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Violence Life Poems | Violence Poems About Life

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

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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

Details | Rhyme | |


I thought of one of my nephews before I wrote this, God bless him please

He's from a western land where the hustla's real,
And the thugs'll steal,
Brothers'll kill for the love o' bills,
Tryin' to get a mill[million],
Means much blood'll spill

So his forte's to scheme & die fo',
Gettin'that cream[money] & lie low,
Then hittin' up his rivals
An eye for an eye
and dealin' with street survival,

Makes him drift back to his childhood,
When it was much peace & all good,
But now he gets no sleep
He creeps deep in foul hoods,
Where bodies get chalked & the crowd stood,

In amazement,
Witnessin' homicide engravements on the pavements,
Too much of this misbehavement,

Has the communities decaying
and too many youngsters fall before their prime,
And the harsher the crime, steeper the prison time,

But he was born a product in a wicked jungle,
Bred to run amongst those who are far from humble,
And addicted to makin' they're funds grow,
And plus they're quick to stun those,

Who gets victimized by the hoods jurisdiction,
A whole slew of unsolved crimes
with very few convictions,
And justice is missin',
Because this lifestyle is opposite of fiction,

So he marches through ghetto life
with his hard hat & boots on,
Still focussed on gettin' his loot on,
While killers get their shoot on,
Many of them shoot wrong,
So innocent bystanders been dying for too long,
But he continues to move on,
As 1 of the Young, Wicked & Black

Copyright © louis brown

Details | Free verse | |

Art of Love

This times, you would receive the two things from others.
Violence or grace. 
Jealousy to your success,
And grace to your failure.

So, you should not be sad.

Survival is meaningless with grace. 

Believe me,
You are the king or queen of love.
Try to distribute your love.
Don't want to see yourself as the beggar of love. 

One day, future of mankind will be written with your love.
You will become history.

(The poem is dedicated to my favorite poet Charmaine Chircop.)


Copyright © Sandip Goswami

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? | |

RIP Virginity

Dear Sir, my innocence is gone now, no more fear 
Do you love to **** me again, I am always here. 
I wonder when you taught me how to use a pen, 
I was so into you but my ****** was in pain! 
I was crying; I was too immature to understand
I was turning only 13, I couldn't feel what happened. 
but I promise I never forget what you taught me at the end. 
I begged you to stop and looked into your eyes, 
there was a reflection of a cruel world, that’s  what I deserved!
Don't be afraid, mommy never knows what you did, 
Nobody knows that you made me bleed. 
Dear sir, my innocence is gone with all my tears,
as I had no safe place to hide myself from fears.
Nobody saw anything as your world was so blind! 
having hidden hatred inside, a virgin died. 
Dear sir, time cannot erase your memories, 
time doesn't heal all wounds, that you marked, 
yes, you took my innocence that will be always on my mind.
My innocent world was shattered by your touch
Hope no one ever has to experience such
For all the pain, all the cruelty, thank you very much!

Copyright © Farhana Akter

Details | Quatrain | |

Violence In Video Games

There was a loud explosion, followed by shouts of glee
The rat-a-tat-tat of gunshot, was suddenly surrounding me
It was much to my horror that my husband bought the game
And to watch my boys playing it, nearly drove me insane.

They blew things up, they shot at them, and they loved every shot
“But it will warp their minds” I said, my husband said “It will not.”
He promised he would sit with them, but that’s cos he wanted to play
And he said he could drum into them that it is just a game that day.

I peered round the doorway, I watched him guide them through
They cheered, and laughed at gruesome bits, my husband cringed a bit too
But as they grew they learned, but I know this is not true of all
Mine are both big wimps, and even husband on seeing blood will fall.

They cannot stand needles, a paper cut makes them cry
They cannot watch the news, when there is death and destruction awry
So in all honesty I don’t agree with violence in video games at all
But I think it’s up to the parents to make the final call.

Children in days of old, shot each other with a home made stick gun
They made swords out of anything, and always fought to the death in fun.
Play has changed they are safer inside, the trouble now I think this is it
Is when they are left to their own devices and the videos are used just to baby-sit.

Contest Entry

Copyright © Mandy Tams The Golden Girl

Details | Elegy | |


                                        Elegy to Child Lost

                                 Passion's love oft tempts despair
                                 Casts a prideful cosmic dare--
                                 Like Prizing Joy's most intimate caress
                                 Babe snug beneath a mother's breast

                                Senses at this time are keen
                                There's no secret kept between
                                Loving mother, wriggling babe--
                                Wanted , dreamed of, much delayed
                                But entwined twin was also loved--
                                Some say Nature's method proves
                                That one twin may give all to mate---
                                But this fatal sacrifice must decimate.

                                Only mother's eyes would feel babe's smiles--
                                or sense those legs that wandered miles
                                And daring feet that danced in tunes while
                                Arms swam in gentle Celtic croons.

                                When babe vanished--not  a sound.
                                Mother 's grief was not allowed.
                                Tempted so to trail behind
                                Escaping shattered troubled mind. 

                                Squelching sorrow's hungry arms
                                She Tried erase babe's fluttering charms
                                Never spoke of-- never mourned.
                                By her husband she was warned
                                Was best forget a child so early lost--
                                Funerals, gravestones--such a cost--

                                But the years have called babe near,
                                Mother's journal writ in tears:
                                'Please forgive my selfish heart.
                                Repressed from all --this tragic part
                                I felt your sacrificial act--
                                You left your cherished twin intact'.

                                There is no law of random acts
                                Doctors examine data facts
                                It may be --that in the womb
                                When both spring flowers cannot bloom
                                One bold twin refrains to eat
                                Compels the other to complete
                                Hardy growth that life requires---
                                Sparks survival's crucial hours.

                                Not an accident 'tis sure--
                                Boldest spirits blossom pure.

Victoria Anderson-Throop ©

Copyright © Victoria Anderson-Throop

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

Details | Rhyme | |

We All Bleed Red

Thoughts swirling in my head
Remembering we all bleed red
Life is a tapestry
True happiness a dream
Such a confusing world
Paradise yet to be seen
A country with a dark past 
Some hauntings still last
Unwilling to change, planted in lead
Feel it with your heart and head
No crystal ball
No room to fall
Deeper into our subconscious
Life is far too precious
A bitter pill
Such a large hill
Let freedom ring
Let children sing
Saying hell no
Not in our name
This is a political game
Most looking for fame
Dig a grave
Hell, it's a road you paved 
Here to make waves
 Those who are adverse
Stuck with the curse
Burden on the young
Who is truly free
It will never be you or me
We mourn over the dead
A nation so divided
We are tainted
From birth we are painted
Who are the real heros
We all have blood on our hands
Invisible to most
Only the true can see
Even on our homeland
We have a roll to play
History is witten in stone
Learn from it instead of beating it to the bone
Our futute is only written in clay
Still malleable
All life is valuable
Old school. . New school
It is what's in our hearts
Time to stop tearing one another apart
Just take a stand
Even if you walk alone
Hold your head up high
What is life if you are to afraid to fly?
We all bleed red
Time for a transformation
Get ready to shed 
Change doesn't come easy
Fear those with nothing to lose
We all deserve to live as we choose
Get ready because we all have a voice
Step up and make a choice
We condemn those we don't know
Some of us even for show
Confusion runs through me
Unsure of how things should be
My constant idealistic views
Desperately grasping not to become jaded
Dreaming of a utopia
Generations before us
Marching through the gas
Fighting for peace and love
Is the joke on me?
Is there something I can't see? 
Scared for our youth
Where are the leaders?
Put personal pride aside
Stand tall
Take risks
Look in the mirror
It's time to live without fear

Copyright © Raina Makdissy

Details | Free verse | |

Girl Rising

Based on a true story from a television documentary on Human international crime with participants from a broad spectrum of society...occuring on a daily basis. I have only seen documentaries on the trafficking of young girls between the ages of 5 and above!! Law enforcers, it seems are fighting a losing battle against the men and women who sell and enslave young girls and I have no doubt, young boys as well.

Somewhere this day on planet earth
A Mother-to-be, while in labor, cries
Not so much for the mounting pain
Nor the fear of possible death
So many fears for the future…
“What lies ahead in the coming years?
What “fate” will meet my child?”
And added to all her heightened fears is…
Will she be there to protect her child?

Those dark years have now passed into decades
When Tanya walked the shadowy streets of the city at late night 
While kids her age slept peacefully in their beds
They made her dress up so she’d looked twenty one
Days were spent locked in a room, under watchful eyes
She was fed cheap fast food to her young heart’s content
Soon she'd lose all hope of liberation
This was the second man she had been sold to
And after a while she’d adapt to the situation 

Still fresh in her mind was that last day at school
In her backpack was her favorite teddy bear
Her Mother had chosen to believe her step-father again
Now that her twelfth birthday would be in a month 
As no one cared, she decided to run away
While at the bus station she met this “nice” couple
Who listened to every word she spoke
They promised her a ride to any place she wished
And she’d always wanted to see Disney land

“Maybe, she thought, it’d be a birthday treat”
 However, that would be another promise broken 
Weeks dragged on and they bought her “stuff” 
Although treated well, sometimes she still felt alone
Then one day came the grown up clothes and make up
That night her innocence was stolen once more
Later she’d try to make an escape
Only to be caught and tied to the bed post
‘Make it easy on yourself and accept your “fate”, she was told

That was years ago, although it seems like yesterday,
When arrested by a new officer on the vice squad
Who saw the flaw in the picture before him
The pimp gave no reasonable answer to the simple question
‘Why are you parked late at night on the street corner with a minor?’
Looking back over the years, she came to conclude that “Fate” is just another word, made up to cast aside blame; when we do not want to see the path we’ve chosen which has led us to our present state
When Pilate symbolically washed his hands, though he had power in that moment to act..
When there before him stood truth and innocence, 
Yet, he chose to make a comfortable bed for his conscience

Today, Tanya is a college graduate and a Mother who has vowed not to leave anything to “fate”. She’d teach her children to take responsibility for the choices they make… 
She would teach them that no one is of lesser value than another..
 Male or female; black or white, all hues; rich or poor 
All have a God given right to live free!
For:  Richard's "Girl Rising" Contest

(3rd Place Win)

Copyright © Annalise a.k.a. Audrey Haick

Details | Rhyme | |


You know why I run game? It's 'cause I'm a player
I'm the night in shining armor, she's a dragon, I'm gon' slay her
That means when I beat it up, I'm gonna kill it
Tell her keep our business to herself, don't spill it
Can't follow directions, then it's on to the next
Hope you get the message, not talking 'bout a text

I sleep with more chicks than a night-gown

Without 'em I'm like a sentence with no noun

For those who don't know that means incomplete

It's a race to get 'em first, I gotta' compete

They wanna be on the team, tryin' to make the cut

True player, show no feelings, keep 'em in a shell, walnut

Females fill my atmosphere, they mean the world to me

I got damsels galore, it's always plural with me

Got gangs of chicks, which one should I bang

They're steady in my face, sort of like some bangs

Hate when they try to lock me down, I'm not in jail

She starts talking 'bout marriage, then I'm gonna bail

Sometimes I need my space, like a vacant lot

I hate being congested, like a nose filled with snot

Hey, stop bugging me, you startin' to act like a knat

Before you go, give me head, I need it like a hat

Copyright © Arcene Janvier

Details | Free verse | |

Her photo from violence scene unfolds her tale

Strands in mud in her flight away,
As problem wasps gathered around.
On khaki  emotions rebound;
A lamb lost its way.

Harsh orders: cracks on character;
Divorce: her small hump;
Two little stomachs: hump on hump;
Her police uniform: wanted unwanted shelter.

Storm of khaki police;
Uprooted sense violently.
Camera mouths gobbled voraciously,
And vomited on front of dailies.

Sudden kick on abdomen did land;
Pain flowers scattered on visage hers.
Oh! that haunting photograph hers!
''Mrs.Apanna, what a tragic strand!’’


Copyright © FABIYAS M V

Details | Free verse | |

Teen Life

Being a teenager is hard.
You go to school 
listen to people talk about you
They worry about your shoes.
They worry about if you “on fleek”
but they don’t know that you really
wanna play hide and seek.

People don’t understand the things that
teenagers go through. 
Teenagers have a lot of peer pressure 
and people are rude.
Teens have to deal with people who
think they’re better than everybody, even you.

Life of a teen nobody understands
Teens wish they had someone to
understand and someone to grab their hand.
Teens wish they could laugh and play 
but now they have to Oh! watch their babies all day.

The world that we live is cruel
and filled with so many fools.
Teens, make sure they have good grades,
afraid about what their parents will say.
There’s a lot of violence and crime progressing
but there’s nobody doing any time.

In this world all you hear about are the gangs
and the guns that go bang!
Life of a teen you wouldn't understand
there’s nobody to grab our hand

Copyright © Anijhai Austin

Details | Rhyme | |


Was it said before? Sure.
Was it said this way? I doubt it.
Perspective is in no way obscure,
And his works are nothing without it.

His motivation’s observed in daily life,
Misery, not just some vague inspiration.
He begs for reason, some way to lessen strife;
His words reflect a resounding desperation.

There seems a need at times to clarify, 
But that’s allowed in his terms only;
So many thoughts seem somewhat ‘rarefied’,
Fed his fire, but made him lonely.

No ‘underachiever’, not just another fool,
But still seeking solace by the glass;
Tempering his stagger and his drool 
With just a bit of ‘kiss my ass.’ 

But, usually, genius ‘sots’ come to ground,
Lucid moments - on the square;
Their driving ‘bolts’ of genius, word or sound,
Only written because they dare.

Yes, you can feel the written “heart”,
But few of us can realize that sort of pain;
No isolated misery… of many lives a part,
Each begs an answer... “Who’ll stop the rain?”

Yes, he’s lived it, seen it, and told it well;
But Timing is the Master of one’s Fate.
Is the timing right?  Funny…only time will tell…
Will you will be a whining sot or dare to be great?

One success can be lucky, we’ve seen that before.
One book, one song, then quietly fade away.
But six novels later, we should know the score;
He must have had something to say.

So, at the perfect time, someone heard.
Someone who was “someone” took someone under wing.
And to those with interest and empathy, they sold his words;
Saying they “are genius” and with “ugly truth” they ring.

But did he create any redeeming changes or impacts?
Yes, what singular influence did all his artful whining bring?
None... just a relentless, repetitive diatribe of sad facts.
Oh, yes…..and a little “ching ching”.

Entered in the "Idiot or Genius" contest 27 March 2014

not so genius


Copyright © Robert Candler

Details | Free verse | |


Bombs explode.
Conflicts in night
CNN reports of terror. 
Lives being scrutinized
A blood bath
The colors are everywhere.
Scores of eyes look around scared.
The code is RED.

In desperation, stands a child.
His arm is bleeding.
He is begging for his life.
A blood bath lay before him.
His eyes are scared.
He hiccups and he was left there.

His colors of life are psychedelic.
He sees the code.
He freaks out.
He rolls around intoxicated.
He forgets for a moment himself.

A little girl hallucinates.
Her father and mother ran away.
They shouted to her, “Hide any place.
Your life with us is no longer safe.”
She seeks a hole under a shed.
The terrorist left her there.

The colors of life are a child’s demon.
In darkness, you can hear them scream.
Their parents give the code.
Once given, a child world becomes cold.

Infants are shot.
She died.
Her twin did not.
The terrorist left uninformed.
The clock ticked another baby's life - gone.

The colors of life are a child’s mourn.
They lives are forsaken by those grown.
In time of trouble, they must take care of home.
The colors of life are obligatory.
The code is BLOOD.

Copyright © Verlena S. Walker

Details | Rictameter | |

The Clock

                     *Clock runs
              we are watching them
        making fun with its slow move
   you made for move not to awake us
i know we are more lazy but not like you!
   You don't have senses and emotional faces
       we slept but make others run
                 It's your race...
                    "Clock runs",*

Litan Dey
Just Nine Lines

Copyright © Litan Dey

Details | Rhyme | |


No holds barred, utter defeat is what I see in those cards
No holds barred, utter defeat is what I see in those cards

It's a dirty world, but my heat's considered hand sanitizer

Made my dreams become reality, I'm not a big 'fanisizer'

My trap got cheese, but I'm trying to keep away rats

Life's a gamble, take a chance, like playing craps

Time to take you to school, and money's the topic

Smokin' on Jamaica helps me focus, I keep something tropic

Cash rules everything 'round me and it's in my pocket

That means I'm in control, if this was a plane, I'm in the cockpit

I'm a hustler, got more bricks than a construction site

I stay fresh, I'm flyer than a first-class flight

By any means necessary, hard times call for drastic measures

Get in my way, and get buried like pirate's treasures

Never see me fold, it's like I got the winning hand in Poker

I'm more dangerous than cancer in the lungs of a smoker

Talk crazy, catch a hook, how's that for a punchline

Show me the competition, I call that lunch-time

Copyright © Arcene Janvier

Details | Couplet | |

The Life For Me

 Snapping and cracking and whipping we sail.
 Sneaking and creaking and sinking t' hell.
 Black flies our banner, black as our souls,
 Black as a storm dashing ships on the shoals!

 Fear us and flee us, yea, run if ye can.
 Or face us and fight us down t' the last man.
 Black flies our banner, blacker than coal,
 Black as death's cowl, we'll swallow ye whole!

 Blasting and bursting and bombing we fire.
 Bleeding and weeping and wailing yer dire.
 Black flies our banner, and Roger so jolly
 Shall be fer yer tombstone, a mark o' yer folly!

 Yea, we own the water, the wind and the waves.
 These oceans t' ye shall be watery graves.
 Black flies our banner, black as our souls,
 We are the storm dashing ships on the shoals!

Copyright © The Grahamburglar

Details | Haiku | |

STORM COMING African tribal violence

Storm coming, madam
Me-- I’m going up country-- 
Lay low and stay sweet*

*stay sweet--stay alive

Victoria Anderson-Throop
Nairobi, Kenya
November 26, 2012

Note: Political unrest near Nairobi, Kenya due to election strategies. Polish nun told me that she was warned by a local moonshine runner to hide. Too late. She was pistol whipped by local police who wanted more protection money. Didn’t get the money (it was a free clinic, so nurses had no money) Police beat the nurse/nuns and absconded with the very rare and precious AIDS meds to sell to the hospitals.Free AIDS clinic was forced to close.(Kenyan government does not have free health care for the poor)   Nuns are recovering then being transferred to other clinics. Three went back to Europe forced into early medical retirement due to permanent injuries sustained by police and/looters. The care program(education and/or placement) for the children whose parents were AIDS patients is gone. Children have taken to the streets in desperation.  Count your blessings.

Copyright © Victoria Anderson-Throop

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 | Free verse | |

Reality of Domestic Violence

I am silent although this monster
of my isolated life seems to hear
my thoughts, smell my fear and
taste my hate.
Suddenly I am pushed against
a wall gasping from utter pain.
Held by my neck I feel a fist
clashing against my tender face.
I fall, blood pours from my mouth
and now cracked lips.
I try to run but I am stopped with
my hair being pulled with such 
force that I scream from the 
top of my lungs.
It drags me to the bedroom,
my face constantly in pain
from the ever repeating hits.
Suddenly I feel my legs being
widened, I scream once more.
I struggle to close them,
tears of pain and utter hate
rapidly run down my now
swollen face,
they burn my wounds like acid.
I feel something penetrating 
inside of me, I scream once again,
it is of no use, no one seems to
notice or simply hear.
It pulls itself out of me and kicks
my tender side,
still I lie here on this floor feeling
dirty and ashamed,
ashamed of my own self and
weak mind.
I shall never escape this monster's
presence for he has eroded my 
free will and inner strength.
Fear controls my thoughts.
Until I embrace the truth my life
is impounded by domestic violence,
never to be freed,
never to be seen and never to be
one with the glory of hope.

Copyright © Leighann Anderson

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 | Couplet | |

This Is The Life These Eyes Have Seen

Always swimming against the current, traveling a path that wasn't clean
A Pandora's Box of past experiences...This Is The Life These Eyes Have Seen
I remember when in grade school/sad at home/and fewer friends
In the throes of a shattered childhood...into the abyss this youth descends
Reading, Writing, and some Arithmetic, it was The Three R'S which kept me sane
Yet, in my psyche a storm was raging; nimbostratus and soaking rain...
By junior high much more than wretched/abuse endured would set the tone
Dark Midtown blocks, a hustler's playground...those streets of pain I walked alone
Things were done, it's called survival, deeds mostly wrong but, sometimes right
Only God above could Love me, a desperate child who sought The Light
I knew boys who sold their "manhood", a tragic fate, they sold their soul
Forty Second the eighties quicksand, and many kids were swallowed whole
Ingest these words of tribulation/I freebased when just sixteen
By nineteen on crack and fiending...This Is The Life These Eyes Have Seen
Chasing the cloud, yes, on a mission, losing sleep to find the drugs
Looking for hits, but, finding nothing/a thousand specks on darkened rugs
Then came prison/another nightmare/just twenty six/a second bid
Introspection/ineffable loneliness to pay for all the things I did
Striving hard to avoid all conflict, encountering things that made men fear
I went so deep within my spirit; no one could ever hurt me there
Adult years of daily suffering/teenage times that weren't serene
Still, several Blessings amongst the hardships....This Is The Life These Eyes Have Seen

Copyright © Don Simmons

Details | Rhyme | |


Try me, fool, and the semi gon' bang
I'm a big dog, I gotta' let my nuts hang
If I go to jail, best believe I'm bonding out
I always handle beef, that's what I'm all about
I'm not a punk, somebody lied--
I'm bustin' shots, let's get that fixed

Sleep on me, see me in ya' worst nightmares

I'm Hell-raiser, dead fresh in some Nike-Airs

Or in a monkey suit, totin' something with a banana clip

Leave you wet, like dry lips after applying Chap-stick

Ain't talking 'bout a blunt, but I rolled-up

I'm gon' wet these fools, hope they don't mold-up

When it go down, I go ape-shit, bananas

put coward to sleep, without the pajamas

Keep bustin' shots, like pimples on a maturing teen

I do my dirt, but leave the crime scene clean

Stay fresh, but they always call me grimy

They say I'm too gangsta', so they won't sign me

I put in work, man, I'm clockin' in overtime

Haters faces looking sour, like they suckin' on lime

You got beef, well guess what, that's all I eat

I stand my ground, you just sit in your seat

Can't let fools run me over, I'm not a roadkill

Leave you in the streets leakin', looking like an oil spill

You got a problem, I know how'tta' get that solved

Apply pressure, let's not get ya' family involved

Copyright © Arcene Janvier

Details | Rhyme | |

Husbands are in heaven whose wives scold not

So much emphasis is placed today on the role of the wife She is to be pure, pristine, just, hardworking She is to imbibe all who surround her with faith She needs to be able to know everything without ever asking She is to be the woman behind her husband The one who would make of him a gem To be a wife, is surely a complicated state Acted out badly, one can even be a contraband! But what of the duties of a man, Is he as important as the woman To be a husband requires one only to work and bring money To care not whether the home is, without him, in harmony Husbands are in heaven whose wives scold not Husbands have rights, rights to use words of spite Rights to beat, rights to abuse Rights even to cheat, to hurt and bruise When the woman speaks out, or scolds such a man She becomes something seen by some as a legend Seen by others as un-womanly Whatever, she knows how to protect herself through her duty What of those men whose wives scold not Should they be brought back to the pot To be cooked and simmered To be brought to the right path Feminists, equal rights, equal opportunities Women's places no more being in the kitchen Husbands, change your mentalities We, women, we are frail and easily broken!

Copyright © Anoucheka Gangabissoon

Details | Rhyme | |


Life is hard, tough, rough, like a brilo-pad
Growing up, street smart was all I had
I had no choice but to turn to the hood
It's difficult trying to change for the good
What do you do when there's nowhere to turn?
Before you decide, look back, what did you learn?

Out-of-control, like an untamed beast

If I should fall, I'm gon' rise like yeast

Got the game in submission, fools better tap-out

On the road to success, ya'll on a different route

I'm shootin' up haters, more than a heroin addict

Ain't talking 'bout electricity, but it helps prevent static

Like a ship's anchor, I'm gon' hold it down

No matter the outcome, I'ma' stand my ground

I tried turning right, but end up going left

Already living in hell, so what's worst after death

Fast life, gotta' slow down, like I'm in a school zone

Made amends with people I ripped off, like clothes being sown

Searching life's meaning, can't find it in the dictionary

Gotta' change, or end up caged like a canary

Got a pocket full of green, like a bowl filled with lettuce

Satisfied, 'bout to end my run, so roll-the-credits

Copyright © Arcene Janvier

Details | Rhyme | |


Try me, fool, and the semi gon' bang
I'm a big dog, I gotta' let my nuts hang
If I go to jail, best believe I'm bonding out
I always handle beef, that's what I'm all about
I'm not a punk, somebody lied--
I'm bustin' shots, let's get that fixed

I keep it 100, like whole-numbers, no fraction

You're a toy, all looks but no action

So much beef, I can open up a diner

Catch me underground, call me a miner

I keep it real, you haters is processed

To the streets I'm a god, bow down, get blessed

I got rank, like a zebra, I got stripes

Diggin' in ya' chest, you know pressure bust pipes

Got heat, I'm like an Arab with no turban

Shots burn your chest, like drinking Burbon

I cock my tool as they approach, get ready

Make sure you're on point, and hold it steady

When they get near, that trigger get a pull

Give straight head shots, it's an unspoken rule

Shots rang out, like the bells of Notre-Dame

I was long gone, before the law even came

Copyright © Arcene Janvier

Details | Free verse | |

Light To Dark

You think you’ve gone just far enough,

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

You think you were careful but,

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

You think you can find a way into my good graces

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

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

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

Don’t underestimate me

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

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

My eyes took too long to adjust

Better late than never

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

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

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

Then I thought about the mess it would make

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

I was not weak, but I had a weakness

A heart of soft gold stitched to my sleeve with care

No longer

Now my heart is a stone so heavy

I could kill at least two birds at once 

Being the nice guy is a thing of the past 

Thanks for freeing me of that softness

You thought I was all sunshine and delicate things

When really I had just been swallowing razor blades

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

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

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

Your gonna be the one with tired feet

I’m not sad anymore

Just sick with the plague of your lies

Contagious, and I’m looking for someone to kiss

Even angels can make themselves wicked

When we do, we take no prisoners

Still think I’m a game

This one is just beginning

Copyright © Alexander Schwartz

Details | Rhyme | |

Scared Of Life

Young or old
Black or white
Everybody has the right
To live daily without fear
That's happening everywhere
Going out's no longer fun
When you're watching everyone
Making sure they won't attack
Shoving a knife in your back
Listening to favorite tunes
While walking in the afternoon
Is scary when your all alone
Afraid someone will break your bones
Taking a refreshing shower
After working out for hours
Is starting to freak you out
An intruders breaking in your house
You are left with doubts and maybes
Someone new watching your babies
As you sing karaoke songs
Scared she will do something wrong
Living this way shouldn't be
Part of our society
Always looking with scared eyes
Thinking it's your time to die
Reacting every time you hear
A noise that leaves you shocked in fear
All because there are folks
Who think it's a funny joke
To make this earth a hellish place
Frightened women carry mace
Swords, weapons and loaded guns
When did this whole world become
A circle of hate and violence
Everybody needs to silence
These activities going down
Before we're all graves in the ground

Copyright © robin davis

Details | Rhyme | |

I Was Forced To Take His Life

When a man came at me with a knife,
I was forced to shoot and take his life.
It was self defense but I was still horrified by what I had done.
I would be dead and buried if I hadn't been carrying my gun.
But he said something right before he died.
After he said it, I was even more horrified.
He told me that my wife put him up to it.
She tried to have me killed but she blew it.
I found out why that she was able to convince that man to try to murder me.
She was going to share the cash when she cashed in my life insurance policy.
She put him up to it but it was something I couldn't prove.
I divorced that witch after I packed my bags and moved.
She would've been on easy street if she had succeeded with her crime.
But she failed and because of the prenup, she didn't receive one dime.

(This is a fictional poem)

Copyright © randy johnson