Revolutiionary Theory

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  • Political

    Revolutiionary Theory

    A looming portentous cloud
    remains present, ever opaque.
    Those attempting to see straight
    through, can’t comprehend the
    density clouding thought.
    An abstract idea, a thunder storm,
    an earthquake announces the ignorant
    offenders judgment must
    commence.

    Colorful stories of equality
    shade a silver lining around
    a blackening future. Pensive,
    just how to strike a quick blow.
    A flash of light, an accurate
    thrust of upheaval.
    Life remains relatively calm,
    with a chance of only a few
    squalls.

    Street level idioms replaced
    by esoteric gibberish,
    understood by the par takers,
    perpetually reflecting on the
    normalcy replaced by slavery.
    Thunder clap…
    News crews throwing slews of
    elitist mentality, the extending
    hand clinches into a fist, molding
    the weak, shaping flimsy resolve
    into sturdy, strong militants.
    Ready to breathe the mist of
    their action, to replace
    retardant kindling with
    accelerant acronyms.

    A distraught mouth stapled
    closed, holding the spineless
    mind in position, held securely
    by inaccurate euphemisms.
    A gathering of acceptance,
    towards a plight, a stronghold
    gripped around an already
    tightening windpipe.

    A tempered, callous view of
    the future, obliged to speak
    loquaciously about precarious
    positions of so many, while
    he holds no struggle by the
    strings of emotion, he clutches
    only infamy.
    Repeating, “if only, if only,
    Freedom, equity, and justice
    can never die upon wounded
    ears pierced by thunderous
    applause for the success of their
    opulent pride.”

    A mantra repeats, and recycles
    itself, while every piece of flesh,
    oppressed becomes his own
    understanding, although remaining
    incapable of living them out,
    it’s just the unfair advantage
    destiny maintains, apathy for
    the insight of tragedy.
    Repeating, “if only, if only
    freedom, equity, and justice
    could never die.”

    Wielding wit, sarcasm, and
    belligerence, revolution rains
    down rants of change, and
    upheaval if only to be part of
    a stagnant struggle, a piece in
    a ubiquitous puzzle.
    Repeating, “if only, if only,
    freedom, equity, and justice
    would reflect themselves,
    if only, if only.”

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    If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry.

    Emily Dickinson (1830-1886) American poet.

    CdeM’s Poems (48)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
    Amassing 0
    Delicate Demon 0
    Inclined to Define 0
    Blood Omen 0
    Silent Observer 0
    Falling Army Men 0
    A Mocked Indifference 1
    Rigidity US 4
    Infrastructur
    e
    0
    A Cynic? Maybe 1
    Apparitions 0
    A Hush Blushing 0
    A Tiller's Son 1
    A Rung Above Poverty 0
    Sangreal 1
    Vague Fatality 3
    Empty Rhetoric 5
    Immolation 2
    Dancing 1
    Not For the Apathetic 8
    Aristocracy 6
    Always Objecting 3
    Evolution Involves Evolving 1
    Gambling Man 3
    Minions 2
    Heretical Fingerprints 5
    A Prayer From Purgatory 1
    Endearing Metaphor 0
    A Crown of Royalty 1
    Separated Angst 1
    Crucible 0
    The March 2
    Peace As I See It 1
    Restless, Voiceless, Spirits 8
    "One More Rogue Nation" 1
    Roman-iacs 0
    Wrong Before One was Right 0
    Unchanged, unbiased, and focused 1
    My 5
    SIfJ 2
    Communism 0
    Greatest Revolutionary 1
    Scholastic 0
    Blood Omen 1
    How This Works 2
    Mutiny or Monotony 1
    Revolutiionar
    y Theory
    0
    Seamless 5