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Violence Home Poems | Violence Poems About Home

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

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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


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 | Dramatic Verse | |

The monster at home

Cathy was a very special girl 
she was loved by her mom and dad 
of course she was their world 
dad taught her running golf 

and to be proud 
he never warned her 
of the monster at home 
she heard it day and night

it was loud dad didn't tell her 
how to get away
if the monster 
should come out one day
 
he lived in the room 
with mom and dad 
she always heard him 
behind the door as mom cried
 
things crashed to the floor 
furniture and glass 
soon some time had passed 
mom cried some more 

and then became quiet 
it was the same sound 
after a riot a since of peace 
and then an open door 

she peeked in the room 
and mom was on the floor 
at first she felt a since of relief 
but mom wasn't moving 

and in came the police 
she was scared and also very sad 
because to her surprise 
the monster was dad


Details | Dramatic Verse | |

domestic violence survivor

i'd allowed you in again even thou my soul was shattered god was quite displeased as you hammered your dark fist against my rib cage senseless i thought an yet you were forgiven again even more than the last time i'd carefully packed garments birth certificates and social security cards while dripping tears and blood onto the blank pages of my new residence a safe place chanted across the empty lines then availibility  how many beds as we poured into the entrance the sign read safe you are not alone an yet i'd left everything i was centered in a room of over fourteen other women quiet timid angry how we failed at making a male happy within his own skin how he'd torn into us all it was like the same man had beaten us all an yet i knew only you calm cool collective when the cops came taking you around the corner to cool off where was i here in america why i was all races all religions an yet i was harmed while the worse part of my abuse was returning to my abuser  how you emptied me into silence covered in tears black and blue an yet i missed you washing the bruises with soft soap our children were shattered as i explained daddy was ill he was sick he worked very hard to care for us if we were more quiet well behaved he would respond to our energy and love us deeply as deep as i allowed myself to be abused this was america oppression depression family ties became wrath  as i whispered he know's not what he does we are loved as i planned a new home among strangers an yet they were me i was all of these women a safe place sorjournal truth home the harbor light inn the st angeline christian center chaplins office the salvation army cornerstone community outreach shelter the springs outreach where was home in america as i embraced you served you were ill you would someday change abuse would become softer cycles will be broken but here in the in this space in this place and in this time you became plural that's all as i soon became very small why i soon became safe


Details | Quatern | |

Fortress Home

Prepare your home like a fortress

For the battle’s already come.

The Fallen One’s hosts are endless,

And our world may be soon undone.

 

We already are surrounded.

Prepare your home like a fortress.

Don’t stand there looking astounded;

The Adversary’s merciless!

 

Watch what you say; be most cautious.

Hide rations behind walls and floors.

Prepare your home like a fortress.

‘Friends’ may be crashing down your doors.

 

Disasters, plagues, insurrections,

Or whatever may cause distress. 

If you can’t escape, load your guns!

Prepare your home like a fortress.


Details | Lyric | |

VOICE OF THE UNHEARD

BY STREET CRIES

PEOPLE PASS ME LIKE I DONT EXIST
LIKE I AM THE ONE WHO REALLY WANTED THIS
DROWNING IN MY SORROW AS I REMINISCE
DAYS OF MY LIFE FULL OF HUNDRED DOLLARNESS
FAST CARS PLENTY OF WOMEN TO KISS
NOW WOMEN RUN CAUSE OF MY STENCH
I USE TO BE ON BILLBOARD ADVERTISEMENT
NOW I HOLD SIGNS IN FRONT OF BILLBOARD ADVERTISEMENT
FACE FULL OF PAIN BEYOND RECOGNIZEMENT
HEART FULL OF SHAME WONDERING WHERE THE TIME WENT
YOU CANT SLEEP OR BE HERE IS MY ONLY ACKNOWLEDGEMENT
FORCE TO LIVE IN A ENVIRONMENT WHERE ADDICTION IS DOMINATE
ROB AND RAPE HAPPEN TO THE SCARED AND SILENT
JUST TO GET A PLATE CAN TURN INTO SENSELESS VIOLENCE 
UNDER THE INTERSTATE JUST TO CLOSE MY EYE LIDS
BLINDNESS PROTECTS YOU FROM SOCIETY DISGUISES 
WHILE I STAND IN A FOOD LINE APART OF THE POVERTY CRISIS


Details | Free verse | |

I'm Home, Habebty: Egpytian Revolution

*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."
Of course. 
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. 
"Yes."


Saturday, 
I worried.
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 

Red
Bloodstains on streets 
Littered with banners
Left abandoned

White
Tear gas 
Like the departing souls
Of the martyrs of the revolution

Black
Riot gear uniforms
Beat down protesters;
They've sworn to arrest
Anyone protesting today-

I pray.

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.


Details | Verse | |

A Gun in Every Home

Two fine films: The Lost City and Blood Diamond.
I joined Blood Diamond during a village massacre
and said to my wife A gun in every home.
Those devils would think twice
before razing the village and seizing the boys.

A well-regulated militia.
The local militia the most interesting moment
in a strong film with motive (economic, emotional), action (chases, fights)
      and a sexy, sexless love story.
Use of violence by the local militia for a limited purpose: protect the
      community, the young
from the janjaweed. The crop from the weed.
Limited scope and defensive posture
but armed and coordinated, cooperative, the men (and the women) side
      by side.
Warriors at the gate, you will not run, you will not bargain.
Just violence = limited scope, defensive posture.

Great music. Cuba, Africa.
The Lost City, when the communists tell the club owner under threat of
      violence
No saxophones in the band. The saxophone!
Invented by a Belgian -- Look what the Belgians are doing in the Congo!
When the state's violence is turned against the citizenry
for non-violent acts.

This quiet neighborhood, July,
undergirded by violence, force. That's a given --
any farmer, custodian, EMT will tell you that.
Without just violence
Gandhi's scope, and King's, might be vanishingly limited,
negligible (but not non-existent)?
                                              Regarding King
the matter is simple -- he was non-violent but dependent upon
federal force to counter the South's violence.
No doubt without the larger force, the non-violent would be
      overwhelmed by southern violence.
Here, non-violence was a tactic, not an ethic.
Gandhi, however, had no violent partner to protect him from the British.
      Or did he?
1. There was the potential violence of the population, which Gandhi
     restrained but could release which the British feared, and
2. It was the restrained (limited scope) violence of the British that
     allowed Gandhi to exist rather than be extinguished -- this restraint
     was a (British) cultural imperative (limited scope) as well as emanating
     from Britain's view of India as a protectorate and valued citizen of the
     United Kingdom (defensive posture).

What about violence or threat of violence to compel compliance with
      community
as in mortgage foreclosure, driving without license, drug possession.
Perhaps it is necessary violence to maintain orderly commerce, the
      common space, and preempt bad behaviors associated with
      otherwise neutral, private acts.
The defensive posture is the common good; the limited scope is forgoing
      deadly force.
But the citizen, too, must maintain a disciplined, armed non-violence,
in case the state (the janjaweed) engages in an unjust, autoimmune
      violence.
Hence, a gun in every home.






Details | Narrative | |

A World of Shame and Neglect

 
The little child was born into a home of violence and abuse.
      Sadness was the closest thing to love and that was no excuse.
A little child screaming as his mother gets slapped and tossed all around,
     While his worthless father struts thinking he is something he is quite profound.
The little children with ragged clothes and snotty noses just stood there in tears,
      What an impression this father has made for them through the years.
We live in a monkey see monkey do get messed up society,
     Most of the children grew up watching their parents fighting never knowing 
sobriety.
 Alcohol or drugs, seemed to dominate most of the poor.
     The thing they didn’t realize this was only a temporary escape door.
The pain that was eased only led to more grief.
      Till violence took over in the name of relief.
 The daddy was loaded up paying the bills, food, utilities and rent,
      While momma stayed home pregnant and got fussed at for the money she 
spent.
They had sunk so low they were ashamed to attend any church,
      Afraid that the pastor might point them out as he stood on his perch.
What is the answer if any to this little tale of mine,
       How can we make it stop, can we ever draw a line.
 I do know that hate begets hate so could love be the key?
       Has anyone ever tried it long enough to truly find the answer of this I  would 
love to see.
All of my life I have heard do unto others as you would have them do unto you,
        Such a simple answer could this be all we need to do?
Think About It!!!


Details | Free verse | |

day and night

Wake. Nights alone, the house
Sleeps, still, seeping the cries
Of its victims through the walls.
The paper walls, thin , worn
Over the days, weeks, years.
Time. Days alone, the home 
Breathes, heavy, absorbing new
Victims with every breath. Thin, worn -

Gone.