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Violence Angst Poems | Violence Poems About Angst

These Violence Angst poems are examples of Violence poems about Angst. These are the best examples of Violence Angst poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Free verse | |

Selfish

I don't understand
   Why it is
I feel the things I feel
I do the things I do
 for you
I don't understand
   Why it is
You feel the things you feel
   Why 
You do the things you do
   Wait-
Now, I understand
   For you


---By: ~Tawny~

   My daughter


Details | Limerick | |

Just Desserts

Thaddeus Dowdell was a right proper chap,
Who said pip pip, tally ho and the rest of that crap.
He married a young lady just as arrogant as he,
She looked down her nose at rabble such as we.
Thankfully, both were hacked to death by a crazy ninja Jap.


Details | Iambic Pentameter | |

Park Bench Ghost

 
 
Why am I emerging from the dark 
Staring at a bench in City Park. 
Breathless air without a bird in song. 
So I sit, unknowing, yet belong.
 
Sudden waves of anguish flood my mind. 
Feral, vicious, senseless bursts of time. 
Then a calming whisper fills my ear
And my reason now, for being here.
 
Minutes of my final day proceed.
Mockingbirds and peanut squirrels to feed.  
Speckled sun through breezy treetops sway 
And two hidden figures inch my way. 

Choking arms, a weakness, loss of breath; 
Forced behind a thicket to my death. 
Off they bolted free without a trace. 
Now I'm vengeance. Patiently I wait.

I'm aware each footstep, as they move, 
But this peaceful park is where I choose. 
Soon they stalk again. I know the place. 
Little do they know the wrath they face.

Gene Bourne
11-29-13



.


Details | Narrative | |

The Woes Of Trust

An angel formed from 
lake of purity,a gift to 
mankind-illuminating 
darkest parts of hearts.
A chaste damsel,
untouched rose from the 
garden of the elves.

Sent to earth,made an 
abode in a gentleman's 
heart,whom she 
cherished and loved.

As time travelled,another 
fella whom she trusted 
lured her to un-saintly act
Her pride laid on altar of 
dishonor and infidelity.
Her life she almost 
snuffed,she feared the 
love of her true love 
would be lost. Alas! bond 
of love is indivisible.

Shattered,with a broken 
spirit she tries to mend 
the pieces....on the 
shoulder of her lover she 
leans,hoping to soothe 
her bruised heart.



Note:
A true story,a close 
pretty lady friend of mine 
was raped by her family 
friend yesterday...who 
called her and told her 
his mum was very sick.
She called me and 
confided in me .
Don't know whether to 
encourage her to call the 
police.


Details | Ballade | |

Oh, what a hectic month

Oh,what a hectic month

Oh what a month it’s been
Two lots of relies came
Over from the old country
It’s been a frantic game
I’m not used to all this stuff
But I’m glad it all took place
Although it was real hectic
No frown did crease my face.

One trip to Margaret River
Wow! This, it was a blast
We toured those rich surroundings
Till we went home at last
Then the darned flue knocked me down
And I spent some time in bed
And then I put my back out
As I banged my bloody head.

It seemed that I was on the mend
But my computer shat itself
I lost both poems, and photos
They’re the sum of all my wealth
Thank God I got the poems back
Alas, but not the photos
I guess I lost them, all of them
But this is how it goes


It’s been some heavy karma
That’s all that I can say
But now that it’s all over
I feel real fine today
So it’s back to meditation
And working on my soul
It’s time to get some relaxation
And once more feeling whole

23 October 2013 @1450hrs.



Details | Rhyme | |

Is it to late

Can we stop it?

It’s a crazy, hazy world
All filled with crazy people
The danger we are in
Its sky high, like a steeple
It’s reaching a crescendo
It’s touching air and ground
Earthquakes, hurricanes and floods
These be so often found
Is it too late to stop now?
Can we really turn it back?
Or is there mass destruction
A short way up the track?


Details | Ballad | |

Be careful what you wish for

Now here is the story of a restless young man
Who dreamed of fighting in South Vietnam.
He’d learned about war in the comics he’d read
And he knew in his heart that for this he’d been bred.
As soon as it came up, the lads eighteenth year
He went off to enlist for an army career.

He saw some old major and he sat for some tests
Then the  shrink and the doctor saw him with the rest
Of those gallant young fellows that wanted to fight
And give to their country the force of their might.
When all this was over it was late in the day
So feeling elated he for home made his way.

About two weeks later a letter arrived
And reading it’s message his spirits raised high.
For he’d been accepted a soldier he’d be
And the feel of the message did fill him with glee.
He had to front up in a couple of days
And then for Kapooka he’d be on his way.

Ten weeks in Kapooka it taught him a lot
He learned to make war and leave bodies to rot.
He was taugh how all commies just murdered and lied
And that he and his country had God on their side.
And that no sacrifice could be too great to make
And it’s an honour to die for a great country’s sake.

His training all over he joined a Platoon
He’d made Infanteer he’d be fighting soon.
It was off to corp training to learn even more
About all of the goodies that go with a war.
He kept seeing his image all tough, mean and strong
For he was a fighter and this was his song.

It was just eight months later that his posting came through
He was off to the jungles, his dream had come true.
Well his plane soon arrived at that sad Nui Dat
Where he first heard the guns as their missiles they spat.
He was fearful at first but he soon became calm
These guns were on his side they’d do him no harm

A month or two later he’s out on patrol
As tail end Charley He’s playing the role
They were deep in the scrub with peace all around
 Then the air came alive with this terrible sound.
He felt himself falling “Lord is this a dream”
He asked as he heard he his God awful scream.

He lay there not hurting but sensing the worst
As he felt all around where his stomach had burst.
Where once it was firm gaped a warn sticky hole
It seemed that again war had taken it’s toll.
It seemed like a nightmare, a terrible dream
As the medic assured him that it weren’t like it seemed.

He sensed the black silence and quickened with fear
For man stands alone when his end it be clear. 
Then something within him gave way to great peace
As his wisdom did whisper that all things must cease.
Then the great mother came, took him gently away
From that place of man’s anger where a body did lay.

A true story of a friend of mine who died in Vietnam written in 1975....Peter


Details | Haiku | |

Still My Enemy

Some boys called them dinks.
I called the bastards Viet Cong.
Others called them gooks.


Details | Kimo | |

Russians And Ukrainians

Russians and Ukrainians facing off.
What could possibly go wrong?
Bloodshed with many dead!


Details | Limerick | |

Deep Doo-Doo

Lonnie is a real creep.
He drives a beat up jeep.
He robbed a preacher’s son.
Now he is on the run.
He is in doo-doo real deep.


Details | Haiku | |

Deadly Mistake

trip and splash
teeth take advantage and sink
flock must flee


Details | Rhyme | |

The escape

The Escape.

Two field mice took a walk one day
Then feeling tired, they'd walked a ways
They thought they'd stop and rest a while
For home was further on some miles.

Then they heard the pad of old Toms paws
Which spooked them quite a bit I'm sure
As the cat purred loudly to see the mice
And thought "a meal it would be nice!"

Their whiskers quivered nervously
As, our two mice made haste to flee
So off they scampered for their lives
As old Tom cat for them did strive

That old cat looked he, high and low
And where they were he didn't know
As the two they trembled neath a bush
They could almost touch that mean old puss.

Then Tom gave up and skulked away
And the two mice lived another day
And their lungs filled up with gratitude
They'd foiled that old tom cat, so rude.

Peace, Socrares Dec 2 2003


Details | Lyric | |

Roses

The Roses are dripping red
The violets are fading to gray
Tell me something to make me stay
Or just forget about me and walk away


Details | Lyric | |

The loss of innocense

The loss of innocence.

Little folk come out to play
Alive and filled with joy.
Whilst evil folk with ugly minds
They seek out to destroy
Sweet innocence, with poison acts
To gratify their lust
They create from children’s innocence
An outcast without trust.

A happy world, all filled with joy
That’s how it’s meant to be
These kids should be like rivers
Alive and running free
Yet evil men destroy their souls
And teach them, life is bad
And as they reach maturity
Their live are so, so sad.

Butterflies don’t come no more
And birds no longer sing
There’s only fear within their souls
What joy then can life bring?
Sweet young children made to love
How can they suffer so?
I just don’t know!!!!

How can the world not care enough
To put a stop to this
I guess that some would shrug it off
And say ‘that’s how it is’
But in the end lord Karma comes
And the future looks real grim
Those children well may rule someday
With minds made cruel and dim.




Details | Free verse | |

The Strand

This expanse of land has seen things. 
Things all of us can only see in dreams.
It's seen war, it's gotten it's fair share of scars.
Bombs bursting, bullets throwing sand into the air like it's a volleyball tournament.
The sand running red with blood silently mocking our arteries.

This magnificent stretch of land has seen heroes' tears fall; dropping to their knees while sadness envelopes their fallen brothers but also looking up to their beloved whilst carrying a ring in their hand. 

It's seen bright days, the sun glimmering over wet sand, footprints of past loves being washed away as the sun smacks the horizon. 

This expanse of land...has seen things we can only imagine.

T.K


Details | Sonnet | |

STELLA DIES

   STELLA DIES
Dear Stella, up the path, into the park,
deep shadows hide the trees along the Seine,
the quiet of the night accents the dark
and you can feel your breathing now and then.

The peaceful gloom, enveloped by a mist,
all black and gray and shades of morbid white,
accentuates the place your eyes have missed,
where someone waits, who's watched you every night.

This place, where gendarmes warn to be aware,
tonight is more foreboding than you've known,
and so you pause; you look; is someone there?
it's then you realize, you are alone.

The snapping of your heels you hear increase,
as if the hurry puts your mind at peace.

Engulfed, the path leads up and from the Seine,
and then you'll be out of this narrow pit,
but suddenly you feel the eyes again,
much closer than a glove too small to fit.

You struggle with your thinking, in a word,
to flee or just pretend no one is there,
and so you hum a tune you've never heard,
and place your safety in your mother's prayer.

Oh, Stella, Stella, in the spring you'll wed,
your sweet Gaston. Believe he's at your side,
and you will laugh at all this gloom and dread...
though courage might have found you, it has lied.

The shadows all are moving; you can hear
the groaning of someone who's all too near.

The quiet; crickets sounding no alarm,
but now a drizzle rain cools at your heat,
and tingles flowing down onto your arm
remind you of the friends you'll never meet;

quite suddenly, he's grabbed you from behind,
and muffles any sound you might have found,
you cannot scream, to hurt is in your mind,
but he's too quick, he's pinned you to the ground.

Who is this thing, your lover or your friend,
you might have pained...why does he want you dead?
or is this just someone who brings the end,
you've never known, with killing in his head?

You feel no teardrops, feel no blood nor fright,
there's only blinding, blinding, blinding light....
© ron Wilson aka Veebdosa the Doylestown poet


Details | Rhyme | |

Nothing More Or Less

Millions of lives and souls untold
And to account it all
Words, lines, films
Imagination trims
A sliver of soft, scarlet ribbon
Hollywood rounds
Quills deliver
Writers flare with passion so strong
Filling minds with fantasies, reveries, histories
Tragedies
We consume it all like freshly baked bread
We feed until we are engorged and fed
A viral, universal mess
Ideas and unmade memories
Nothing more or less

My eyes remain glued to the screen
Living it all out
Tears dare to flow—to doubt
I should have thought of that
Can I truly let myself believe,
Someone else lived that!
Pound away your directors, script-writers, fighters
For miles and miles of stories remain unread
While the unknown remain in the grounds of humble malnourishment
Dead
Careers for the mind with a twist of the fable
Left us savage for the meal and the crumbs under the table
I can never let the raw truth rest
Naked, bare and empty—soothed
Nothing more or less

I cringed for originality 
Observed the world through the unedited scripts
The very act, the poetry pact
The wild animal drooling in the back
I was slapped in the face by my boss who had cracked
As the reviews bloated less and less
They wanted something awful, something flaw-ful—something new
And this empty brain in agony—HISSED 
I have lived in no epic battle of account
Of the collateral sufferings of my brothers
The stories the red carpet smothers
And still I ache to create
Before the other ones discover
I returned with ‘‘oh me’s’ and ‘oh my’s’’
With a work of pure genius—a storybook of lies
Nothing more or less

Little have I lacked to dream
Of contortioned pulls and dramatic fire
Stories that rarely brittle or tire
I fiddled with precious glass on edge
Foully eager for self-damage
As if it would trigger some legitimate spark 
Searching for creatures and features in the dark
No one unlocked the passage that night
For the starving idea-parched malice of right
But all welcomed with open arms
A pale mannequin filled with jewels and charms
Consuming, fuming dooming
All ghosts hoping, screaming, looming
Hoping that one day they would find themselves on the big screen
Their legacy real as it can possibly get
Nothing more or less


Details | Lyric | |

Always looking

Always looking.

Always looking outward
There’s chaos all around
Fighting, fighting everywhere
No solace can be found
Gossip and stern judgements
And all those global wars
There be no way of stopping this
It goes on forever more.

Always looking inside
At the Chaos there within
This might forbear that trumpet
That says ‘Let peace begin’
To see the war within you
Is the way to wisdoms door
Might bring you to the harmony
That’s sought forever more.

There be no good in searching
Not nowhere but in you
Might find the song of harmony
Might find out what be true
It’s there within your deepest soul
It’s the way to make one whole.

The trees, they weep in sorrow
The soil sings songs so sad
The wars are raging everywhere
The future’s looking bad
Cause each of us looks outside
Not seeing what’s within
It’s time to make those changes
Let harmony begin.

3 November 2013 @ 0656hrs.


Details | Free verse | |

Light To Dark

You think you’ve gone just far enough,

I could smile knowing you’ve gone far enough that you can’t go back again

You think you were careful but,

I’ve caught a glimpse of your true, wretched form

You think you can find a way into my good graces

I’ve seen what you are, monsters with a friendly costume

You can’t deceive me anymore and, I don’t consort with serpents

You think I’m a game to be played but, trust me, you could never win

Don’t underestimate me

You think I’m a joke but, trust me you won’t be laughing

You think I’m just talking myself up but, trust me, you’re the ones going down

My eyes took too long to adjust

Better late than never

It may take a monster to know one but, I promise my teeth are sharper than yours

My first reaction to the hideous revelation that was your form was to weep

Fall to my knees, maybe even wretch my heart from my chest and onto the carpet

Then I thought about the mess it would make

I decided the only blood that will spill, will be your own

I was not weak, but I had a weakness

A heart of soft gold stitched to my sleeve with care

No longer

Now my heart is a stone so heavy

I could kill at least two birds at once 

Being the nice guy is a thing of the past 

Thanks for freeing me of that softness

You thought I was all sunshine and delicate things

When really I had just been swallowing razor blades

Now that sun is setting and I hope you see it was you who were wrong

Can you feel my darkness coming, because it’s eager to hold you

If you thought I was the one who would just stand still or turn to run

Your gonna be the one with tired feet

I’m not sad anymore

Just sick with the plague of your lies

Contagious, and I’m looking for someone to kiss

Even angels can make themselves wicked

When we do, we take no prisoners

Still think I’m a game

This one is just beginning


Details | Free verse | |

Dear Dad

Dear Dad 				
Why don’t you love me? 
The small brown eyed girl asked her father as he beat her at night,
 then with a smile in the morning he’d scoop her up in his arms to play.
Why don’t you love me? 
The bigger brown eyed girl asked her father as he walked out and
never came back.
Why don’t you love me? 
The young brown eyed girl asked her boyfriend of two years,
As he walked out the same door her father did eight years before.
Never to return.
Why didn’t you love me?
The older brown eyed girl asked her father at his funeral.
As she leaned over the edge of his casket and kissed him gently on the forehead,
Tears running down her cheeks.
Why couldn’t you love me? 
The oldest brown eyed girl asked as she lays Jasmine’s and roses
On her father’s grave.
Only a row down from her old boyfriend’s,
With love that never dies.
And her question is answered in the wind, 
As the answer is whispered in her heart.
How could you love me?
If you couldn’t love yourself?


Details | Lyric | |

Dark rider

Dark Rider.

Dark Rider he’s a coming
All the people running scared
Panic streaked across their frightened faces
With his mask of blackest horror 
He loudly screams at them
His manner cold, he has no lovely graces

He made a deal with Satan
A thousand years ago
He was given immortality
He's crazy don't you know?
The Fiends of Hell all ride with him
With snakes wrapped round them too
He'll hunt you down no matter what you do.

He comes to torture people
He's a beast without a soul
As he travels through the wastelands
With his horde of Hades Ghouls
He has no heart, he has no soul
He only has the power
To trample hearts, so folk will never flower

Dark rider he’s a coming 
Folk all running scared
With no one knowing where he's going to be
They're running round in circles 
They are, oh yes indeed
He keeps folk captive, never sets them free.

Dec 10 2003


Details | Ballad | |

The joy of the pheasant shoot

The joy of the pheasant shoot.

Getting set for the big event
The good folk do their stuff
They beat the earth with sticks, do they?
With their little dogs so tough 
They flush those pheasants from the scrub
So all can have some fun
Killing them with smiling faces
As they fire beloved guns.

Then as the pheasants in a panic
They bolt into the sky
Our hero’s with their guns in hand
Make sure that hundreds die
As the air is filled with the cracking sounds
As birds fall all around
Just so these fools can get there jollies
These corpses cover ground.

I wonder sometimes if these hero’s
Have any souls at all
That they could get such satisfaction
Doing these acts so cruel
Sometimes it leaves me speechless
At the way folk get their pleasure
Killing beauty just for fun
Is an ugly kind of leisure.

10 September 2013 @ 1340hrs




Details | Ballade | |

In defense of the chook



The chook defense

Now I’m no vegetarian
Though I’d like that this could be
At seventy I’ll never change
So I’m just stuck with me
And I really love’s me chook
In every kind of way
But now I’m in the mood I’m in
I just have this to say…..

If we’re going to eat these chooks
Don’t we owe them some respect
We treat them like commodities
But what I might reflect
Is, if we treat these creatures thus
That God placed on this earth
Then we neglect our very souls
And too our own self worth.

Those birds are treated so damn mean
How can one understand
This cruelty, are we then humane?
It don’t look too damn grand
And where’s the goodness in a food
That’s never seen the sun
So when we treat these birds like this
What damage have we done?

That chicken flue was scary, once
But who knows much at all
About the karma that can come
From things, unnatural.
It’s time for changes in this world
When dosh is not the ‘all’
And then humane might be a word
That’s truly wonderful

10 July 2013 @ 1301hrs.



Details | Free verse | |

Cease Fire

The Crusades Began a Holy War
Which Continues to this Day.
We Kill, and Kill, and Now it Seems,
This shall Always be the Way.

One Side Scores, the Others Die,
Then the Cycle is Repeated.
It never Stops, It’s never Done;
The Battles Grow More Heated!

The Way to Peace, it Seems so Clear,
Is not Through Senseless Slaughter.
I Appeal to All, “Please Quit the Fight!”
Save our Sons and Daughters!

To Find Our Way out of the Dark,
We Need only Seek the Light.
A Solution Lies within our Grasp:
Forget who’s Wrong or Right!

This God or that, it Makes no Matter.
This Truth I have Acquired:
Be they Different, or the Same,
The Gods would Preach Cease Fire!


Details | Lyric | |

Have and Have Not

Born into poverty
Instead of heraldry
Disappointment struck me glum
Square peg in a round hole
Ends up on the dole*
Got no money and I want some

My nights of abandon
Were strictly rationed
Contraception isn't cheap
Then into these drab nights
No warmth and no lights
Fed up of counting sheep

You came and you stained 
the sheets and the bed frame
Your self indulgence left me sore
You left me white
and a terrible sight
But still I craved for more

But if I had money
You'd stick with me honey
You wouldn't leave me in this mess
But I'm just a pauper
Can't support a daughter
(Finances) stretch to a budgie at best

Well she cut her hair
and dated a millionaire
Splashing cash has such allure
But, he beats her senseless
Then buys her a new dress
She's not happy, but she's 'secure'

He has and I have not
I want what he's got
The irony is - I had it once
He went to Cambridge and Eton
He's got me down and beaten
He's left me feeling such a dunce

The moral then sonny
Is those who have money
Will always get the best of both worlds
So if your not rich
Then life's a b***h
So go find yourself a rich girl



*old fashioned term for social security payments in the UK. 
[This is actually a song rather than a poem, which I wrote almost 30 years ago - when I was full of angst and acne! Can't find or remember the music I wrote for it though - shame]


Details | Free verse | |

My cobain smile

I want to drown my urge to die
I want to kill my pulse inside
I can't breathe, I'm paranoid
Everything in life I avoid

Don't speak to me, I'll look away
Inside my eyes is just decay
 I'm already dead, but have yet to die
Why do I keep my body alive

My soul is dead, eyes are lies
So is the smile I hide behind
Pull the plug, I'm a fake
In a nightmare and I cannot wake

Drown me! I'm flooded in pain
Please help me regain
Some peace, some rest 
I want to die to live again

Set me free 
Slitting my wrists isn't working
The more stares I get
The more I become numb
I just need to be gone
Eliminate my pain, 
I'm already out of breath 
Suffocating on my hopelessness

Every day I am alive 
But I'm craving to die inside
Curved smile because your so naive
You think I'm happy 
Yet I'm being crushed
My head is overflowing 
With these thoughts that are too much

One word, suicide
Sparks a light inside of my eyes

I don't want to pretend to live
Let me go, flood me in sin
There is where I want to swim
Six feet under the ground

Don't be selfish 
And keep me in pain
To tourture my lifeless body again
Let my body float soundly
Rushing water, ocean salt
I promise I won't feel it at all.

End it, hold me under 
Then bury me so I can slumber
Goodbye lifeless eyes
As I'm dying I'll be coming alive
Haunting images 
Deleted from my mind
Laughing 
As I leave this world behind

Water 
Floods my lungs 
Death 
Leans in for a kiss

Together we sink into insanity
And drown in infinitys abyss. 


Details | Lyric | |

All Along the Watchtower Re-Visited for 9-11

"There must be some kinda way to find out here"
Said the seeker to the stealer
"There's too much confusion
I'm struggling to be the reveal"

"Conglomerate men, they drink my wine
Politicians dig my earth
None will level on the line
Because none of them are worth it" hey

"There is reason to get excited"
The seeker, he kindly spoke
"There are many here among us
Who feel our governments a joke"

"Now you and I, we've lived through this
And this is not our fate
So let us not talk falsely now
The hour is getting late", hey

Hey

All along the watchtower
Liars kept the view
While all the women came and went
Barefoot servants too

Outside in the cold distance
The C.I.A. did growl
Two riders were approaching
And the wind began to howl, hey

All along the watchtower
All along the watchtower

All along the watchtower on that tragic September day
We need some investigation, for someones has to pay
Now you and I, we've lived through this, and this is not our fate
So let us not talk falsely now, before this generations to late

We will always remember, and remember who we lost that day
We need some investigation, for someone has to pay
All along the watchtower, a nation in mournful cries
We are not so blind, it's amazing what you can see when you close your eyes

All along the watchtower
All along the watchtower




James, we lost you in Kensington, England. The Star Spangled Banner will
live long in your past. I can't say the same for some of your American so
called country people. Thank you for allowing me to gracefully use . . . .
'All Along the Watchtower' it's blatantly obvious someone was not.

To all the lost in the 9/11 tragedy, my thoughts will always be with you.


 All Along The Watchtower by Jimi Hendrix, with some lyrics changed 




Details | Lyric | |

Game of Starbucks

I am standing 
In a line scene
Cuz my body
Needs its caffeine 

And in front of me some dink
Orders a confusing drink
Now he’s changing ‘round his order
With our patients growing shorter

And a sword from
Someone’s pocket
Now sticks through the
Guy’s eye socket

Du du du du 
Du du du du
Du du du-du du-du du-du...


Details | Rhyme | |

Rag doll


Start with half a pillow case. 
Cut two patterns, darn the ends. 
Take the flattened doll like shape, 
Stuff the softest rags within. 

Knit a round and fluffy ball. 
Double sew this sturdy nose. 
Then an attic box recalled 
Of forgotten baby clothes. 

Cuddle softly, puffy face. 
Whisper firmly, "Not a peep". 
Tuck it in its hiding place 
As the doorway slowly creaks. 

Button eyes that never blink, 
Painted lips that never speak. 
Would they could, we might rethink
Just how safely children sleep. 


Gene Bourne
02-05-14


Details | Free verse | |

When Doing Wrong Feels so Right

Each town has it’s own Heart Beat: Thump, Thump- Thump, Thump.
And All can go astray when doing wrong feels so right.

A young man came in contact with the police… and has died.
So the town decided to protest, drawing others from the outside.
Everything got out of hand, and escalated, throughout the night.
Businesses destroyed, homes robbed, fires, it wasn’t a pretty sight.
The innocent bystanders have decided to move away, in droves.
The businesses are losing customers, as to safety so many go.
Eventually, businesses will also leave, for customers they must have.
The area will become blighted, where a good home once could be had.

Each town has it’s own Heart Beat: Thump, Thump- Thump, Thump.
And All can go astray when doing wrong feels so right.

Police and their families are being threatened, as they try to understand.
But they see that they must guard at night, all which continues to stand.
The Newsmen are stirring things up, as to the National News they go.
Of course we need to know the plight of all, as they stir up more woes.
Protesting the freedom, to protest at night, hasn’t helped stop the fights.
More will be leaving the area, cause they don’t want to live too close.
It’s the innocents who continue to suffer, if the town becomes a ghost.
It could end in a moment, or be like the fighting, in the Middle East.

Each town has it’s own Heart Beat: Thump, Thump- Thump, Thump.
And All can go astray when doing wrong feels so right.

It all depends on everyone’s understanding of when it’s time to stop.
It depends on the understanding: of when something wrong feels right.
Rioting, Looting, and Protesting can’t add anything good to the mix.
But adding outsiders and hatred to it, can totally destroy all, in the end.
There are brave hearts, wanting to stop what’s going on, to get along
The outsiders control the scene, as with sadness, the good back down.
It seems to have a life of it’s own, pushed from outsiders out to win.
But the only thing they’ll win, is a ghost town, for those left within.

Each town has it’s own Heart Beat: Thump, Thump- Thump, Thump.
And All can go astray when doing wrong feels so right.
Remember: Be careful what you do, when feelings seem so right.

 CSEastman Written 8-15-2014… ‘A bystander, very close by’


Details | Epic | |

Fertile Crescent, iii

Fertile Crescent
and Vestigial Conscience

The sun overshadowing my morality
my self- righteousness eclipsed

Where early mans' dawn is, 
Our sun over my left *should* threaten to tinge me if
I pontificate platitudes that fail to connect us to
full stomachs for our children, solid comfort during our elders’ aging and respite needs
 
That McChrystal was sacrificed at the altar
the way Abraham (*pause) to show faith
O yea, my ancient ancestors from Ireland
Maybe they had roots in Celtic lore
Heralding Beowulf’s heroics
And maybe they had someone in some way connected to 
 various seafaring warring factions!
 
Tyranny and takeover spark hatred
vitriolic
blinding rage, like
action- oriented swarming killer bees~
Vestigial, then, is it - our
primordial consciousness?

Weeping flows, but flash floods cannot compare, 
and the burn of fury that hot lava
NO! of liquid molten, from the deepest depths of Earth's core - 
even that cannot compare 
to the condemnation
my foe must assume.
 
With this pen I secure my conduit to the divine, 
My unpretentious foothold here from my pedestal, 
denouncing injustice! 
My spears are fueled
 
Fertile Crescent
Ghosts of pharaohs
Branded timeless in stone
Reigning order
Condemning the vilified,
as it is published by
The Royal Geographical Society:
Syria as the Gateway between East and West
Leonard Woolley
The Geographical Journal
Vol. 107, No. 5/6 (May - Jun., 1946), pp. 179-190)
And why shouldn’t this be so?
 
Beowulf, an earliest epic
Of Old English
How proud and agile to be able
To confer your legacy in written format
Onto your generations and incursions ~
 
Daughters of the American Revolution, 
weren't you early colonists settling in Maryland?
Wasn't The Crown's high noon tea wrought with hypocrisy?

I was wrong when I supposed 
McCongress ordered striking the King's son
off the Dollar Menu, To Go, 
when they showed up at the
Drive-Thru window
 
Morocco & France have tensions
today that sprouted around this very topic, you know.
Everyone has to pay attention to who the special children are, 
from the special castes - it is written and taught in
children's international fairytales 
written by nations collectively-
cultures present their insides
in their telling of morals embellished
inside gripping tales
to their children,
use of cultural symbols and
delectable terms,  the signs all 
lead directly to the diaper room. 
But for this poet, it was the Irish potato famine
forbidding entry into libertine culture.


Details | Ballade | |

Padock filled with bulls

The paddock’s filled with bulls
All waiting there to die
They don’t have too much future
For the farmer, he’s the guy
Who has the power of life, and death
He decides what lives and dies
As he fattens each beast carefully
That’s where his money lies.

I see these creatures roaming round
And it makes me feel quite sad
To know that for my appetite
These beasts be treated bad
The taste of steak is mighty good
But what a price we pay
I eat my share of it, that’s true
Perhaps I’ll stop one day!

One paddock filled with bulls
It opens my eyes wide
To realize these wondrous beasts
Throughout the years have died
So I might feast with bulging belly
It really is not fair
Living on this little farm
It fills my heart with care.

2006


Details | Bio | |

Rage Fueled Monster

Anger rises like bile in my throat
It’s burning through my veins, squeezing my heart
A smile plays on your lips as you gloat
I must stop before I rip you apart

Sweet ecstasy of the rage controls me
It seeps in my mind, I tear through my skin
Smile gone, you see me, your worst enemy
Do not bother running, you will not win

The forbidden taste of fury so sweet
Again I warn you don’t bother running
You my prey are in for a special treat
You are fast but I am still more cunning

You’re no match for my monstrous bulk
Hear me roar, for i'm the untamed Silverstorm


Details | Free verse | |

The Beast

Anger.
Cutting, biting, shaking.
Anger.
Itchy, burning, ripping, tearing.
Anger.
Burning, searing, blaring.
All I want to do is scream.
Walk away, walk away.
Live or die another day.
Walk away, breathe deep.
Watch everything you say.
The blade falls deep
Cutting down as I weep.
I hold my breath and take a step
Trying to walk away.
But a monster surges again
And I’m right back where I started again.
Anger.
Twisted, surging to swallow me whole.
As your face
I rip away with every blow.
Until your blood
Covers my face. 
Your existence
I’ll erase.
And I cry here when I’m done
This pitiful thing I’ve done.
Monster within
Lurking just under my skin.
Monster,
Killer, psychotic, other side.
Monster,
This monster, the one I hide.
Anger,
Always anger.
A scar,
A monster within.
This terror-fed,
Blood-thirsty beast lurking just under my skin.


Details | Rhyme | |

Crimes Past

To whit to be caught between two brothers
and become the sport of many others
She kept her heart from loving true
but not from the damage passing through
 
Oh twice spent the beauties coin
did deliberate vengence to purloin
thought knowingly did enter door
in spite she cast them to the floor
 
Though twas for couple it's own collusion
the device and trap it's own illusion
the crimes waylaid doth carry to the grave
to curse ones soul as fearful and not brave
 
Twas the story carried in her mind
her face to others she wished were blind
and with ones sight to look upon her heart
to know in violence was her start
 
She thought those sins would ever last
or to shake the paths of her past
in her fears her heart down cast
she did not know to forgiveness ask
 
Unable to differentiate between love and need
or if womans desire was only greed
If man looks upon her with his smile
is he looking for love or just another trial
 
She asks those questions to this day
must there be violence to graveyard pay
for many men have forced their way
in their behavior did have no say
 
COPYRIGHT © 2009 C Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC


Details | Rhyme | |

The Forge

I remember the beach sand and swing
when you and mother were still something
I remember the ducks in the lake
you held my hand watching their wake
I remember the sheep dogs when the day was through
and the mornings grass all covered with dew
I remember the dead man and blood on the floor
my hand in my mothers as she went for the door
I remember the stairs I thought I’d fall through
and the building where she was hidden from you
she tried drowning me in the bath and the tub
her hands on my throat on the dining room rug
the pain of the walls where my body flew
the floor of the closet when she was through
I remember you entering the door
as you picked up my body from off the floor
the words were so ugly I’ve forgotten them now
but things haven’t changed much anyhow
I remember the willows and switches not few
a home not mine and the children were new
a string of families never seeming to end
the abuse and the beatings I’m not on the mend
I remember the the rage and the red flushed face
what did I do to fall from your grace
I remember the fear when I tried to hide
the man and the 2by4 when it hit my side
the bruise and welts with noone to care
my mother and father aren’t even there
I remember the family that took me in
they had no daughter just two young men
one boy was loving the other was slime
but the parents protected me most of the time
I was safe for awhile with nightmares not few
and some of my demons she helped to slew
I remember you taking me home at last
you had remarried some six months past
I remember the woman was cruel and mean
she remained that way till I was sixteen
At fifteen I had been already raped twice
the drugs and pills and the wrist yet to slice
I remember the police to the hospital sped
the straight jacket and thorazine I should have been dead
I remember the airplane that sent me away
with my half brothers mother I was to stay
my neck with a forearm pinned to the wall
my half brothers brother screaming he will have all
I remember the screaming as I flew down the stairs
his violence had caught me totally unawares
the pain as he smashed me on the walls of the hall
the kicks in the ribs after my fall
the nine months I walked in a state of fear
how I passed my classes is very unclear
I remember the man when I hitched into town
the car was a sedan of dirty brown
the doors had no handles no way to get out
he pulled out a knife and proceeded to shout
how he would cut me and make me bleed
if I didn’t fill some sort of need
how I grabbed the wheel for steering the car
when he slammed on the brakes down the road not far
when he slid out the door by the side of the road
it seemed to me that all time had slowed
he released me with curses not language unknown
from the cage of his car this bird had flown
I remember the man preaching justice and truth
but to find answers one must become sleuth
I remember the marriage and I made him swear
that to hit or harm me he must never dare
I remember the baby with curls of gold
by seventeen to marriage my father me sold
I remember the lapses of time I had lost
the forge of my youth and the price it had cost
the thread that kept me alive was so thin
in my mind it was always me against him
I remember the children that helped keep me sane
with some sort of focus with the man I had lain
I remember the striving for some sort of truth
what kind of a mother my children had in their youth
I remember it all so plain and clear
that violence from men will always be near
I swore at sixteen no child to have
if you couldn’t play safely with joy and a laugh
forgive me my children for bringing you here
the reasons I do things are sometimes not clear
My parents are gone and I do not mourn
but only for the life I was never shown
I did try to spare you the same kind of fate
I hoped that my love would be never to late
I had no control of the time or the chance
that injustice would look upon you with his glance
I raise my eyes to the heavens and vent to his name
to save all the children who are yet put thru shame
In a blast furnace my life has been forged
the tool of the hammer has formed my discourse
in molten metal I have been shaped
the tool of another I have not escaped
what of the purpose he hopes to hew
a piece of equipment all shiny and new
I remember my maker and the state of his grace
the road laid before me and the words of his face
the view of my nature he seeks to tame
with so many others who walk in the flame
in wails united to pull heaven down
and with its brightness scour the ground
his promise to do so has not yet passed
when all of mankind will feel his blast
the call has gone forth the meaning is clear
to give an accounting is so very near
those who think themselves high shall be made low
the dust of the earth their destined to know
the one that I follow has carved out the path
his star has shown brightly beneath thorn and the lash
I reach my arm forth to take hold his hand
to walk among humans woman and man
he paints a clear future for those of us all
a paradise lost to man in his fall

COPYRIGHT © 2009 C Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC

COPYRIGHT © 2009 C Michael Miller via Duboff Law Group LLC


Details | I do not know? | |

Spinning Voices

Head is losing all sense of space
Foggy and disturbed

Every voice I hear is an irritation
A constant vocal whine 

I feel moving all around directionless 
Trying to find its way, to its final destination

The anger this creates in me
The violence it pulsates in me
To let it out would feel like a release

This jigsaw noise needs its pieces complete
A picture of beauty your voice should appear to me

Just confusion and no understanding
Like foreign language in my brain

Around and around it spins
This playground ride in my mind

The anger this creates in me
The violence it pulsates in me
To let it out would feel like a release


Details | Shape | |

APOSTASY OF A PROPHET

This Casuistry is a paradox Fallacious feelings repress A Sophistry you ingress Chemically redox Tergiversate under scrutiny. A misfit – an anachronism. Elusory emotions to express My argument a confused paralogism Chicanery Fugacious Piety worships AWAITING THE FALL An elaborate machination Formation of this Cabal To unravel this conspiracy Renegade inspiration A Live Grenade Revolution call. Societal crumblings A mind poisoned by barricades Limitations. Cures itself By questioning everything Invalidity, obscurity, corruption Topple under Plots of our Coterie Political pressure Militant insurgency Worship the gun Worship the steel Guerilla tactics Metro Urban Rurally Camouflaged pawns Stratagem Pieces on the board are people Playing for real. Didactic Leaders And Pedantic parents They’re history and experience In perspective reveals. Cycle of manipulative Elite, controlling The pariahs Starved in appeal.


Details | Blank verse | |

I Don't Like Knives for Carole

based on a dream

I Don't Like Knives (for Carole, eternal love. This is all fiction except Carole)
I was jogging down by the canal when I saw it happen. There was a slim pretty brunette lady. The madman leapt out of the bushes. His evil carving knife plunged deep into the girl. She fell to the ground. Again and again he stabbed her. 
I shouted, "Hey!" 
Upon seeing me the cruel killer fled. Good. I didn't want to be stabbed and I was unarmed. I rushed to the girl. She was an awful mess. Bloodied, crying, hurt. I mustn't freeze. 
I took off my t-shirt to stop her bleeding and held it on her wounds. Blood flow thrust my hands back. I increased pressure. The girl moaned, trembled and became white. 
Stay with me, I said. I kept saying it. Don't close your eyes. What's your name? 
Carole, she whispered.
I'm Nick. Stay with me. 
I want to sleep. Her hands shook, held my arm. A death grip.
No! Listen to me... I told her crazy things. Was I mad, going out of my mind? Her blood was everywhere. Fucking awful. 
Carole, I love you. I love you Carole. Those lovely brown almond shaped eyes opened and connected with mine. I was falling. 
What did you say? So faint. 
I love you Carole. Stay with me. Stay with me, you hear? A smile. My love for you will save you. I love you. Stay with me. Stay with me. I never said the death word. 
The sound of sirens. I never called the medics. Who did? The murderer? There's only us here. Carole and Nick. If he comes back to finish Carole and me off, he's going into the fucking canal. I see the medics and armed police. I keep pressure on Carole's wounds. 
Stay with me. I love you Carole. A faint smile. Don't close your eyes. Stay with me...
Carole did stay with me. Not as a bad memory or flash backs but as my wife. Five years, three months, one week and two days and counting. Her injuries should of killed three times over. But didn't. She's in a wheel chair with a severed spine. I won't ever leave her side. Not ever.
They got their man. After shooting him twice. It was he who called the medics. Why? Did he feel guilty of his act or was he playing a sick game? Or trying to make amends? Whatever his reason, he brought Carole and me together. For that we are grateful.


Details | Rhyme | |

Crimes Past

To whit to be caught between two brothers
and become the sport of many others
She kept her heart from loving true
but not from the damage passing through

Oh twice spent the beauties coin
did deliberate vengence to purloin
thought knowingly did enter door
in spite she cast them to the floor

Though twas for couple it's own collusion
the device and trap it's own illusion
the crimes waylaid doth carry to the grave
to curse ones soul as fearful and not brave

Twas the story carried in her mind
her face to others she wished were blind
and with ones sight to look upon her heart
to know in violence was her start

She thought those sins would ever last
or to shake the paths of her past
in her fears her heart down cast
she did not know to forgiveness ask

Unable to differentiate between love and need
or if womans desire was only greed
If man looks upon her with his smile
is he looking for love or just another trial

She asks those questions to this day
must there be violence to graveyard pay
for many men have forced their way
in their behavior did have no say

 
COPYRIGHT © 2009 C. Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC


Details | Free verse | |

After the Storm, Columbus Day, 1962

After the storm, my brother
(all gangly knees and elbows)
bore the brunt of its ferocious aftermath.

Every day after school
I watched his wiry biceps bulge a little
as his handsaw scritched against the tree
which had fallen diagonally across our front yard.

I witnessed the violence of metal on wood,
the violence of The King of the Mountain’s smirk
as he too watched, his greedy eyes
taking in my brother’s razor sharp collar bone,
with jaw set in furious concentration.

This imposed punishment was meant to goad my brother,
meant to tempt him to rage
so that the next time the stepdad slugged him
he would feel justified, holy even.

Kneeling on scratchy couch to watch
I scrunched my shoulders,
Folding into myself like an accordion,
gathering myself up to make of me something smaller;

I pressed my knees together
wrapping my arms around them
and lowered my head,
waiting for the sky to rain trees
with swollen trunks, and branches thrust downward
as if warding off a sickening impact with earth.

My brother, it seems,
must be punished for the crime of
his existence;

for this the stepdad’s eyes shone bright,
bright as the heavy duty flashlights
he begrudgingly loaned my brother
so he could work far into the night.

His eyes fairly burned with lust—
The lust of sadism’s glee.
I saw him lick his lips;
You’d have thought he’d conjured up this
Columbus Day Storm all by himself
for the sole purpose
of proving to my brother
that he had no right
to co-exist with him in the same universe.

I watched until my eyes burned
and my head ached dully
and my brother, sweating and chilled,
laid down his saw
swiped his arm across his forehead,
and straightening up, met my wary gaze
with the scoured look
of shame whittled down into hatred,
sawn away into stumpy pieces like an old tree trunk.

After the storm my brother cleaned up nature’s wrath.
He stood a little taller and his eyes, when they met his abuser’s,
burned unflinching.

After the storm we feigned memory loss
Pretended that nothing had shifted in our family dynamic.
We sat down to meals silent and repressed and picked up our forks
as if the stepdad hadn’t just won a major battle,
as if my brother’s days in that household were not numbered.


Details | Ballad | |

THE CURSE

“Sixteen years! Yer’ sixteen years!” My night was quickly marred,  
Where I stood upon the ballast over at the railway yard.
“Yer’ really ‘jist’ a baby an’ yer’ should be with a nurse,
An’ ‘ere I am out findin’ yer’, addicted to the curse.”

Addicted to the curse he said! I’m just having normal fun.
A generation bred to follow, just what my father’s done.
But he weren't having none of that, his voice was rather terse
“Git ‘ome yer’ pack o’ larrikins, an ‘ere…give me the curse.”

So I handed ‘cross me bottles and he shoved ‘em in his van.
“Don’t let me catch ya’ drinkin’ ‘boyo’s’…drinkin’s fer’ a man,
An’ yer’ bunch o’ whipper-snappers are about t’ cop it worse
When I git t’ tell yer’ ol’ mans’ ‘bout, yer’ tanglin’ with the curse.” 

All that did was make me ‘cagey’ and more careful while I drank.
When I saw his headlights coming, over to the riverbank.
There he’d step out and find me, without a reason for adverse, 
Sitting ‘round the campfire, and with nothing there to curse.

So he left us ‘cagey’ lot to party by the riverbank,
Where love and violence mingled with the quantity I drank.
And where the love grew strongest, the violence soon got worse…
Forgiven in the morning with the blaming of the curse.

Ah yes…that curse is handy, when there is a need for blame;
But then I feel I’m needing more to wipe away me shame.
By ten o’clock I’m on me way to open up me purse, 
For I’m waking in the morning with the trembles from the curse.

So ‘round and ‘round the turning wheel is spinning by me hand.
Back to fight and argue when no one can understand
The need! The need! The awful need, with no way to reverse.
So I keep feeling better but much sicker with the curse.

A curse! A curse! There is no curse the devils talk about,
Who keep fighting with the angels that are prepared to shout
And take away the nagging pain, with no thought to reimburse
This lonely ‘sober hater’ who can’t live without the curse.

What have I got? What have I lost? I’m no longer in between.
My possession is the gutter, for the pleasure I have seen.
Though my predicament was flattered, by a lad I called perverse, 
Who must have been just fourteen years, when handing me the curse.