"insurgence" poems
Inside of my body
Amidst death and poison
a virus lurks
in every
puddle,
pumping
blood that flushes
my tired heart
like
the river
Styx
Amidst this
battlezone
that is my
failing being
lies
a secret, sleeping
The cells swim by
They are
rarer
now like precious gems
the factories of my
fighting body
produced like
diamonds
born amidst feverish
forges within
a toxic mine
The gems,
they call them T-cells,
are now suicide bombers
converted daily
by the
whisper of
necromancy
They call
this
hex ***
a war against
your own
treasures
Yet my T-cells
are more,
runes blazing
mystic and
glowing,
antigen sorcery
that wards against
failing
Amidst
the 300,000 +sleeper
cells
that abandoned
my cause
Insurgence
bulges with
nightmare
The cells
clamour
growing with the whispers
of past victims
now roped into the
mystic chains, the wizards
call it RNA,
that bind us
An ironic family
of ghosts
who live
in each other
"junk DNA"
My body
is no junk;
instead a treasure
- what do they say
one man's trash?
My body
an
amalgamation
30 years
magic growing
twisted
like thorny vines
that must consume
their
helpless host
My
T-cells
inception
Worlds within me
the "JUNK"
of
lovers past
becomes entangled
in archives
carved in my bones.
Amidst recipes
of a poison
I cannot trace,
I am
ironically
linked
into
a
family of
ancestors
whose cries
beat in
my still
working heart
The drum
of the long fallen
crying for justice
...My blood
Our blood.
chains enmeshing
....ghosts I
will never know
Now parts of me
that lie sleeping in
Trojan horses,
all my own.
Jul 8, 2014
Jul 8, 2014 at 6:16 AM UTC
my imagination scalds
with violating stains
of contemptuous familiarity
agonised shrieks
confront my mouth
with an unremitting combustibility
while a frustration like a volatile tornado
engulfs me with an hallucinated savagery
detonating unrelenting explosions
within my consciousness of perception
causing a hurricane of momentum
bringing such oddities to my mind
as such precludes their proper elucidation
yet a tempestuously implosive inner cosmos
is located a volcanic insurgence
the accelerative storm on which
the poem like Valkyries rides
Jun 9, 2013
Jun 9, 2013 at 8:47 PM UTC
I know your wishing to do the things you once were itching.
Some words of wisdom would help you body stop the itching.
This chair of lies declines, your track of life.
Overflows the light, and withstanding might.
Stepping stones they broke into small sheets of ice.
Drenched and cold the frost bite will take your life.
Magic making the fancy wound is the tool for taking.
Your head is flaking mistakes that you had started making.
(You cry)
Princess princess please don't take away my wound.
You stupid full ill drowned you in a 6 foot pound.
And I'll count the bubbles as they begin to surface.
With my endurance Insurgence they won't need insurance.
So take a minute to sit down and grab some courage.
Your gonna need it the fenex is coming out of storage.
To burn to ash the cowards and all the Allen Howard's
Copenhagen I ran again in a grizzly pouch.
It was plenty so many who was the one keeping count.
Distinguished persons your yuppies just using daddy's checks
Your dicusting just buying things with no intent.
Plant water a Yankee Candle is a perfect date
Perfect smile pretty eyes is a perfect trait.. Wait
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 1:04 PM UTC
I would bring you lunch just to watch you walk
across the field; you reminded me, then,
of a young Fidel Castro. I had just
read his prison letters, and was feeling like
maybe we didn't set enough things on fire.
At night, we played games; I would call you
Comandante and undress you, trying
not to smile when I spoke of the uprising,
but I always did. Some nights, my mouth on
your skin and all of those fires not lit
and all of those things left standing
made the world seem too big and my torch seem
too small; I could never be brave enough.
On those nights, you kept my heart in my chest
with your grenade-throwing arm, tenderly.
Sep 15, 2011
Sep 15, 2011 at 11:05 PM UTC
Hand on the good book that I never read,
I swear my loyalty though I’ve been known to fib,
Holding the prosecutor’s hand with another on the switch,
Waiting for the green light to fry you for what we did,
So sorry it couldn’t have been different,
But the chair only seats one,
I apologize for the inconvenience
But I chose an existence,
While they strap you in for a crime I committed
I swear to tell the truth,
Or at least what I feel is best
I am the pen and scribe,
The governor seeking your obedience
I’m Uncle Sam’s mistress,
With the thought process of social unrest,
When the enemy was a homegrown threat,
I was with the Protestant,
Swore to tell the truth,
I've been known to fib,
I’m the ******* of Lady Liberty,
The child of Benjamin
The judge, jury, and judicial jezebel,
I’m the means to an end,
The King, the colonial, the insurgence,
I’ve once facilitated your independence,
I am your lust for freedom
Since the struggle against a parliament
I’ve been dealing you an idealistic hand,
Since the election of the forty-third,
I am the notion that this is the promise land
The thought process of the patriots
Feb 27, 2012
Feb 27, 2012 at 12:08 PM UTC
Constantly averting controversy,
Hurting from unnerving problems.
Not the worst thing I've unearthed inside,
The birth of mind-disturbing strife attacks my life, so I
Turn the knife and end the plight, cause
That's the kind of fright that strikes the right delight I see in sight.
In darkest night, sin harkens.
Vibrant demons mark their silent dealings with violence.
Screaming stops my lungs, no breathing,
Retreating feelings try to stop the gun from ringing,
But the voice inside my head that's pleading
Remains important and so appeasing.
Like a fiend I resort to that deemed purport,
A pristine contortion of me and distortion,
A means for war, hence demons worsen.
Cursed, I've seen adverse **********
Burned, at least the urn was worth it.
Dreams are but a sea of urges,
Waves of hurt; a ****** circus.
Earth was keen to be so perfect,
But dirt, it seems, reversed its purpose,
Purged of peace by scheming serpents.
Words convene to verse excursions
Terse, obscene, and birth diversion.
Learn to breathe when yearn disperses,
Purely seek to preserve incursion.
When earnest deeds immerse subservience,
Evil creeds are sure to surface,
But thoughts serene will soothe the burdens.
Heaps of greed control these words,
Though, predisposed in certain versions.
Weeds they grow in fields of ferns, and,
No one seems to know the urgence.
Flowing streams bring treacherous currents,
Twists and turns that reap insurgence.
Since discernment keeps deterrents,
Court the beast with immense observance,
Or disease will curse life's brief occurrence.
Treat the deepest ravine of courage
With leniency so peace emerges.
Dreams are but a grieving circus,
That creep beneath your bleeding surface,
Seizing leagues of zealous verbiage,
Leaving hurt to skirt loves purpose, return concernment;
Submerge the cures for feeling worthless.
Mar 31, 2019
Mar 31, 2019 at 2:28 PM UTC
the resurrection of the roman empire happened a long time,
it probably happened when the latinißed
(in english the german eszett works miracles in terms
of how the s and z mingle in certain words, interchanging
in certain words, where even an s is involved in spelling a word,
it’s not necessarily pronunciated, e.g. empiricism is written thus
but necessarily it could be empiricißm) started using
revised arabic digits, given the near synonymous simplicity
of both systems of notation - the near skeletal orientation
of the eye sockets proved that the characters of the language
had to involve a complication - the insurgence of the diacritical
marks on certain letters is keenly metaphorical as the descent
of the resurrected rome, via the heart thumping in the vatican,
the caesars becoming popes and hypocrites deliberating on
what’s supposed to be hidden and what’s to be revealed -
while cyrillic became neo-greek, after all:
Γ (gamma / ge) ι (iota / dotted ι)
ε (epsilon / ze) κ (kappa / ka)
Η (eta / en) o (omicron / o)
π (pi / pe) τ (tau / te)
υ (upsilon / u) φ (phi / ef)
ρ (rho / er) χ (chi / kha)
~ψ (psi) i.e. ш (sha);
and because the greeks developed actual names for letters,
it was only rational to employ these letters as scientific
constants ranging with popular demand in physics and chemistry.
Dec 6, 2015
Dec 6, 2015 at 3:22 PM UTC
Leathery vermins,
All over the place,
Smelly rotens,
Invading my bachelor space.
Jan 16, 2015
Jan 16, 2015 at 4:01 PM UTC
half asleep i carefully place
lemon slices on top of all the walls and sprinkle
tea tree oil around the door
i read it wards off
sadness
or cockroaches
my roommate complains of a familiar smell
and we discuss the insurgence of nostalgia
against the monarchy of the endless march of time
the way the what could have been gilts
the grass we walk through with guilt
towards happiness
i’m singing “off with the heads
of the things i can’t forget”
tiny feet in the passage whisper
“no one has crossed a meadow
& emerged with clean feet”
i remember cursing dew as a child
for dirtying my shoes as i walked to the car
and slowing me at the start
of races i was never going to win
out in the corridor i encounter the king who
doesn’t move as i raise my foot
only laughs and says
“a cockroach can survive a week
without its head
and a memory much longer”
Mar 20, 2020
Mar 20, 2020 at 7:10 AM UTC
I am the bleeding lungs of a scream sustained
for far too long
I am the white knuckles of inconsiderate rage
gripping to strong
I am the splitting ripple echo of a migraine
too big to contain
I am the pummeling assault of spewed words
seething disdain
I am the clenching compressing tension of teeth
ground to dust
I am the derailed rabid raging lunatic
about to combust
I am the catastrophe of inferred innuendos
nothing to lose
I am oppression's obsession convulsing chartreuse
color of lifes bruise
I am the cantankerous susurration
of your sneering disgust
I am the brazen defiance of inferiority
influence unjust
I am the uprising insurgence of misery
you crudely bestow
I am the phantasm succubus of your abyss
I will overthrow
I am
more than my gender
more than my station
I am
here to render
your future frustration
Oct 15, 2017
Oct 15, 2017 at 6:34 PM UTC
Constantly changing
Like constellations
Through
Seasons
We see son’s
Of our fathers
In the stellar
Configurations
Scientifically
Debating
The reality
Of make-believe
As humans
We strive
To find purpose
I propose
The deposition
Of myths
Are dispositions
In need of disposing
This poses
The belief
That science is all we need
I suppose
Rather
Postulate
Our posture
has change from
Hunchback
To upright
Because
We’re in the right
Direction
Abstract
Ideas
Such as love
Take a back seat
To concrete evidence
Of necessity
Your conception
Of love
Was simply a misconnection
In the synapses
Of your brain
You truly
See me
As a proper mate
For continuation
Of our primates
******
Isn’t conceived
As such
With our fellow
Beings in life
Our nonsense
Perception
In meeting
After death
Is laughed at
In the kingdom
Of animals
If evil
Is ever
The right decision
I guess
Injustice
Can be found
In justice
If righteous
Is ever
The solution
To abuse then
I guess
In retrospect
I can respect
Retribution
Evolving
Into the final human
Is a slow changing
Progress
Mutating
To survive
In the environment
That becomes
Harsh
With our further
Proofs
In the lack of use
For love
The marsh brings
Reptilian
Tendencies
Spewing venom
With split tongues
Awaiting
Full separation
Usurping serpents
Urging the up-rise
Of our final
Being
In love’s insurgence
Hisses
Drown the
Sounds of kisses
And signals
The sign...
We finally evolved.
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 5:23 PM UTC
They stand on every street corner now
with their truncheons out
slapping them with black gloved hands
this what it means to live in Pig City
The curfew is 6 pm
and you better be in by then
they have made us downtrodden and desperate
that's when the word insurgence becomes a threat
So we train orphan's of this horrid war
to do something to even the score
we give them guns and hand granades
for we must fight in every sick and twisted way
So every day a child of war pulls a pin
and kills as many of them as they can
for we live here, this vision of hell ... Pig City
believe you me, all here is ****** and not pretty
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
By NeonSolaris
© 2013 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)
Sep 28, 2013
Sep 28, 2013 at 6:44 AM UTC
candied greetings
topped with syrupy
smiles
sugar coated hugs
coated with the sweetness
of memories long
forgotten
long lost aunts
tossed into the mix
of relatives
eagerly awaiting
acceptance
the holidays...
a forceful insurgence
of family
that normally
would be
ignored
Dec 31, 2017
Dec 31, 2017 at 11:20 PM UTC
(This poem can be sung to the melody of "Go Go Go, Joseph" from JOSEPH AND HIS AMAZING TECHNICOLOR DREAMCOAT by Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice.)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Tze325xsYd4
(Narrator)
Nancy P. was looking to
Investigate what happened here
Back on a fateful winter day--
On January 6 this year.
(The People)
Hey, Nancy, you're doing what you must.
We want a probe that is robust.
Good going, Nancy, do not shy away.
Get to the cause of what happened that day.
Please don't stop, Nancy. You should find out
What the insurgence was really about.
(Narrator)
A group that was bipartisan
Was Nancy's goal--was Nancy's plan.
But she found resistance from
Kevin M.--the hatchet man.
(The People)
Hey, Nancy, he wants to derail
Everything, for he wants you to fail.
So she received from McCarthy some names.
He was intent on still playing his games.
One was Jim Jordan, the worst of the lot;
Another Jim Banks, to spoil the ***
(Nancy P.)
Sorry, guys, but you have proved
That you're not worthy of this task.
I want people willing to
Be serious. That's all I ask.
(Narrator)
First, Jim Jordan hoped that he could prove
That Nancy here had made an unfair move.
(Jim Jordan)
Investigations like this are a sham.
If you don't want me, I don't give a ****
If you ask me, I have known all along
That having this probe is both outrageous and wrong.
(Nancy P.)
Sorry that you feel that way,
So go back to what you were doing.
But studying attacks on our
Democracy is worth pursuing.
(Narrator)
Then Jim Banks stood up to speak his mind.
He and Jordan had been closely aligned.
(Jim Banks)
You have made this a partisan mess.
You're doing nothing but causing distress.
Forget all the riots; why can't we move on?
For me it is all just one giant yawn.
(Nancy P.)
How bizarre that you both live
In alternate realities.
Too bad that the two of you
Can't see the forest for the trees.
You are dangerous; it's clear to see.
I think that most people would agree.
(The People)
Don't worry, Nancy, you've done what is right.
Stick to your guns and don't give up the fight.
What those two men have done is quite clear:
Each one of them has his head up his rear.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah…
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah…
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah,
Yeah, yeah, yeah, Nancy, you've done what is right.
Stick to your guns and don't give up the fight.
What those two men have done is quite clear:
Each one of them has his head up his rear.
His head up his rear…
His head up his rear…
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah!
-by Bob B (7-25-21)
Jul 26, 2021
Jul 26, 2021 at 8:43 AM UTC
Now I can breath in the valley air,
Sans the fear and despair,
Though I have never been to
the scrumptious valley fair.
Stories of the turmoils,
Bloodshed and the toils,
Now I can see the sun
rising from horizon of scare.
Lofty and lushly I hear,
Chinar trees sear,
Blood red, mauve, yellow leaves,
allegorical, the bruise heal.
Insurgence has met its expiration,
Reverent, stands the nation,
And now after the tremulous affair
Let's breath in the valley air.
Bostful, the national pride,
Paradoxical waft shall end,
And as a nation, we stand,
To breath in the valley air.
Aug 30, 2019
Aug 30, 2019 at 11:49 AM UTC
There is Red Tears in the North
Flesh have been eaten like betal nut
This most be a cold war
A beginning of the prophesy end of the world.
Brothers against brothers
Breeding terror round their borders
Souls roasting like fire woods
Guns and bombs in action like hollywood.
For a judge, case without a defined course
Is far heavier than the messiah cross
No wonder her leaders now seems so daft
To conquer life for her masses
From this conscious-less artist of a dreadful craft
Burning dreams to ashes with no mercy.
Is there any justification for a war against innocence?
killing human like flies, murdering hopes with ease, what truly is the essence?
Some say it's political, others say it's religious
In either way this faceless people are really ill serious.
What will become of those they have made homeless
What about the ambitions and dreams of the crucified children
What will become of their mourning parents.
God, how long will thou wait before you pass your judgement?
In all this ungodly act, do you find any contentment?
Or is it your prophesied end you are watching to fulfilment?
God, the north is on fire, she needs your peaceful involvement.
There is bloodish tears in the north
The west help to advert for these dead souls crying for vengeance
See dark smoke in the tears from the north
I am crying to the world powers to interrupt this over welcomed insurgence
Which have made us scared of our own home
And hope against hope.
Mar 5, 2014
Mar 5, 2014 at 4:59 PM UTC
A young and beautiful, but wretched soul,
Dreamt in an enchanted world of her own,
With enraptured stallions and unicorns,
Far away from the brutal world so widely known,
But little did she know, the doom of her fantasy land is close.
Long was the string of her heartfelt desires,
She wanted to gaze at the infinite stars,
And eagerly waited to whoosh to Mars,
Away from negativities and deep scars,
But little did she know, she'd always be on the radar.
Incessant lookouts for an escape,
Made her wearied, sick and frail,
It was then that the realisation kicked her brain,
For what is she suffering so much pain?
For a world that is best at growing only wolf's bane?
After a month of Sundays, time finally chipped in,
When she could take the world out for a spin,
To vanquish the conventionality like a fiery levin,
Now was the time to declare that she won't take it on the chin,
And little did the world know of its approaching ruin.
Prepared to confront the imposed tyranny one-on-one,
She took it by surprise like a curve ball,
Then the insurgence began bold and tall,
"Why are women objectified as puppet dolls?
Why do taboos exist only for womenfolk?"
Appalled by her fearless defiance,
The world warned her against such resistance,
And swore to banish her existence,
The girl merely snorted and said "to hell with your dominance",
And little did the world know, it'd be soon thrown into a vortex.
Shining from within like a blaze of sunlight,
Powered up by vexation from her plight,
She broke the ancient shields of the dark skies,
And swallowed the ossified world with plumes of her divine light,
Yet little did she know, she has pioneered a new set of star lights.
©Sri.Mun
Mar 24, 2019
Mar 24, 2019 at 4:05 AM UTC
Excursions to oblivion
Take these eyes
Shut down this skin
Stop this blood from running cold
Stop this heart from boiling thin
Insurgence of Oblivion
No territory
lost or won
No race against a dying sun
No place to hide when all is gone
Cadence of oblivion
A silence lost
A silence found
The chance to take time and again
Enigma of creations sound
Inversion of oblivion
A trail cut out
A passage in
These seasons of oblivion
Finality in motions spin
Jul 4, 2018
Jul 4, 2018 at 4:58 PM UTC