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Violence Dark Poems | Violence Poems About Dark

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

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Details | Blank verse | |

Twixt Blaze and Claw

Abuses hurled and Alcohol gurgled,
In the vortex of confusion
And blurred vision.
Intoxicated pleasure from surreal leisure.
Fooled senses and numbed conscience.
Wiped existence of love and kindness cuffed.

Lashed at the one he once loved.
Cringed and clung to her faint faith.
She and her cursed fate.
Exploding paroxysm of hate.

Her whipped ivory skin and bleeding lips,
Eyes with teary tinge,
Has the harvest moon singed.
Stillness of the night, pierced
By memories of bitterness-sodden years.

"Hurt me not", she trembled with fear,
"let me live for my girl, dear".

The cries colored skies crimson.
Just one reason--Her little girl.
 
As her daughter stared
With flaming locks and eyes that flared.

By Angom Amy (15)

Copyright © Amy Angom | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme | |

Water Wall


As he slept in tranquil dream, 
Suddenly he flew, it seemed. 
Thrown and landing on the floor, 
Shaking walls and splintered doors. 

Just as quick, the room grew still. 
Distant tremors he could feel. 
Out the door, and up the rock, 
There he stood in sleepy shock. 

How could oceans disappear. 
Then a hissing he could hear 
And a trembling, heavy roar 
Headed for an empty shore. 

Sunrise turned a greenish hue, 
As he climbed, a better view. 
Seeming far too large, he saw 
What must be a water wall. 

Thought of ancient stories told 
Of a wrath that could unfold; 
Sucking oceans with a breath, 
Spewing endless waves of death. 

Instinct quickly cleared his mind. 
Panic now, he clawed and climbed. 
Up, despite the screams he hears, 
As a village disappears. 

Once an evil came to call, 
Scooped them up and took them all. 
Now he's old, his stories wane, 
Of the morning Satan came.


Gene Bourne 
08-18-14


.

.

 

Copyright © Gene Bourne | Year Posted 2014

Details | Alliteration | |

The Malkavian part 1 perfect version

His mind has all the meaning of a madman that is screaming
Tortured and tormented, a life lived to be lamented
Drained and defeated, his family finally retreated 
Leaving him believing that he was beyond redeeming 
The doctors sent in spoke of hope and healing 
The drugs they administered only made him more demented 
Cemented is the feeling that his life is just an echo 
Of an endless, timeless, all-consuming screaming 

His best friend is a disproportioned bird, appropriately named buddy 
Whose monotonous motion in drinking is somewhat soothing to his being 
Though not potent enough to stop, the persistent pounding of the screaming
Often he stares into the emptiness of nothingness, contemplating the beauty 
of its existence 
Only to find his mind is drowning in a confounding conundrum he can’t quite 
define
It’s hard to be philosophical when your mental testicles have fallen to the proper 
level
So sometimes he whispers tongue twisters until his brain blisters
Madmen mask madness in the meticulous mastery of mindless tasks

Buddy was telling a troubling tale, of a dragon drunk off of some dwarven ale 
Who through two days, threw up flames and burnt down the tavern and town 
When the door to his room opened with a plume of plum perfume 
In stepped an inept and unkempt nurse named Nancy
Her green eyes and fiery red hair caused his heart to flutter and flair with fancy
She had quite the quiet voice and was quick to trip over her own two feet 
A bit naïve, she would easily believe anything she had heard or seen
He knew he would make her his, no matter the time nor energy 

It was easy for him to pretend to be prim and proper 
Just a mask to don in order to dupe his doctor
Circumventing the system that couldn’t save him 
He was as he always had been and would be
In constant pain and agony with no desire for sympathy
Just in need of some freedom from his prison and medication
Meditation and mantras had given him the sentiment of a design
On how to inhibit the screaming, and maybe even end it

Four years plotting and planning the perfect moment of promise
A fire formed from a single flamed fueled from an accelerant 
It raced through the halls, up the walls, over the ceiling, killing all the residents
Eighty-eight inmates and staff burned alive in what felt like an instant 
Such little time to search through the bodies, looking for a single person
He found her on the fourth clinging to the bathroom faucet 
He lost his virginity to the burnt corpse of Nurse Nancy 
To his amazed mind, he was astonished to find, the screaming was silenced



just a note I cannot reduce the font so the lines fit without overlapping as they 
do in stanza two

Copyright © Nathan D. | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme | |

The Undyings' Curse

Deep in the earth, a crypt of rock
slumber guarded by casket locked
Lips grope silence ‘ever more
 rasping thought, remembers whispered lore
Outstretched palms the roots do clench
tranquility stilled by festered stench
And eyes, sleep caked, are propped ajar
ignites no life, but collapsed star

Burned blades sigh, Winds’ dying gasp
bones brittle snap within her clasp
A lonesome howl the moon does draw
vigil broken, it twists its maw 
Upon an arena of endless stone
the granite gates they’ve passed alone
And entered a world of burning eyes
eluded the judge of smoldering cries

A faultless gait, no stumbled draw
a reaping brought  by scythe and claw
Opal edge which shrouds a cause
aberrant blade shapes nature’s laws
Dictate a script, the stars can share
an open secret, a language bare
Steps continue, feet are drawn
across gray grass, undying pawn

Copyright © Avery Swarthout | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

Inside Violence

The fog sets in as the gloom of pain and anger creep over the hill side reaching out to us, Engulfing our hearts and minds with hate towards the ones that cause us so much grief, Wishing we could step in and reflect the damage done to those we care so dear about, Unable to replace the horrid memories we sooth them as best we can, Digging deep within their souls trying to sew back each string bit by bit....Torment in our lives cause misery beyond belief, All we ask  for is pure joy and happiness, No such thing is bestowed upon anyone even those who deserve it, Stab the pain givers in their hearts with mental abuse of anguish in which they've given...make them suffer for the hurt they leave in their wake, Close your eyes...visions of how to ravage anothers body with your own torture deep within your mind, Actions wish to unleash such thoughts but alas we are stuck standing in front of the mirror as we bleed from the tear duct of our eyes, Hold strong be there for them...it's all we really can do anymore.

Copyright © Samantha Johnson | Year Posted 2014

Details | Elegy | |

Oh Syria

Reality is lost and I fear…
That someday…somewhere so near…
I will fall amongst the people so dear…
I fear…that I’ll just be another one…
Another one lost…

I wonder what the cost of my life is
not to get too political…
But I want to know what the cost of my life is
Is it money…is it land
I do not own any of them…I’m just a simple man

I remember…When I ran across your land…
I remember when I kissed my grandmother’s hands…
But you ripped my away from her…From my home
you ripped my away from my heart…you ripped me away from my soul

I feel helpless…I feel low…
It’s hard to play along when I know…I have no role
I have become a slave.
After all the love I gave.

When I look at my country…people I want to save
When I look around me…people I need to change
It seems like a hard thing to do…
when the range of people is way bigger than you

Freedom…oh how much I’ve heard that word
Freedom…oh how this idea has become absurd
when God gave us life…
He warned us only he can take our lives…

Oh Syria…my home
Oh Syria…my all
Oh Syria…what did they hurt you for?
Oh Syria…I’m here…I won’t let them hurt you anymore…
I am Proud to be your son…

Copyright © Zeki Majed | Year Posted 2013

Details | Ode | |

Love is a Sacrifice

You have my soul, but you have your fate Whatever your words, I’m willing to take You have my word; I’ll give you my breath It’s like a chain that would never be break You are my love with all my heart, I’ll fight for you with all my might. And in the way, you admire your goals, You hold my hands, but not so close. As you go to your chosen path, I’ll accept the fact that we will be apart. In the dark side, I leave behind Within my faith, that you’ll arise Please don’t look back, coz I’m fighting still I’m hurting so much! Don’t want to have you near I accept my fate for what it does, I’m bleeding so much, do you know for whom it was? You reach your goals, as you want to have, Would you remind the man that gave what he had? As you reach the stars, and be the one Be a sun that shines its own. After the rain, the rainbow comes, Like dark in the moon, when the light flash A glimpse from you at least a short For then I knew my pain is worth.

Copyright © Emmanuel Fajutagana | Year Posted 2013

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



.

Copyright © Gene Bourne | Year Posted 2014

Details | Alliteration | |

Hybrid Eyes

unknown five fingers flipping lives
power based dynamic undermines the dramatic
twist the totalitarian love like lashed fragments
bastard basilisk coiled coolly over calming masks

The hybrid eyes close on hatred
Unveil the universal welcoming smile
Happy's perfect when expecting a party
Happy's perfect when expecting a life

Hate the child
Hate the child
Hate the child
Show it love

ensure enraptured trust and warming embrace
unannounced resurgence of relief and trust
tame the tether and tighten the ropes
warning clouds wane and the day shines

The hybrid eyes close on lust
Unveil the welcoming smile
Happy's perfect when expecting norms
Happy's perfect when expecting trust

Show it love
Hate the child
Hate the child
Show it child
Hate the love
Hate the show
Love the show
Show the child
Hate it
Love it
Show it
Child

Copyright © Natalie Barber | Year Posted 2014

Details | Narrative | |

The Gray Man

Through the jungles of sick suburbia 
He lustfully stalked his prey.
She was only young, a child of just ten
That he took and brutally feasted on.
Savage desires within compelled him
To befriend the pretty Grace;
She so died by his hand, cannibalistic
Urges he boasted were his thrill.

Copyright © Charles Bernabi | Year Posted 2015

Details | Narrative | |

A Doctors Ballad

I never really understood people until I took apart my old school chum Rick.
Now I know exactly what makes the human heart tick.
The intricacy of the human circuitry is Gods most artful work without uncertainty.
Like a great operatic performance accompanied by a grand orchestra, all our organs sing as one and all together.
To give such life as this in a manor of theatrical grandeur, but life comes at a cost however, this is something that we can not sever, for one soul to live it must take from another.
You see hunting a human is just like hunting any animal, you always track those that are weak and incapable.
I study those that indulge greatly in life's pleasurable sins, I always proceed to take them apart starting with their limbs.
To squander such a gift is a crime against those souls no longer living.
It is a crime that should be dealt with swiftly and unforgiving.
You may find my words harsh and cruel but punishment is dealt where punishment is due.
The scholars and gossips call me a Devil worshiper or a Satanist.
But I am an admirer of God and I dream to be like him, a great creationist. 
To some I'm known as the mad doctor who haunts the river Rhine, but to my acquaintances I'm known simply as Victor Frankenstein.

Copyright © Damien Biggs | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

The Garden of Gethsemane

The Garden of Gethsemane

While Jesus was on earth, all creation felt His presence
and for a short interval of time, it breathed a sigh of relief, 
for the Creator of Heaven and Earth had come into its view
and for Him to impart of His perfect peace.

But in the stillness of the night, somehow it seemed
the grass beneath His feet began to shudder and the trees quaked with terrifying fear, 
for all creation was entwined with Him in great turmoil
while their Master shed great drops of blood and tears.

There were myriads of angels that came and went
in these moments ministering to the Bishop of our soul, 
and the devil tried with all his might to kill Him there
but the Master of His life would not let go.

At one point of time when the trial was so intense
He cried, “Father if it be Thy will, from Me let this cup pass”, 
but then He added, “Not My will, Father, but Thine be done”
and the Father gave Him the strength to last.

So He continued on His journey with added strength
for the joy set before Him and this is also what each of us must do,
fixing our eyes on the Master of Glory and what He has prepared
up in Heaven for me and for you.

We all have our “Gethsemane” moments in this life
though for certain not as severe as His, 
because He paid the greatest of price for His dear children
so with Him we could eternally live.

And now, as I reflect upon Your agony sweet Jesus and in 
that garden how You suffered so tremendously for me,
I gratefully come to this conclusion, my Lord
help me to follow You and finish my course no matter what the price might be. 

Written by:  Marilyn S. Jennings

Copyright © Marilyn Jennings | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

Hit and Miss

a young girl weeping in the corner 
darkness grows deep inside her heart like a cancer 
sunken eyes, blood exploding from her nose
angry purple bruises on her thin arms
no one can see her 
no one to help her 
despair and hopelessness fill her up 
he has set a dangerous precedent creating this mess 
too many souls are affected by domestic violence 
worn down 
beaten down 
with no help in sight 
the menace he displays behind closed doors 
shows his cowardly depth
his warped and cruel means
she prays for silence 
with arms wrapped around her battered body
sobs locked inside 
there will be no spark of light at sunrise
to give her relief from this night of terror
the fear gives a dull ache as she perceives
an unimaginable ending

Copyright © Betty Bateson | Year Posted 2014

Details | List | |

delivery of death

Sketch and Freak
Drag and Jonez
Waste life left
Scared to speak
brittle bones.

Copyright © Joel Thornton | Year Posted 2014

Details | Quatrain | |

Dark Hunger

Thick smoke and fire engulf the air,
The wounded writhe and scream in pain.
Grim tyrant sends his monsters forth;
No mercy shown. They plead in vain.


------------------------------------------------
Contest: In 5 lines or less #1 (picture this)
Sponsor: Skat A
Placed 1st

Copyright © Paul Callus | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

RAIN - Rape, Abuse, Incest Nonsense

The sun was out this morning
But soon the R.A.I.N came and erased any ray of hope I had left
It committed theft
Of my virginity
Flooded and damaged my fertility
R.A.I.N. drops were falling on my head
My secret garden became a water bed
And growing within it 
Was the clitoral swelling
That became a dwelling
For constant pain
And while Gene Kelly is singing in it
I’m crying from all the R.A.I.N.

I can’t stand these April showers
How can it bring May flowers?
But deflower me?  
What have I done to deserve
Falling victim to the second nature
Of a worthless soul
I guess not realizing the devil could be so bold

When it was all said and done
All I could see was the RED blood between my thighs
That I unwillingly sacrificed 
For the R.A.I.N. to stop
The ORANGE that represented my strength was slowly fading
The YELLOW became a brick road that I couldn’t ease on down
Because it was now blocked
I didn’t know how to get back to my sanity
I couldn’t see the GREEN in me that once represented my dreams
And like the BLUE in the oceans, skies and the heavens
I became distant
The INDIGO made me suddenly aware that 
I could no longer trust anyone.
All my shame and sorrow 
Was clad in VIOLET 
Bright enough for the world to see

Feelings of hopelessness and insecurities
Were trapped inside the rainbow
The R.A.I.N. left behind
No lucky charms or pots of gold
I beg for the R.A.I.N. to stay away
But no matter how much I pray
It continues to pour on unsuspecting souls

Copyright © Latosha Mitchell | Year Posted 2014

Details | Sonnet | |

A vivid experience

My mind finally past the brink
Of pure insanity;
Slipping deep into the drink,
As I lose my humanity.
Down, down, down into the thick red liquid,
Seeing the bloating corpses;
The thoughts in my mind oh so twisted,
Hearing their distorted pain filled voices.
As I swim deeper into the depths
I slowly become sick and nauseous;
Witnessing all of their gruesome deaths,
I begin to become conscious.
     I open my eyes, waking in a room ---
     Filled with guts and gloom.

Copyright © Ryan McNabb | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

The Aswang Fable

Day quickly fades into a fearful silent night
Frightful because within the darkness evil comes to life
Abomination that became legend as legend became myth
The Aswang
The wicked epitome of sin
Beautiful by day but a shapeshifting demon in disguise
It has a long disgusting tongue with unspeakable desires
Blood thirsty creatures eating unborn babies in the womb
Fangs that'll transform people into dead flesh eating ghouls
Severing her body from her legs so it can fly
On serpent angel wings preying on its next victim to die
Bayani took his pregnant wife Amor to the hospital for becoming sick
A three day journey from their mountain village will now begin
Theyll travel through the valleys seeking shelter as they go
Amor wearing garlic on her belly protecting her babies soul 
Traveling through jungle & deserted roads along the shore
Knowing when they hear a dreadful cry theyre not alone
With every step they take they abhor the falling moon
Something once so beautiful is now impending doom
By dusk they came upon a village but every door was closed
Desperation in their voice they scream for help with little hope
Dismay dripping from their skin so the demon could smell their fear
Before they heard the dreadful cry the Aswang did appear
In horror they banged on every door pleading for some help
But no one gave relief having their own to protect from hell
Bayani remembered legend perhaps there is a way we can survive 
Destroy her legs before she reattached her upper body in morning rise
A task that may be difficult because the lower half they have to find
Before they made a move she swooped down with her evil yellow eyes
She grabbed Amor by her throat as Bayani pled for her life
Please let my wife and baby go and in return you can have mine
She said a lovely gesture but be patient youre the next to die
With a evil grin she slit her throat and consumed their unborn baby still inside
Falling to his knees with a broken heart he asked her why
She said I have no compassion or reason and let me tell you why

"Im the first Aswang of this village
A maiden by the day
Im the reflection of their darkness and their evil ways
Desires that cannot be spoken
A blackened heart equally broken
Habits that are disgusting
I am made of nothing
I am the mirror they will never face
The fear that keeps them all awake 
But the truth is much more powerful
I am the face behind their faith
The contradiction of forgiveness 
For every time you kneel and pray
Im the fear that keeps the children crying and afraid
It started with a lie
Then desires to reach the sky
Which resulted into sadness 
but with a deeper understanding why
Sad because I can see the darkness they themselves alone hav caused
Many more will be like me and many already lost
Failed secrets buried forever
And I will be like them
I am also you 
If you wear the wickedness of all your sins"

Copyright © Jesse James Forster | Year Posted 2013

Details | Dramatic Verse | |

Mind of a Serial Killer VIII

Twilight has come casting a beautiful flicker upon my silver knife
who has taste the women who gave a price and in the end their life

Some were quick because I tend to bore and some took days upon my board
as my mind remembers and bask back in time of the wonderful gore

The steps I climb to your lonely room while the candles give off the scent of honey dew
'My Sweet Devine' it is now time as the clock sings it's suspenseful chime

Your door I open and with grace I stride to your bedside to look upon my bride
'Oh my Sweet Devine' I love the fear as you cringe and try to hid

With a quick cut I make upon your thigh thou not to deep just enough to make you weep
only you don't make a peep just gasp from your breath giving a long sigh I can tell
you wish to defy
 
I wish to hear you speak and cry out for my pride
but you glance upon my face with a look of disgrace and in a soft whisper
you state,
'My Sweet Devine will you be mine you ask? The answer is no but untie my hands
and I will make you mine for I to have a great show and plenty of time.

Do you feel me? Do you want more?
Hint: Who is the real serial killer?
T Reams copyright 2015


Copyright © TAMMY REAMS | Year Posted 2015

Details | Lyric | |

Asymmetrical


The boots moved slowly,
Crunching sun-baked clay.
A hazy wind down alleyways,
It moves with moans 
Then whistles softly,
Quickly gone.

A child stands in a doorway
Pulling something from his robe.
He keys in certain numbers, 
Only doing as he's told.

He waits, then hears a bomb
As it explodes.
A helmet lands and bounces
Near his feet.
He shrugs. then merges with a
crowded street.


Gene Bourne
06-03-14








.

Copyright © Gene Bourne | Year Posted 2014

Details | Narrative | |

Physically and Mentally Abuse

I was born in a world of poverty and soiled life of a third world country
The way I lived till I was five years of age was walls of boundary
These walls had towers of guards that had no heart or care
If a child would try to climb the wall they lose their life I swear

Father had drank and threatened my mother with a knife
My father lost his job and wife and that was the hardship of life
He stopped my mother from taking off with me in her arm
Hoping that my father would ignore and left me be with no harm

When my father went off to drink one night and came home with rage
My brothers stood by my crib and took a beating that set up the next stage
My father had woken up to three scared children half starved and in pain
His final words as he walk away from the orphanage gate live life do not go insane

I was still a baby in the orphanage; the caretakers did not really care about the babies
They stole items and materials those wicked men and maternal evil ladies
They starved all the babies because it cost a lot to keep them alive
As a child of that age I could feel the sins and greed that gave out bad vibes

I was ignorant about what I drank and ate, as I see white maggots move in my bottle
As I see them move I thought about how they were playing and some were hostel
They ate each other to keep each other alive in a manner that took me by surprise
In the back round I hear others throwing things with sounds of painful cries

I got very strong at a young age I was able to start pulling myself up over the cage
My feelings were to see my brothers with strong lungs that I cried out of rage
My two brothers came to see me and sneak food into my crib
The caretaker would find the food in my hands as they grabbed it and hit me on my ribs

As painful as it was I kept eating the food with blood in my mouth as it was instinct
I sometimes laid in my crib dazed and confused with smell of death so distinct
With all my might I kept myself strong and climb the small wall
I finally was old enough to get out of the building and I could hear my brothers call

With tears of joy with short legs that ran as fast as my heart
I ran to my brothers arms and held their hands to have a new start
I grew stronger everyday but more things came into my life in a manner of dismay
If my brothers stay by my side I could smile and everyday their would be okay


Copyright © Reynaldo Mast | Year Posted 2013

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

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013

Details | Romanticism | |

Dark Days

Dark days dreadful indeed,
Promiscuous
 peasants planting their seed,

Foreign to peace with galvanized hate,
With doubt in ourselves we submit to the great,

We say we are free but tend to conform,
Hand you a noose if you're out of the norm,

We proliferate lies and refute the truth,
Give up our ambition to feel aloof,

Please oh help us powerful god,
Stop those who lie, kill, and maraud,

We have succumbed to infinite darkness,
He may have created us, but has surely departed

Copyright © Miguel Scott | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme | |

I Killed A Gangster

Until 1934 I was a barber, that used to be my profession.
Many people are suffering because of this Great Depression.
A Gangster walked into my shop but when he left, he had to be carried.
He was responsible for many deaths and I made sure that he was buried.
I usually don't brag but this time I love to gloat.
That punk asked for a shave and I slit his throat.
He dealt in Prostitution, Gambling, Booze and Heroin.
I made sure that he couldn't do anything illegal again.
I'm not ashamed of myself even though I lost my freedom and my wife.
I saved people from that animal and a judge sentenced me to life.
I'll be locked up for the remainder of my years.
I don't regret what I did, my conscience is clear.

(This fictional poem takes place in the 1930s.)

Copyright © randy johnson | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

Beat Your Wife, Cause is Right

Yes modernization is here
Islamic rules have made it clear
Pick up a small stick
And beat her to the wick

Make her understand
Obey your command
Pakistan is the modern land
Live like a man and beat at command

Only though because you care
To make her subservient and thus obey
She must follow your Islamic commands
And bend over for perverted desires in your satanic land

Now death to Israel
For they have committed the crime
Of being modern in un-modern times
As they saved the wounded of Syrians blood

They embrace humanity
Pakistan grabs a small stick
And strikes fear in the sexes
My god is there no common senses?

Notes: This is not to condone or condemn any Country. Merely to show how at times biases take things way out of context. At times the world decries one death, as in humane as next door hundreds of thousands take place under the silent ones of oppression. 

Secondly this is specifically about The Council of Islamic Ideology a powerful constitutional body that advises the Pakistani legislature whether laws are in line with the teachings of Islam. There interpretation is of course ludicrous and I am well aware true Muslim worshipers would never follow such violent and antiquated teachings.

This came about from the CNN article http://www.cnn.com/2016/05/28/asia/pakistan-women-light-beating/index.html on the topic. On weekends I often partake in discussions at a Middle Eastern coffee shop, people from all over the middle east, where we have lively discussions. So it’s of note that this poem was the summary and views of the Muslim mates are I was sharing tea with. 

Of note, many of them in their own countries could never voice any dissenting views without being tortured or killed.

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse | |

Psycho

Beautiful Girl,
Changing by her bedroom door.
Hair as blonde as gold,
And skin like porcelain and snow.

Turned around just in time,
To see a man with angry eyes.
Outside her window.
But he doesn’t talk,
He only stares.

No harm will come,
is what she thought.
I’ll go to bed,
By morning he’ll be gone.

But when she woke,
He sat on her bed.
Her breathing hitched,
Scared out of her mind,
She doesn’t wish for death.

But instead of death,
He gives her kiss,
But she sends him away,
Says, “Please don’t come again.”

But later that night,
While the moon shines bright,
He comes back,
The only other soul in sight.

Out of the corner of her eye,
She see’s him there.
Turning around,
She grabs her 45
But when she looks back,
He disappeared,
He’s out of her sight.

Psycho,
Psycho,
Where did you go?
I could’ve sworn you stood there
Right by my window.

You didn’t knock,
didn’t speak,
Just stood outside,
watching me.

In the back of the house,
There was a sound,
Dropping the gun,
There's was nowhere to run.
Is he still here?
Or did he just go?

Psycho,
Psycho,
Why did you come?
You stood by my door,
 and just watched the rain pour.

Without a second thought,
She turned to run,
But it’s too late,
He grabbed her arm.

Screaming in pain,
She asks 'What have you done?'
But he puts a knife to her throat,
And her cries are silent.

Psycho,
Psycho,
Where’d you get that knife,
I beg and plead,
Please don’t end my life.

But it’s too late,
He slit her throat.
Beautiful girl,
Blood as red as a rose.

She lays on her bedroom floor,
Without a pulse.
But now there’s no one in the home,
Where’d the psycho go?
There was never a psycho in her home.

Copyright © Jazzlyn Barden | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme | |

Ideological War of the Worlds

 The coming times can unfold,
far accross to all lands,
the casting shadow has fallen,
with it's far reaching hands,
accross our four cornered world,,
 Humanity progressed to progressive sufferage,
that comes with many names,
the ideology won without a shot,
convinced populations into guilted shame,
lost are voices of courage,,
 The warring world will arise,
between makers and takers,
parasitic ideology's green eyed mind,
re-writing regulations by progressive thinkers,
big brother's utopian great enterprise,,
 Dependent we all become, parasitically,
even forced fed into submission,
by governmental state so enlarged,
numbered you are by institution,
nothing owned, only redistributed cynically,,
 Paupers suffer under progressive fortitude,
soulless programs of living propaganda,
your worth, what you produce,
socialized into this living agenda,
living taxed products of servitude,
           , and then...
 The rise will come independent,
carrying courage and freedom proudly,
with wisdoms weapon in hand,
knowledge in the other soundly,
honor reclaimed by the sentient,,
 Independent declarations germinating from seed,
feared by any progressive regime,
warriors in freedom stand tall,
threatened is the progressive dream,
renewing freedoms that will breed,,
 The liberty that spawned revolution, 
alive from all moral conceptions,
viewed as evil that's progressive,
feared are soulless seeking redemption,
the light of liberty's salvation,,
 Beating freedoms of sentient heart,
the salvation of fighting worth,
a force greater than any darkness,
warriors of liberty step forth,
champions of honor that impart,,
     , next, the final chapter of...
 Ideological war of the worlds,
eye to eye never seen,
the hatred between clearly drawn,
problems with peace to intervene,
the conflict as it unfolds,,
 Coming as thieves of night,
armys on both sides  comes,
fortifying and building societial walls,
truth and lies propaganda welcomes,
armored suited masses to fight,,
 Emerges the lights of honor,
the independent class called defenders,
private elites of character gold,
the shadows behind all pretenders,
opperatives that's far more superior,,
 Defenders are warriors of light,
core beliefs that's solely independent,
religiously organized they never follow,
thorns in a crowned tyrant,
independent wills of great might,,
 They are why freedom thrives,
true leaders leading into tomorrow,
that govern by liberty's will
that invites everyone to follow,
founding fathers of our lives..  

Copyright © S.K. Y. | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

Ted

Old man Cowell and boy Ted,
Hardcore and alcohol
unlocked doors in his head.

Midnight’s rage held a speculum,
every one of them became Brooks.
Two escapes and from
a sling, cast or uniform
one beetle shell thinned
apartment and dorm.

Swung and dumped on both coasts,
Dipped a hand in the green river,
and lost count of his ghosts.
Paid part of his debt on a Florida chair.
Rode the Lightning to eternity.
Consumed by what awaited him there.

Copyright © rob carmack | Year Posted 2015

Details | Lyric | |

Downfall

I can't read the writing on the wall
The free hand print there is way too small
If I could just turn the volume up
I might find a way out of this cover up
But here I sit dissecting my downfall

Many were the voices who 
Spoke about the things they knew
The columns as they stood before
Now turned to rubble strewn on the floor
As suspicious whispers just grew and grew

Time will surely tell the truth and
Maybe video will become the sleuth
Meanwhile we'll just say our prayers
As they extend to be billionaires
Faith is now placed in our youth...and

Here I sit dissecting my downfall...yeah
Sitting here dissecting my downfall

Copyright © Scott Williams | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme | |

Stones

Your words are like stones
Whether skipped or thrown
Destination unknown
They fly alone
Bruising and breaking deeper than bones

Yet pain from these stones will never be shown.

Whether near or far
She'll faithfully wait
Till the unknown date
When those stones are kind and lost of hate

You make mistakes 
Yes she can relate
But what if the pain becomes to great
Whe the kindness comes too late

Such small pieces of her heart
whats left to make
She gave to much
Now there's none to take

Just one everlasting ache 
That your stones did create

They say you can never retake
A women's heart once it breaks

So next time withhold the quake
Your stones with take
And keep this lesson
As a dear keepsake.

<3 Kalee Lynn



Copyright © Kalee Robertson | Year Posted 2013