"controversial" poems
Bonjour, hello to this French revolution, where people fought against the corrupted monarchy and created a new constitution. Hunger, no rights and no respect, they could not seem to solve it peacefully, so they cut off Louis the XVI neck. Marie Antoinette was a heartless greedy ***** she stole the people's food, so now she deserves some punishment, this is a historical moment for these people which they would soon cement. They started the Reign of Terror, which some may say was a costly and unnecessary error. Millions of people were killed and most were wrongly accused, their used to be equality, liberty, and fraternity, but all people saw was death, which is something not to be amused. The French Revolution where the third class fought the monarchy, so everyone could have true equality, liberty, and fraternity. Then came a guy named Napoléon who changed their wicked ways, he founded new ideas which created the future you see today. I know he wasn't exactly the best, he crowned himself the emperor, which no one had a say on, he pretended to respect the church and have meritocracy but really he was just a con, deceiving people as if they were just a couple of pawns. Napoléon is a wimp, he cost millions of lives, he also abandoned his armies multiple times, he may be one of the, greatest strategist's in the world, but really he's just a waste of time. Napoléon should have figured out not to attack Russia at winter time, it never worked out before so why would it work this time. He may be a symbol of France and the greatest self proclaimed emperor, but he died because of his pride just like Maximillian Robespierre. That was the end of the French Revolution, they slowly lost their power but they still hold onto their republican constitution. So aurevoir for now, bon voyage to you grande revolution, till your next controversial decisions and solutions.
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 9:25 AM UTC
Imagine a world with no discrimination
A world living in harmony comprising of peaceful nations
The only colour reference would be made to nature
Humans will no longer be judged on their nomenclature
Such is a dream seen by all
But Sir Mandela was the one who took the call
On July 18, 1918, a hero was born
But due to his colour all everyone did was scorn
No one in his family had ever attended school
He was the first one to break this rule
On the first day of school their teacher gave them an English name
This was an African custom due to British bias – how mundane
And that is how Nelson became his first name
He kept it even after he shot to fame
A member of the African National Congress
He gave his opponents a reason to stress
A great politician, revolutionist, lawyer and philanthropist
Served 27 years in jail but never used his fist
Although a controversial figure for most of his life
He won the Nobel Peace Prize for ending the South African apartheid strife
On December 5, 2013, this giant passed away
The things that we can learn from him are a lot more than I can say
Dec 13, 2013
Dec 13, 2013 at 10:30 AM UTC
I dream of a day
When "coming out of the closet"
Isn't even a thing anymore.
When "straight" is just a direction,
"Gay" just means cheery,
And "bisexual"
Isn't even a word anymore.
When people look at someone
And see a human,
Instead of a stigmatized word
Defining that person's way
Of loving other people.
I dream of a day
When a man
Can hold another man's hand,
Without the people around them
Whispering "Oh my god, is he gay?"
When a girl can kiss another girl
Without being called *****
Or attention ******
Or "barsexuals."
I dream of a day
When love is simply that,
LOVE.
Not something political,
Or religious, or controversial,
But just something beautiful
Between two beautiful
Human hearts.
Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 11:42 PM UTC
My memory beats in rhythm with my heart.
Spilling out snapshot flashes of life like a flick book's muffled cries.
Controversial plastic shell, elastic strap, stick insect mattel covetted for months
until Santa dropped it down the chimney,
almost as fast as she sprogged and regained her figure
- the original scrummy yummy mummy set to spread low self esteem.
My daddy said anyone can crank out a kid like she did,
as my mother ground her teeth to protest on behalf of her traumatised frame.
Strange, I almost became one of the lost - before I grew cells and self,
another fragile foetus swinging on a noose
from gallows where once a ****** failed to stayed closed.
Little life curled tight self soothing sings al na tivke iredem bim'nucha
My memory beats in rhythm with my heart
as I lie beneath my shroud of sadness filled with down shrinking from the light of day
I want to tell you that I love you,
that my heart brays, beats, bleets, breaks, aches for you.
My soul, spirit, self thrice chorus al na tivke iredem bim'nucha
as waters flow from deep to deep
where danger dances and solace is sought
from beyond the fruitless orchards and willows weeping
branches reaching out for you.
My memory beats in rhythm with my heart
surrounded by madonna, ***** and all betwixt
spheres of life protruding, pronounced, announcing themselves;
in streets where bundles, terrors, cherubs, banting, brat and bairn alike
shriek, scream, squeal, shout, squalk, squabble, sing
in a cacophony that makes my heart weep and ache in longing
to sing to self in solitude al na tivke iredem bim'nucha.
My memory beats in rhythm with my heart
pulsating thoughts, dreams, hopes of you through the whole of me.
Brought to my knees I seek wisdom, guidence, strength to let you go.
The river is waiting for you, you who I hold tight in my caul
trying to trust, seeking strength to hakshev le'ivshat haga'lim
holding the thought of you,
the love of you,
the hope of you
tight in my arms crooning my lullaby of lament
al na tivke iredem bim'nucha
Jun 26, 2013
Jun 26, 2013 at 5:57 PM UTC
Picketed, another generation pushing for advancement in the age of reason,
Logical, radical movement
Trying for less invasive measures of medication
To take the blinders off the prejudice of non-conformity and reach the masses
A promise to ease the pain, promote healing, the overall good
Met with violence, verbal slander, from mommies and daddies afraid of a world outside their white fence,
Fearing independence, the expansion of the mind, an openness in their youth to allow radical change.
The bloated belt bent backwards, white collar replaced by hedonistic practical libertarians in pursuit of happiness for all
Sick, disgusted with the man, the one behind the podium whom allows for this animosity on a group that did everything right, legally sound
Tired of hearing the whispers across a university, the hopeful gushing’s of elated individuals bright- eyes naive
Of a system that won’t allow something this controversial into the public, afraid to lose their hold on a potential capitol
On something that should be as easy to find in a free market as Captain Crunch, Coca-Cola, and Rice Krispy Treats.
Grinding down, fluffy-green-crystal bud
Dank yellow smoke smoldering out of pipes end, seeping out of closed lips billowing out of nostrils
Dragon fire down a throat coated with a week worth of soot, and experience
Choking, coughing, laughing away the misery
The disappointment in her fellow man to refuse to even consider the validity of a proven product
Knowing that if it was anything else a miracle drug composed of fairy dust, unicorn hair and the ***** of a thousand angels; approval would have been immediate.
Whip lash.
Flick, flame, fumigating
Baking myself into a calmer state, watching with ****** off grace
Twitching with the need to take action
To control this negative reaction, to slap the of face limp **** conservatives
So consumed with themselves, blind to the pain of people who have lost hope in other forms of relief
Alternative therapy shut off by a system obsessed with its war on drugs.
Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 12:13 PM UTC
Connect like comets,
got thoughts but won’t comment,
controversial as a result of being honest,
honestly sick of the politics & sick of the nonsense,
actually I’m sick of it all to be honest but still I won’t *****
conflicted by the conflicts that’re inflicted on my conscience,
from the constant onslaught of plots that they’ve got that I’m barraged with,
in this enormous orbit that we’re all in it’s ugly & gorgeous I’m nauseous but conscious,
just wishing they’d stop it & I’ve lost my train of thought but haven’t yet lost consciousness,
at,
a house party in The Hamptons,
July 6th. 2018,
last week D.C.,
next week Miami,
bless the vibes like we bless the mics,
that’s why they want us around,
if I get the invite & have the time I might take that flight,
because I’ve been all around but still up to get gown,
buzzing off of a mixture of different chemicals,
feeling Sharon ****** operating off of basic instinct,
Semi-Quasi-Serious-Centennial-American-Millennials,
were are what is in so we tell them to get out with their doubts & we dismiss what they think,
live big & still get enough to give more than a little bit away to various charities,
with 3rd Eye Vision that’s 20/20 so they can’t pull a fast one on me,
in the perfect position I see everything while most of them can barely see anything,
not kidding but we do play no kids no way,
our artistic creations are what we will leave behind as our living legacies,
staying grounded at the same time we’re all stars outta this world like a fabulous galaxy,
where we connect like comets,
got thoughts but won’t comment,
controversial as a result of being honest,
honestly sick of the politics & sick of the nonsense,
actually I’m sick of it all to be honest but still I won’t *****
conflicted by the conflicts that’re inflicted on my conscience,
from the constant onslaught of plots that they’ve got that I’m barraged with,
in this enormous orbit that we’re all in it’s ugly & gorgeous I’m nauseous but conscious,
just wishing they’d stop it & I’ve lost my train of thought but haven’t yet lost consciousness…
∆ Aaron LaLux ∆
Sep 22, 2018
Sep 22, 2018 at 12:52 AM UTC
written at the Herzl Camp
"A drunken man got mad at him / Because he barked in joy / He beat him and he's dying here today / Will you call the doctor please / And tell him if he comes right now / He'll save my precious doggy here he lay / Then he left the fluffy head / But his little dog was dead / Just a shiver and he slowly passed away."
This extract comes from a poem called Little Buddy, and is controversial. Allegedly written at the Herzl camp there are claims it might be originated by someone else by the name of Hank Snow.
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she would be fluid
completely refreshing
she would be resilient
unable to give in
she would be so unique
one of a kind
she would speak so elegantly
gentle whispers fill the air
her word would be knives
yet so sincere
she would hold you close
yet keep you at a distance
all she wants is to love
make every soul feel adored
she would be bold
but slick in her appearance
she is the most controversial opinion
yet the only thing in this life that makes sense
...
If A Poem Could Be A Person
May 4, 2022
May 4, 2022 at 1:19 AM UTC
question: do we lose ourselves in the midst of romanticizing or do we unravel our true selves.
response: do we lose who we are in the idealistic view of our romantic quests or do we unveil a trait of ourselves that has been there all along? hiding behind the perfect life you saw yourself having before your heart shattered in little tiny pieces when your utopian view took on another perspective. recognizing yourself in a dark state that was clouded by your 'cherry-kissed' outlook on love, you see who you really are. the good, the bad, and the ugly transformed into the hopeless romantic who has only experienced their first heartbreak to then examine every characteristic of themselves and determine if they were 'in the wrong'. your romantic expectations turning you into someone you're not is the controversial topic. but what if it was just the romanticizing that grounded you and brought you back to reality? what if it was the romanticizing that expressed your honest self? what if it were for all of the childhood fantasies and teenage dreams that helped you realize who you want to be with? what if it were for all of the traumatic experiences and unfulfilled relationships that helped you realize the person you truly are.
-mxy
Mar 22, 2015
Mar 22, 2015 at 9:45 PM UTC
Even when he walked through that door for the first time
The thought of engaging with him in any sort was a crime
Ultimately my first thought was
Now I understand why we never crossed paths
An aggressive, secluded, sexist male entity
However, preoccupied by my own judgement, he thought me to be pretty
And all of a sudden, that grotesque mortal molded into a handsome beast
Nurturing, loving, controversial but attentive the least
Gracefully and gradually I fell for his mediocre personality, Him
Oblivious and blinded by his own ****** of happiness, I, -
hypnotized by the fairy tale, did not see the photons of our love go dim.
May 24, 2014
May 24, 2014 at 3:51 AM UTC
I feel bad for black sometimes,
It’s not a colour but a lack thereof.
Some wear it to mourn the dead,
Some wear it because they are intrigued,
Some wear it to follow the fashion head,
Some wear it out of need.
It’s the most controversial colour.
I think it’s confused,
Does it stand for impending doom?
Does it stand for ignorance?
Or,
Does it stand for the freedom of a race?
Does it stand for class?
It ***** in all the energy around,
Only taking, never giving.
Why does it do that though?
Why does it act like a sociopath?
Is it because the other colours don’t treat it right?
The others call it a colour,
Even though it’s not,
Even with the same classification,
It’s not one of them.
I wonder if it feels lonely?
Will its dilemma never end?
Will it always stand alone?
Or will it find a friend?
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 8:46 PM UTC
Look, look, master, here comes two religious caterpillars.
The Jew of Malta.
Polyphiloprogenitive
The sapient sutlers of the Lord
Drift across the window-panes.
In the beginning was the Word.
In the beginning was the Word.
Superfetation of ,
And at the mensual turn of time
Produced enervate Origen.
A painter of the Umbrian school
Designed upon a gesso ground
The nimbus of the Baptized God.
The wilderness is cracked and browned
But through the water pale and thin
Still shine the unoffending feet
And there above the painter set
The Father and the Paraclete.
. . . . .
The sable presbyters approach
The avenue of penitence;
The young are red and pustular
Clutching piaculative pence.
Under the penitential gates
Sustained by staring Seraphim
Where the souls of the devout
Burn invisible and dim.
Along the garden-wall the bees
With hairy bellies pass between
The staminate and pistilate,
Blest office of the epicene.
Sweeney shifts from ham to ham
Stirring the water in his bath.
The masters of the subtle schools
Are controversial, polymath.
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I have always wondered
who makes the fire
who cooks the thunder...
I have always wondered where sound comes from,
the vibration within noise
and where it all goes
As I swallow the smoke circles of chance
I **** romance
Take a look into my soul, it is a light-glance
where are the rivers where it floats?
Where are the people my soul knows?
What is the path my mind chose?
Imagining worlds, seeing buildings in the sky
no more cars only people who can fly
Enchanting a young girl child,
having her sigh not die
inspiring her to play the music in her lullabies
It's a roller coast, a slippery sliding post
the dancing the singing
the chanting the giggling
what game is this?
Are we winning?
Is it truly us who are playing?
Do we write what we read?
Or do we read the written?
do we plant seeds or do we recycle apples long bitten?
A ride a vision
a thought, intuition
do we glide to combine or do we consign division?
A lover's quest: harmony
a soldier's motive: justice
laws written, can we trust this?
Tied by the tiresome trials
covered by the dynamic patterns of veils
consumed by the hypnotic controversial tale
promises to send us to glee so we do not wail
tricked by tick tock
Tricked by time, the ticks-the tocks of time.
May 4, 2013
May 4, 2013 at 3:36 PM UTC
By Joseph Childress
“Habeus corpus!!!”
Yelled in court
From some youngin’
In the back row
As he rose
With a roll of parchment
The constitution laid dead in his hold
.
A gleam seen in the judge’s eyes
As he glances, quickly
Behind glasses
While guards escort
The disrupter of courts
To the unknown
.
All hail the corpse of freedom!
Warranted from the lack of warnings
All hell: The corporate companies cooperating
In coup d’etats
Disguised as peace keepings
Offering the
Sacrificial kings of Africa
Offing the
Head of state
In a distasteful display of feardom
Fear dominates
The war on terrorism
Military minions pillage the dominions
Of the defenseless
The final blow
Screams
Like the Final Call
In the falling of an empire
Protesters test the unrest
And spread
Words
That are read
In the weaving of our future
Detention
Sit-ins for those who
Speak during class warfare
Constitutions re-written
To constitute illegal imprisonment
Of free
Speakers,
Thinkers,
And believers
Citizens find it harder
To not pay attention
When the war in the Middle East
Is fought in America
Patriotic Acts to enact
Unpatriotic actions
That exact
Hate on the coward-less fraction
Surveillanced
As if ass-kissing will ever be in option
They’re warning us
To stay sleep with the rest
Those who awake
Will meet a force
Worse
Than the crusades
As they raid the houses
Of our brothers, sisters, and
Controversial, conspiracy contriving cousins
They will come
Like thieves in the night
To undue
The debt due to society
The battle begins,
And the Martyrs are ready.
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 11:12 PM UTC
Hooked and hung to the chair,
tethered by a strap-
colour akin to your hair-
you sat and stared
at another essay to be handed in
by three pm, next-week-Wednesday.
A-future-whatever is another
lustful thought, failed and
let down by little taught.
Again! Why a wife is so hard to find
in brambled streets or box hedged
squares, rectangular and receipt like?
Give up and give in,
walk drunk drinking sloe gin.
That way love is but blackthorn berries
the controversial, speechless adversaries.
Jan 2, 2013
Jan 2, 2013 at 11:04 AM UTC
By the time we die
You're gonna be tired, asleep, and satisfied
My love will have made you sick
Because it was too intense
No stratosphere will keep us safe
I will become insane
As my feelings spiral out of control
You will have no option my dear
But to maintain an everlasting fever
Because my love,
Will warm you like the hottest arab sun
And every mistake I've scarred your heart with
My eternal dedication will erase
Every day of my life as I pronounce your perfection
This perception will never change
Like a controversial revolutionary anthem,
The beat of my heart will pledge allegiance to you
And you'll have no where to escape
As the loud boom of my love drowns out our past
You will have no choice but to die with this love
You're gonna be tired, asleep, and satisfied
Because my love will have made you sick
As it becomes volatile and intense
Sep 16, 2012
Sep 16, 2012 at 10:51 AM UTC
A subtle carol echoes of the evening
Upon bended knee I am arrested
Betwixt strange refrains
Shaking the floorboards of Teicu
The evocative moans amplify
The foolish peacemaker of astrologists
The English dream of poetry
Those I coaxed by death
Were the witnesses of the tragedy
And were familiar with its ballad
Crafted the design ‘tis conceptual ***********
Eradicated their honor for vanilla threads
As they shimmy and shimmy
They defile elongated hankering
And retreated in the greenhouse of Woodstock
Its language made iconic by efficacious character
Having often been labeled an experiment
Broadening its brilliance along death’s boulevard
‘tis she who was the stunning one
Her language made sacred by her iconic fame
A long time controversial reference
An automaton, an origin of extraterrestrial etiology
The evocative moans ensnares the tourist
Sep 7, 2012
Sep 7, 2012 at 10:48 PM UTC
Such was the heraldry of your being.
You stood before those who were of lower standing as you viewed them,
appointed oneself upward through controversial means, non of which were worthy of commendation. Corruption rose you to dizzy heights and watched as you violated the lives of others.
The lawful way is inconsistent and trust, honesty and goodness are words flaunted by your immoral and malicious demonstration. For ones own ends you walked the walk.
Now become by expiration, death should hold no surprises for one so foul.
The underworld is your new domicile and untold pain and torment are your future. Across the Styx, Charon will deliver you unto me. Watch with care the affliction of those minions that seek exoneration below the black wash. Purgatory however is beyond any reach that will veil itself to you.
Your appointment is of a somewhat personal nature to me and along with myself and eternity you will wish life had leant you on another path.
Jan 10, 2015
Jan 10, 2015 at 6:56 PM UTC
it pains me to see
that for many
you’re just a photo on a wall
and on our currency
a permanent fixture in our lives
a tradition that no one knows the origin of
and even if known-misunderstood
your philosophy distorted, your methods abused
the poorest, most controversial parts of it magnified
and what is really important buried
under generations of lip service
and self-serving biases
i myself don’t agree
with everything you said
but still, i admit
that most of it made sense
thank you for questioning violence
and greed, corruption and falsity
thank you for the difference you made
Happy Birthday!
i wish you were around
to clarify what has become twisted
to silence your detractors
and light the way again
-Vijayalakshmi Harish
02.09.2012
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
Oct 2, 2012
Oct 2, 2012 at 2:23 AM UTC
We exist
Our voices may be small
But we exist
Our art might not be political
But we exist
We might not be controversial
But we exist
Our opinions might be ignored
But we exist
Jan 8, 2019
Jan 8, 2019 at 12:58 PM UTC
Expecting two wrongs to make a right.
Always ending up in a controversial fight.
Once brothers and sisters, hand-in-hand.
Now benevolent, immoral and divided we stand.
Pointing fingers at the ones who speak Gods word.
Accusations of intolerance, as their words go unheard.
'Thou shalt not judge" is our new favorite line.
Never picked up a bible, but that verse sounds fine.
Picking and choosing what we want ourselves to hear.
Overwhelmed with uncertainty and plagued by fear.
Twisting Gods words to suit our sin.
Becoming charmers of the flesh, rather than fishers of men.
Making ample lies out of such divine truth.
While sabotaging the future of our demoralized youth.
Blaming a God we now deny,
Cursing the heavens and wondering why.
If God's a God of love why would He leave?
Like we're some sort of dirt brushed off from His sleeve.
He hasn't left, nor turned His back,
We're the ones who got off track.
Following our own paths to a realm of unknown.
Creating our own world, trying to make it all alone.
Forgetting who was created for who.
Not You for us, but we for You. ©
Mar 26, 2013
Mar 26, 2013 at 11:26 PM UTC
what should be rejoice filled days
have become my most controversial and agony filled
to i comply with the charade,
do i withdrew from judgemental eyes,
since becoming an adult this decision has brought me more discomfort than poverty
i tried and could not find one compliment to give my dad
his parenting is overshadowed by mum's on every level
mean while the unseen battle continues for my soul
Jesus vs logic
love and forgiveness vs fruits from past actions
in my mind i will always be 25
that year my life rocked to a shattered stop
the anniversary of my arrival is no longer celebrated
my loss, agreed
what to do? oh what to do?
usually i put my head in the sand and pray the day to end
while wearing one of my best masks
that is the cowards way, i should behave like an adult, right
May 14, 2013
May 14, 2013 at 6:53 AM UTC