"aggrieved" poems
Everyone’s greatest fear is rejection.
We knew its existence,
but no one understand it clear.
The feel of rejection,
Is like cutting the deepest of our soul
by a razor that causes an affliction.
Carved our hearts to the extent.
Leaving with painful scar,
and making it permanent.
Stark naked vulnerability, all aglow
We can find no escape
But to let the tear in our eyes flows
But a human like us,
Is a material thing, easily torn
and not easily mended.
When aggrieved, craving to be relieved.
For you, neither have I lived nor relived.
In rejection, I fear
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 11:36 AM UTC
Sweating on my mat, I curse!
As the light dimly flickers
Off and on it wavers
Like a torch amidst a storm.
For the ten thousandth time I wonder
What is wrong with mother?
My aggrieved home and country
Her pain is mine to bear.
She has many a tale to tell
Troubled much from deep her belly
Wonder how much she can endure
Till body and soul give in.
She was blessed by the heavens
Much to the envy of all
Yet! Alas, she mourns
And weeps in pain untold.
Time and again she follows
Sheepishly trusting her shepherds
She has had a quite a number
With tongues unknown and known
Her plight is not their vision
As she inevitably learns
Her wool and meat and milk
Are all they dare to care.
She breeds enough to share
And feed her dying lambs
But much is lost to thieves
Who lurk in shadows of shepherds.
Destined for royalty she was
But penury has robbed her glory
Awake! Oh mother Nigeria!
And reclaim your lost birthright.
© Raphael Uzor
Feb 26, 2014
Feb 26, 2014 at 5:05 AM UTC
Light has shone, light as death,
Sunset is gathered in fishing nets,
Like a twine of leafy stems.
~The coldest sea is the blood
Of the murdered and aggrieved~
Scaly Autumn of lost fires and dragon plumes,
Lanterns in the fog, graverobbers of the moon,
Light has shone, suckles at the tomb.
Oct 5, 2021
Oct 5, 2021 at 9:39 PM UTC
ओ जानेमन! यू ना नाराज़ हो
तुमसे क्या राज़ छुपायु
तुम ही तोह मेरी राज़ हो
Be aggrieved not ,O lover!
How could I keep any secrets from you
When you are the secret I keep from others .
Aug 12, 2022
Aug 12, 2022 at 3:08 PM UTC
With orange knickers in amber waves
A coyote shadow chases you in rainbows
From green to indigo to black
From green to indigo and back
Into therapy crawl the aggrieved
Still there’s an ache behind the curtain-
The planted seed bloomed as a monster
Arising like a jack-in-the-box
Perspective surprises
When the empty takes form
Half of spirit in altered states
Meditative bliss takes two
With amber knickers in orange waves
From station to station
Sep 9, 2012
Sep 9, 2012 at 4:01 PM UTC
This eerie silence make me hear tinnitus,
My own brain buzzes noisily as always...
The saddening grief & the aggrieved sad,
Both terms are mine and am myself so..
There beats a heart of mine in her chest,
Seated in her ribcage between the *******
I might be able to smile someday again,
And the smile be creditable to satisfaction..
The silence scares me & is so deafening,
Beeps continuously the tinnitus within...
Dec 16, 2016
Dec 16, 2016 at 1:53 AM UTC
The eagle searches, circling, senses strum like spider silk.
Sorrow’s scent slides up on a sea breeze.
A solitary slave spits sullenly into the spray.
Silently, suddenly, the sentinel streaks down.
Beak breaks skin, breaches bone, crimson blots the ocean’s foam.
Defenceless, relentless, the bird blurs in a barrage of blood.
Banished, betrayed, the ravaged titan sways -
between the rocks that form his cage.
His foe retreats; a closing caw as crooked claws cleave meat.
Head bowed in defeat, our hero strains as chains bind
hands and feet.
Enduring bonds cut deep and bleed him bittersweet.
Cast against the crags,
this castaway’s castigated cries call out
to no-one.
Chastised, he squints with hollow eyes
towards a lifetime of the bird’s reprise.
Furious. Fists flex,
thrashing against his fortress.
Face furrowed into a frown he flings forward
and for once finds his foot…
unfettered.
Bindings broken, his bonds bite terra firma,
as first a foot and then a hand finds favour.
Boundless, he bellows at the sky
as the flotsam of his freedom floats on by.
Reprieved. Aggrieved. He is restless in release.
An errant righteous line repeats.
Relentless in its beat, it rings out like raw steel on teeth.
A ricochet that disturbs his sleep
“Is this victory, or defeat?”
Racked by reminiscence,
his reality and responsibility remain.
Warped roots rammed down
with rock-filled boots.
Resistance seems obtuse against such reoccuring fruit.
Reluctant, resigned, he rattles out a sigh -
the last gasp of this transitory high.
Reaching for the rope and tack he re-binds the knots
that hold him back.
With one last glance towards the past
he hoists his soul upon the mast.
Ceaselessly.
Senselessly.
The
sentinel
streaks
down.
Aug 30, 2018
Aug 30, 2018 at 2:20 AM UTC
Alas, awakened to the glorious smell
Of grieving petrichor and lichen
Intoxicating scents of spells,
Has left my thoughts forsaken.
Aggrieved, unclean,
I wash myself in the river,
Alone again, once with my mind,
The cold water does bring a quiver.
Rushing gently across its bend,
Its current does drag along
A heartache inside a massive depth,
A misery that floods it anon.
It seeks to help wash stains of past,
Blood from mistakes without thought,
Caressing my hands as I dip them in,
It cleans at the souls I’ve wrought.
I’ve brought spite to all I’ve been,
I bathe in hatred and stigmata,
Correctional growth of paradigmatic folly,
Proves equality to tumultuous fodder.
-
There has been death here,
Drowning and sickness,
Villainous nature subjugated
To corruption and bleakness.
Disparaging remarks whispered of men,
Bring to light lost life and love,
Discouraging thoughts of mine herein,
Anticlimactic and soulless above.
The trees began to whisper,
Moving slightly in the breeze,
I thought I would move quicker,
But something that couldn’t trapped me.
-
Bringing about a fallout cloud
That kept my mind thus smoked,
It is hard to cherish anything
That the water itself could soak.
-
I wanted to leave,
But I was locked in the wood,
I began to need it,
Like any Stockholm would
The treasure trove in which I was kept,
Was something of a fairy-tale
It hid monsters, death,
And only one nightingale.
Its swansong allowed me to sleep,
Gorgeous at night, it cast in weep,
A story of one so scared, The fear of bleeding out
One day upon the growing creep.
Vines and lies surrounded me,
Its whole existence was false,
Nothing could be this natural,
And the dead forest scoffed.
-
Could there be someone else here?
Doubtful, I began my search,
Through vasts I spied, time again,
But nothing upon this earth.
The forest fell in love with my heart,
Its emotions curious to her,
She tortured me with affection,
My reality was blurred.
I found my way across her floor,
Trekking miles to a never-end.,
Purgatory does not know this pain,
Hopeless abandon, fell unto myself to fend.
A trip, a fall, unique and random,
I impaled myself with a sharp cry,
A sharp palisade jutting out, I then whispered
“What if I don’t want to die?”
May 7, 2013
May 7, 2013 at 4:15 PM UTC
I saw a banner
“See something say something”
bestriding a Union City street
raising eyebrows of suspicion
in a hood’s ***** retreat
I see blood red MAGA caps
embolden distemperate fits
ready to answer jingoistic dissings
with an *** kickin liberty chit
I see a Blue Line stained flag
It slices a field of united states
a wall to seperate us from them
God save us from reprobates
I hear shouts hailing militarism
saluting troops marching to war
Patriots offer sons and daughters
from families of the nation’s poor
I see a hoisted Gadsden Flag
boasting Don’t Tread on Me
true liberty a hissing asp
venomous country tis of thee
I see the stirring marches
aggrieved white nationalists sing
Confederacy of Blood and Soil!
cries for freedom ring
Music:
Lotte Lenya in Alabama Song
by Kurt Weill recording 1930
Art:
George Grosz
Vienna Street Fight
Puyallup
7/10/18
jbm
Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 8:17 PM UTC
The astrologer speaks with a smiling face
For each of your miseries there’s redress
To calm down the planet subside crisis
There’s a stone to bring back the peace
It’s so clear when I read your face
You’re aggrieved greatly distressed
Fortune is shackled finance on the rocks
Luck is littered with stumbling blocks
On the home front looms a dark cloud
Your progenies aren’t making you proud
The spouse is no help in cutting down cost
In the sea of expense your earn is lost
All your efforts are going for a toss
The grind of job villainous boss
One after other misfortunes strike
Career stalled so is pay hike
But there’s still hope don’t break down
You’ve come to the best in the town
Here you would find at affordable rates
Boost in your fortune by remedying planets
Mar 7, 2016
Mar 7, 2016 at 10:39 AM UTC
Karma finds you eventually,
Sometimes while drinking a fine Chablis.
George Zimmerman is back in the news,
with sour grapes that left a bruise.
His girlfriend wouldn’t kneel to play
so he bopped her with un Beaujolais!
His poor girlfriend, clad in a slip,
He christened like a navy ship.
Aggrieved assault is the charge he’ll face
since cops were called out to his place.
He can’t resort to “Stand your Ground”
His prints were on the bottle found.
Off to jail, George, where, they say,
You’ll meet your true love every day.
Jan 11, 2015
Jan 11, 2015 at 1:02 PM UTC
A fearful submissive creature
stares up at its captor with anxiety and admiration.
His ivory skin glistens like the first dews of spring,
His eyes are prudent and observant,
full of thought, but absent of any sign of compassion,
His hands neither taking nor giving.
As the ugly creature looks up at its captor,
aggrieved that it was not the hunter’s target,
he did not even want to capture it,
if anything, he probably regrets it.
All the poor creature can do is fear and pray,
fear that the hunter will set it loose again, never to meet again
and praying that he might be a kind master
to his pitiful but loving creature.
Perhaps even offer… kindness?
Will he listen to its stuttering words,
desperately trying to convey a desire for approval?
Will he willingly accept its dishonored form?
Its long disheveled hair?
its uneven skin?
its hideous and shameful body?
Will he sympathize with its silence,
its fear of rejection?
Regardless, its wishes to know what its master
thinks of it.
Does he disapprove of it?
Does he disdain it?
Does he merely not care about it?
Please show compassion, Dear Hunter,
it loves you.
It only wants to know whether or not
you care about it.
Apr 5, 2011
Apr 5, 2011 at 9:37 PM UTC
Bounds and bounds of names of the forgotten,
I wandered through the dredges of solemn
Wastes that had entangled my thoughts,
The antagonistic braves of loss,
The ones who’ve left ones petrified,
The ones who’ve died, left crying alive,
I have also forgotten each name,
The false memory of these people, all the same,
Dead is dead, this flair for the living,
This selfishness bears no arrogance deceiving,
I am one who welcomes death,
This fortitude alarming to some who step,
Along the edge of insanity,
I am the abyss, the abyss is me.
So strong I was, walking head high,
Disregarding tokens left behind,
Until a sight then stopped me cold,
A sullen grave but marked ”Unknown.”
-
I couldn’t move,
I was frozen in place,
I was then proved,
My heart, indeed, was laced.
Not even I, who so asked for sleep,
Could even stop tear
From escaping me,
I couldn’t stop but wont to weep.
-
Aside from the sorrow ”Unknown” had caused,
What’s worse is that he had someone,
Here I was, alone and hateful,
Someone remembered, and was grateful,
For the stone had upon it but five little roses,
Alive and well, not dead like the others,
Some person some where had remembered ”Unknown”
So that not even ”he” was left alone.
-
Destroying everything I have believed,
Spiteful, hateful, and aggrieved,
I stepped back and cursed him in jealousy,
Fell back, I tripped, shocked, and conceived,
That perhaps I was thinking like a child,
Everyone deserves there life so mild,
Who was I to curse anyone?
All in all, I wanted everything undone.
-
The real beauty in this situation,
Is that no one earns stagnation,
No one knew him when he was buried,
But someone now shows care and hurried,
To his site to show their love,
I just hope he’s diseased, but Above.
Apr 23, 2013
Apr 23, 2013 at 7:08 PM UTC
inspiration derives from the evocation of thought
symbolism, at times, can be cataclysm for the mind
and yet when one looks to be inspired,
until they are weary and tired,
when the earth’s ends,
can hold no trends,
they find themselves incapable,
and often times improbable,
of complimenting anything,
while criticizing everything,
and God forbid they stop and think
and look at it as a human being,
and as their ship begins to sink
a blast of thought comes after seeing
the black from scribing
eroded with the wind rising,
off the shores of the brain
to a vocabulary train,
delivering written ammunition,
after being petitioned,
and so the gallant author knight,
the reader-maiden’s arousing delight,
with his holy-tipped sword of ink
slays the scroll dragon in a blink
lawfully fixated,
and well compensated,
they sit back relieved,
finished with what had them aggrieved
until a source of new light,
causes rupturing delight!
Jan 19, 2013
Jan 19, 2013 at 11:39 PM UTC
The path to freedom is lined by sin
But is it your own or of someone else?
No matter how aggrieved you may be
It is a true heart that always melts
The flames of rejection burn deep
While the reasons are sparks in the wind
But to live under the yoke of oppression
Is to live a life of anger never to be forgiven
Jun 28, 2015
Jun 28, 2015 at 9:59 PM UTC
many men will tell you
from the womb to your tomb
that if you act upon your instincts
your soul is ******* doomed
________________________________
one must not be selfish
although one only has the self
one must not indulge
**or else your *** will burn in hell**
one must not revere false idols
although heroes may be idolized, case in point: saints
one must live selflessly
and aim for heaven
one must suppress all aggression
and so we are aggrieved by oppression
______________________________
when you are in your coffin
a minister may wander over
saying "oh, he was a good, hardworking man"
remembering your wage
the alms that bought his car
and his pension
remembering your children who will continue the cycle
epitome of parasitic
from your father's ***** to being funneled in an urn
you are the host.
Jul 20, 2010
Jul 20, 2010 at 8:53 PM UTC
*Disgruntled
Dissatisfied
Discontented
Aggrieved
Resentful
Fed up
Unhappy
Displeased*
Jul 30, 2013
Jul 30, 2013 at 3:34 AM UTC
Once I was hopeful, now I become nothing
I cannot speak, my shallow breath stutters, what is this I'm seeing?
This is keeping the darkness in the sky for what seems an eternity
My body is dry, my tears have all been shed for thee
This broken song bleeds through the cracks of my heart
My life is flowing away, for you were the precious object of my art
What once was filled with wholesome light
Now becomes the twilit landscape,
No moon, no stars in the night
This rejection has destroyed my vibrancy, you shut me down
You've left me in the deep waters, not bothering to even watch me drown
You were once chosen, lifted high above the rest
And until the last crack of dawn I have done my best
I pleaded with you to become the sun again
I once saw the angel of light, now this Beast grins in the night
He laughs at me, my inward humiliation
I am within the power of That snake of perdition
I have failed you, my heart spills out liquid shame with every beat
I sink into the pit where no light enters from above
My muscles weaken, my thoughts darken
The air becomes a thick cloak of death
When I think of the end you see for yourself, my heart is covered in agony
You were once mine, but no more
I long for the day you would be so again;
To be my joyful song again
But I see no such day ahead
For you, this day I am aggrieved
Aug 16, 2013
Aug 16, 2013 at 8:45 AM UTC
Unstable rabble
ill in mind, body and soul
unfulfilled and desperately unhappy
fearful always, insecure, lacking and inadequate
skeletons in cupboards, shaming secrets hidden aplenty
false, fake, white-washed and all semblance soulless nonentities
vacuous sad pathetic weak and academically challenged majority
ignorant belligerent bellicose cowards, drunkards n mob shysters
rise, rise. rise
jump, jump. jump
do the twist n put the boot in
stand up and bellow
you can't loose your chains
your self loathing is too great
your shame and pains hurt all the time
you are reminded of your insignificance always
your helplessness and your weaknesses shames you
you always have to fake it, scrape, beg, borrow and steal
the aggrieved spectators as talents, wealth and the ritzy drive past
rise, rise, rise
jump, jump, jump
do the locomotion and spread the ****
scream and shout
hurl slander and lies
fight like cowards and bully
get badass and wicked and mean
get ****** angry and get ****** even
leave your bacon butties and fry the greedy pigs
forget your chips and come chip the brains of the tyrants hogs
put down those pints and lets keep this momentum of hate alive so
rise, rise, rise
jump, jump, jump
do the stoning and lets move like Jagger
Jun 23, 2019
Jun 23, 2019 at 3:47 AM UTC
A man on the cusp of One Hundred
found letters that proved beyond doubt
that Rosa, his bride since his twenties,
in the 40’s had “catted” about.
Some German had tickled her fancy
and perhaps a bit more its believed.
The statute of limitations doesn’t apply
when an Italian husband’s aggrieved.
Did he stop to think of the children?
They’re at such an impressionable age.
They may go and spend
their whole pension on drugs,
join a gang, or go out and get laid.
Antonio’s mad at his Rosa
He’s just about called her a *****
It matters not to him that her transgression
dates back to the second world war.
We don’t know what he read in the letters-
Perhaps his whole life’s been a lie-
but as he is on the cusp of one hundred
why not wait for the children to die?
In Italy, a 99 year old man has divorced his wife aged 96 for a affair she had with a German officer in 1942
He found their letters in a drawer. No he not longer has to wonder why his oldest boy was named " Fritz"
Dec 30, 2011
Dec 30, 2011 at 7:55 AM UTC
Owning only stolen air,
I function, uniquely
To gently own the unseen
Felt feelings, I look to master,
The tiniest remnants, tattered
Torn and misappropriation rule
Fantastic forbidden fragment
Fall into hell, held, unshared
No podium,...
no speaker,...
nor a crowd, of any sorts stirring
Aggitating, aggrieved masses
slaves in their blissless mindset
Jun 10, 2015
Jun 10, 2015 at 8:55 PM UTC
~*a companion poem to
Marry Me! -(I am-in-love-with-you) (1)*~
wherein was writ:
**“here I stop
lest I die of bursting, and yet I weep
for us, for you,
no longer
read my poetry”**
<>
another winter’s day cruelty,
for this wretched refuse of a
former man
who
once could,
who even deemed
owner of a loving teeming,
who adored kneeling,
before love’s altar,
sacrificially, heroically
once in possession of
amazing grace, (2)
but now no longer such
in his scriptures
deeded,
for our save-by-day ,
appears, before my eyes,
so informing my love permit
has now time~expired
I once was found,
but not
once more,
but
once again,
refamiliarized with
loss
wretched and wrenched,
so I punch up at the sky,
and the sky,
like you, my love,
doesn’t punch back,
and now we are in
aggrieved agree:
there is no returning
to where
we graced each other,
so one more poem I’ll
prepare
so let it be,
the “we”
will be momentarily -
but not ! ever lastingly
but for a well~timed
very finite infinity
be returned
to coexist
and let
grace be extended
even surreptitiously
for we
to separate,
sub divide our souls,
in a graceful manner:
*why this last act,
a hallmark of
what once
stood for
us,
was,
and perhaps then,
you will read:*
my only love poetry
once moreover,
with com-passion
and even tiny teeny seconds
of memorized affection,
and that would be an
amazing grace
Dec 13, 2024
Dec 13, 2024 at 3:17 PM UTC
in their formative years
these stars burnt bright
movie theatres took them
on a stratospheric flight
they became famous
for being kids of talented nerve
the rolling camera's
showing their dynamic verve
yet the tinsel clad images
weren't portraying the true self
child actors were a studio's
road to greedy pelf
when reaching the teenage
period of their existence
drugs and alcohol plagued them
with much persistence
something was absent
as they grew to adulthood
little or no care given by
pushy parents in their childhood
tiny stars that once twinkled
did fall hard on the ground
their careers in dream flicks
bought them all unbound
Hollywood's picture factory
wasn't substantive in its part
which left many juveniles
to feel so aggrieved of heart
Oct 23, 2016
Oct 23, 2016 at 12:59 AM UTC