"liberators" poems
Raise your hand if
your confidence is reaching its limit
Well let me tell you,
don't dare believe it for a minute
A poet stands at the center
of circles of illusions
Sparked by the fire within
and burnin' institutions
They write about the current state
as far as they can see it,
as well as personal doubts
claimin' that they can feel it
Don't hand your savings over,
'cause now you pay it forward,
but life won't pay you back,
So what you say to that?
*"I say we're bein' controlled
by such an evil system;
a metal contract was forced
on lost and bleedin' victims."
"I don't agree with you, man.
We're where we need to be.
With very little control,
we risk to eat for free!"
We risk to eat for free?
"Food's a commodity!
And with overpopulation,
I say this honestly!"
"Don't mean to interrupt;
your notion of depravity
appears dumbfounded and
far from grounded by gravity."
"I say this world belongs
to kings and innovators;
hope of the people is thrown
to the incinerator."
"We're seeking liberators
mightier than the sword.
We work to buy them a pen -
weapons we can afford."
"And when their eyes are wide open
I think that writers see
the world not for what it is,
rather what it could be."
"Yeah! They're talkin' for us metaphorically,
imaginin' utopias for you and me,
questions answered rhetorically."*
The world is yours
and no one else's,
so live to give it more time
through love and being selfless.
May 30, 2016
May 30, 2016 at 2:08 PM UTC
O the mustangs stung like mosquitoes,
fast as lightning & thunderbolts,
liberators & fortresses,
hurricanes & tornadoes,
hell cats & bears,
invaders & dragons,
good grief Lord,
those mighty Gordons!
O wily foxes & quick lancers,
avengers & vindicators,
swordfish, barracuda,
some tuna, albacore.
Gladiators in the gauntlet,
zig-zagging & spitting fire,
spewing molten hot-lead,
bright-tracers in the night,
forever fighting
with their all their might,
bombing their daylights out
and into submission,
la morte, stone dead.
O they sank the Rising Sun,
'cause they had that *****
battling against all wrong
& protecting only
what was right!
Dec 24, 2013
Dec 24, 2013 at 8:50 AM UTC
161 to 180 of 3251 Poets
«78910»Viewsshow detailshide detailsSort by
Margaret Kaufman
Photo, Brownie Troop, St. Louis, 1949
Deborah Warren
Marginalia
Regan Huff
Occurrence on Washburn Avenue
Anne Marie Macari
From the Plane
Gerald Fleming
There are no poems by this poet on our website.
Sebastian Matthews
Barbershop Quartet, East Village Grille
Charles Harper Webb
The Animals are Leaving
Zozan Hawez
Self-Portrait
Jose Angel Araguz
Gloves
Russell Libby (1956–2012)
Applied Geometry
Robert Haight
How Is It That the Snow
Early October Snow
Dan Lechay
Ghost Villanelle
James P. Lenfestey
Daughter
Robert Hedin (b. 1949)
The Old Liberators
My Mother's Hats
John Maloney
After Work
Kaelum Poulson
The Crow
Stuart Kestenbaum
Prayer for the Dead
Emmett Tenorio Melendez
My name came from . . .
Gary Dop
Father, Child, Water
On Swearing
Berwyn Moore
Driving to Camp Lend-A-Hand
«78910»
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 9:01 PM UTC
Palestinian Liberty
I hear your cries, I harken to your call,
Beautiful children, loving mothers I see you all,
Weeping orphans, bereaved parents I share your tears,
The bombs fall, panic, chaos I feel your fears.
Stay strong children of Palestine,
Stay strong oh family of mine,
For the day shall surely come,
When we will rise up as one.
Mutilated corpses, Rivers of blood,
Severed limbs lay on your sanctified mud,
Upon which prophets and martyrs stood,
Pillars of faith, your forebears, upholding all that is good.
You gave refuge to your captives in their hour of need,
You roots of usurpation, you planted that seed,
Graciously breaking bread with the holocaust survivors,
It is you who carry the standard of the emancipators,
Now it is you who call out for the liberators.
Will we laugh or cry at the irony,
That only the men of Palestine carry the bravery,
That only the women of Palestine bear the humanity,
That only the children of Palestine possess the capacity,
To sacrifice, to provide liberty.
Aug 6, 2016
Aug 6, 2016 at 5:19 AM UTC
**Maybe this is our opportunity to finally see change
we've endured a system archaic and strange
we've watched the world revolve quicker than us
because we are stranded while the rest shift on the wheels of revolution
maybe this is the time you made that resolution
to constantly remind your brother and sister
Father and mother that that position needs a new sitter
maybe this is the time to say enough is enough
however much it instills in you fear, however tough
maybe it's the time we finally say to hell with the past
because like they say to stone nothing is cast**
*and the only thing that doesn't change is change itself
otherwise for how long will one old man exploit our insecurities?
For how long are they going to tell us that change is unsafe
A different time a different king even the monarchs say
what are we saying in our deafening silence today?
maybe this is the time to tell even the most ignorant by the country mile
that only and only a different king will dry their tears and give them a smile
we've been told he's the only man with foresight
come on,how are we to judge the rest without chances
for so long change has been a distant vibration along the threads of time
and opposition to conservatism a crime
maybe it's time for that to change too
and guess who can do that, only me and you*
**maybe it's time to flip the page for this great country to start another chapter
And it doesn't have to be all smooth a flow to happily ever after
Let other dancers step to the podium
and only then can we judge their dances
maybe it's time to another hunter we handed the arrow and bow
maybe now is the time for a different color on the rainbow
It cannot forever be a constant yellow
for even God saw however beautiful they look
the skies shouldn't always bear a sparkling mellow
sometimes the sky is cloudy, orange and most times blue
maybe it's time like I clearly think from my own view
for as a generation we are being denied the opportunity of comparative history**
*what will we tell our children happened to democracy
where did we throw, they'll ask all the resilience and efficacy?
maybe it's time to get back our country from the liberators
who use the same cuffs of the past regimes to manacle this country
and have since grown tall and firmer than palm tree
we have watched them wallow and buzz for so long
but for an idea whose time has come nothing is that strong*
**maybe it's time to save the embezzled donations and every single grant
a time to say confidently "to Hell with the tyrant"
maybe it's a time to be the change we want, the answer to all of our questions
and shove those that think we can't
maybe it's time to go past the roughing waves of conservatism as they whirl
maybe it's time to save our lovely nation
for at the moment, in very wrong hands lies the Pearl.**
Jan 29, 2016
Jan 29, 2016 at 3:20 AM UTC
I stand alone lost in a night sky
without even a silent wind
to decant a silent world,
all I can hear are the whispered
dreams of the fallen,
not liberators,
just more trepidation,
Where are the Horizons?
its light
Where are the proud
, the leaders who never ceased
to claim its glorious rays?
the real stars
as I weep for what is lost
a scarlet tired world begs for them
Apr 16, 2013
Apr 16, 2013 at 9:14 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
It wasn’t made up no it was real
Can’t you see ‘em can’t you feel
The ghosts of those whose last meal
Was fed at Auschwitz no appeal
Death by labor or by disease
Or the gassed air that they breathed
While the whole world was deceived
By what they could not believe
I hear the echoes of the dead
From Auschwitz where people fed
Gas ovens whose secrets are said
To dot the path of human dread
The air was musty the train car cramped
That took ‘em to the concentration camp
Before the process was revamped
They were crudely housed tattooed or stamped
And they were sent there both night and day
One million plus from what they say
Human lives wete thrown away
While we all looked the other way
God made us all in any case
There’s no such thing as a master race
That kind of thinking is out of place
And must be discouraged when it’s in our face
I hear the echoes of the dead
From Auschwitz where people fed
Gas ovens whose secrets are said
To dot the path of human dread
Their liberators could not believe
The level of the suffering that they relieved
To them it was diabolically conceived
By a people who were evil or naïve
How could a human being do to another
The kinds of things that they discovered
Then think that it wouldn’t be uncovered
Ot that the evidence could be smothered
God made us all in any case
There’s no such thing as a master race
That kind of thinking is out of place
And must be discouraged when it’s in our face
I hear the echoes of the dead
From Auschwitz where people fed
Gas ovens whose secrets are said
To dot the path of human dread
(c) Copyright 2015, Cedric McClester. All rights reserved.
Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 4:16 PM UTC
Befuddled and beset by the world he has created.
Confused, somewhat disturbed by ideas still contemplated.
The scientist sits alone in his lab with all his great inventions;
So many things that could be good with just the right intentions.
Instead the world abuses him and makes him build their arms.
A tear drop falls, as he tightens the bolt, for all the ones he harms.
An innocent child, this is not the future he foresaw,
But he's binded by morality and blinded by the law.
The heads of state don't hear because they're filled with lust for war,
He tries his best to pump out death, and still they scream for more.
He can't refuse it once they have commissioned the construction.
An artists, yet his music is a sonnet of destruction.
No one stops to ask if he believes in what he does,
Because he's not a killer or a thief and never was.
One more turret rifle, one more chain of fission,
No time to stop and breathe and it isn't his decision.
They say they want to save the world, but him, he sees their lies.
A first hand look, the chaos he has seen with his own eyes.
The liberators say that they will bring you sweet release.
Blood and iron, tears and sorrow, that's what they call peace.
Nov 8, 2010
Nov 8, 2010 at 3:38 PM UTC
~
after they were kicked from the garden
and begat nations with the children of man
I found you in the desert
we wandered hand in hand for an age
when they sacked Troy
when Rome fell
when Christians became the power
I found you in the northern mountains
we sailed strange seas
discovering lands before unseen
when a plague brought the darkness
and inquisitive priests carried branding irons
I found you in the forest
where we shared boiled roots
and healing herbs
when disease ended paradise
and oddly colored faces filled with hate
massacred cultures
destroyed civilization in the name of god
I found you deep in the jungle
sleeping on a soft bed of giant leaves
when tubes fell from the sky
and exploded with the power of the sun
as bodies were carted away
burned in warehouses
I found you in an alley
we hid in laundry baskets
until liberators showed us light still existed
I found you in a shallow delta
with terraced patties as far as the eye could see
found you again in a protest
as we marched across a bridge for freedom
I will always find you
no incarnation can keep me from it /
Jan 6, 2017
Jan 6, 2017 at 11:10 PM UTC
Search for the warmth in artificial light,
Bathing in the chill desperately consuming every flicker.
Pushing against invisible walls to flex your wings,
To embody your full potential.
Pulled prone each limb crippled and bent to serve a purpose so perverse.
Whilst those holding the key drink blood red wine,
Drained from every effort you exert.
the feral power of desperation rucking down every nerve.
The power coursing inside threatens to break,
But unable to break your bonds you simply break your mind.
Laying used and broken,
Unable to respond to the kiss of kindness.
Broken eyes staring into your liberators,
With total disconnection to the solitary tear rolling down your face.
Freedom comes too late,
It comes when any lust for life is spent.
You lay in Liberations arms as she desperately tries to claw back what is lost,
She nustles you close to her breast caressing the lank and ruined wings.
Feathers fetid defiled and broken.
"What world is this that even our angels are enslaved in despair."
Feb 8, 2018
Feb 8, 2018 at 6:10 AM UTC
Suffering is all I knew,
The soldiers marching through the streets
Each battalion larger than before
Kitty is in danger, along with her kind
A knock on the door knock, knock, knock
My loved ones are in danger,
My feelings alienated
Towards the cruel dictatorship
The door opened with a creak,
My mother hid behind the couch,
My father grabbed the blade,
Sunlight gleaming on its surface
The soldiers step in
I’m behind an overturned table
I hear a bang, two more
A women’s scream, a manly yell
My father and mother were gone.
The soldiers had murdered,
Destroyed the last of my joy
Taken away my pride
I ran away, over to the library
Kitty hid behind the shelf
I was not religious but I still wore the star
I was not the same so they searched for my head
I dyed my hair up to standard,
Put in colored contacts
I went outside and ran away
The soldier catching up to me
“I plead for it to stop,
The tormenting conflict.
I plead for peace,
An end to this hate.
I plead for something new.
I plead for life.
I plead for freedom.
I plead for change.”
My family divided due to death,
I stayed with the locals.
Nearly everyone was religious
In this ethnic neighborhood.
An officer came to my door
And asked for the Jews
Asked whether they were living
In the house next door.
I couldn’t do it,
I couldn’t reveal
To the soldier who waited
For the answer to appear
The survivors of the war,
They destroyed the hate,
I followed their lead,
And pushed away the horror
The memories torture me.
The memories destroy me.
The memories hurt me.
The memories sicken me.
But the liberators came
Their flag red with a sickle
Their big metal beasts
Tearing up the streets.
I risked my life because of this hope,
The hope that my family would survive.
I have lost all of it,
Because of this treachery.
I learned about the Bolsheviks,
How they liberated Russia
How they created the Soviets
And destroyed the Germans.
I did the right thing, I think
But I lost all of my friends
I live now with pain and torture
In Warsaw. Suffering.
Dec 10, 2019
Dec 10, 2019 at 11:29 AM UTC
We grew up
And I remember that you used to
Contemplate dead stars that have not lost their shine
And to say that the Three Sisters were the most beautiful in the universe
because they were always together
- like us.
I remember that I used to delight in the smell of your strawberry hydrant
which you passed through your entire body
and I worried that I might miss a few words
and make you don't talk to me for the rest of the week.
I remember that you devoured books,
ran like a lumpy cheetah
and was always inciting me through trivial provocations.
We grew up,
we were hit by the ****** scent of life
and we smell the money
which makes us breathe as much as oxygen.
Killer minds camouflaged by coaching speeches caught us by the wayside
and the voices of the alleys taught us that to be a conqueror in truth was the worst way.
We could have aged, but
We stopped at the time.
Now, we live in this eternal adulthood
where we put a foot on a social footwear,
and we leave the other barefoot in the land of never.
We do not know the laws of the now and the laws of the future.
We forged our own Law.
We have no ideologies or identities,
but we are everything
to each other.
For us,
every day are punishments and gifts.
We are our own executioners and liberators.
But, several times,
in moments of nostalgia and shame
I wanna be that stupid boy again
sitting on the beach by his side
listening to Jack Johnson
while boys shake giving their first kisses
and the girls dream with a soulmate.
Feb 26, 2018
Feb 26, 2018 at 6:12 PM UTC
The memories dance around in my head
The happy times which have passed
Serve as my one distraction
Serve as my liberator
From the searing fire
Contained in my skull
It tempers the crashing waves
Bursting from my chest
Yet, This is all digression
I thank the happy ones
I thank the liberators
For without them
I would be burned alive
I would be drowned
They keep me afloat
They stifle the flames
So, I cannot help but say
Thank You
Jul 29, 2016
Jul 29, 2016 at 1:08 AM UTC
here again
a blank mind
a blank page
but an open mind
can open doors
to new worlds
new expressions
learn to use this empty space
to create within the void
an open mind
a bold heart
the true liberators
Aug 20, 2020
Aug 20, 2020 at 12:44 PM UTC