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Violence Sympathy Poems | Violence Poems About Sympathy

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

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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.


Details | Ballade | |

Oh, what a hectic month

Oh,what a hectic month

Oh what a month it’s been
Two lots of relies came
Over from the old country
It’s been a frantic game
I’m not used to all this stuff
But I’m glad it all took place
Although it was real hectic
No frown did crease my face.

One trip to Margaret River
Wow! This, it was a blast
We toured those rich surroundings
Till we went home at last
Then the darned flue knocked me down
And I spent some time in bed
And then I put my back out
As I banged my bloody head.

It seemed that I was on the mend
But my computer shat itself
I lost both poems, and photos
They’re the sum of all my wealth
Thank God I got the poems back
Alas, but not the photos
I guess I lost them, all of them
But this is how it goes


It’s been some heavy karma
That’s all that I can say
But now that it’s all over
I feel real fine today
So it’s back to meditation
And working on my soul
It’s time to get some relaxation
And once more feeling whole

23 October 2013 @1450hrs.



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



Details | Dramatic monologue | |

THE CRY OF MY HEART

Nightfall is near
Another day coming
What will my heart turn to be tomorrow
Another moment to cry is here with me
For darkness is here
I hear a sound there
My heart miss beats
I cling close to my bible
For danger lurks in darkness
I say short prayers every moment
Every single second I breath
This loud bangs deafens me
joy of the night is no more
Life with everything
But without anything
Peace is everything
I looked up to people 
But that peace never to be
I cling to my bible
The only comfort I had
That comforting voice guarded me
Through the storms of turmoil
I cant escape this soothing voice
Cause it holds me firm
feeble I may look
But strength from God keeps me
We will stand even if they fall
Peace is all the hearts need
We cant keep our tears in the pocket
Cause hiding them is betraying peace
Peace gives everything
hold my hand and I hold yours
Lets walk together via this
wipe my tears as I wipe yours
We are brothers we are sisters
I love you all
Love me all


Details | Rhyme | |

Bukowski

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

 


Details | I do not know? | |

Paranoia

Underneath my fingerprints of sorrow, Between his determined and swift disclosure, Few are spiteful for the sake of compassion. Wide-eyed noise pierces the remarkable silence While everyone around breathes a tender apology, As he lies, slumbering tranquilly.


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

Uncle Sam and King James

I don't understand why joining the military is always viewed as being completely parallel, with serving the Lord and being what they call a Good Christian; why Uncle Sam and King James are always portrayed as "inseparable buddies". And I get so irritated reading the constant Facebook posts that make light of the war and bloodshed. There was one in particular that popped up, during Christmas time. It showed a picture of Arabs running in a frenzy from some terrific explosion. And written on the photo, in bold text, was some crude parody of Jingle Bells. I can't remember the whole song but it went something like "Oh what fun it is to shoot a torpedo up your ass!". I could see the comments section was filled to the brim with LOLs and ROFLMAOs. And I'm like... what's wrong with these people? What is there to make jest of here? I'll never understand why the folks on the opposite side of the shore are always thought to be "the epitome of evil". Don't you ever stop and think that they're probably thinking the exact same thing about us? When people are dying left and right, who cares on which piece of land the bodies fall! Can we not ditch this you're-either-with-us-or-against-us mentality and look at the people over there, as not just "a distant thing happening so far away that it's none of my concern."...? They are human beings and deserve our RESPECT!


Details | Rhyme | |

Vampire Blues

Having Death open doors for you is like humping a fat girl.
It's a hell of a lot of fun until your friends find out.
On the one hand, there's the power, the rush like none in the world,
On the other is the criticism of the religiously devout.

Got servants, and secrets, and science and séances, too.
Blood-rush wakes me at the first hint of night's kiss.
Got forty-seven reasons to tell myself I'm better than you.
But I can't feel you, and I can't remember what I miss.

I'm an empty vessel on an uncharted and lonely course -
Grasping at the glow of life only to crush it in my cold embrace.
You look but only see the swiftly donned mask of remorse,
My hellish deeds writ large upon my soul, not upon my face.

I'd give it all back just to walk under a sunny summer sky,
Return the blood-lust and emotional abyss postage due.
'Cause I gotta live forever without my reason to want to try,
I gotta walk eternity looking for another one of you.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

Thief thy name is human

I met a hand with eyes but no vision
He touched me but only to fill his hunger
And I with a heart floated with anger
I wish I were a human 
But not of this hand
I just asked one day but only within

The muscular hand was no less than a muddle head
In life it was panting for death
And I In death panting for the former
He knew he could free me
But his knowledge is destined ignorance
Alas! His heart pumps only blood, no care.
To my one day

I croaked to his deaf ears for years 
But for one day
Neither a day is left nor a drop of hope 
My heart pounced on request 
And his on the lust to have me
I swam in his desire not in his concern
To my one day

I croak now to the world
Enchained in all this ego
Is there a hero out to rescue me
Oh I know the world is all a dark mirror of life
I know this just in one day 
That my day has come