"oppressive" poems
Well you see the thing to understand is poetry is a gospel to the world.
At first you feel as if it is oppressive chains tying you down to the soiled earth with every simplistic tick tock.
That is at least until you discover this world has no rules for an adventurer of free verse.
Your words now flow like an expeditious brook as long as you use metaphors with pretentious words.
However rules exist it is plain to see.
Some poems go aabb.
Those are simple ones to find.
Those are the ones stuck in your mind.
Now one more step, aabbc.
Those are a little more artsy.
You draw your crowd in.
Get under their skin,
And finish a little bit different.
And now it's time for set number three.
One that can simply astound.
The great, magnificent abab.
Those make a poet nearly profound.
There are couplets, sonnets, and monoryhms.
And now for the last one, all in good time.
I wanted you all to hear them like chimes,
But all that I had I left you in these lines.
Sep 19, 2011
Sep 19, 2011 at 11:26 PM UTC
the summer heat is oppressive
it's so hot and humid in the south
you become drenched with sweat
just standing still
the running streams of mountain water
rushing through rocks and then crashing down on ya
the chill of the waterfall freezes the intensity of explosion
on your skin as the water beats down on ya
there's nothing like it in the world to standing underneath a waterfall
I hug the wall of stone and feel the cold slimy surface
and my hands run through the moss growing on the side
what an amazing reprieve on a hot summer's day
God bless the mountains of North Carolina
God bless Appalachia
God bless this place called
home
home of my heart
where living waters flow
Jun 20, 2015
Jun 20, 2015 at 8:00 PM UTC
Blood means nothing
Unless it's staining the streets
Family has no merit
When they don't even See me
You want me to be passive?
And let them spew racist hate?
And all that "gendered" ********
You can't stop me, too late
**** the systems that oppress us
These prisons are stealing lives
Locking up innocent people
It's a form of modern genocide
We are all human
But our brothers are killed by police
And our sisters killed for their gender identity
But you'd rather look the other way
And defend hateful "free speech"
I am aware of my privilege
And I will not stay silent
You turn your eyes away from police brutality
But try to preach anti-violence
Our country is run by the white and the blue
While the red is the blood of its people
We need to look up at reality
And stop focusing on the steeples
Your hopes and your prayers
Do not end the violence
Instead they teach hate
And oppressive silence
Dec 30, 2017
Dec 30, 2017 at 7:15 AM UTC
The last kiss from you
Lasted like a huddle in
The snow blitz
Rocking my anatomy
In the frosty glitz
The last words from you
That barged in my eardrum
You were in a hurry
To smell a new leaf
Draped in a diamond dew
The last gifts from you
Was an instrument
Which still I use
To recognize people
Or to refuse!
The last time
You said I love you
I remember I was laughing
Hysterically as if I was watching
Jared Leto’s jaded mimicry of Joker in YouTube
Intriguingly, when the last time I saw you ****
It felt like pretty Ivanka’s embarrassment
Noticing her dad is a lewd
The last time I was chatting
With you on Facebook
I was wondering why
I shouldn't hack your account?
To check your inbox
Yea, it was filled with the message of *******
F- Bombs, **** shaming and tagging you as harlot
All they were asking was your service of escort
Either in full discount or in hefty cash drops!
The last time I wrote
A letter of love to you
I discovered my Keyboard
Began to blurt out
No more, No more, No more…
The last time I had a chit-chat
With you in the Burger King or Pizza Hut
I listened to your hissing clack-clack
That someone else has become your puppy cat…
The last time I became sick
When I was with you
I heard you threw a party
Where you were whispering
To your besties, how
I become your double whammy!
The last time I was
With you in the bed
I felt like I was indentured
To **** a dummy toy
Sans spirit and flesh!
Loving you was like
Santa Claus gifted me
With a Pandora’s Box
As soon as I opened it
You decided to release
Our *** tape of your having ******
In pornhub’s forum of interracial!
The last time I heard of you
Is that you were giving an interview
To The Cosmopolitan’s board of review
Facing the barrage of inquisitions
You calmly joked, the series
Of latest uproar about you
In the social media or Internet
Is because certain people always
Love to rave about Women’s body
Shoving in and out of their pigeonhole
With their one night stand queen trophy
To flavor your form in their fantasmic mouth
You also smirked in a raspy voice
Defiantly declaring “we (women)
Have been locked indoors
With no air, no food, no water”
My last boyfriend is also no exception
He certainly thinks I came this far
Through ******* and deception
Apr 30, 2017
Apr 30, 2017 at 12:33 PM UTC
In fair Verona where Will set the scene
Belle Fortune moves the markers up and down.
Two households both alike in dignity
Fiercely compete for fear of losing ground.
When Juliet saw Romeo at the dance
Events were set in motion that, perchance,
Would see fair Juliet as our Romeo’s bride
but ultimately result in her suicide.
With Tybalt and Mercutio both dead,
And Capulet and Montague estranged.
Young Paris sought fair Juliet to wed
not knowing of her loss of maiden-head.
Romeo was banished for his crime,
a sin for which a peasant would have died
Their two households, joined because they wed,
remained divided by their foolish pride.
Summer’s fierce heat shimmered in the air,
oppressive in the absence of a breeze.
With Friar Lawrence’s help, Romeo’s girl played dead,
as if struck down by some unknown disease
Romeo , in Mantua, heard that his Juliet
Lay dead amongst the sleeping Capulets.
A draught of deadly poison he obtained
So they might sleep together once again.
When Romeo met Paris at her tomb,
Words led to swordplay, leaving Paris dead.
Would not the world have been a better place
if Romeo had kept it sheathed instead?
Unshriven, Romeo drank the poison down-
the only son of Montague now dead.
Perchance just then fair Juliet revives
Bereaved, she took his Dirk to bed instead.
Authorities, arriving at the scene,
could only mourn a brace of kinsmen lost.
Capulet and Montague were reconciled
Their amity bought at a fearful cost.
May 22, 2013
May 22, 2013 at 7:47 AM UTC
My petals were withering,
The butterflies turned into wasps.
An oppressive silence-
Weighing down on my conscience
And the fingertips - used to drawing sunrises
-compelled to write eulogies instead.
Of Chapped lips and vacant eyes.
And how the autumn had caught up to us.
And I remembered,
With an aching guilt-
How I had not even played in the rain,
Not much, not at all.
My words had rusted,
My voice- cracked, and unfamiliar
Even to my own ears.
The summer long poems that I wrote in love
Were set ablaze,
To help me survive a winter
without you.
Oh, when I said our love would keep us warm
This is not exactly how i had it planned.
And you did not get to read even a word.
One always thinks they have time.
But we did not.
Not then, and definitely not now.
As a child, I grew up wanting a lot from myself
-even the world, if I were to be honest.
Somewhere along the line,
All I wanted was for this all to not hurt.
And somehow the polar opposites are more alike
Than I'd have thought.
'Cause you see, people who want a bit of everything
Are very close to wanting nothing in particular, not much.
And I wish I had learnt to differentiate
Of when to sharpen my sword and when to use my pen
Cause now I'm down to my last petal
And all you have is a blue splotch on your shirt.
Jan 13, 2018
Jan 13, 2018 at 8:47 AM UTC
Photoshopped fantasy fictions
Misogynistic oppressive depictions
Unobtainable beauty
Fake imagery
This LIE is but violence and bigotry
Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 10:38 PM UTC
The oppressive yellow filth
forces its way in.
Takes over the green blanket.
Ignoring it’s a sin.
A casual passerby,
views this unwanted war.
Discord versus conformity.
An everyday chore.
Calling in reinforcements.
Escalates to chemical warfare.
The cruel inhumanity,
because we couldn't share.
A fight for cleanliness,
and a fight for purity.
A useless endeavor.
A wasteful battle of immaturity.
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 7:44 PM UTC
therapy and resistance
how is it that therapy becomes the excess of class war or the oppression thereof?
When the struggle of the individual is made to seem self induced when it is easily and clearly directly a result of the failures and complacence afforded by the majority of the group.
When in a therapeutic environment it is important to distinguish the opportunities of resistance from the experience of trauma.
there has always been individuals who establish groups that are in a realm of desperation.
Understanding how this process has unfolded institutionally is just as valid as treating the individual.
This gives the individual the choice and resources needed to heal.
The healing could look like resistance rather than assuming aspects of class war or oppressive culture to be normal.
Otherwise therapy is nothing but the means to normalize the process of oppression.
The traumatic state needs to be able to decipher its organic existence from that of organized oppression and its institutional cooperation.
the neglect of deciphering or distinguishing these differences causes individuals to make a competition out of trauma. This minimizes certain trauma of individuals and causes the group to have less of an opportunity to resist organized oppression of the institution.
Those that are in the realm of desperation or traumatic state are given no choice but to repress in order to continue being social or a member of the group.
in excess the hierarchies of gender, race and class are reinforced to an almost superhuman level.
To the desperate or traumatic state…
what needs reinforcement is that there are humans just like us who have resisted oppression and caused the normalcy of the group to be more inclusive and aware of the processes associated with organized oppression.
Apr 20, 2017
Apr 20, 2017 at 7:30 PM UTC
This is for the rainy days.
The heavy days,
Blanketed under a dark silver sky.
This is an image of
Timeless days.
Where both dawn and dusk
Fail to exist,
Because the gray never went away.
This is the light drizzle
Painting your glasses
With tiny cloudy droplets
That blur-out your vision
And makes the next step a mystery,,
As you pray
For a chance of sunshine.
This is for the helpless days.
Lonely days.
Where with every battle
Pits you against the world.
And should you lose,
Or should you win,
Your victory is heard
by only two ears.
These are the words for the
Mouse-like people.
The great number of quiet strugglers
Who say yes to the fat cat
By Instinct!
So they won't be the meat
Of someone else's meal.
\ \ \
But this is not to cast you down.
Not a giant- making pinching gestures
With people sized fingers.
This is a challenge!
A day to reach up into
Your oppressive heavens.
Cast aside the disciplinary
Blockade and- Breathe.
Breathe in the tastes
Of a life worth living.
Of the courage to be on your own feet.
And this is an urgency.
This is an urging that
All the doormat people
Sweep out from the heavy feet,
The ones you welcome for trampling.
Because|
-You know exactly what you're
Missing
Nov 3, 2011
Nov 3, 2011 at 10:40 PM UTC
I met you at the station
you said wanted to go anywhere but here.
I said to look for the tracks that
are the most uninviting. You
took my arm. I wished for
something better and here it came,
disguised by dirt, dislocation and greying days.
Your ticket says no return but
mine is undefined, watchful, ready
to bolt or to linger. You say you love
the stations from afar.
There's not much of me
requested, but the splinters that you
do, I gift hopelessly. The
smallest glimpse of light approaching
filtered through dank, oppressive air
are superior, surely? than finite life
exhausted watching the dark.
By the night you amplify,
when you have enjoyed my fill and
left with little but fingerprints and
recollections, casting parallel shadows
on directions that await.
I give you almost everything
except for the words that
travel nowhere but my head.
You gave me the signal
a briefest flash of red
that stopped this in its tracks.
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 6:04 AM UTC
Come these never ending tales of war
has took its toll in all of us.
where freedom was compromised,
false judgement was thrown at us.
I adhere to correct them all
without burning bridges on opposite tail ends.
as people misunderstand with their small minds,
I Stand oppressive until this strong bark bends.
Let me free your harrased mind,
despite of these known inequalities.
Please Pardon me for my words,
we all want to end this in tranquility
we are intelligent just enough to know our selves,
our needs and wants just hidden inside our chests
knowing that all these months, I've scratched your back,
I hope you'll do the same in this wicked test.
You've all wore this masks, battle faced,
I am amused I became the villain.
this was never the same scenario
where I am lost and I've abstained.
I can never guide your rituals.
come as you are, friends?
you've all grown up and matured for this.
I have got no plans to ****** my belongings.
It is your choice. you got all of these.
I never wished to betray nor consider you all in the past.
but what I've felt it gives me sorrow.
to know that I am not part of your tomorrow.
Never wanting to compromise
but there's a feeling that I've been sacrificed.
I am raising the white flag.
but leaving all of you will be a throw of a dice
Feb 5, 2013
Feb 5, 2013 at 10:11 PM UTC
What brief utterance this, the color of time
That gives more meaning than language can hold
To force a confrontation between unresolvable contradictions
Such as make malleable a gracious hospitality to ******
And sound trumpets of unwarranted discord
That lie and lament the reputation and experience of damage
Hold forth the envious clouds of displacement
To provide for the vicious energies of hate
Those oppressive weights of past problems
That enactment of intense and exhausting experience
Which embalms the tears of fresh bleeding
Without impediment dictates the human existence
Where the mistress of aggressive thought finds
Extremity of dire mishap a strenuous protest
Leads to well meaning certainty of illusion
And asks, art thou so in love with masks that you
Would transform thyself and as such
Bind a loyalty of angers to thy touch
Aug 21, 2012
Aug 21, 2012 at 4:21 PM UTC
“Beautifully Oppressive”
she called my work
“beautifully oppressive”
did she mean like the stifling pall
of equatorial heat?
what lines had I writ
to elicit such truthful and prodigious
adverbs and adjectives?
I can not recall being more flattered
or believing more that it mattered
what one said of my
delirious desultory delusions,
my petty pecking indulgences…
I believe I was recalling a dream
that spoke of elusive, fickle salvation,
the perennial curse of the chosen ******
and their haunting hunger for implacable peace
when I evoked that response from her
“beautifully oppressive” to feel such a fate?
the promise of heaven for those trudging through hell?
what other beautiful oppressive story could I tell?
Jun 3, 2013
Jun 3, 2013 at 5:56 PM UTC
my torment is one of clouds and flowers
freckles upon sun-kissed oranges
like roses through honey
& vivid eyes like the abstraction of Renaissance pieces
oh butterfly how you make my heart melt
chocolate brownie wonders with giggles on top
your effervescence brighter than a summer's day
entrapping my purity within your oppressive interior
our silences are filled with images of my creation
a cornucopia of passion for even the loneliest of wordsmiths
I leap into our pool of nostalgia for old time's sake
only to find your words transform into serpents.
whirlwinds of emotion now whispered into the ears of another
burning adorations into scarred remains
May 9, 2019
May 9, 2019 at 8:23 PM UTC
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya;[email protected])
songs of freedom in Kenya are paradoxical of themselves
they have become the songs of oppressive tyranny
they are not songs that were sang by freedom fighters
in the tropical forests of aberdares and Mabanga
they are blissful carols of powers that be
mouthed by the state poets in the deadly feats
of political sycophancy fuelled by cult of betrayal
and espionage, a real substructure of state dictatorship
they are not the true songs of mau mau
that were sang by Kimathi wa miciuri
they are the songs of the top crust of the tribal
and political powers that be in oblivion of
the cultural revolutionaries that countermanded
cultural Darwinism of European imperial gamesters
they are not the songs sang by Elijah Masinde
of Dini Msambwa that spirited up cultural aura
of cultural dignity;which cautioned certainly
an African against the cultural call of the white culturalizer
the African to balk and turn his back
and **** and spit scornfully at cultural trickster in the colonial ploy
to dance for Dini ya Msambwa in the spirit of war and fires of war
that is to be fought in preservation of democracy and cultural freedom.
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 7:19 AM UTC
**** it then,
Let the strangers be scared.
I wanna bend you over a chair,
Lift up your skirt
Rip off your underwear
Wrap a hand around your throat
Grab a handful of your hair
And bury myself deep
As I feel you gasp for air.
I want to beat you, but not
out of Anger or Hate,
I want to treat you like a Queen
until you plead
to be *****
And then I will Take You
Violate You
Invade You
Your Body
Is a Temple
I'll Pray at
And then Raze.
I want to leave you,
Drenched in sweat
Raccoon Eyed,
Hair a mess
Satisfied.
While you recover,
I'll recharge-
and like a Lover,
I'll tend your Heart.
Until you can move
Again,
And tell me you have
The Energy
And I'll throw you back down on the Bed,
With the same violent intensity.
I'll love you with a vengeance,
My battering ram at your gates
As I conquer your sacred kingdom
in this
Incendiary Embrace.
My lust for you is Oppressive,
but my Love burns brighter than All
I want to be the Tyrant of your Body -
Absolute Control.
I want to hold you down by the wrists
and stare in your eyes as you cry my name
Drink in the dance of your perfect ****
As I assail you with pleasure and pain
I long to feel the quake of your legs
As ****** consumes you again
Heavenly Daughter of Eve,
I'll **** you like a Child of Cain.
Oct 13, 2014
Oct 13, 2014 at 2:37 PM UTC
I read a story today.
Like any good story it was layered upon the premise of the love between two perfect strangers.
Like any good story it was about romance that blossomed... and then flourished as quick as it was fierce.
Like any good story it spun a far-reaching web of hope and longing whilst still holding on to the uncompromising nature of responsibility to one's dreams.
Like any good story, there was a spot of intimacy. The gradual build up of physical and psychological attraction that culminated in the merging of two, was nothing less than tasteful.
Like any good story there was conflict.
But it was not the cliched garnish that involved oppressive parenting styles nor glaring racial differences.
It did not rope in the overused notion of "we're so different, we're two parts of a whole".
It was... a beautiful conflict.
One that does not allow the audience to choose sides.
In fact, it encourages you to think inward and root for both parties - be them together or apart.
If anything at all, it boils down to the pursuit of each individual's happiness.
Like any good modern day story, it ended with a breath held in a gasp. You hold it there for the longest moment and you have to close that breath with a heavy sigh of loss.
It also leaves you with ample room to deliberate the "what if" factor.
Happy endings last a while but sad ones... they rip a hole in you that almost never closes...
and you cannot help but go back to read it over and over again in the hopes of finding the elusive right answer or the best alternate ending.
Like any good story it was tailored in my fit. Because I envisioned myself in it. I got consumed by it. Overwhelmed by it, enough to almost break the pipes.
And like any good story, it's worth keeping...
In heart and in mind.
So I read a story today. And I didn't want it to end.
Jan 3, 2017
Jan 3, 2017 at 6:26 AM UTC
you have left an imprint
on my heart
and no matter how hard i try
to forget you
like you did me
little things remind me of you
they keep you just a phone call away
a three minute walk from my front door to yours
the snow on the ground reminds me
of your promise to have a snowball fight
and my promise that i would surely win
it's hard to forget someone when
all the memories you made
were close to home
i want to move far away
i'm suffocating under the pressure
of the constant reminders
because all around the neighborhood
are reminders of you
but it seems that the story of us
is one you have forgotten
there are no memories
but you're everywhere to me
and it's getting hard to see
i need time to
breathe
i'm gasping for air
desperately trying to push them away
but i'm drowning
and home never felt more oppressive
and the reminders make me feel
obsessive
but is it really too much
to ask you to remember that i exist?
Feb 2, 2014
Feb 2, 2014 at 1:38 AM UTC
¸.•°”˜ƸӜƷ˜”°•.•.
*I have this place where I go
when I need to be all alone.
I call it my place,
a place where the hurts of the world
quiet down and fade away.*
***I have this place
no one knows about
between a field and a willow tree
along a pastures edge.***
*A place of beauty, where my fingertips
can paint over all the wrong
and all the pain I feel
in colors bright and cheery.*
***A creek down around the corner
I go to when
things get oppressive
dark and hard.***
*It’s a place of peace, where the fears
of my heart slow and still…
A place of calm, where the oceans
of emotions lay at my feet
and weep no more.*
***And I sit there
I don't know if I meditate
there in this place hidden
but I get peace
I see love I hug this earth.***
*It’s a place where I can breathe,
where I feel sheltered, protected
from the coldness outside
of my canopy of shade… It’s my place.*
***They go to their place…..
……they visit very often...***
¸.•°”˜ƸӜƷ˜”°•.•.
Oct 8, 2017
Oct 8, 2017 at 5:09 PM UTC
ever presiding o'er the terrain
with its boisterous beams
announcing to all and sundry
the strength of its regime
day in and day out
the tyrannical blasts are felt
all under its despotic yolk
the countryside doth melt
no release
from the oppressive heat
endlessly its dominance
doth beat
Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 7:19 PM UTC
*Shimmering, miasmic waves
of suffocating heat,
bounce off the scorching pavement
and distort the tortured street.
A toxic stew of asphalt sticks
to every tire and shoe,
as tar begins to bubble
'Tis "The Texas summer goo".
Oppressive heat beats downward
from relentless glaring sun.
Be wary of Apollo's malice!
Summer's just begun.*
Jun 22, 2017
Jun 22, 2017 at 10:44 AM UTC