

7

Grab the child of the forlorn place Liberation paints their heads The gun is held as the bible mace Freedom lives in lead Father watches Capetown port Batons whip their tattered cross Yellow tags on scarred cohorts Happy children, born of loss Kings feast on country plates Satiated, complacent Place the stone on people’s fate And bless the nation nascent

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Feb 6, 2019

Feb 6, 2019 at 9:18 AM UTC

DerrekEstrella

A Nation Shares Its Sun

Grab the child of the forlorn place Liberation paints their heads The gun is held as the bible mace Freedom lives in lead Father watches Capetown port Batons whip their tattered cross Yellow tags on scarred cohorts Happy children, born of loss Kings feast on country plates Satiated, complacent Place the stone on people’s fate And bless the nation nascent

12

On the evening of August 6th The body is separated, eviscerated Stone walls Lost thralls A family takes their evening stroll And finds themselves imprisoned Their umbilical cord, cut down the half Microwave oven Searing monsoon shower Vagrant feet are shackled Eyes are blinded with exhaust pipes The East is not allowed to cry alone Decay, wail on Wail on Contain us Dear Marcus, free me From these Pyrrhic victories Clean this dusky mall I feel safe under phosphoric lights Guerillas swing on electric wires Transatlantic conversations Acquired on paper Perverse Desecrated Red cloth seizes everything Stray, running felines The impassioned, waving flag Kept in a velvet pocket Stay here, stay a while This cold era is a rising draft The Bermuda Triangle Quarantined No more ships crawl along the winded shore A time capsule The nation sinks into antiquity The brink of armageddon Cusp of oblivion Crimson hand of eternity An old, whittled clock Last minute Cold Turkey! God almighty Peace is never promised But we may yearn again Nobody is free But we are safe for another hour God almighty Leases on the lands Paid in thorns Nations playing circles Mr. Versus Mr. An ever-changing world Stagnant and tightly oiled Save this soil It will cave in silence The clockmaker sits in the backdrop Readying her tools

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Dec 6, 2018

Dec 6, 2018 at 5:16 PM UTC

DerrekEstrella

Before, The Memoir

On the evening of August 6th The body is separated, eviscerated Stone walls Lost thralls A family takes their evening stroll And finds themselves imprisoned Their umbilical cord, cut down the half Microwave oven Searing monsoon shower Vagrant feet are shackled Eyes are blinded with exhaust pipes The East is not allowed to cry alone Decay, wail on Wail on Contain us Dear Marcus, free me From these Pyrrhic victories Clean this dusky mall I feel safe under phosphoric lights Guerillas swing on electric wires Transatlantic conversations Acquired on paper Perverse Desecrated Red cloth seizes everything Stray, running felines The impassioned, waving flag Kept in a velvet pocket Stay here, stay a while This cold era is a rising draft The Bermuda Triangle Quarantined No more ships crawl along the winded shore A time capsule The nation sinks into antiquity The brink of armageddon Cusp of oblivion Crimson hand of eternity An old, whittled clock Last minute Cold Turkey! God almighty Peace is never promised But we may yearn again Nobody is free But we are safe for another hour God almighty Leases on the lands Paid in thorns Nations playing circles Mr. Versus Mr. An ever-changing world Stagnant and tightly oiled Save this soil It will cave in silence The clockmaker sits in the backdrop Readying her tools

57

Before the world calls again We must make amends with the wind Look not towards, turn around Learn to challenge your mound The world is erupting in earnest Pearls rim the bulletproof vests Another bay of mammals Stripped of their enamel Watchful eye, clockmaker ***** hands on blood bakers Stagnant relics of the past Wailing worms on salted masts Crowded church, bullet tears Limping for the flaking fears Mountains bring a gilded path For the saints, a shallow bath Handcuffed legs, boarded hands Folded on a calm command Rotting hope, livid arms For the magnate, no alarm Bracket helm, grainy green Swords are drawn on gabardines No God will eat a tear And dead they flow, winded pier Dead they crow, winded pier Billowed fire, riverside Cower under thickened hides Excess arms upon the dock Sandinista on the rock Triggers sold in tragedy Lilting light, youth will cease Leaders sleep in padded wells Suffer mother, drink from hell Here’s the hero, banner flown Ruby paper, nature grown Skeptic in the eye of rhye Naked comics sing to die The site is exiled from the shore Stricken by a fiery pore Steel-laced curtains, hesitance Infidels in happenstance Here is fortune, there lays war I have sold a solid car Husband creaks, mother moans Children bred to take a bone With a blonded, slanted eye Astronauts will learn to fly All the while, a preacher seeks A pinstriped caddie and a freak I am born and I am weak

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Dec 6, 2018

Dec 6, 2018 at 10:51 AM UTC

DerrekEstrella

I Am Born, I Am Weak

Before the world calls again We must make amends with the wind Look not towards, turn around Learn to challenge your mound The world is erupting in earnest Pearls rim the bulletproof vests Another bay of mammals Stripped of their enamel Watchful eye, clockmaker ***** hands on blood bakers Stagnant relics of the past Wailing worms on salted masts Crowded church, bullet tears Limping for the flaking fears Mountains bring a gilded path For the saints, a shallow bath Handcuffed legs, boarded hands Folded on a calm command Rotting hope, livid arms For the magnate, no alarm Bracket helm, grainy green Swords are drawn on gabardines No God will eat a tear And dead they flow, winded pier Dead they crow, winded pier Billowed fire, riverside Cower under thickened hides Excess arms upon the dock Sandinista on the rock Triggers sold in tragedy Lilting light, youth will cease Leaders sleep in padded wells Suffer mother, drink from hell Here’s the hero, banner flown Ruby paper, nature grown Skeptic in the eye of rhye Naked comics sing to die The site is exiled from the shore Stricken by a fiery pore Steel-laced curtains, hesitance Infidels in happenstance Here is fortune, there lays war I have sold a solid car Husband creaks, mother moans Children bred to take a bone With a blonded, slanted eye Astronauts will learn to fly All the while, a preacher seeks A pinstriped caddie and a freak I am born and I am weak

50

"Democracy is the lesser of all evils." Says the Liberal. The Libertarian. The Corinthian. The Macedonian. The Farrier. The Squire. The Stoic. The Astronomer. The Ornithologist. The Eschatologist. The Augur. The Retiarius. The Hoplite. The Centurion. The Governor. The General. The Senator. The Orator. The Assassin. The Emperor. The Ferryman.

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Nov 25, 2018

Nov 25, 2018 at 8:54 PM UTC

DerrekEstrella

At The Feet Of The Head

"Democracy is the lesser of all evils." Says the Liberal. The Libertarian. The Corinthian. The Macedonian. The Farrier. The Squire. The Stoic. The Astronomer. The Ornithologist. The Eschatologist. The Augur. The Retiarius. The Hoplite. The Centurion. The Governor. The General. The Senator. The Orator. The Assassin. The Emperor. The Ferryman.

22

New mildew mania, oh man-of-war Live by the letter, and **** for the car The dreamers, constrained by the fog they can’t see I uttered this song in Breakaway Alley A wandering blonde in the restless air Their kids, half-afraid that they’re halfway to nowhere Think what you may, they are not in a trance Wield what they say and you’ll find that you dance Upon every row, lies a flag waving by Apartment gravestones kissing up to the sky Now, must we try so hard for fake jubilee? The happy ones live in Breakaway Alley In Breakaway Alley lies the sun Breakaway Alley is on the run All the country crows, they’ve committed a crime Each of their wings, flapping mad out of time To fly with such freedom yet stay so cloudbound Cacophonous sounds fighting for our own ground The buds only look up for leviathans To take them to the realm they misunderstand To pity the fool that does not try to flee We sit on our stools in Breakaway Alley In Breakaway Alley lies the sun Breakaway Alley has emptied the guns The youth do not stir at the visage of hell There is no romance in the streets’ calling bells And while we may treat such a threat to be shown The dagger of a mind is dull while unknown The ravaged pretender spoke of the Romans His gauntlets of gold, earned from fate’s happenstance To escape his blood, he would face down the sea The velvet hands shook in Breakaway Alley In Breakaway Alley lies the sun Breakaway Alley is due to be shunned The eye of childhood feared the forgotten paint They lay, unencumbered, on secular saints The falsified folly in full leopard print The troops in their trollies with pockets of lint The radio is silent in time’s aging vice We hear and don’t listen, bats spliced with mice But maybe, you will see this sweet harmony Remember the words of Breakaway Alley In Breakaway Alley lies the sun Breakaway Alley has finally gone When the baby screams for the first time, aged five Will it lament the loss of its life? When the kids rear for a solution wherever you go How much will it take to say “God, I’ll never know”? Remember the words of Breakaway Alley It’s not all you see, it’s not simply me

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Oct 12, 2018

Oct 12, 2018 at 8:31 PM UTC

DerrekEstrella

Breakaway Alley

New mildew mania, oh man-of-war Live by the letter, and **** for the car The dreamers, constrained by the fog they can’t see I uttered this song in Breakaway Alley A wandering blonde in the restless air Their kids, half-afraid that they’re halfway to nowhere Think what you may, they are not in a trance Wield what they say and you’ll find that you dance Upon every row, lies a flag waving by Apartment gravestones kissing up to the sky Now, must we try so hard for fake jubilee? The happy ones live in Breakaway Alley In Breakaway Alley lies the sun Breakaway Alley is on the run All the country crows, they’ve committed a crime Each of their wings, flapping mad out of time To fly with such freedom yet stay so cloudbound Cacophonous sounds fighting for our own ground The buds only look up for leviathans To take them to the realm they misunderstand To pity the fool that does not try to flee We sit on our stools in Breakaway Alley In Breakaway Alley lies the sun Breakaway Alley has emptied the guns The youth do not stir at the visage of hell There is no romance in the streets’ calling bells And while we may treat such a threat to be shown The dagger of a mind is dull while unknown The ravaged pretender spoke of the Romans His gauntlets of gold, earned from fate’s happenstance To escape his blood, he would face down the sea The velvet hands shook in Breakaway Alley In Breakaway Alley lies the sun Breakaway Alley is due to be shunned The eye of childhood feared the forgotten paint They lay, unencumbered, on secular saints The falsified folly in full leopard print The troops in their trollies with pockets of lint The radio is silent in time’s aging vice We hear and don’t listen, bats spliced with mice But maybe, you will see this sweet harmony Remember the words of Breakaway Alley In Breakaway Alley lies the sun Breakaway Alley has finally gone When the baby screams for the first time, aged five Will it lament the loss of its life? When the kids rear for a solution wherever you go How much will it take to say “God, I’ll never know”? Remember the words of Breakaway Alley It’s not all you see, it’s not simply me

50

Piercing screams that go unheard Shattered dreams and empty words All these things and so much more Are what make life a tragic chore They cry, and sob, and weep, and mourn And pray for hope to be re-born It's a struggle for survival, and justice, and peace Or at the very least, for the pain to cease "But it's their choice," as some may say, "It's not our fault they live this way." As society crumbles, cracks and decays As they break their backs throughout the day Will they ever be free? Not one truly knows But their wills extend as far as the wind blows

0

Dec 14, 2015

Dec 14, 2015 at 7:30 PM UTC

brian-david-hazel

Wills of the Wind

Piercing screams that go unheard Shattered dreams and empty words All these things and so much more Are what make life a tragic chore They cry, and sob, and weep, and mourn And pray for hope to be re-born It's a struggle for survival, and justice, and peace Or at the very least, for the pain to cease "But it's their choice," as some may say, "It's not our fault they live this way." As society crumbles, cracks and decays As they break their backs throughout the day Will they ever be free? Not one truly knows But their wills extend as far as the wind blows

15