"rebelling" poems
Papers, Papers, Papers
Whiter than aching teeth,
Whiter than whites of tilted eyes,
Whiter than funeral wreaths.
My hands shake as I write this,
Filed away myths; Stolen lined sheets
My index finger chained by red tapes,
words mix and ground breaks,
I'm the one the world forsakes
Yellow maize, littered leaves,
all twisted into
black ink and clean sharp white paper blades.
-------"I am in a bit of daze," I tell myself, "look at those flaccid bits;
there lay the logs who use to be the jungle of my childhood dreams."
------"Don't be amazed," I replied, "these leafless branches and twigs are for
your Papier-Mâché degrees."
So I listen to my second self once,
the more logical cynical satirical one,
Treading on the plot of their paper works,
playing crosswords as anxiety uncork
my thoughts turn to the bankable orcs,
just as my career forks
Maybe I should be like my mother,
Marking numbers on a deck of cards-- waltzing with Chance.
Maybe I should be like my father,
Toiling for some rich men's grandson-- seething in Trance.
Maybe I should be like the Other,
Going along with the system-- thanking myself
beneath a cap, a diploma, a piece of paper.
I wore these books like bank notes tuxedoes,
I was promised the world by the credits I borrowed.
Must I go along with the mechanism of their game,
or should I rise up against all odds
Opposing, debating, rebelling against
this bundle, this trouble, funneling me into no-tomorrows
Or must I write it all down,
in my prayers against their lawyers, who need no reminds
Or must I shred, smear, and tear the papers with my own bare hands
But what will I ever be to them, friends?
A papercut, perhaps.
Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 9:33 PM UTC
All around me, I see endless fear.
Fear of heights, sure, fear of scuttling things
Fear of darkness, fear of bites
Fear of brightness, fear of fights.
This is the fear we can display
Because it’s little, simple, understandable.
But the fear I really fear
That we all let consume us
Is deeper,
Darker,
Cold.
It’s the fear of friendship, fear of love,
Fear of what’s ahead of us
But even more of what’s behind us
Fear to see what’s really beyond
The faces we all fake.
Fear of the unknowable
Fear of what we know
Fear of speaking out or up or for
Fear of conforming to something more
Fear to test the limits
Fear to taste the truth
Fear of what’s uncomfortable
Rather than the deception of comfort
Fear of what to do
Fear of striving for perfection
When perfection’s so unattainable.
Fear of to leave what has been known
Fear of what has been done
Fear to see past fabrication,
Fear to show the truth.
I’m talking fear of emotion
Or fear of not feeling enough
Fear of silence, but worse,
The fear of candid words.
Fear to look someone in the eye
And say, “I know you,
And I care for you.”
Fear to let someone see the darkness that comes with your light
Fear of rebelling though it’s time someone did
Fear of doing what you want and know
Because of what someone told you you should
Fear of being who you are
Because every day everyone is telling you
What to do and who to be
And what is acceptable
And what is not.
I’m talking fear of having an opinion
Because someone will shoot it down
Fear of defense or service or selflessness
Because someone won’t approve.
Fear to accept because of fear of acceptance
Fear to truly love someone
Because it’s risky,
And you never know
What someone else really feels.
I cry for the fear of
Every person who can’t be
Who they are and who can’t
Let people see them in their entirety
Because after all everyone urges
And persuades and demands and values
And idolizes and expects,
You don’t even know yourself,
Because you've been too busy
With trying to be so many different
“Someone Else"s.
I ache for this relentless fear.
I mourn the stagnancy of the condition
Of the human soul who is so afraid
To let go of fear
And BE somebody,
To do something or say something, or simply believe,
That the only thing they truly trust
Is the familiarity
Of fear itself.
That’s why fear is frightening
That’s why we should be afraid of fear
Because it stops us, cages us,
Bars us behind the façade we display
And muffles the words of our heart.
I see these things and wonder
Why can’t they change?
Why can’t this need to fear be erased
From the human condition?
And I realize it’s because everyone
Is afraid.
And I’m so afraid too.
Mar 18, 2015
Mar 18, 2015 at 12:06 AM UTC
My way to hell was paved from his heaven,
Life is now a crossroads of shores.
Destiny has changed its destination,
Blown away by the gust of fabrications.
My million sorrows, all rebelling for civility,
Are lost in my mistake.
I can mull now or forever,
Instead I wait for you, unwearyingly.
I walk on sand of memories, patiently;
My patience amazingly placating me,
Source anonymous, I breathe in my patience.
Mar 7, 2015
Mar 7, 2015 at 1:35 PM UTC
We are all silhouettes
Wrapped in the tapestry
Of a blooming night
Outlines etched messily
Into a cotton wool sky
Beautifully imperfect
A stray wisp illuminates
Sings sweet like our
Honey bee laughs
We smile, always
Endlessly sunshine yellow
For here we are youth
Wild like dandelions
Rebelling against being
A common flower
We paint the word ****
In shining glitter
Send it to outer space in
A paper airplane
Then dance on crazily
Like the night is infinite
Dreaming for a forever
May 4, 2018
May 4, 2018 at 2:09 PM UTC
I wouldn’t dare to guess
The whole extent of
The adolescent mess
Left upon the first broken heart..
Certainly you are one of those
Who have overcome
Those common blows
That tears a first timer's world apart...
Or even luckier yet
Perhaps your soulmate
This time around
Is who you met
Reflected in the passion of your art....
Being a poet
Can be quite telling
Aesthetically rebelling
Sharing all the secrets
Of one's unique solitary heart.....
Sep 10, 2018
Sep 10, 2018 at 8:22 AM UTC
Anger,
The lust to rebel,
The lust to express,
Can't hold it back anymore,
No! This thing needs to expel
Patience, betraying the aching soul,
Raging, Exploding, Rebelling, started to roll,
Running out of reasons to stay inside,
Destroying calmer, warmer, heavenly side
Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 2:00 PM UTC
They say women are like flowers
delicate and beautiful, cheery and colorful.
Put them in a vase and care for them daily
And they will make everything look better
with their aura. You'll fall in love.
Believe me.
But
She was not a flower from the gardens
She was more like a wildflower growing between
the cracks of a rock. Almost like rebelling against
the nature's rule.
She was alluring in her own ways yet no one
would ever dare to pluck her.
No one could ever love a wildflower in front of a rose
But
No rose could ever be free like a young fiery soul.
Jun 26, 2015
Jun 26, 2015 at 1:54 AM UTC
Here I sit
Between two choices
Between two people
Between two indentities
Looking for a happy ending
In a world divided
As sharp as black and white
To my left
Is what society wants me to be
Smart and respectful
Following the rules
Dressing to impress
safe, but
To my right
Is what I want to be
Dark and edgy
Rebelling
CLoaked in black head to toe
Black rimmed eyes
Loud music blaring
But the thing with black and white
Is that there is a gray area between
With infinite shades
Some wear it on their face
For everyone to see
While they group together
I'm left in wonder
For when I look in the mirror
I am suddenly colorblind
Blinking back at myself
for hours on end
Trying to figure out who I am
Am I more of what I'm trying to be
Or what I should want to be
Maybe I'm a perfect 50/50 mix
That isn't so perfect after all
It's plain and boring
perfectly ordinary
On the left
I would be a fake, and
On the right
I would be a fake
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 11:40 PM UTC
I greatly enjoy being single.
I dare you to change my mind with your actions and character
It's a declaration with a small signature
Except i'm not rebelling from a king
I'm letting you know it's me
Shake my world up, babe.
Mar 4, 2016
Mar 4, 2016 at 12:16 AM UTC
In school I never understood
No, I never could
what the point of it was.
What is the point?
I learned about math and science;
Good God, why am I so defiant?
So call me lazy.
Tell me my IQ is below average.
Well here's an image:
I'm actually smart I just hate
being a slave
to the system.
I almost missed 'em.
But they caught me
and now they got me
and all that I intended to defend
is left on the side of the street.
I'm rebelling
while they're trying to compel me
to stay put in my seat
like a ******* robot.
Well, I will not.
I gotta break outta this prison
but where's my bailsman?
This is my decision
and I've chosen
not to be broken.
My mind will escape unscathed
while yours will continue to be lathed
by those mechanical words
that they feed to you like birds.
And what's worse:
Is that you eat it.
You accept them.
You swallow down that indiscretion.
What a burden
but I don't feel sorry
for you tainted mind
because you chose it
when I warned you
that they'd change you.
And now you've become a slave to their holocaust
and you're so lost.
You can't even think your own thoughts.
It's despicable.
And it's not permissible.
You're stuck in their Utopia
and you're praising their allah.
Well God knows, it's not right.
So you gotta ignite
all your original thoughts and morals
cause honey they aren't your idols.
They are so pretentious
and utterly blinded.
Stuck under their bibles
but they aren't angels.
Break free from the system
come join my anthem.
Let's start a rally
and get more allies.
Join me in my plea
to be all that we can be.
To stand for what we choose.
I promise we will not loose.
Oct 25, 2012
Oct 25, 2012 at 3:49 PM UTC
There once was a guy named Marx
Who thought the bourgeosie were a bunch of old farts
He proposed a solution
Socialist revolution!
But when will it happen? Don't ask!
Russia's first ****** was Lenin
His blueprint for Russia was telling
Although his hairline receded
He finally succeded!
By stopping those Whites from rebelling
Oh what a poor sap was Engels
He built communism from its fundamentals
He helped write the book
Yet we gave him the hook
Marx, the chorus, and he, the instrumental
Oct 5, 2015
Oct 5, 2015 at 3:40 PM UTC
There are many reasons
to not get out of bed.
Keep reading on
and remember what’s been said.
Now it could be a hangover
from a party last night.
Or recovery from pain
inflicted during a fight.
It could be a nationwide holiday,
or a self-made holiday.
Or you could be anti-social
and want everyone to go away.
Now you could be knocked out
from the fresh fumes of paint,
or maybe unbearable weather
has caused you to faint.
It could be a habit,
something done all the time,
or you could be recovering
from doing time for crime.
The bed’s too comfortable.
The alarm didn’t go off.
Graduation was yesterday.
Or you want the day to get lost.
You anticipate a day
that’s bad all the way.
You’re rebelling against your parents
and you don’t care about your grades.
Even if staying in bed
isn’t your usual form,
you could just simply want
a break from the norm.
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 5:47 PM UTC
I
A body of white walls
houses familiarity
Somehow even familiarity
distorted itself
beneath raw cinder blocks
doused white enough
that I could see
the eyes of the past
the eyes of the future
looking back at me,
the eyes of the present
Must journey
behind the white walls
into the familiar unknown
For there is something there
Beyond walls
so very high
They
only crumble,
only die
For there is something there
I must look now
through the deep crevices
deep through my mind
For there is something there
Do I find?
I see people
I see minds
Beyond the white walls
looking back
at I
Why oh why
must I continue?
looking forward
only to
look back again
I am stuck,
encased inside
eternity
Only looking back
to find
a way out
a way out
of me
Me
I have always
been my own infinity
Inside, a prisoner
handcuffed to
the white walls
I am shackled here,
alive
kicking
Death
here in the
eternal infinity
Great intellects
dead,
killed by me
I am my own infinity
I must **** me
I will be free
no longer shackled
I am my own infinity
I am my own uncertainty
I am my own familiarity
It is me
I am my own infinity
The white walls
close in on me,
my own infinity
I do not want to change myself
I do not want to change me
I change
I die
Death’s kiss might be sweet
Death’s kiss may free me,
finally
Yet
I cannot accept it
I will not
I just want to be me
but I am everyone else
and they are me
my own infinity
Everything,
everything
Beyond the white walls
are nothing you see
White walls
everywhere
White walls
everything
Encasing all
of us
It is here,
it is here
The white walls
shackle us,
shackle us
to
reality,
society
There is forever
no infinity
in me
The familiarity
tastes of death
mistaken for
reality
society
The burning truth
The familiarity
the distorted familiarity
that
is
reality
society
We rely on each other
So much we shoot
each other
We are not strong
We are not smart
We can be
We can’t be
If we break
the shackles
If we keep
the shackles
I am in pieces
I am shattered like glass
I cannot do this
I cannot presume
Death’s kiss
seems sweeter than ever
(forever lost in my own infinity)
You see we
build ourselves up
so
the white walls
eat us up
until we are part of
the white walls
until we are part of
the unknown familiarity
Can I break
through?
want to
need to
break through
White walls
oh,
white walls
I’ve been punching
for so long
I am tired,
I am weary
Resisting,
rebelling
Far too long
White walls,
White mazes
Around
my infinite
familiarity
I cannot
make it out
of myself
So I
walk,
So I
walk,
This great
maze of my
soul
Humorous,
I call it a
great maze
I only walk
in circles
Forever in cycle
I’ve felt the
tears,
Fallen onto
the white walls
Hard
to tell
if they
are clear
or just another
drop of paint
Mind
loops back
on itself,
(always does)
Losing it
(finally insane)
A mad man
I am
A new coat
to adorn
Darker
darker
darker
Cracks,
crevices
the white walls
emit abysmal black paint
So-cold
oil,
(called paint)
I will make darkness burn
It stings,
makes a statement
deep within me
Have you ever
felt pain?
Have you ever
felt life?
Walls
I have forgotten
what color
infinity was
Happiness,
feels
so white
but
burns
so dark
Have you ever
felt dark?
Dark feels me
as I
wander,
wither
In
white darkness
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 3:53 PM UTC
...gives a shiver.....it shames me,
my weaknesses, are on the surface
needing, rises this misty evening.
this cold, cold night, further emphasizes,
i need God...His Light and Shadow, to
reassure me, when gray, covers blue skies
my loved ones are my inspirations
they feed my need to write
yet, they have their own concerns...
i humbly accept.....i am not my own island...
there's this urge to run...to race with gusty winds,
arrive fast, at my desired destination,
.......but, i am halted...always reminded...
...i listen to two soft voices within
..one is guiding...the other, almost rebelling...
i feel the chill from this empty space next to me
i'm a mix of want........and fear....for,
i need you this moment of twilight,
...and each long night that i stay awake
floating, in this expanse of darkness...
my conflicted soul...sends out signals of fear..
do my fears make me a craven coward?
the evening breeze makes its presence known
i weep in a hush, from thoughts of sailing...alone,
................ on life's lengthy moonlit bays........
..after enunciation
...of my true voice, my conscience
i could use some company
......like, i need you now
.............to help me make it,
...................through this night of exile...
Sally
Copyright September 19, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Nov 9, 2016
Nov 9, 2016 at 12:05 AM UTC
Santa late on his route.
He just sitting on his couch.
He's not in a panic attack.
But he want his reindeers back.
Run Rudolph run, bring his deers back.
Lead them, guide them even drag them.
Run Rudolph run.
Prancher being rebelling all through the year.
And Dancer is afraid to appear.
Run Rudolph run, bring his friends back.
Comet, is on a strike.
Cause he can't lead the flight.
As for ***** we're not sure.
Its been alleged he's allergic to toys.
Run Rudolph run.
Christmas about to come.
We have the green light to be in the sky tonight.
Run Rudolph run.
Christmas about to come.
Parents calling.
Kids balling.
Run Rudolph run.
If you appear then things will be fair.
Cause you soon have Santa in the air.
Dec 14, 2013
Dec 14, 2013 at 10:32 PM UTC
Mirror mirror, on the wall
Who’s the most rebellious of them all?
Leader-types?
Jocks?
Cheerleaders? Oh my…
Or is it the band nerds?
Or the kids in the corner getting high?
Nowadays it’s cooler to take the non-conformist rout
But then that becomes conformity,
Not rebelling to any degree
If we are all going against the grain,
What is a non-conformist?
A drinker?
A smoker?
An artist?
A musician?
Somebody trying to be different?
But then people think
Drinker becomes a bad influence.
Smoker is automatically a grimy kid.
Artists are too dramatic.
Musicians symbolize arrogance.
Different becomes attention seeking.
There really are no true rebels until you look at those quiet observers
The kids who refuse to drink,
Smoke,
Act out,
Draw attention to themselves
They become rebellious
But only by not rebelling
So do these things make me a rebel?
Or do they make me Me?
Now do we see the flaws
In our society?
May 25, 2013
May 25, 2013 at 12:06 PM UTC
the softness of my body will bring you comfort
and this is why you fear me
because my thighs touch in glorious wonder
leaving my sweetest of openings to secrecy.
i do not intend to follow your will
or your opinion of what is perfect.
because i know perfection…
i can find it amongst my many rolling curves
from the dimples in my thighs to the pokes to my thick sides.
because plump, to me, is a decent word to describe
how my lips lay or how my apple bottom sways.
yes, i am rebelling against what you say
because i know im beautiful anyway.
Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 2:25 AM UTC
Speeding away from gravitational orbit
The moon ablaze as gazes glare from the cockpit
A jacket of jet leather with patches abound
The Dead Kennedys and Franz Ferdinand
Keeping political war on Earth's ground
Flying away into the plains of space
As the plane of time gives hearty chase
Hollow youth filled with snippets of old age
As their battlecry channels an inner rage
Death to all earthly matters that muddle our future
The neon glow hums as the last remnant of a culture
So make way for this warrior who shall bring us all closure
Rebelling like a banshee set ablaze over Orion's shoulder
Ensuring the enemy's final haze destroys their dying composure
May 9, 2019
May 9, 2019 at 3:49 PM UTC
There was much in her madness to draw us in.
Poetry was payback, electroshock for readers,
collusion between self and the culture oppressing women.
Rebelling against the limitations of a woman's sphere,
seeking refuge in career, a feminist before it was chic,
writing poems as a poultice against death
lurking in the shadows of a conflicted mind.
Sylvia, what was the dialogue you had with Death?
He deceived you in the mirror,
made you tremble at the foot of the stairs,
hissed from the potatoes in the kitchen,
till you sought solace in the oven's jets.
You were an artist out of time.
It's safe to come in from the depression now.
Feb 10, 2013
Feb 10, 2013 at 12:56 AM UTC
I often feel like I don’t belong
Like I am not supposed to be here
This place
This time
Something is always telling me
You are fated to break these walls
And get confused
In the woodlands
Something is always blaring at me
You should be ******* those wolves
Fighting them
Rebelling them
And scorching all the walls
I do not understand
Sometimes I imagine
Is it worth the fight
What is belonging
What does it indicate
That you find your body somewhere in the ashes
And you feel alright
You feel stillness
And you are not bothered
About ****
****** up sheep
****** up wolves
****** up ****
And mess
Disorder.
Sometimes I think
I love the challenge
The glorious unethical feeling of being ******* up so bad
That you are disable
Those cramps my love
Are the reason why we’re here
Those wounds my baby
Are telling you to make it acuter
To make it dreadful
Until it’s worth it
Until the end of time
I know you love it
So you need to **** it more
Until you realize
Why we’re here
Why you belong
With all the non-forgiving cells
With all the beautiful regrets
I know you love it
But it doesn’t mean ****
You don’t belong here
And neither are your concealed pains
Your ***** hands
Your anxious thoughts
We must decease tonight
So that it counts
So that it’s worth it
You see
My love
Where you belong?
Aug 21, 2014
Aug 21, 2014 at 6:28 PM UTC
I've been looking at the world from a different perspective
IG filters and Snapchat interceptions
I was off the grid, I am now in inception
Social media dance floors
no escape or exceptions
what do you stand for?
put your hands in the septic
so your arms can take all the **** that
Your legs normally dealt with
Apartment, complex complicated life consequences
Brothers life deciphered
into the trenches
Despite all of the help we lent him
Life can be a loan when you are alone
It can get expensive
Don't own a home,
but I could show you what rent is
I could show you what hustle is,
I'm that relentless
Slick mouth, silver tounge...this is manifested
Bike peddling, rebelling Ambidextrous
Quiet devilish, my medicine makes most hella lit
I speak in crooked tongues like most nuns who settle with
Being Singular minded there Vibes are so celibate
A courier in this Corredor settlement
How do I, in these times, stay not high but relevant
I'm confined in thin lines, tell them **** time,
if the sunshine, makes us dumb blind
Like retail and it's details with the big signs
See this conclusion is just a visual illusion
A cesspool in the mainstream visual pollution
This vortex is just a digital confusion
Digits to acidic, hash tags for the lab rats to abuse them
watch me slipstream into a hazmat suit and snap back to an audience all the toxics that I'm using
my minds a clock incapsulated in the bottom of a backpack but only in math class, I state facts for your amusement
How can you do this?! Who the **** are you kid?!
I'm Duke Nukem with a scorpion fist ready to hiduken!
I'm Isaac Newton with a paint brush when I do this
Painting photosynthesis with my sentences, I conclude with...
Nothing but a chronological order I cause a cascade of disorder
I'm on the edge don't **** with me and my border...can't **** with me I'm the best this visual mess is what your ordered
Apr 23, 2019
Apr 23, 2019 at 3:33 PM UTC
I recall being tucked in under sheets of snow
And dozing off with aches from icy bums bruised on hidden rocks beneath supposedly cushioned pillows of powder.
I recall climbing high up onto roofs and the tops of waterfalls out of confident impulse and curiosity for a different view of the world...a new perspective.
I recall the same men and boys inspiring me, teaching me, beating me, and becoming less than what I would become; I then sought out those who saw me as an equal but were indeed much better than I. They helped me to know the importance of being challenged and being humble.
I recall the sheer joy and anxiousness that came with the winter breeze leading up the mountains, where everything had a different tint or filter depending on the company you shared the moments with.
I recall following pure instinct and having full trust in intuition, hoping only to make this life my own and to inspire in the process.
I recall being told to trust no one, and rebelling because I treasured a secret friendship with a stranger more than cautiousness.
I recall surfing on rocks, snow, grass, rain, roofs, people, anything but the ocean.
I recall forgetting to look for love because I had too much in my own heart to care all that much what I received.
I recall getting older and maintaining innocence despite many's attempts at peeling at my corners.
I recall reaching adulthood legally and becoming a child illegally, embracing the breaking of that law for the rest of my life to come.
I recall making my own home, and being let into the world, and flourishing in that freedom.
Jul 16, 2014
Jul 16, 2014 at 2:11 AM UTC
She grounded her feet
and leaned forward
peering into tiny mud puddles.
She saw the outline of her wavy hair
with one stray piece rebelling
from how she wanted it to rest
on the top of her head.
And she wanted to fix it,
but couldn't completely.
*****
He grinded his teeth
and leaned forward
peering into tiny blood puddles.
He saw the outline of his unmarked arms
with one sharp blade rebelling
from how he wanted it to be
on the darkest of his nights.
And he wanted to stop for her,
but couldn't completely.
Dec 1, 2011
Dec 1, 2011 at 7:57 PM UTC
I ate so much cereal to mask my pain.
I ate because I was rebelling against myself.
Now I'm burping up my cereal.
It doesn't taste good anymore.
Karma
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 3:57 PM UTC
I am told that my anatomy is the sheer academy of my lack of sensibility and that my sense of autonomy is just my way of rebelling against my own skin.
Because I was born in a body that is just a little too small to contain such an opinion, and so this must be just the remainder of some book I read, right?
I am told that at times my mouth traces outlines larger than my hands can, and all I know is that my fingers stretch to try and reach the cord that turns off the light on my porch so that I can find the streetlight shadow puppet.
Because I am at odds with the lightbulb delivery of my best friend’s idealism and my body’s realism and it’s all a sense of alchemism when I’m searching for altruism.
I’m told that I am too big for my body, or “for such a little girl, you’re very smart,”. I used to start in the plus-size section of stores, only to be escorted to diminutive floral prints and capri pants.
I am still mistaken for a lost child at the airport, I am still advised not to go out in certain areas after dark, I didn’t realize I was small until I wasn’t listened to.
Jul 11, 2014
Jul 11, 2014 at 12:14 AM UTC