"incitement" poems
Gathered pieces of a great puzzle ;
refreshed perspective like ocean riptides
foment at the confluence collecting dark rivers’ flow
Repurposing back-eddies ,
rejuvenation of stagnant brackish waters ,
inherent buried soul-shine purging
from the ancient core of earth mother
Light arising from the hidden depths
of inner stillness as if a refilling wellspring
burst forth , reawakening muted sighs unspoken
Forming poetic constellations of black and bright
to lighten afar the nebulous darkness ,
a sea of swirling ink transformed into poetry
A sage opus renewed
by the muse of a migrating flock ,
striving to discover new sacred grounds ;
yet there is an undeniable song sung
in the howling winds of change
An incitement from a higher dialect
that empowers a restoration of spirit
Oeuvre uplifted by rogue waves
of summoning winds ,
arousing that which time erases
A manifest renaissance
among the rousing nuances
of poetic continuum ,
judicious to rediscover
the enthralling vastitude
of every breaking wave
in a boundless sea of poesy
Where prevailing currents
stir oceans of verse eternal ;
provoking a verve revival ,
the magnitude of an unbroken circle ,
ocean swells merging singularity
with the omnipresent colour
of uncharted depths
As if thoughts are assuaged
by a union of intimately touching souls
with words of intangible spheres ,
sparking subtle shades of meaning
spanning poetic immortality
Transcending barriers of unexplored lexicon
to manifest the immensity,
enkindling rhapsody of hearts and minds
Deeply rooted soul replenishment
harvested from the tree of humankind ,
willingly sharing without regret nor intention ,
with deference to the soul of one-blood,
one-love enabling an enlightening
metamorphosis of the human journey ...
© harlon rivers ... all rights reserved
Jan 20, 2017
Jan 20, 2017 at 11:48 AM UTC
A tear for peace is a tear worth shedding
‘Blood for peace’ is not
That’s just a selfish message sent out, a message written in red ink
This is as true as the sun is hot
A tear for peace is a tear for these streets
To disregard violence and cease…
The hate speech and incitement
That ugly place
That the tongues of certain guys went
While we were thinking… “Shut up! Please!”
I campaign for the indictment of these…
Former citizens and apparent ‘leaders’
Who relinquished their right to call themselves Kenyans the moment they decided to bleed us… literally
I root for he… or she that will bring sustenance and feed us
With that which we need most
And so I task him… or task her
With the responsibility of ensuring that Kenya as a country and as a people
Work tirelessly toward a better tomorrow and prosper
And let these hate campaigners find themselves behind bars
So they can get our message loud and clear
And I will celebrate in my own way, maybe step into a nice bar…
And buy myself a beer
But for now I will keep praying for peace and still shed that tear
And ask my fellow countrymen to join me in prayer
As we wait for next year.
Sep 26, 2012
Sep 26, 2012 at 2:39 AM UTC
Surreptitious incitement,
Deliberate grazes,
Salacious gazes,
Languid depravity,
Lazily gnawing at my cravings.
Nudges of adoration,
Filling my concavities of falsehoods.
Seemingly small pensive moments,
Instigating momentous intrigue.
Cavernous aches where your heart should beat against mine.
Brushing against destitution,
While we wrestle involuntary solitude.
Day dreams leave me shamelessly wondering,
For you are abstract,
Asunder,
Yet even quixotically,
You leave me enamored.
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 5:59 AM UTC
What rage there is,
In youthful lovers.
The lustful want of incitement,
Excitement.
Passionate energy.
Unreserved and incorrigible resentment
For the men in suits,
Settle down.
Don’t settle down.
The pressure of ***
And the stench of expectation.
Bated breath as I reveal your weak
Underbelly.
Don’t speak, don’t apologise
As I count the freckles across your
Inner thighs.
I need to know I don’t need you.
Let me love you,
Let me.
Sep 12, 2012
Sep 12, 2012 at 10:47 AM UTC
Note: this isn't my work, but a work of one of the poet named Haron River ( currently go by H A Rivers) in this site who is currently MIA! Time to time I would scour poet's work, and allow them to teach me with their wisdom with their penmanship. This was a poem Haron River gave me as a memento, but all his work is golden, and should be shared! Hopefully new comers would check his work out! Without any further ado, here it is!
Untitled
Refreshed perspective gathered words
Like the ocean riptide gather
The rivers' flow at the confluence
Repurposing back-eddies,
Rejuvenation of stagnant brackish waters
Inherent soul-shine purging
From ancient core of earth mother
Light arising from the depth of inner stillness
As if a refilling wellspring burst forth,
Reawaking sighs too deep for words
Forming poetic constellation
To lighten the nebulous darkness,
Like sea of ink transformed into poetry
A sage opus renewed
By the muse of a migrating flock
Striving to discover new sacred grounds
Yet there is an undeniable song sung
In the howling wind of change
An incitement from a higher dialect
That empowers a restoration of the spirit
Oeuvre uplifted by rogue waves of wind
Arousing that which time erases
A renaissance manifest
Among the rousing nuances
Of poetic continuum,
Provoking a verve revival
Judicious to discovery
The enthralling vastitude
Of every breaking wave
In a vast sea of poesy
Where prevailing currents
Stir oceans of verse eternal;
Provoking verve revival,
The magnitude of an unbroken circle,
Oceans swells merging oneness
With the omnipresent of color
Of uncharted depth
As if thoughts assuage
By the Union of distant touching souls,
Spark nuances spanning poetic realms,
Transcending barriers of unexplored lexicon
To manifest the immensity,
Enkindling rhapsody of hearts and minds
Deeply rooted soul replenishment
Harvested from the tree of humankind,
Willingly sharing without regret
Enabling a metamorphosis
Of the human journey
Oct 31, 2015
Oct 31, 2015 at 9:20 PM UTC
they cannot contain nonconformity, they already have my soul locked up in a cellar, a speechless being with incitement and spark, removed
from the body: but as the transition approaches, so does my representation in society
I MATTER
I MATTER
I MATTER
a lifting of faith and aspiring traits, moving the crowds of martyrs amongst the claimed saints
opinionated with my provoked past, and ripped from my own voice, i regained a
spirit indescribable, far more powerful than anger: but instead, harmony and composure
I MATTER
I MATTER
(my voice counts, giving quirk and spark to the souls in awe)
YOU MATTER
YOU MATTER
black lives matter, as in the same sense
/all lives matter/
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 8:10 AM UTC
I hear it from the distance you forced between us
The crack of your dignity
Followed by silence
And the feeling of sinking regret
You force the words “I love you” out like bile
And when I leave them there
To be washed away by tomorrow's rain
You push my face into them like a dog you’re trying to train
You can not coerce my love out of me
Unrequited affection isn’t a hurdle
Or a suggestive yellow light to just blow through
Because you’re going too fast to stop yourself
Obsession is not something to romanticize
I am not moved by the extreme acts
Your perilous behavior is making it strenuous
To trust your negotiation of friendship
When I recoil away from your touch
And cower from your drunken pleas for adoration
I am petrified by the incitement you receive
As if my feelings are meaningless compared to your needs
I have tried to get the point across
But you shy away from the truth
You’re infatuation with the idea of me
Leaves you with the misconception that this can be real
Nov 19, 2020
Nov 19, 2020 at 1:05 PM UTC
Steam rolled down the hall
Invitation of an open door
Your sigh of incitement whispered
Kisses burnt between lovers
Hot water cascades down your back
Beads of desire
Washing off my fingerprints from the night before
Your aroma danced in the dust of a new day
Hot coffee caressed your lips
Detached from the now
Sunlight glistened in your eyes
That spark of moonlight lingered
The silence of dawn filled the air
The evolution of an afterthought
Cautiously optimistic
I wrapped myself in the flames of never
Divulging in a feeling
You left scars on my thighs
I enjoy the burn
Secrets stream from the walls
Like decades of nicotine
The stains remain upon my soul
A meant to be lover
I keep a lighter in the drawer
A night like this
Apr 5, 2017
Apr 5, 2017 at 6:22 PM UTC
Your voice on the phone
is a provocation
Your appearance in the doorway later
is an incitement
It's not your fault
You merely exist
But it's too much for me to handle
So I ***** a wall
and even that is a provocation and an incitement
for I can't escape the knowledge of who's on the other side
with all my concentration
I redirect my thoughts away from this evil inclination
to ****** a secret peek that can't be secret
and I recoil in my guilt
asking forgiveness
from whom?
Sep 7, 2016
Sep 7, 2016 at 6:20 PM UTC
gasping for air
deep in the nitrite-laden murk
grasping at what lurks
in the reeds
needing the darkness lightened
the haze brightened and
offering clarity and
the rarity of an honest phrase
the razing of a debt that weighs
that brays its neighing and nagging reminder
a tick-tock doll wanting you to wind her
a quick chalk scrawl of admonition
desperate incitement and sedition
left breathless by your rescission
by your willing dispair
I'm left
gasping for air
Mar 19, 2012
Mar 19, 2012 at 8:57 PM UTC
It is a sad, sad story
for the successes of the past do not fare to serve us in the present
the logic of the bully is a nationalist sigh of relief
and the arc of our world is divided by invisible lines that cross borders
but across which only poverty **** recorded and scored, shall pass
when the successful liar is preferred to the lonely sage
are we not prepared to accept that which we serve
are we not prepared to eat from the plate we have earned
to sup on anarchistic attitudes, imbibe narcoleptic morality
then purge our selective brutality on the servers
for we have earned this, that which fell into our laps
a modern life made tolerable by the indictments of demagogues
for freedom’s a blight in the nightmares of demagogues
shopkeepers made frightful by the incitement of demagogues
we don’t need rights when we’ve the rightness of demagogues
we know they are liars, but are they successful liars?
we know they start fires so they can be better seen
presiding over the funereal pyre of our former freedom
some bishop of hate and self-interest raised up by our fear
to a pulpit of nations drawn low by wage slavery
to a podium impatient for their arrogant knavery
to a rostrum of hatred unsated by gross economic products
to a minbar frustrated by allegations and false prophets
It is a sad, sad story
for our past failures, our careless disregard will not serve us in the present
the logic of the bully is the demagogues rise to belief
we are weakest only when we are weak
and no backs will lift this burden but our own
A sad story indeed
Jul 5, 2016
Jul 5, 2016 at 9:18 PM UTC
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Oct 21, 2015
Oct 21, 2015 at 10:38 PM UTC
I’m a short circuit
My ends just don’t quite meet
My pencil is my carrier
My eraser its competition
To have weight in my words
Or to have worry in aesthetic
I’m a short circuit
My ends just don’t quite meet
Absorbed by my abstraction
I’m left puzzled by empty thoughts
My intent; not yet refined
Incitement is getting lost
Wholeness in completion
Would be rather great
Yet I still fall short
Every step closer that I take
Unsettling impediment
Stops me dead in my tracks
I’m a short circuit
My ends just don’t quite meet
Jun 6, 2019
Jun 6, 2019 at 12:31 AM UTC
You leave me cold—and so forlorn;
thou weary jaded face of ****
Does any of your turgid action
hold a trace of true attraction—
more than the membranes, moans and glands
that move your products’ many brands?
Your upper face looks haggard, used
your orifices gape, unmused
in lurid and contrived excitement
offering at best, incitement
to a spurt of blasé bliss:
a risk-free game of Hit on Miss.
Fleshtones moan: transparent fakes
where tremors masquerade as quakes.
For such hard work you’re unimpressed;
your weary looks leave one depressed—
to seek, instead, an amateur;
the accolades belong to her
whose modest shoot on humble bed
ensures her book of love gets read;
much better than that HD trash
where made-up squeals meet ***** cash.
Recalling now the titillation
of my youthful sex-fixation
wherein falsities were prized,
airbrushed half-truths, oversized:
thrills to nevermore regain
nor recreate, much less attain . . .
yet, seen beside today’s hot mess
it’s more alluring to undress
the past, by varying degrees
(her imperfections sure to please).
Perennial curiosity
spreads carnal luminosity
upon the mysteries of the flesh
to tease our hungers; and refresh
our longing for the great Unknown;
flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone.
Those naughty childhood memories
transmute the lustful ecstasies;
each glance, each timeless thrilling tease,
was stronger then—compared to this
whose pull is harder to dismiss.
It fades more quickly once it’s past—
but Venus’ vintage treasures last
until the suns of lust grow cold
and all of desire’s daughters old.
Apr 15, 2018
Apr 15, 2018 at 9:43 AM UTC
#
You're trying to see
what it is she makes of thee
Flesh always burning
Bones always shaking
Head's always turning
to see many eyes waking
This bee hive heart is beating
dripping with golden excitement
watch wings stripping, flight of perceiving
she's reckless with incitement
Brain's buzzing
from all the lusting
What have you done
Lord of crimson?
Where do you want her to put all these dreams?
She's near, her slender feet walk on
Her newly sharpened tongue knows of no fears
Neither young nor old
either shy or bold
of this golden crowned goddess you shall behold
in your dreams she eats you whole,
that's what's been told
#
Sep 5, 2018
Sep 5, 2018 at 9:14 AM UTC
I like this day.
The 17th day, of the 4th month of the year.
I am thinking of you still.
I have been drunk the majority of today,
And that is more or so the truth.
But more the less, I am perfectly okay.
The flight attendant, she noticed my youth,
But she paid for my drink anyway…
I am the only “young one” in this booth.
The middle, it strays emptily.
But I am coming home today…
And I can only hope that I see you soon.
For it is you, who makes me swoon.
If only I could see you…tonight, or any day as soon.
You do not respond, to my dismay.
Here I am, upon the plane.
It is you who makes me sane.
For I’d rather write of you,
Than wait for you to…
Respond to my text of so excitement.
For it is only you who creates incitement.
I stole the crackers and the peanuts from him beside me
He hasn’t awoken, however, I wonder if he would blame me.
Asleep, asleep, sweet dreams does he keep.
And then there’s me, who won’t dare fall asleep.
For I will,
Keep writing poems…
Until I desperately reek of raw &
True emotions.
Until I know that you are mine to keep,
However, until then, your love will continue to move oceans.
From me to yours,
What more could I ask?
This is far more than a love fueled by mere task
Of me and yours and our love combined too…bliss is bliss
And I love you,
I do.
By: Evynne Doue
Apr 17, 2016
Apr 17, 2016 at 5:47 PM UTC
All encompassing
Breathless incitement
Slip way redeeming
A launch, chains released
Wings spread wide
Head bowed
Beak agape
A tsunamic vibe
Brow toasty warm
Heart in a race
Voice reeds craving higher notes
Orbit achieved
Dec 7, 2022
Dec 7, 2022 at 7:29 PM UTC
A red, hot mist; a lit match
To a puddle of gasoline.
Anger is a beast, frothing at its mouth
Hungry, hateful and lean.
It is in the husband who beats his wife,
physically, and verbally;
It is in the vitriol we spew
At each other detrimentally.
It is in the xenophobe,
Who cherishes resemblances
And apprehends differences.
It is in the people,
Who segregate into a familiar tribe
Unaware of who tortures us all
Unwilling to unsubscribe
From the delusion -
'I am right, and you are wrong'.
Ire smolders beneath the surface
Until the surface is no more
And all that is left
Is a charred, blackened sore.
It is as corrosive as a vat of acid,
It will burn you to the core;
It will destroy all that is inside you,
And nothing will be left to restore.
Infuriation is a many-headed dragon;
Devalued, unjustly accused,
Hungry, hated or powerless,
Ashamed, anxious or defenceless.
Demeaned, disgruntled, upset;
These are all emotions
That lead to ire and regret.
Yet, it is also self-preservation;
In an unjust world,
It is the burden of a whole nation.
It is the sense than informs you
When you are being cheated;
Like the sensation of burning
Upon touching an object that's heated.
Yet, unknowing and uninformed
We are always at each other's throats;
The establishment is elated,
In the embers of society, it gloats.
For, in this insane, deluded world
Happiness is a rare consignment,
A moment amidst the chaos,
Not a constant incitement.
We must look beyond our petty squabbles
And realise there is more to deal with
Than each other's issues and troubles.
Anger is as addictive as ******
And just like it, it feeds on vulnerability.
Should we unite against our common enemy
It would mean invincibility.
We should not target each other;
Instead we should aim at those
Who have brought us here.
Those who steal, lie and control;
If they cannot, they will cajole.
It is those who have turned life
Into a rat race which nobody will win.
Divided we are controlled,
Unaware of the power within.
Yet, you ask, what if we were united?
Imagine, a whole world's anger
Aimed at the right mark;
That is what I propose,
Before it is too dark
And humanity swallows itself whole.
_________________________________
Jul 28, 2017
Jul 28, 2017 at 12:35 PM UTC
~For, Inspired by,
Alyssa Holmes Underwood~
when your scalp is getting pretty thin,
and there’s not much room for a
feather in your cap,
along comes a message,
that a simple poem inspired one of our
number
to commence writing
and I am thunder-dumb-struck
by the piquet power of our
piquant words,
gaming each other to
reach for the pen
knowing only the When is Now,
no What or Why,
nor Wherefore relevant,
just just just
urgent to compose
which comports
with that rapid higher heart rate,
confirming a burn of needy
incitement
and laugh hard @myself,
for nearly daily one of your writs,
provocative messages, pithy insights
to me, does exact that,
but that I could possess
that “influence”
never ever occurred to me
and I thank this human for
forging a great complementary,
this, is no spelling error unintended,
compliments be sweet,
but to be lucky enough to pass along
the incredible incredulous creation sensation
the sparkling sparking of
another’s human cells
is simply
The Greatest Complementary
two rightly angles pairing,
connecting by a tangential hypotenuse
and go to the rest of a sleep deep
with gratitude
for having lived this day*
Nov 21, 2024
Nov 21, 2024 at 8:30 AM UTC
Lemmings.
Scripted.
Vistas.
Endless.
Endless
directions,
paths.
Infinite.
Pliable
minds.
Easily
formed,
shaped,
led.
Manipulated.
Nefarious,
unseen forces
shaping
direction.
Coercing
pathways.
Sculpting
narratives.
Forcing
compliance
through
deception.
Incitement.
Brain washed.
Blinding
common
sense.
Easily led,
the fools.
Minds
filled with
lies.
Heading
for a
cliff.
Less they
get their
heads
out of the
clouds.
Nov 20, 2021
Nov 20, 2021 at 8:11 PM UTC
Everything has its time
the princes and the tyrants
the noble and the rich elite
the rights of liberty
equality and brotherhood
the incitement of the people
and again the king
our hero, our champion
I just have to
to make the best of it
My life is too short
for active resistance
for a more ideal later
which can only reach
its time after years
of quiet growth
Until then we just have to
be patient and
be satisfied
with each other's fears
vices, ugly
and nice words
out of impotence
to take care of each other
Feb 9, 2022
Feb 9, 2022 at 2:23 AM UTC
A lot of us are depressed
And feel unfulfilled simply because
We’ve forgotten how to play
How to jump for joy
We’ve walked too far away
From the child within,
We have forgotten the sense of incitement
The wonder that magnifies the smallest
Of things into mountains of joy
We've forgotten how it feels to be Excited about something or
Perhaps about nothing at all
We have forgotten how it feels
To be curious like the moon
To use our imagination to create
Whatever makes you feel good
Even for a moment in time
Take yourself on a vacation , relax
Kiss the sand with your feet
As the waves tickle your toes
And blown away your woes
By simply close both your eyes
And get lost on purpose
For just a little while.
May 30, 2023
May 30, 2023 at 2:42 PM UTC