Exploitation poems that are original and profound. Explore a brilliant collection of exploitation poetry that you can’t stop reading. These poems on exploitation are published by poets from all over the world and are sure to keep you High On Poems!
A COMMON MAN LIKE ME, could not dream to live freely under the Sun and the Moon like this. It belonged to the rich…. It belonged to the politically aligned It belonged to the certain castes and communities, the minorities,
Looked naïve, but he was elevating himself on the heap of lights unlearning the human commitment. Hunger was his weapon to level the uprising of underprivileged. This monarch of darkness picks up the best, insists on low profiles. We were
Tell me not to turn the page… it’s the distress that made me strong, it’s the distance that taught me to long. It’s the lies that taught me to nurture the truth, it’s the exploitation that gave me the courage
There are millions of voices that are silenced From trafficking, slavery, and exploitation. Not just overseas, in third world countries, But right here in our very own nation. There are millions of tears that spill to the earth Of those
After many years of slavery we still end up being enslaved today After many years of exploitation We are still being exploited till today Oh! brother is revolution time is time to live in a real world stand up and
Twenty score years ago, and some The evil merchants crossed the waves Gleeful as they raped and pillaged Their cargoes of dark-skinned slaves En route to the land of Liberty Where all men are created equal In their most frightening
She was the smoke that arose from the tip of my cigarette, Covering me with her essence. Insisting that I wrap my lips around her. I held her tight, Staining my fingers with her. Not once did she have to
Somewhere along the dark shades of trees I could feel someone’s waiting for me A creepy feeling I couldn’t hide A spell telling me not to hide. A second thought I set aside As I wandered through the night I
Love sometimes never arrives us Looking for someone in total loss Yet it would cross a desert When it is real and honest It is every minute giving it your all And forgiving everything big or small It is forgetting
Matters of heart Are for it to know only, At crossroads sometimes We are indecisive and lonely. No rescue can redeem What the heart loses after, No stranger can sense The catch in our laughter. Morphed into a weird world
High above timberline on the fringe of a pristine alpine meadow in the dawning of a new wilderness day. The rolling bugle of a superior bull elk, reflected on this master bugler’s breath in the cool crisp air. A lonesome
The falling rains, the blowing wind The call of mountains, The songs of river, The chanting of bells, The joy of spring Are indeed sweet, Alas; but not – as sweet Sweet as you are The dreams which drive, The
Life alone is a desolate reign, feel no remorse, no fear, no pain. Dark lonely days and endless nights with no chance of living, or more pointless fights. My reasons, pure and simple. A growing need with mouths to feed;
Abstraction has become a constant routine. Contemplating not knowing what to do or who to become, had became a life’s affair. Coming up with disparate possibilities on what to do in life, I came up with: Nothing. Nada. Zilch. Zippo.
While drinking the long night you became taller than the eternal question, bitten by the moon. Witchhunting will not stop in oligarchy. A human right stands on the ivory gate to enter the dust. The weightlessness is paraded nude amongst
Monitoring for movement, scanning expectantly for signs. Electric eyes, barely blinking. Knowing the prey and her hiding places. Prowling the night, thoughts blacker than the surrounding darkness. Staccato stalking, sleek and streamlined, she smells the air. Nervous nose, almost aquiver.
A blacksmith exploded a missile at point-blank to lower the animal in a candid manner. So close that truth went brute. Nativity of a patriarch was challenged. The birds had migrated a long distance to find the water. The doors
Madness burns like a candle Blustery night haunted with Anna No clover or wild grass grows No laughter sighs in the wind Only the moan like a cemetery The sea wrestles with ghosts I have drowned in sorrow Sanity has
I’m gonna hit the jackpot They’ll have stars in their eyes I’m the Kahuna bigly The father well The winner justly And I’m right on the edge Snakely eyes in the back of my head Rolling highly I’ll be home
Under the vast canopy Of spotless blue sky With snow-capped hills as neighbours Rests the cute cottage blissfully In the midst of blooming flowers Far from the madding crowd Far from din and bustle Far from smoggy air space And
Take time, To stop for a while, look around you, look at this beautiful world. Take some time, to be free, from this hectic life, and to enjoy the scenery. Where you are, might be the place, which you had
They didn’t fear the violence in the sky Rare in Seattle, a dark parade of corybantic Beasts where there’s often a light grey Ceiling. It came on in a pinwheel, blotting Every point on the rose in its turn before
Oh DON’T GO IN THE BASEMENT child, Don’t let them in; don’t let them get to you Keep all the doors that lead downstairs Double locked, I’m telling you this for your Own good child, do whatever you gotta do
The sea so calm, beautiful and bright, Ah! So bondy lovely sight! The assuage wave lashing on the shores, Fishermen eject on their daily chores, But who knew that such a morn would come When the sea would become an
Higher than clouds, A voice beckons loud, Shouting incoherent statements, Clouding its own sentiments. Down here vibrations resonate, In well traveled ears they commemorate, Aggressive tones without grace, Screaming on shriveled yesterdays. Voices screech after enough, When deafly righteous is
Not Too Verbose, Like Other Goose, Bla, Bla, Bla, Yeh…. Not a Communal Preferer, Like Other Piles Of Manure, Brag, Brag, Brag, Ney…. Like a Lactose Heart; Glorious, So Pious, Meant For Reverence; Reliable. Too Practical, So Mercurious, Far Concise,
The feelings of despair Around our air, everywhere. Calling out for help, Comes a time for rain… The silver lining shines, And things begin to rhyme! Those clouds of despair, That worry in the air, Those greys in the hair.
I like to behold the budding of bushes and branches as they prepare to bring to us their beautiful roses, shady limbs, and leaves. I like to hear the sounds of creeks, dams, ditches, lakes, ponds, and watersheds shouting in
I want the wall of divide to fall apart and Forget we’re born of different parents We are the children God made for love Now the parents of children teaching only love above all. Let’s once again remember our childhood