Screaming at the Sky
Mothers screaming mournfully at a deaf sky
holding their heads helplessly as they cry
pitiful tears for innocent, defenseless children slaughtered
in fatal cross fires, deadly drug wars
drive-by shootings, and cases of mistaken identity
on blood-splattered streets, senseless endless violence; but
who really gives a damn, only grief-stricken
mothers screaming mournfully at a deaf sky.
America the Free ~ America the Brave ~
Freedom with price Capitalism attacked
the many taken hearts broken still
one World try to rebuild
sadness and tears fall hard with fears
guilt by association many accused still
souls evaporated shattered dreams
tears fall on innocence left with anger
The proud fearless knew the inevitable
policeman fireman many lives lost
grieving does not stop 12 years later
New York city once proud & shameless
refusing to let fears in protecting ours
left in shock still question's unanswered
nothing learned nothing gained
ready to attack many left behind
anger greets denial anger meets rage
unacceptable still refusing new love
wanting days to rewind let us go back in time
acceptance allowing the victims leave in peace
the brave taken young leaving us sadly old
haunting dreams lost spirits dwell
no answers to hate never forgetting that day
Evil entered suddenly unforgiving fate
entering our City we stand with the fallen
How to fix how do we Change
This can be read many different ways ~ This is a poem I am so proud to write ~
An angel formed from
lake of purity,a gift to
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
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.
A true story,a close
pretty lady friend of mine
was raped by her family
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
It weren’t too many years ago
I worked on the building site
The work was hard, but pay was good
And it suited me just right
I knew this bloke who worked with me
Little George it was his name
He was short, built like a bull
And Lord that boy was game.
Now he was Maori, through and through
And he hated Islanders
So one day we were in the pub
And someone George did stir
They called him a ruddy Islander
And he wasn’t taking that
And boy, that man could really fight
Just like a jungle cat.
There was six of them and one of George
And folk thought him insane
To take on all those blokes at once
But I could not refrain
From betting on that Georgie boy
Because I knew him from old
It only took our boy five minutes
To knock four of them cold.
Then I saw the other two
They were running down the street
Regretting it with all their hearts
That Georgie they did meet
I guess those guys will shrink in future
From picking a Maori man
There’s not too many that can fight
Just like a Maori can.
5 August 2013 @ 1545hrs.
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?
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
The Ballad of Tich Tomas
A dog was howling in the night
Perhaps she knew the truth
That Tich would not be coming home
This dog needed no proof
That the man who she loved so
He’d come to her no more
Because Lance corporal Thomas was
A victim of the war.
Now Tich, he was a country boy
His farm it was his life
A boon to his community
He’d give in times of strife
He learned his trade in farming school
With honours he’d come through
Then settled down to work his farm
That’s what he planned to do.
But then, one day it came to him
The news he did not need
He’d been called up for army life
He went off without heed
To do his time in Puckapunyal
To get him set for war
He soon made it as Infanteer
So he joined a fighting corp
He worked real hard and gained a stripe
This showed he had potential
He earned his skills in jungle fighting
And then there came the call
For he to go to Vietnam
To five RAR he was sent
Charlie company was his unit
When off to war he went
It was in April sixty six
Our man went into battle
There in the Phuc Tuy provence
Those guns did roar and rattle
Our Tich he fought real gallantly
So brave was he, but then
The shrapnel done it’s evil job
He joined the fallen men.
They brought his body back to those
Who were waiting for him there
The whole town came to welcome him
And helped with grief and prayer
They buried him with all the honours
That came to fighting souls
Who died to keep their country free
Courageous in their roles.
More honour it was placed on him
By the country where he’d fought
They built a statue in his name
And his likeness it was caught
By the sculptor who did honour him
And carve him into stone
And now Tich Tomas guards the park
As he stands there all alone.
If you’re ever down in Nannup town
Go to the park that’s there
You’ll see the statue of young Tich
As his spirit everywhere
Will fill the souls of those who see
This fighting man, so brave
Who’s body lies so peacefully
In his own town, in a grave.
When chaos brings civilization to its knees
From world wide pandemic critical disease
Or when a tsunami consumes everything beyond the shores
Swallowing the landscape and changing life as we know
Earthquakes shake the very foundation of this world
Or an astroid penetrates the cradle of birth
Bring us back to the primitive unleashing the truth
From the umbilical chord we are more ferocious than rabid wolves
And we will kill fellow man just to survive
Or just for the desire of taking ones life
What is compassion but a dead corpse on the road
Adrenalized by fear no time for sorrows
No need to worry about a world war zombie apocalypse
We're already flesh eating monsters wearing dead skin
Most people panic when they lose internet or their lights
Autonomy is just a word most people can no longer define
And your money isnt worth *****so forget trying to buy
Your way out of cleansing while you run out of time
So learn to die well and hold your loved ones real tight
As you pray that your death will let you ascend to new heights
Beans, bullets, and bandaids are all that I'll need
To keep population zero from taking over me
**** being hopeful could we really be so naive
To think that in these days we could some how find peace
When our mother earth gets restless and releases all of her worst
The only thing more destructive is our human nature
Your words are like stones
Whether skipped or thrown
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
Millions of lives and souls untold
And to account it all
Words, lines, films
A sliver of soft, scarlet ribbon
Writers flare with passion so strong
Filling minds with fantasies, reveries, histories
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
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
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
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
I do not know?
*A assignment was due in class. *
Every time a gun shoots
A tree looses its roots
Every time there is bloodshed
Along with it millions of tears are shed
Every time a heart is stabbed
Someone else’s life gets barren
As violence grows
Many more mothers moan
The sounds of destruction
Overpowers the voice of those
Who are innocent
Who suffer with no reason
Who beg for life
Who have heart full of innocence
Why do so much violence?
That the child’s cry cannot be heard
When his father is killed
Why do so much violence?
That a mother moans
Over her child’s dead remains
Why do so much violence
For winning any stupid battle
Which is taking lives
Of people who have wives
And mothers and children
When you can keep calm
Talk things out
Do whatever you can
To keep violence out
Because there is no sin as big as
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
Deleted from my mind
As I leave this world behind
Floods my lungs
Leans in for a kiss
Together we sink into insanity
And drown in infinitys abyss.
They are born and grow
in a violent time
with little to eat
nowhere to sleep
men come with the guns
and take Them away
They have nothing to say
just only obey
A men throws for Them
some crumbs to eat
some old rusty bread
and a spoiled meat
at least They have roof
over their head
one old dirty blanket
one old dirty bed
They know They will have to
do what They were told
if not, for a piece of gold
for sure They are will be sold
They are very young
and They are all alone
no mother or father
because They are all gone
They have no choice
to only obey
and do exactly
what the man say
the man with the guns
and power abuse
They have no say
and They can’t refuse
it is such a shame
for others to know
and turn their heads away
and just let Them grow
with violence and crime
against Their own
no piece no love
just the violence
only They know
there is no escape
only pain and sore
this are the Children
Children of the war
Working on editing this one...
A beast with dark red eyes,
to give out fire burning lies,
a beast with such a hunting nose,
terrible stench where ever it goes.
A beast with teeth like jagged knives,
its mouth of saws taking lives,
a beast with horns like powerful steel,
when there is pain, it will not feel.
A beast with sharp and bloody claws,
its body of scales against all laws,
a beast with a swinging tail of spikes,
to stab through anything it likes.
A beast with wings to slice through air,
to fly and kill without a care,
a beast with death in its mind and heart,
from somewhere far and worlds apart.
The Martyr Girl
Arabic Poem by: Jasem Al-Khafaji*
Translated into English by:
Inaam Al-Hashimi (Gold_N_Silk)
In your absence,
Dreariness, in every class,
Has been the prayer of the break..
Every teacher calls your name,
His voice falls slaughtered, in pain, on his lips..
In every standing and every sitting,
Your class condoles with your desk..
Without you there, the schoolyard feels empty
The bell sounds strangled as it tolls for you..
Oh, grief of all schools!
Oh, weariness of all lessons!
Too young to be gone..
Your mother wished to see you a bride..
Vacant was your stand in the lines and rows
For the flag ceremony
The flag was raised..
The blackboard is missing your words
Saddened with no words to spell
“Dar” … “Door”
When your braid caught fire,
The kids tried to put it off with your bookcase
Their hands were too small to carry water..
May God help your mother..
Your mother, who, in her grief, turned white,
Like daylight upon your coffin
Your mother, who, with slaps of grief,
Drew skipping squares on her cheeks
Your mother, who raised your hand in prayer to God
Your mother, who used to come to get you,
At the end of the school day
Your mother, who, not even once,
Received a teacher’s note complaining about you
Your mother, who is wrapping ribbons
Around your pictures
In madness after you
God help your mother, who, in her grief,
Turned white like daylight upon your coffin..
O God, May all bombs be paralyzed,
And all blasts be blinded!
* Jasem Al-Khafaji is a poet from Iraq,
The poem is in Iraqi folks spoken dialect
I'm in a land where everyone is dying
Sweet child please awake
I look up at the sky screaming, crying
God, why do you take!
What's the reason for living in this world without my baby?
I'm in a store where everyone is buying
I've got a headache
My child is loud, and is quite defying
Tom for heaven's sake!
Just get the damn toy he wants so he will shut up, just maybe?
My parents are dead, not here anymore
I sell my bare flesh
They've labeled me sinner, scarlet, a whore
Malice thoughts, a thresh!
My face is bruised and bloody from the stones of licentious men
My parents are stupid, I slam my door
We just do not mesh
I hear the knocks, but I choose to ignore
The night air feels fresh!
I'll show them, I'm running away from home; what will they think then
Today is my birthday and I turned eight
It's time to be tough
I get my gun and go fight for my state
It's scary and rough
It hurts to breath in, It's so cold and dark; I want my mommy
Today is my birthday and I'm out late
I've not drank enough
Bartender another drink I feel great
Wow, I am hot stuff
I stumble to their table, I vomit like a tsunami
Gender Based Violence [GBV]
There is more suffering
Hide not rape, child defilement, spouse battering__
Mental torture and verbal abuse
You must seek peace, love,forgiveness and justice
Then you will be drawn away from cruelty
No need for deadly tit-for-tat attacks:
Legistrators need to strenghen laws
No need for immunity from prosecution
Investigators must examine gathered evidence
Perpetraitors should face the wrath of the judiciary
Why not stop gender based violence?
Dedicated to Gender Based Violence Activists
I turned to the bottle because I'm a Cop.
I was a good Policeman but it had to stop.
I couldn't stand the crime and violence anymore.
It got to be something that I could not ignore.
A six year old kid was killed in the cross fire when a gang decided to attack.
I had to explain to his parents that their son got a big hole blown in his back.
I saw so many deaths that it became hard to even keep my meals down.
I could no longer tolerate the violence in this crime infested town.
I couldn't continue being a Cop, it was something I couldn't take.
It bothered me so much that every day my hands would shake.
My career as a Police Officer came to an end.
And sadly, the bottle became my best friend.
As I sit alone in this bar, the bartender is pouring me drinks.
Please don't be a Police Officer in this town, it really stinks.
(This is a fictional poem)
*habebty: arabic for my love
*context: this year (2014) is the third anniversary since the egyptian revolution
Friday, he told me,
"Tomorrow will be a sad day."
"Why?" I asked.
"The anniversary of the revolution."
When I had google searched "january news egpyt"
the day before to see if any new protests had occured to
block the streets and make him come home late,
the results still showed the carnage of three years ago.
There would be protests tomorrow.
I asked him if he was going to work.
I wouldn't tell him
Not to go to the protest-
I knew I would have gone too-
Shouldn't I support what he believes?
But then I think
Bloodstains on streets
Littered with banners
Like the departing souls
Of the martyrs of the revolution
Riot gear uniforms
Beat down protesters;
They've sworn to arrest
Anyone protesting today-
I ask him where he is.
"I'm home, habebty."
He's decided not to go
Since he thinks it's wrong
To celebrate on a day
So many have died.
I breathe again.
Nearly 50 died that weekend.
I got to hear,
I'm home, habebty.
On the cusp of the night, forged by the steel of his will
Poised on the edge of forever, eternally still
Patient as time, as the yesteryears mark where he's been
Different from man, for the harrowing sights that he's seen
He once lived a life, full of promise and dreams as he grew
In a world where believing made everything real become true
Where a dance with the Devil destroyed everything in a night
And darkness prevailed, stripping all but a glimpse of the light
No man shall bow down to the filth that roam freely today
No woman nor child shall taste of the fear or dismay
The lost and the lonely a champion has chosen to serve
The weak and the weary shall have all the hope they deserve
The battle ensues every night, arson, murder and rape
As justice is dealt from behind the dark crusaders cape
Steeled by the resolve that injustice shall not be the way
No conscience, no remorse, no soft executioners stay
That which lies written in stone is etched there in blood
The conscience once felt as a child, washed away in a flood
Only truth paves a path to the future, let that be his tome
At the centre of hurt and corruption he's fashioned a home
A soul torn and lost evermore, in the blink of an eye
Bewildering fate taught a grieving young boy not to cry
Did destiny cause it to be - Or was it just that
The catalyst needed to transform a man into bat
Tortured by loss and regret through a cruel twist of fate
Carved a body and mind, that was tempered by vengeance and hate
Scales of injustice now measure the weight of our sins
In the instant that Bruce Wayne dies... then... BATMAN BEGINS
I met a hand with eyes but no vision
He touched me but only to fill his hunger
And I with a heart floated with anger
I wish I were a human
But not of this hand
I just asked one day but only within
The muscular hand was no less than a muddle head
In life it was panting for death
And I In death panting for the former
He knew he could free me
But his knowledge is destined ignorance
Alas! His heart pumps only blood, no care.
To my one day
I croaked to his deaf ears for years
But for one day
Neither a day is left nor a drop of hope
My heart pounced on request
And his on the lust to have me
I swam in his desire not in his concern
To my one day
I croak now to the world
Enchained in all this ego
Is there a hero out to rescue me
Oh I know the world is all a dark mirror of life
I know this just in one day
That my day has come