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Violence Hope Poems | Violence Poems About Hope

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

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Details | Free verse | |

'and another stiff one for my drunken pen'

mulberry moonshine

the world can be a rabid dog, a goD frothing backwards while Mr. Clean reads 
a sermon from the pulpit as a false prophet causing me to yell, "Shim-shum 
shimmeny-shum, up from the shadows of the Shoalin slum! Fee-fi-foe-fum, 
eye smell the blood of a fallen one!" My pen was a sword, 'twas inevitable eye 
would end up skewered upon its venomous tip as violence begets violence yet 
silence is just a distorted sort of violent indifference. Live by the s.word, die by 
the s.word, so eye buried ghosts in the sands of Kyushu, revamped my stylo 
into a drunken vomit spewing masochist churning blood and piss into another 
batch of sum county mulberry moonshine. Instead of a wu-tang sword, eye have 
me a la la la la la la la la la lush of a drunken quill spilling forth the woo to the foo 
times twenty-two thousand and dirty-three. Blame it on the pen, but wot came first,
the chicken or the egg? Who is the bad influence on whom, weaving excuses on a 
loom propped up by yet another empty bottle of the wicked county prune. Eye want 
to write lines of eloquence filled with bullfrogs and butterflies, rainbows and baby's 
breath, but this drunken pen has a mind of its own, slithering in-between the scene 
of salesmen saying it from rusted metallic mountaintops, "I have found the way, 'tis 
not YOUR way, so cut your hair son ok!" Hey hey hey! wot are you referring to? 
Elohim, miholah, bespolah, holapsfofahcahmall? ?Fofahcahmall? Theysbe suddenly 
sounding very small while this pen of mine is drinking itself into a stupour, brewing 
up another stew of vomiticus grammaticus long.windy.gusts - eye didn't intend on 
rhyming these lines, my drunken pen has once again taken over, pushing me to 
letgoletgo and pray in hopes that it drinks itself straight in order for bullfrogs,
butterflies and everything nice like sugar, lollipops and rainbows to finally begin to 
show from out of the freaky flow of this ultra triple-distilled drunken ink - slow right 
down into something quaint and normal, wash this drunken mess down the sink 
without having to fink with my dirty think, my dirty think - the first sign of the crime 
is denial - drunken pen, drunken hand? Drunken hand, drunken pen? Oh good Lord, 
here come the bends once again, yeah, here come the bends again, there's only one 
thing left to do and it's to fold this paper into a neat package eye can mail off to the 
People-In-The-Sky so they can offer me some insight into all of the reasons why

Copyright © Chris D. Aechtner

Details | I do not know? | |

Love Sorrow

        blood pouring forth . . . red

           yelling . . . hate  r a d i a t i n g 

                                      shooting, dying . . .  why

“A voice was heard in Ramah, wailing and loud lamentations . . . “ Jeremiah

“. . . so much weeping!  Such a burden of lamentation!  I will not gloss over the terrible pain and sorrow that comes from vanity and anger, but neither will I forget the final word of resurrection. “  Eugene Petersen

David Meade
Live Generously

Copyright © David Meade

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

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
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

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal

Details | Enclosed Rhyme | |



So many things that I'm unsure about
I've lived a life uncut
Could not erupt
Till I was cured of doubt
A sentry watching a century pass
I've learned a lot 
It's been a long way 
from the halls of elementary class
I've been a loner
And I've been a stoner
I've studied Plato's Republic 
Read both epics from Homer & loved it
I've never been shot
Hopefully I never am
My only goal's to improve
You can't find yourself 
a better man
When it's all said & done
I'ma give you 100 percent
Raising the bar
Cuz like you I'm just a regular person
I keep it real
You can judge me
Or call it rude
But life wears down to dust
100 years of solitude
Will change your outlook
Make you question yourself
Go out
Look for the truth
Don't rest till you've exhausted the proof
That's the path for me
Whether you think I'm right or wrong
Or consider my poetry blasphemy

Would you deny my existence
Like the loch ness?
Would you damn me for my past
Cuz my record isn't spotless?
Had my fair share of grief
That prepared me for despair
More pain
Followed by shock & disbelief 
Children being blown to bits
Watched a nation 
choose guns over kids
Almost no hesitation
Point was made
The matter put to rest & laid
Sent teachers back to school 
to explain it to the 1st grade?

Racial issues in America are getting the best of us
You want a free country
But not for the rest of us
That kind of frame of mind
I gotta say's average
Our own government barely recognizes gay marriage 
So how do I teach kids 
Not to be prejudice?
When all they gotta do's log onto Facebook
The evidence 
is written on the wall of your friend's page
They say its their opinion
That's good enough to defend hate?
Try paying attention to the tension
I'm done praying
Men shun & it goes unmentioned 
I'm just saying
Leaders with all of your veteran swag
How about you try restoring faith back in the American flag?

Until then
I'ma definitely do my part
To bring change
Speaking only what's in my heart
Don't make this a black vs white thing
Make it a wack vs right thing
Outsmart 'em
That's how I'll honor Trayvon Martin

Copyright © Lawrence Jimenez

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.

Copyright © Peter Duggan

Details | Verse | |


I am feeling the shock of fast change. How to cope with it is of course the question. Listen to Beethoven through the neighbor's window? Look up from the page? Appreciate doves even though they are so numerous? I seem to have limitless choices although this cannot be true. Could I have become a computer specialist? Sure! How to remain still in the ever-maddening mandala. To remain still on the outer edge of the wheel is to ride laughingly and pluck at the gold key. I force myself down into the craw of the black vortex New York until I feel the strong oscillations gather rhythm and expel me or accept me.

            What do I find within the black electric walls of this unique vortex? I find there is more space between people than I'd ever dared to hope. That my efforts are unnecessary and hopeless. I cancel my subscriptions and stop eating. I embrace wild roots and run through streets with arm around my girl.

                    *                                  *                                  *

What is important.
That question.
I part my lips in the middle
      and blow
eat corn chips, dipsy doodles
make love, eat grapes.
                                In their mere chronology
events have no relation. How was making love
different from eating grapes. Differentiation

is essential to bring order from chaos. The chaos
is the accelerated change created by our own species
whose consummations have a quantum effect
      on the environment.
                                   But the chaos
existed long before, and long after us
in both more serene and violent forms.
Again a duality, but here's why.
each duality may then be said to be in a dual
relationship with another duality, forming
           These cubes are difficult to join
with other cubes, unless first they are
somewhat melted.
                          We were traveling among
these cubes, maneuvering
through a static array of equidistant points
but finding it impossible to avoid striking them.

So why the difficulty adapting. Because no species
before us had to adapt to its own effects upon
environment? No, every species must

but our adaptations (of the world) are so successful
(such fabrications!) One green, one brown

                      Two dead leaves
                                     Then a breeze!

                                        *                                  *                                   *

                        Loveliness and loneliness
                        these periodic
                                 they sleep apart/together

sometimes not always
        using sheets of white nothing madly
                connecting, splicing, parturition
                        continuing to birth life and ideals
                                like ants or any other species.
                                        Tree, each poem, begins
                                                and ends and giving up
                                                        to life's forms

surrendering to greater force, power, strength
        whatever it is called, the clog of heels
                upstairs to the door, turning of
                        the key, the taking out of the
                                garbage down below, car
                                        starting, placed in
                                                gear, cat

anyway, for myself, personally, speaking only
        for myself, because although the Parks
                Department rakes the leaves as it
                        did last autumn, to keep them
                                from clogging the sewer system,
                                        I am in a heightened
                                                state of vibration

like a long steel pipe banged hard against an
        iron beam. The hard hat feels it in
                his hand (on the gears) but
                        great buildings are built that
                                nature destroys in time
                                        with a little wind
                                                water, fire

air, you glide down through the limpid air
        toward the ninety-seven story abandoned structure
                remnant of an earlier civilization
                        abandoned but not yet entirely
                                swept away in slow waves
                                        of change.

Copyright © Robert Ronnow

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!

Copyright © Steven Gadberry

Details | Rhyme | |

Out Of The Darkness

Out of the darkness

I step into light

Everything in my life turned Bright


The promise of light

Came in and took control

Now I am on a roll


The violence of the past

Is no longer there

No more pain do I bear


The dreams of the future

Are there and ready

Moving slow and steady


Out of the darkness

Comes the light

I am filled with delight


The promise of light

Fills me with joy

Like a child getting a christmas toy


The violence of the past

Died a death...painful and slow

I am ready come on let's go


The dreams of the future

Consume me

I can finally live and be free


Out of the darkness

I step into light

Everything in my life turned BRIGHT!

Copyright © The Melody Sings

Details | Sonnet | |

Stepping out

cold caused fatigues
loneliness vanished
the colors of a life
silenced behind the continuous intrigues

each step a mile
distance a dream
the color-blinded wet eyes
no longer hiding a huge courageous  smile
all valiant  steps
capture free miles 
each stage a victory
beyond  that  wooden and iron spiderwebs 

closed that hateful gate with a resolute slap
ahead a new colorful life to unwrap

© Ellie Daphne

Copyright © Elly D. A. Wouterse

Details | Rhyme | |

I See Beyond The Boundaries

I see Beyond The Boundaries

Winter arrived before her time
 Usurping part of autumn’s decline
Came in with a vengeance bent on crime
 Harsh not smooth like a fine wine

Her sting bore a resemblance to life
Her temper reaped violence and strife
Baring her weapons took untold lives
Only the strongest were able to survive

Black Friday wielded the same attitudes 
Rage and violence struck without gratitude
What has happened to plain simple courtesy?
Evil struck early to deter the Spirit of Mercy

I lift my hands to you Oh Lord Send your Spirit
Saturate this earth with your power so evil fears it
Lift the haughty spirit that looms over the land
Sooth the tempest with the kindness of your hand


Paula Swanson’s Contest
I See Beyond…

Copyright © Carole Cookie Arnold

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


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 

Copyright © James Fraser

Details | Verse | |


Hot Is The Wind
One night can change things forever. Like the night the Americans came. One survivor went through hell to live. When the sirens went off, people pulled blankets over their heads rather than go to the freezing shelters. Then the bombers arrived overhead. They didn't miss. 

It was a hauntingly beautiful sight. The city, Tokyo, on fire. Glowing red in the night. Being destroyed by fire bombs. No mercy on the exhausted inhabitants, for it was total war to the death, that cold winter's day. 

Those who were quick ran for their lives. They had a chance to live. Taking themselves, a few possessions and fleeing their homes. Traditional Japanese homes of wood and paper, amongst which was small factories. All were targets hit without mercy. That night changed everything. Worst air raid of the entire war. It was justifiable then. And now? 

One survivor remembers and fears Japan will fight future wars. Will it be like back then? People treated as 'weeds' with a divine wind saving them? Make the nation strong, don't appease China or anyone else. Arming Japan, new laws to allow war, repressing the population. Step by step to Armageddon. 

Saotome remembers the night on fire, a hideous wind, running by the train track as bombs fell. He wanted only to live. 

Before dawn they reached the river. When the sun rose, their city was gone. What did being taught to hate, that killing their enemy was right and the 'kamikaze' divine wind would annihilate all before them, achieve? That war was a thief, stealing Saotome's childhood and killing his friends that night. 

Japan had to win that war or it would be death and dishonour. When the war was over, the Emperor spoke on the radio. Something unheard of. Would he ask us all to die? Saotome knew their divine wind had forsaken them.

It was March 10 1945. 100,000 people died. Fire bombed by the B-29s. Will politicians who avoid talking about the past lead to apathy and war today?

As Saotome said: "I didn't know if I was really running or if I was in a dream, if I was flying through space. It still gives me goosebumps."

"Those of us who survived have a duty to become a voice for the voiceless."

"If I'm quiet, it means I've accepted the situation. If we don't speak up, the past will be made to disappear."

Copyright © nick armbrister jimmy boom semtex

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.


Copyright © Peter Duggan

Details | Lyric | |



 They come to us, they're broken,
 Their eyes are filled with tears
 They've been told that they are "worthless",
 For far too many years!

 Their scars much deeper than just skin
 they've been stripped of their pride,
 they've been abused, they've been put down
 They feel no hope inside.

 They've fled the place that they called "home"
 The place the abuse occurred,
 the place where they were beaten down
 A place they were not heard.

 But now they've come to our front door
 To seek a place to stay,
 A place they can call home a while
 a place to help find their way.

 A way to new beginnings,
 A way to peace of mind
 a way to feel secure again
 and leave all the bad behind.

 We welcome them with open arms
 we dry the tears that fall
 we tell them just how beautiful
 they are to us all.

 As time goes by, we watch them grow
 we see them start to smile
 we see that sparkle in their eyes
 that hasn't been there for a while.

 We see them making brand new friends
 They've taken their lives back
 they move forward with the confidence
 that  they no longer lack.

 If they could see inside my heart
 when we say our "good-byes",
 I hope they know they're in my prayers
 a tear falls from my eyes.

 I pray they make good choices
 to help them reach their goals
 I pray that the Lord will guide and protect
 all their precious souls.

 So proud to see them making their way
 as finally a chance to be free
 I pray they take the tools they've learned
 and make life the best it can be!!

Copyright © shelly hurst

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

Copyright © Poetryof Providence

Details | Light Poetry | |


I was inspired by the girls, "my girls"...
Survivors of domestic violence
that live at the shelter where I volunteer and
have been blessed with the title of "House Mom".
Please put them all in your prayers. For their
privacy, I will refer to the girls as "They"...


 They come to us, they're broken,
 Their eyes are filled with tears
 They've been told that they are "worthless",
 For far too many years!

 Their scars much deeper than just skin
 they've been stripped of their pride,
 they've been abused, they've been put down
 They feel no hope inside.

 They've fled the place that they called "home"
 The place the abuse occurred,
 the place where they were beaten down
 A place they were not heard.

 But now they've come to our front door
 To seek a place to stay,
 A place they can call home a while
 a place to help find their way.

 A way to new beginnings,
 A way to peace of mind
 a way to feel secure again
 and leave all the bad behind.

 We welcome them with open arms
 we dry the tears that fall
 we tell them just how beautiful
 they are to us all.

 As time goes by, we watch them grow
 we see them start to smile
 we see that sparkle in their eyes
 that hasn't been there for a while.

 We see them making brand new friends
 They've taken their lives back
 they move forward with the confidence
 that  they no longer lack.

 If they could see inside my heart
 when we say our "good-byes",
 I hope they know they're in my prayers
 a tear falls from my eyes.

 I pray they make good choices
 to help them reach their goals
 I pray that the Lord will guide and protect
 all their precious souls.

 So proud to see them making their way
 as finally a chance to be free
 I pray they take the tools they've learned
 and make life the best it can be!!


Copyright © shelly hurst

Details | Imagism | |

Family violence part 2

Then I heard her footstep getting closer.


This time she picked me up by my throat and pined me up the wall,
screaming at me, finger in my face while smashing my head on the wall.
Bashing my head in the air screaming "PUT YOUR BLOODY HANDS DOWN!",
again I was air borne, but this time I went flying into the lounge.

Curled up in a ball with my hands covering my head, I was crying hysterically,
she pulled one of my arms and grabbed me by my ear, and up again I was.

As I lowered my hands she started whacking my head screaming, "STOP CRYING"
over and over again.
Trying to summon the strength to hold it all in,
almost impossible, like trying to swallow soccer balls in my throat.

I managed to control it to like that hiccup kind,
Shaking and trebling hoping that I wouldn’t cry,
bearing in mind that I was still a child, 
my emotions I still, couldn't keep under control.

So much pain, My butt stung, my hair felt like it had been ripped out,
all dizzy and daze, my head throbbed, and there was a burn in my eyes.
but I finally did lowered my hands and I look her straight in the eyes,
WHACK I few again.

This time my face was on fire my ear rung so bad,
a high pitch screech inside my head, I rolled over and over in pain.
This time when she said get out of my face, 
I moved so fast I slide in the carpet and hit my face on the door frame.

Up stairs I ran, dived on top of my bed,
covered my face with my pillow, so my whimpers couldn't be heard.
trying not to cry, begging in my mind for it stop,
then I heard that sound….(Pacing) ….. my body shook.

I knew it wouldn't be long, before she worked herself up,
Pacing back and forth talking to herself,
justifying the reason’s I need more.
I just wait for the stomping to get closer to my door.
True to form it happened.

The poem I have just told is a true story, cause it did happen to me,
this was only one time,  I'd had hundreds more before I hit my teens.
Back in my day family violence was never talked about,
It was happening everywhere, just about every house. 

Family violence is wrong and it needs to be stopped,
but this will never happen, if you voice doesn’t shout out.
Don't be like me, riddled with fear and shame,
someone out there cares, just tell them about your pain.

M.Mahauariki © 2012

Copyright © Murray Mahauariki

Details | Free verse | |


mr. hope & change is saddened again,
as just a few weeks ago the nation mourned
the deaths of those blown away in a movie
now a skinhead takes out 6 in a Wisconsin
Sikh temple &
yet the refrain is the same---
not only will he not address the real issues at 
he sends his little babbling bird, mr. carney,
out to do the dirty work,
telling us that it’s the gangs that kids are
joining, which lead to these violent 
and when they start to piss out their mouths,
these talking heads whose strings are 
pulled by the gun lobby in the US,
they start to dabble in the most inhuman
for we all know the statistics,
we all know that in the UK, the homicide rate
due to firearms
is ridiculously low in comparison to this land
of mother****ing 
who sleep with a goddamned six-shooter 
beneath their mattresses &
yet because this empire is based on violence,
the violence it spreads all over the globe,
the violence that it beats down on its citizens
is it any wonder that once in a blue moon,
somebody ends up killing a bunch of people
with a gun they got on the internet while
simultaneously playing a video game?
so “how many deaths will it take till’ we know?”
maybe if somebody goes on a rampage 
every couple of weeks?
hmmm….ya think then that charlie heston & the
boys will stop jacking off & 
rethink their policies?
maybe if there is a rampage every week,
mr. hope & change will get off his ass & 
actually do something, regardless of how far
off november is?

don’t hold your ****ing breath.

Copyright © andrew delapruch

Details | Free verse | |

Stop the violence!- and let me join in

Here I am
I'm not letting you guys have the fun
you really think you can keep me out of this?
All right's my turn! and I'm burning this to the ground!

you may be forgiven 
but not for long my love
Fight me
or invite me 
to this love that never belonged
you've been slammed my friend
I hope you don't forget
all the horrible things I did
I broke your heart 
and my excuses can't stop
me from telling the truth
'cause I never loved you
it was all a lie 
the saytr inside 
was the reason for you
at first it was hard to say it 
but after a while I lied to myself
I said I love you
but inside I knew
it wasn't you
harsh? yes I know
I'm sick of your demons
and the stupid things you believe
Lilith is not even the Devils girl
so stop the lies 
'cause inside 
you and I
should have never been
Girl, I lost my greatest friend 
and you reminded me so much of her
and I knew I lost I pretended I loved you
But now I'm back and with Her now
and I tell you It's better than what we had
Oh, and the better thing
that we never had is LOVE
so I say goodbye
for the last time
I'm the angel not the demon
I'm the great
I'm the fate
I'm the poet
For I am 
a great man
I hope that you burn in your lies
I hope you relize 
the world your in
is a LIE
And it will die
you will cry
and for once It'll 
be so mean
so you've been slammed 
oh violently slammed
in my hands!

Copyright © Ryan Emerald

Details | Rhyme | |

The Man

A man acquainted with sorrows and grief
be it then was bruised for our relief
the ones  ruling over them kept them in pain
but struck was he so we might Life regain
All like sheep have wandered astray
but he announced to the crowds Gods new day
no violence could be found in his actions done
he spoke of peace in the kingdom to come
He fed the hungry and gave to the poor
tender of heart and kind to his core
oppressed was he and sore afflicted
falsely accused by traditionalists indicted
A quiet man who spoke of verity
taught of loving kindness and mercies charity
the man he was did the broken draw
in every point did he fulfill Gods Law
The works of his hands righteous and clean
his judgment was pure and never mean
a candle whose light has dispelled the dark
his praise for his Father did all his works mark
Jehovah pronounced this the Son he approved
to him was beloved and the World reproved
no harm could be found in his heart or hand
those who follow him will the same stance stand
He sought not mens praise or their vainglory
yet acquired Gods love but by man treated poorly
unlike the kings who Lord over their kin
washed the feet of disciples those lower than him
Did demonstrate he how to walk Truths Way
by example showed traits his disciples display
with accurate judgment in all that he did
to become like him to his disciples he bid
We are not worthy of God to approve
if we do not from our lives violence remove
those who hate and practice manslaughter 
cannot become his Son or his daughter
To become like him the Truth you must drink
it must cleanse from you what the world think
upon his teaching consume as your bread
without his life in you , you are still dead..
sources Ps 18 , Is 53  and the gospels
COPYRIGHT © 2010 C Michael Miller

Copyright © Poetryof Providence

Details | Free verse | |

Stop the violence

Please stop the violence
I sit in silence
I made a stand
I said ‘No more’
But the scars are still very raw
As I say to my kids
Tears will dry
My love for you 
Will never die
As I hold 
My head held high
It’s a long road
But I let go of a very big load
I fought and I fought
Finally I got some support
From people far to people near
They were all there what I had to hear
I am strong 
I didn’t do anything wrong
I am here
Well and alive
I walk this world
For I know how to survive