"uprisings" poems
To elaborate on what Chris Hedges (the liberal who loves to play radical during uprisings) wrote in the Occupied Wall Street Journal concerning the goal of the Occupy Wall Street movement: “The goal to us is very, very clear. It can be articulated in one word—REBELLION. … What the elites fail to realize is that rebellion will not stop until the corporate state is extinguished.”
To that, I say this:
If you are sick and tired of living in the land of the 'free',
in the land of plenty,
while you see injustice
and poverty
and suffering,
then stand up.
Join a local chapter of Occupy,
join any progressive group.
If you don't see these things,
PLEASE WAKE UP.
READ, look and listen,
to the world around you,
rather than a TV, an Iphone,
or some talking head.
The deep inequities in life exist for a reason.
Capitalism, that oh so familiar 'greed is good' mentality.
We have to transform it totally,
beginning with a plea for rebellion.
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 8:48 PM UTC
-
I’ve been accepted in a number of small-town organizations,
Constructed by some confetti-fetishists who craved nothing more than
To write their thoughts onto the underside of a bridge,
Abandoned due to incredible uprisings of what some would call faux water.
They’d told me,
Multiple times actually,
That I was bound to their ideals and morals forever;
That they’d essentially taken the parts of my brain that mattered
And the sections of my heart I knew couldn’t feel emotion but
Hoped dangerously that they, under suitable conditions, just might
And tossed them into a box
Snuck down to the river
Let it drift away as I slept alone.
I’ve been afraid to try new things, always afraid,
Always wandering about with a finger to the air and a
Paintbrush to mark where I‘ve been.
To think that they “saved me,”
Or “kept me from a suicidal afterparty” is now
Only a thought rather than action.
And now
Slowly, gently,
He lift a glass of dust to his mouth
Wondering who he used to be
As I watch myself from the corner.
-
May 16, 2011
May 16, 2011 at 6:09 PM UTC
The crown is crowned…
Queens’ skull filled and fit
The crowd yelled and hell…
Long live the great queen
And, the kingdom untied…
Out of scary and harass
It begins a royal customs…
Concert is growing up high
Sunshine, freely moving…
And everyone face is filled
Behold! Queens’ speech…
Is begin spread, to crowd
The crown is a crown…
Not every crown is a crown
Our crown is enormous…
The greatest crown ever
We are inimitable to rule…
This world, stock and barrel
We must proliferate…
Our well prominent desires
We call all to behold…
Our intention, will not free
Our invasion is, for all…
To lead the world wholly
Not for, to enchain again…
But, to design new hope
And, this crown is our…
Shall cross the threshold all
No stallions and horses…
Shall bear our heaviness
Lion and lioness shall sob…
Because of fear and fairness
No elephant will dance…
On any elephantine floor
No monkeys to climb up…
Any tree to chomp a fruit
And, rodents will not free…
For robbing others’ stuff
We may stay in, longer…
Stirring every living on gravel
Some may give in, and…
Other will be tardy to breathe
Lay the blame on no one…
But on someone like thee
We are sentient for that…
Grubby games been in playing
Corruption is a hobby for…
Everyone living on this terrain
It grounds unawareness and…
Uprisings to this living space
Immoralities subjugated all…
Elders and younger living gaps
Bribery awfully deep within…
The hearts and no compassion
Extravagancy and fraud hit…
Every narrow, in this legroom
Everyone claiming the high…
Possession and supremacy to all
Needy get no crumb of aid…
Because, everyone claim is poor
We call not on behalf but…
To stay in you are and stay safe
May 21, 2020
May 21, 2020 at 1:41 PM UTC
We are condemned to
pass by
in the smudged opacity
of bygone oil lamps
It is in these clandestine
exchanges -
Between pulsating nettle
stings in lightless anguish
just behind my eyes -
I steal treasured glimpses
of your timeless features
painted in
faded sepia tone depiction
of war torn Soldaderas
Lips carrying traces of shellshock
Eyes that speak
of barbed wire carved laceration
and coiled braids telling the story
of combat
As we sneak past the ruins
of failed uprisings
We defy this sorrow -
this separation
with a slow
sensual brush
of fingertips
across each others palms
A substitute for our
unrelenting passion
that must carry us through
until we meet again
Jan 17, 2014
Jan 17, 2014 at 10:36 AM UTC
Adding minutes to a lifetime (saying magic words)
**”And you, dear poet, friend of many years,
have given me so many inspirations, birthed within
us words,so oft, and so well, that your pithy observations,
manufacture time, add minutes to lifetimes**”
<>
wrote these words without thinking,
they’re sweet and neat, trivial but incomplete
but upon rear mirror review, Mr Poet
re-thinks, perhaps deserved of another serving,
curvy white, soft-to-the-lips, a moist vanilla kiss,
excellent ice cream in a sugar cone, words irresistible
for the sweetest poem sparks multi-coloration-explosion
of sprinkles ‘pon a skin’s surface,
uprisings of what lurks in the centrum of your
embodied universe and disembodied soul,
shockingly uprising from an internal fulcrum,
sea~tossed flotsam of a jagged life, now, all recovered
words sprinkling, beach treasures, and yet,
adding minutes to a lifetime…
*reliving old reels, is time recaptured, creating a
certain robust additive to thine cranking and
cranky engine, that’s logged much more than
a picayune hundred thousand miles on a voyage
of e i g h t decades, you employ ten fingers to
calculate your fugue of multi-voiced numerations!*
*can it be? it cannot be! millions upon millions of
minutes, possess and passed, yet highlight feature
films, enabling reliving so real that by watching,
seeing, believing, re-reading it is as if one is earning
life extensions…*adding minutes to a lifetime…
*‘tis true, rereading every small scrip, every poem,
returns one to prior-places, each a datum,
a particular spot, a point upon a schema of integrity & integration,
that rule the visions, a message of individualism
in the largest context of a true vision(arie)*
“chacun un point dans une peinture pointilliste…”
“each a point within a pointillistic painting…”
*in a few years, a stumbling upon shall here return me here,
and I will smile with great gratitude for the life extended,
accepting with gratitude,*
these few seconds, a last lasting chance,
to say some magic words
with a great vanilla whispering
adding minutes to you life as well
nml
May 7, 2024
May 7, 2024 at 3:56 PM UTC
Crushing all who oppose the ideas of our operation,
Greed runs deep within the roots,
Freedom is just a kind-hearted word,
Promises are now just lies,
You can't trust anything you see in the media,
The true world order is the one unseen,
Mysterious yet exuberant but no one gets the point,
Most uprisings are killed or silenced,
Yet an Idea lives as a seed that will grow into a tree,
Everyone is apart of the idea in their own little way,
Everyone is Anonymous.
Feb 25, 2013
Feb 25, 2013 at 9:28 PM UTC
Tears well in my eyes
For the sense of powerless-ness I feel
In the pit of my stomach
So powerless to pain
So powerless to evil
I can't change it,
Erase it,
Morph it into something beautiful
Like the end of a Disney movie
When the spell is lifted
And the kingdom is restored
I see masks plastered everywhere
Having a resemblance of depth
But they're merely shallow, bottomless abysses
Echoing their identity that they cling to
I want to say:
"It's all been said before! Can't you see? All these uprisings and rebellions throughout history didn't lead us very far. Our human nature is our persisting scar"
But maybe they'd sneer and call me "un-enlightened"
But really, their ideals are not even in alignment with their lifestyles
It's bizarre how we humans can dream up ideals and a utopia in our mind,
But continue to fail to bring those dreams into physical form
Maybe we're just all not on the same wave length?
I just don't understand
Do some people actually enjoy suffering,
The perpetuators of cruelty?
Or are they programmed to act maliciously by default
Because they were taught that we live in a cruel world
And the only way to survive is by being a sociopath
Or is the source of cruelty the 1 percent,
The filthy rich looking down at us at a Roman ampitheater,
Getting a thrill off our suffering
I want to pick up the whole world in my arms
Like an ailing helpless infant,
This is what our world has become
A toddler who doesn't know better,
That is drawn in by the vibrant glow of the fire
And is burned
I suppose collectively, we just don't know better
That we continue to be self destructive in every possible way,
And we don't even know it or
We even enjoy it...
I don't want to see anymore
Sad, vacant faces
I want to see smiles abounding
And hearts eager to share love and kindness
I want to see change,
I want to feel change,
I want to be change!
I want to change!
I want, the mindset that leads to futility
Rather, what can I do and be for others?
Perhaps this is what we all must focus on.
Aug 2, 2016
Aug 2, 2016 at 1:15 AM UTC
I thank God for the Rejections
I thank God for the No's
I'm Happy with a turn downs because
In my heart God knows
He Leads me down another direction
His Angels guard me with protection
For this I know This is just a Lesson
I Thank God for the
Unanswered Calls
All my uprisings and my downfalls
I Thank God for the Yays and the Nays
For I'm Looking Forward for my Better Days
I Thank God for the Let downs
He was Always there and will Always be Around
I Thank God for the Good and the Bad
I Thank Good for the Happy and Sad
I Thank God for the Closed Doors
I Thank God for what He has has Store!!
B.R.
Date: 6/26/2022
Aug 21, 2024
Aug 21, 2024 at 12:38 PM UTC
Because of love a grief will happen
that will make tiny uprisings of cold
thaw
in a furnace of today.
When it ends,
unlike you it will not be gentle,
it will invade everything
and evade courtesy
and want.
But this is because of love,
and what it does.
Mast casting,
everlasting.
Jun 1, 2013
Jun 1, 2013 at 5:35 AM UTC
Malignant gangrenous political cancer
corrupts, festers, and poisons United States,
thus opposition cannot wait,
especially since Gospel in accordance
with feeble minded Donald Trump
implemented wrought ugly trait,
particularly obliteration, sans progressive
human rights legislation
more or less pronounced positive
in every L ionized Nittany or cotton bowl state
and ratiocination inherent within
mine Democrat oriented mind doth rate
this forty fifth president (defect)
with sawdust packing
his noodle oven egotistical pate
trophy wife (spouse number three),
a Slovenia mate
donning "I don't care anymore"
t-shirt rousing media firestorm of late
essentially silently corroborating,
fostering, and illuminating hate
mutely bolstering the Trump anthem,
viz make America great
again, which pathless,
pithless, and pointless aim
roars like an earsplitting runaway freight
train oblivious of wailing soul asylum,
that no era meets said criteria
backtracking time machine before
rightful indigenous occupants of this land
got decimated as one after another
exploiter did inundate
(comprising a multitude
of indigenous variety of village people
indignantly subjected to Genocide,
when first "discoverer"
of new land didst promulgate
activation wrought deliberate sealed fate
vis a vis capitulation, demolition,
and extirpation, cuz
a scathing rebuke aye attest,
those murderers didst equate
worthlessness of
so called "Indians" on 1492 date,
and still remnants of storied tribes,
now attempt to create
historical documentation operate
ting with limited resources to adjudicate.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Food methinks doth buzzfeed drumbeat agog
at pyrotechnics July 4th, 2018 shared as blog
posts, a falsehood prevails which dog
gone “FAKE” brewed watered down grog
posits that the majority of Colonialists stay hog
tied to strict task masters, and mainly the scant
upperclass experienced autonomy,
no matter the under class didst futilely rant
and rave with the occasional
uprisings over time did grant
minimal appeasement to stifle violent kant!
Jul 4, 2018
Jul 4, 2018 at 1:00 AM UTC
i pick shadow and also the gallow be it shallow,
i, though serene meander in about
unabsolute things, fears and dreams ring out and
fade quietly by, and because of unseen things, shrill
blades ring true, their marks bringing about
unending screams in the dark, a thousand or
so plucks on an ever blood soaked harp.
play is a silly thing so easily given up by those
the best at it. for pleasure to me, seems critical
indeed, like petting a steed before a march or breed.
pain it seems exists in me and though i know
more than a common thief, it surges in me constantly
causing uprisings and uncontrolled jitterings and workings
silent hopings of red streams plague my dreams but
i still sing and hope to see crimson showerings
and lovely ruy coverings up of flowery things needed
by me to smile methodically as you look at me
and see a seed planted by me on your inner
most workings and machinery, ive the passwords
needed indeed for erasing your quelchings and delvings
deep. im still like a tree ready to be, to end or start thee.
Oct 16, 2013
Oct 16, 2013 at 10:43 PM UTC
it was all in the intellect of mankind
always in search of hope
so seldom to find
baring the crown of thorns
without halo but horns
uprisings in every city
gathering in swarms
and i
could feel his eyes on me
but they
they are blind
they
could never really see me.
Jul 5, 2012
Jul 5, 2012 at 10:52 PM UTC
Cold wind blow softly touching my cheeks...
Its the darkest night which can be cut into pieces..
fireflies create a missed starry night on earth....
I walk through the stars.....
I hear voice of the night...
I hear whole world breathing...
some are sleeping crawled up in warm beds.....
but i can't miss this night...
People used to look up in the night....
but with full of fireflies and cold wind...
it always make me to stare at darkness
May, its a full of endings and beginnings
maybe its cold as December or 34*c degrees hot
its May....people used to make fancy stories
that really happened in past
Revolutions, Religions, Uprisings ....
Everything started and ended in May.
I cannot say for sure what a beauty I feel this moment.
May 16, 2020
May 16, 2020 at 4:41 AM UTC
1.
In the minds of global leaders
$20 million is all it takes
To restore a world
Assaulted by negligence,
Grown by kneecapping the world,
All the while, spending
$1.71 trillion to ensure the worst offenders
Pay for their dreams of global dominance,
$20 million is all it takes
To undo two hundred years
Of the colonialist mentality
To aright wayward ******** of harlot empires
Who could only learn from neoliberals
In the bordello of the Western Hemisphere—
$20 million is all that it takes
To restore a world, a space far too big
For the imperial mind to encapsulate,
For they are too worried about
What is beyond space, what is in heaven
In glorious economic **********
There is no peace, no trumpeting
Communal values under whose auspice
The world over will achieve
The neoliberal dream:
The arena, the coliseum,
Where the sword, the tariff, the trade war
Are the proper lingua franca
Of the entrepreneurial class,
Suppressing popular uprisings
Is the front-line infantry
Of the entrepreneurial class—
2.
We are the Global West
Subsumed under the rancher,
The cowboy capitalist,
On the wilds of his destiny.
He’s tried his best,
To drag the whole herd with him,
Handed enough bootstraps
To hang itself with
As it ***** up water and rest,
At such a premium in the hard desert of
The industrialist’s heart, putting a stop
To what the herd wants—
It needs to make it beyond the pass
Into the uncertain future of
Coyotes and hazards aplenty;
The only certainty is, though,
Inequities between the rancher
And his livelihood,—
But, ah! That’s what makes
The Wild, Wild, Global West
So tempting to those whose numbers have been
Decimated by it in the early years,
Its growing pains; it’s simple, really:
War makes money, suffering is
The only commodity that defies the laws
Of supply and demand,
Its value rises as we tap more wells,
More wellsprings, as it bubbles to the surface
Of every sweating, stress-sickened face
Whether migrating or on the assembly line.
Our ranches must become bigger,
More accommodating to the cattle,
And, if possible, to make ranchhands
Of our rival ranchers at any cost,
If even the only subordinate is the earth itself.
Sep 29, 2019
Sep 29, 2019 at 12:33 PM UTC
Shannon sang:
Life is hard,
We have to change
Global pandemics and
Civil uprisings
Nothing will be the same
People in the streets
Voices carry
Did they hear us?
No justice,
No peace
An echo
Rubber bullets
Mace in the face
Independence day
All lives matter,
So they say
Girl in the green shirt
Costume covers
Grieving mothers
Life is hard,
We have to change
Jul 11, 2020
Jul 11, 2020 at 4:44 PM UTC
Like a switchblade my middle finger flashed out
Angry, self righteous, without any doubt.
A weapon or protest stabs innocent air,
skewering injustice and all things unfair.
Well oiled and oft used it stands at the ready,
Resolute, on point and ever so steady.
It leaps forth with such speed I could swear the air sang
with defiant rebellion and an audible twang.
It appears on the seen without much provocation,
except for my own insecure invocation.
Ah those were the days with scalpel like ease
and Errol Flynn skill I’d carve all that I please.
A happily buoyant juvenile revolution,
which had much to do with my evolution.
But now quiet and still in its scabbard it sits.
Tired, wrinkled and dull like my wits
Slightly arthritic and just a tad slower,
My weapon of choice now a disdainful glower.
Are there simply less things that annoy me enough
to expose prodigious digit with a great huff?
Do things matter less with the passing of time?
My insurgent uprisings reduced to sad rhyme.
Has peace come at last to this humble shell?
Tranquility now no more raising of hell?
My memories defiant and still fresh, they do linger.
But now it’s unlikely that I’d lift a finger.
© Copyright 2017 Robert C. Leung
Jan 28, 2020
Jan 28, 2020 at 3:30 PM UTC