Nightmare Truths
She hides the truth in nightmare screams,
Refusing to voice fevered dreams,
As moon bent shadows climb the wall,
To bring more demons to her hall.
Those who know her will see no tears,
She locks them away—shows no fears,
Fights her scars in silence alone,
Growing harder her heart of stone.
Ten million people
killed by machete
The Congo a hemorrhage
of human despair
Ten million people
whose carcasses rotting
In jungles of torment
— and life’s disrepair
(The New Room: September, 2025)
The Ides of September register strong agitation;
hatred’s violence breaks out, over and again.
Remembering the healing after 9-11’s rage -
the difficult rebuilding of our broken nation.
Measures toward reconciliation would be a gain,
Ideas for this September, a return to God's gauge.
TENDER VICTIMS (Children of Gaza Contest)
Dust-covered children,
With tear-streaked faces
And bloodshot eyes.
Orphaned. Abandoned.
Offered no respite--
Empty promises and lies.
Barefoot in rubble,
Tiny hands reaching,
Covered in flies.
Surrounded by debris,
Shattered homes,
With none to hear their cries.
The six o’clock news
Tells their story--
And gets one or two sighs.
WAR
ONLY HITHER KNEW HIMSELF
SELF TO DESTROY THE WORLD
WELL DONE MISTER
WE HAD ANOTHER WAR FROM YOU
I come to bury Charlie Kirk, not to praise him.
I’ve heard his words hurt millions, but that that didn't faze him,
that he took Jesus’ words about sowing division to heart,
and is said to have use them to help tear our world apart.
So, as for my praise ~ I'll wait till I see how history does appraise him.
Modernland has legalized murder, they roll these streets
Billyclubs in tow, those weak are taped and tortured
Throw'em a gun and a bullet grinning through glass
As those who suffer pull the trigger, bang
Darkness isn't evil, the real monsters are people
Art is rebellion, they want Armageddon, life isn't Christmas
They decide who gets presents, I'm number one
On the naughty list, then, some call it divine intervention
Others say entertainment, I say sacrilege to the manes
“No more of this!
Am I leading a rebellion?
Put your sword back in its place,
for all who draw the sword will die by the sword.
Put your sword away!
Shall I not drink the cup the Father has given me?"
They existed, they were here
Real people made to disappear
Hidden history, lies and erasure
For them it was protocol
For us It became normal
What really is normal
In the conversation of racism
Of different rules
When it comes to black people
It becomes opposite -
What is, is what's not
What's not is what is
A confusing cycle
We are expected to follow
When they themselves
Aren't reliable
This isn't about judicial rule
More control of a certain race of people
Don't be fooled -
By the fake smiles they draw
This is not societal
This is purely individual
If it wasn't, their morals would be total
The system of law -
Would be equal
However that is not the case at all
When eradication is their goal
It's why they deny their history of violence
It's why they bury our stories in silence
It's why they bleach the stains of their hate
It's why they burn our bodies to rid of their guilt
It's why they drown our voices in the ocean of their lies
It's why our history books are empty of our ink - just the erasure of our names
the blinders rest with ease—
seams seemingly gaunting;
haunting whispers crunch like teeth,
seekers left to guess
pestering what comes next
be a kiss that is gentle
or bent with tiles filing
finally laying—rather lying;
dying to look you
hook right between the eye
lend the heaven, tongues that speak.
though weepy,
deep and soundly they hide
behind masks clasping dearly
refraining to reclaim their faces
places they’ve felt love.
people they’ve once known—
sewn behind is their truth
and truthfully their pain is plain
written in bold
holding bruises
whether you choose to see it
or be it amiss.
wishing well feels like rope
we can feel it doping us
hoping that our next breath
is the last one to give less.
but living session after session
their weapons once sharp dulling
full hands weaken with tire
and wiry sighs leave the senses
why?
because we weren’t just prizes
disguised to heel blindly
or crawl without first running—
we are not sick and lowly farm animal
simple, dirty, managed to be manageable.
~ Based on the song, "What Did You Learn in School
Today?" written by Tom Paxton; popularized by
Pete Seeger ~
What did you learn in school today, son
What did they teach in school
I learned how to protest my country, Dad
They taught me that violence pays
What class did you learn that in, my son
Do you remember the teacher’s name
I learned that in Geometry, Dad
And my teacher’s Mr. Uppin Flames
Why you leaving the house now, son
Not ‘til your homework’s done
My assignment’s to attend a protest rally
Hey, Dad ~ Can I borrow your gun
Oh, what did you learn in school today
What did the teacher say
I learned how to protest the US of A
My teacher said violence pays
His rants will our freedom stifle
The lives of others a trifle
The lies Trump expounds
Sound like lethal rounds
Shot from Don's mouth like a rifle
Media is not a just
Mass media is most
As to my guess
Social media is first
Nepal to tell the best
-Dharga Nagar Safa
6 People killed in one weekend
Just like that their lives end
The gangs laugh all the way
They will never stay out of your way
The gangs are fierce and unscrupulous
To kill someone is for them a plus
It is in the gang’s territory
You will only become a memory
The gangs rob, rape, and kill
For the families it’s like a bitter pill
The gangs get order to kill at will
Or the boss will order on them a kill
The bosses’ rules with an iron fist
You disobey them you on the death list
If the gangs have financially lost
It will be your life and cost
That’s why the gang kills people without blinking
They do not want to be the ones sinking
The boss sees this
To him it’s bliss.
Killing as many people as it takes
These are very high stakes
The gangs do what is takes
In this case it was killing that it takes
Whistle echoes in the tunnel
then smoke belches upwards
as the train halts at the platform
Disgorging its passengers
before porters offload baggage
Cases, trunks, sacks – all claimed
But no
There on the platform two suitcases
Side by side, travelling twins of no fixed abode
Ace of Spades on one, King of Hearts on the other
Unnoticed
Porters distracted as the cavalcade announces its arrival
Guard of honour, red carpet, bowed heads -
trappings of power and privilege
Gliding through the booking hall
onto the platform
Glancing left not right
Two suitcase stand forlorn
Something stirs within
in an instant, carnage
No train
No platform
No power
No privilege
The end of monarchy
The start of republic
Suitcase slaughter
Suitcase solution
Specific Types of Violence Poems
Definition | What is Violence in Poetry?
Poems Related to Violence
rampage, disturbance, brutality, clash, confusion, assault, fighting, cruelty, attack, struggle, disorder, bloodshed, fury, onslaught, ruckus, sharpness, bestiality, coercion, fuss, severity, flap, roughness, fierceness, vehemence, passion