"dissenting" poems
Snorers all
scattered world-wide
in offices and homes
in boardrooms
and bedrooms;
O Snorers all
loud and clear
low and shrill -
listen ye
to the loud wake-up call
as from Rip Van Winkle's Snore
stand up united
and drown the howl of protests
against snoring that is surely no less divine
than the Chorus of Angels in Heaven -
for the great God who made the Aurora
no doubt also conceived of the Divine Snore!
and so, stand up, ye sonorous Snorers!
unite! I call unto ye!
unite against the detractors
and the critics
and the complainants
and those of low culture
who cannot
lie still and listen to Snoring
as one rightly would at a concert hall
listening to the delightful play
of a quartet of violins
O how long will you take it lying down,
ye blessed Snorers of the World?
let the world know
the first divine music was indeed the Snore;
and the very height of human communication
is the unabashed snore
for all other modes of communication
lead to mis-communication
but the language of the snore is always exact and crisp!
the message of the Snore always precise!
the meaning always loud and clear!
and the very height of the snore
(let us declare to the world)
is the couple in bed
snoring away together
beside each other
making such divine music
making love with the rolling thunder of snores
so that one might say:
*do we have a couple of wild boars
copulating in the next room?*
stand up, O Snorers of the World -
and defy the mockers
and those who seek divorce
on grounds of insufferable Snoring;
stand up against those who sue
for loss of sleep from
friendly, neighborly Snorers;
stand up now
against these losers, these whingeing nags
uncouth and untutored
in the mysteries of the art of the Snore!
stand up and with one loud blast of
a universal Snore,
with one melodious Snore
let us
drown their dissenting voices,
their unprovoked cacophonous complaints!
stand up, Snorers young and old!
unite, Snorers black, white and gold!
defy the world! O ye Snorers
of quite nights and of lazy days:
let us overwhelm the world
with the pleasing symphony of Snores;
let us bless the ears of the world
with the dulcet streams of varied notes and arias!
stand up! unite! - O much-maligned Snorers of the World!
with one voice raised
in a triumphant Snore
let us declare:
*No longer will we be silent!
Our voices will be heard!*
Oct 22, 2010
Oct 22, 2010 at 7:21 PM UTC
Juxt
Easy bucks
Market flux
The democratic peace
Imperial caprice
Praise be to lord and Savior
Sacrament, scandal-flavored
Legion of dissenting voice
Treason in the use of choice
Give me your teeming tired, your huddled poor
Bones with to festoon the corporate door
And if you could turn to me, adoring
I’ll check my busted magic billiard ball
All signs point toward what I’m ignoring
Burnt the bridge to your heart, land, deed and all
When time is right, we secretly confide
What should have lain bare in our first report
Our ideal homes of mental cards collide
Seems, in comparison, we all fall short
Glory in history contiguous
Gory details, a bit ambiguous
The equality of man
******* Ku Klux ****
Only with the best intent
Rubber bullet malcontents
Perpetual motion
Toward backward notions
Money flows
Deathly throes
Oppose
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 5:00 PM UTC
Hate and ridicule comes to the forefront. Anyone who disagrees is a bigot you see. Differing opinions must be silenced, that is just how it has to be. Hiding behind children used as human shields, to deflect attention from the problems that are all too real. Spreading lies and fomenting dissent, that is the mantra they live by everyday. Dissenting at the ideas of cutting a budget or project, that uselessly gives tax dollars away. Individualism is overrated, on government you must depend. If you dare to move off of the grid, you must be insane. A disease for the unwashed masses who walk around like a heard of Lemmings. Liberalism, the modern incarnation of Marxist communism.
Nov 17, 2016
Nov 17, 2016 at 1:21 PM UTC
1490
The Face in evanescence lain
Is more distinct than ours—
And ours surrendered for its sake
As Capsules are for Flower’s—
Or is it the confiding sheen
Dissenting to enamor us
Of Detriment divine?
2k
With the first awareness of morning
I sense the kind of clarity elusive
at other times of day.
She is a singular breath, formless,
offering insight into the endlessness
of something pure.
Yet she moves away as thoughts come:
those dissenting armies that ***** in
to involve me in the containment of opposites.
She will not be held in place by argument.
I long for her when she leaves.
My intention is to attend to her when I’m able.
To be the gardener who loves the flower.
That she might touch me when she will
That she might find me, often
In the gentleness of contemplation.
Sep 21, 2013
Sep 21, 2013 at 10:18 PM UTC
Arcane rumblings bellow out from the infrastructure.
The secrets swell out from the wealthy infidels. Their water has broken.
The top-hat henchmen gather their whiskers.
Stuttering shock and leaking their whispers,
vulcan-loud.
The wise old casualties know all of what’s to come,
so they pack their sacks with their old guns
to fortify their army of one.
The news skips the billions of ignorant families
condemning daughters and sons to an army of none.
The first bullets abandon their barrels,
the kick-off to pain, from poise.
Eager to byte flesh, fur, faith,
eager to make some godawful noise.
The following blasts are a metallic symphony
Quickly looming, swooning,
booming into cacophony
in shrill-major.
Blood spatters pavement, under marching feet,
is dragged, looped about the streets in a homicide calligraphy,
paralyzing the squinting mercenaries.
Out come the canons,
dancing on their wheels,
silencing the gunfire,
spinning on their heels,
dissenting the sonata with rifle-explosion accompaniment.
Warrior sighs greet the late auxiliary:
armadas sing in baritone
while civilians scream soprano.
Children cry in alto.
Blood flows in legato.
Today some of us will die
so that the rest will open their eyes
to an oversky, cloud-bloated with lies.
While down below we blaze away our requiem.
And by the hand of this same melody we die.
Here lies humanity,
fashioning,
always,
a bellicose smile.
Sep 19, 2012
Sep 19, 2012 at 10:55 AM UTC
Stinking Thieves and Degenerates thus proudly declared
We will drive you paranoid, give you ******* brain cancer
We will put hot things in your head, head lice they blared
We will plant dissenting seeds in your mind by our passers
Chatter and natter with toxic germination brain furrowed
With poisons, fears and doubts we'll polluted your mind
We are the majority and we'll recruit followers in numbers
Build a pyramid of lies and hassles to hound and down grind
One tell ten and onwards, chinese whispers makes you to wonder
Peck like vultures at your life with harassments that's unkind
In our putrid pond, caves and gutters a Grass is what you are
Goody shiny two shoes who stays aloof thinks he's better than us
Whistle clean, no crime or stains, how pompous, how you dare
Evil and destruction is our wont, purity is anathema go you suss
We'll sling mud, blacken you, weaken you and lay you bare
Go call your Jesus to save you, see if he dares tussle with the pack
The ******* cemetery is full of Saints who we've offered free rides
Showed them the Hell we make for good people before we wack
We'll get in your head and mind and trounce your soul with hide
We are knaves, criminals and reprobates and we have the knack
Yes, we burgled and stole from you, that's our trade, what we do
We are criminals not ******* Mother Teresa saving the poor
You work hard to acquire, we work hard to acquire, isn't it so
Then you chose to grass us up, ruin our trade and shut our doors
see what happens to upright and legit, jobless, lonely and broken too.
Hahaha....hahaha.....hahaha.....next!
Brother watch out, it could be you..............
Sep 20, 2018
Sep 20, 2018 at 6:32 AM UTC
With no money in your pockets,
and a desire for a smooth ride.
Yeah, **** it... something simple.
Lust for something easy.
You speak like
anything matters;
I complain in
the opposing
direction.
Bleeding, and everyone would care
if you'd just ******* show them.
Overdriven in lifestyle,
by design without purpose.
Wearing black, but not poignantly.
Cursing because ****
it feels so good.
Smashing whatever since
you don't own anything.
Dissenting because you can.
Maybe you'll steal **** tomorrow,
maybe you'll tell a lie.
Breathe in.
Cough, choke, turn indigo.
You're gonna do just fine.
Jun 29, 2014
Jun 29, 2014 at 5:26 PM UTC
The underbelly of our collective psyche,
has been cut open from the gut and gun pokin’,
now the sadness runs rampant,
in the flooded streets of these American dreams,
see in this scene things aren’t always what they seem,
especially when viewed on a screen that’s green,
she says her father doesn’t bother to call her,
says he lives in Vegas where he lost his job,
just another unemployed American off the assembly line,
now he takes care of his mom who’s lost her mind,
gone senile from years of denial that her son is an alcoholic *********
meanwhile resistance is still futile,
and this son of this mom is the father of the girl I’m with now,
as we lay in bed talking about trivial things instead,
of what really matters which is what we’re doing with this life,
just passing time until we’re all dead I guess,
feeling like an abstract painting of American Commentary,
a dissenting dissertation of this perverse dystopia,
don’t mention most things that are worth mentioning,
which is part of the problem that keeps repeating in amounts that’re copious,
and I’d continue with these verses and get more in depth,
but I’m being rude to the nervous girl in my bed,
so I better get off this laptop and back to that jackpot,
or rather Jill *** whatever that means I’d rather be misunderstood instead,
and that’s why I don’t mind if they don’t understand what I said,
or rather don’t understand the words that I wrote when they’re read,
because,
the underbelly of our collective psyche,
has been cut open from the gut pokin’,
now the sadness runs rampant,
in the flooded streets of this American dream,
see in this scene things aren’t always what they seem,
especially when viewed on a screen that’s green…
∆ LaLux ∆
Free link for new book: www.scribd.com/document/367036005/The-Sydney-Sessions-12-Steps
Feb 18, 2018
Feb 18, 2018 at 7:36 PM UTC
the oppressor's law
muzzles a dissenting voice
lest it speak of truth
May 7, 2024
May 7, 2024 at 11:29 PM UTC
These are voodoo days
When monsters have their way
With the good people alive
So the evil people can thrive.
This is a time when madness
Roams the land to pillage
And rename the boundaries
Of our fine global village.
Children once went to school
And we made sure they learned
What had happened to us all
When dissenting books were burned.
Then too many scary people
Got by with lying to us a lot.
They didn’t have us in mind,
And didn’t care what we thought.
So, their Halloween costumes seem
To only be visible to the eye
When you listen to their chants
Instead of just passing by.
If you listen closely to the words
And not just campaign speech,
You quickly see dictatorship
Is not far out of their reach.
When your friendly candidate
Starts sounding like a Mussolini
Standing up and calling them out
Does not make you a ******
No, it makes you more of true
Patriot caring for your country
Than guys in expensive suits
Who only care about their money.
Oct 1, 2018
Oct 1, 2018 at 12:26 PM UTC
Africa's venerated literary
icon with words of eloquence
esoteric to the blind.
Distinguished in letters
for ages infinite.
Unparalleled in intellect,
and a gadfly of constructive
dissenting views.
Soyinka,
You are indeed a priceless
asset to the black race.
The wise grey-haired doyen
of literary geniuses,
whose ingenuity is in a century
once seen,
and in a Millennium, ten times.
Jan 20, 2018
Jan 20, 2018 at 8:34 AM UTC
White whispers represent chains
Preventing change.
The action of
Inaction,
Perpetuating that which we
Deny.
The sun of sin shining
Dimly through
The smog of society
Seen
By the few,
Not nearly enough.
“All lives matter”
Conveniently,
Fictitious feelings for a ‘flag’
Feigning support for
Social inequalities.
Politically correct where it
Counts –
Beyond the front door,
Not behind.
News headlines turn
Silent dissenting into
Violent lamenting.
Willful ignorance is
Deliberate destruction.
The true tragedy,
Behind.
Closed.
Doors.
Oct 21, 2017
Oct 21, 2017 at 10:15 AM UTC
My problem is
I want to hear what everybody thinks
And am easily swayed
By each new point of view.
All it has taken
Is one dissenting voice
And now everything seems different
And what if this view, is the right view?
I want it to be.
I want it to be.
I wish to be secure enough
To come to my own conclusions
To make my own decisions
Not to NEED these perspectives.
I must stop telling people my secrets.
Starting here
Oh.
No.
Sep 7, 2013
Sep 7, 2013 at 3:50 PM UTC
Writing down the names
of the silence-breakers in the class,
I got them lashed well;
Never failed to put my hand on my mouth
Wherever I saw the instruction ‘Keep Silence';
Learned to be disciplined on the admonition ‘don't make noise';
Heard many a time the talk ‘Chatterers and Patriotism';
Hung on the wall the pictures of those
who ordered ‘hold your tongue and do work';
Practiced regularly special yoga for taming the tongue,
And got habituated to vow of silence.
Now my tongue owns the endurance of saying nothing
On seeing or hearing anything.
I haven't wasted even a single opportunity to escape
With the adornment of silence.
I live in total silence excelling the dumb
Now life is perfectly happy.
The fear of assaulting those with dissenting voices
No longer affects me.
The only discomfort is this:
An uncooked piece of flesh lies across my mouth,
Unable to spit out or swallow.
Poem by Veerankutty mhfil
Oct 12, 2017
Oct 12, 2017 at 4:21 AM UTC
When all art is dead,
When dissenting opinion is all but extinct,
When all the crazy people you marginalize are healed,
Who will tell you that you've died inside?
Who will shine a light in the dark corners of your mind?
Who will make you ask yourself if maybe, just maybe,
Things are not as they really are?
Jul 23, 2016
Jul 23, 2016 at 2:32 AM UTC
Caught between dissenting polarities
Nothing written in clarity
Out of fuel
Out of thoughts
Out of luck
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 12:28 AM UTC
Do not call me teacher.
Do not call me light.
I am merely a reflecting glass-
showing a broken truth, not exactly right.
Do not call me preacher.
Do not call me uptight.
I'm only a Christian,
saying gently, "Come closer, it'll be alright."
Do not call me deeper.
Do not call me inspiring.
I'm just a poor lonely girl,
this gets kind of tiring- so
Do call me loving,
Do call me trying,
call me not enough, fine, that's true
but I'm reaching towards the sky-
I really do care for You,
I gasp for You every day
but I'm limited by my ego and lack of servitude,
my God, show me Your way.
Do not call me teacher-
that's the big guy, up there
He's the magnificent beautiful creature
with magnificent beautiful hair
Who unites with the world in harmony
and knows exactly how to love
my heart aches for having forgotten Him
but He saved me with His holy dove
My world is falling in place around me
My God is tracing the path
they've tried and failed to drown me
while I was sleeping- in my own bath.
Do not call me teacher,
I might speak His words, or try
but I **** up every day.
I'm dangling to this basic, dissenting concept of 'I'.
So I'm broken and lonely
and hurting, just like y'all.
Please don't call me teacher.
That's not who I am. I'm not worthy at all.
Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 11:13 PM UTC
She was nowhere to be seen.
But I had stepped awhile aside
For a moment to myself
From the crowd jostling the railway station
And here she is gone
With the platform empty!
In that briefest time
I remember arguing with two guys
That we need to remember not everything
And they were dissenting.
Where could she have gone
My mind yelled
what if the train had arrived and left!
We were supposed to board it.
As I looked frantically around
There wasn’t a ticket counter
There was no train
There was no trace of her
When a shiver told me
The station couldn’t be this empty!
Then my fingers fell on my cell.
Oh I forgot
She was just a speed dial away.
Enveloped me a cold sweating
*The platform was bare
She wasn’t there
And her cell returned no ring!*
It was then two women I saw
Pulling a cart
Of trash and the station’s dirt.
Where’s the ticket room?
They smiled
I froze in fear
Ten miles from here...
my cries traveled far
woke her
why I keep losing her!
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 7:11 AM UTC
Israel the Failed state
It pains me to say this once I loved Israel
When she was declared a state, we're jubilant
And as Zionist said on radio the Palestinians
Can go and live in Jordan
There were few dissenting voices back then
We called them communists we call dissenters now
Then pictures of Jewish brutal repression of
The Palestine population and slowly it dawned
On us, they too needed a homeland Israel has
Denied them and thousands have been killed
resisting this illegal occupying force.
The world is not naïve we see what is happening
this was not the survivor's dream to become oppressors.
To augment the population Israel let in Russian of
dubious Semitic origin, but they are useful in the army
killing is their second name.
Mind there are many Jews in Ethiopia, but they are black.
Poor Israel they stole a state they could live in without
insisting on Judaism as the only faith
It is all too sad it could have been a place of olive trees
and goats with the sun in their eyes.
Aug 6, 2016
Aug 6, 2016 at 3:13 AM UTC
Burn those feelings
Burn them in fire
Yet my dissenting voices
Grow only louder on the pyre
Dec 6, 2020
Dec 6, 2020 at 2:28 PM UTC
You mimic a monstrosity
Your disposition runs like ink
These ticks become habitual
These prisons become virtual
These masks become complete
Images designated for dissection
New found suits for dissenting
Legends in lethargy and memory high hysterics
Neatly astute for the sake of navigation
They mingle like limbo inside brickwork bunkers
The embodiment of human discernment
Madness makes moves
I see the eyes reassemble for nonsense
You steal my time for a story we have already forgotten
I brace because my jaws are acutely inclined for folly
I try to resemble accommodation but fall short like the gods intended
I hear their laughter
but its my own obscure orchestration
Yours are not mine but I shatter with the rest
My favorite parasite
My favorite sanctuary
I love you all inside this room soaked sickly
Indifferent and discarded
Now and again we find the time for creation
Spring loaded sky stuck symptoms
Trampoline tactics for these less buoyant patrons
We figure the fabrications come complete
Declare another dysfunction
Society breaks the hesitant
Hold the moments hostage like so much decoration
Happier times splattered while a perfect storm swells
Satirical strings attached for an elusive heaven
I now know the we that became you
Mar 17, 2017
Mar 17, 2017 at 3:00 AM UTC
His lawn must've held back its lunch
When he drove those signs
Deep into the soil;
Crushing little blades,
Cutting roots, and displacing
Perfectly placed earth.
Likewise, I had to hold back
My breakfast this morning
When I had dissenting opinions
Driven into me;
Cutting through my skin into
My heart, making my palms sweat
And my stomach drop.
Jun 30, 2016
Jun 30, 2016 at 7:47 AM UTC
They say you should own change,
one of our few possessions,
having to pay for the past,
though changes never last.
It's said its as good as a rest,
but don't we fear some changes.
Who benefits is the test,
and who looses history erases.
So they're always taking away.
We're ren ting, repenting the present,
dissenting form changes and loss,
for loss is a change, as we pay.
Jan 1, 2017
Jan 1, 2017 at 10:59 AM UTC