In this dark and dreary world, the urchins forced to toil
Their body bared and tarnished, gain little sleep and boil
Tiny hands and feets famished, no love they had meet
Like young lambs for slaughter, were they forced to cheat
Sold away by father, with no heart but only greed
How my mind cries, watching this heinous deed
And sighs, its a discriminating fate unfair.
© Nadiya (22 Jan '15)
*Won 4th place on 4 Feb 2015 in the contest 'Interlocking Rhyme' by Isiah Zerbst
Copyright © poesy relish
Within life's cesspool, captives held for trade,
Along infested ways where young-child rape
Is glorified by twisted souls who gape
And for the purity of babes are paid.
In dim, demonic dwellings are they laid
And sold to loathsome loves who drape
Stolen innocence in sin's evil curse--
Beyond protection or rescuing raid;
The shadowy officials turn the head
To wink or sometimes join the savage curse.
Somewhere sad, broken parents, sobbing, lie,
Tortured days and nights saturate with dread
While ever fuller grows the sex trade's purse:
The victims cry alone and ask God why.
May 3, 2014
Copyright © Faye Gibson
"Here's the village Idiot
Here comes the loony fool"
So many taunts did follow him
Oh kids can be so cruel!
The Alien, his face all cowed
With caution treads his way
As the gossip done, invades him every day.
He's a shade too short on mighty brawn
He's a pilgrim of the soul
He's a Sailor floating through his dreams
And he has no worldly goals
And when those kids kicked footy balls
And swore and carried on
The alien got lost within his own song.
He's been told that he be nothing
By so many through the years
And now his body broken
Still wading in his fears
The wings have made to open up
So the butterfly may rise
And so the mighty Phoenix
must head he for the skies.
Dec 22 2003.
Copyright © Peter Duggan
Rondelet: Yang be evil
for the continuously raped and hidden
minors of India
Yang be evil
Yin acts with rash impunity
Yang be evil
No power controls the Devil
Wombs despoiled in mad enmity
Innocence: raped humanity
Yang be evil
(c) T. Wignesan - Paris, 2012
Copyright © T Wignesan
On fringes of shadow, charred black of burnt night,
she limps through the dimmest and cruelest of streets.
Huddled with her loss, body bruised and beat,
Mama’s caked makeup tries hiding her fright.
Little girl of twelve pretends to be grown;
with tomorrow gone, she paints on red smile.
Bright lights flash cold eyes, wicked hearts defile;
all star-struck fresh thoughts are buried in moans.
An evil descends from man’s greed and scorn;
In dark suit and tie, an average, white face,
money for Mama, from far, west world place.
Screams pierce soiled mattress on hot, red-smeared morn.
From under tight ropes her stripped body bleeds;
recoiled in dried tears, she silently pleads.
Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders
Copyright © 2013
Skittles and a soda
against a gun in its holster?
One day that scream
will be known as a teen
not a heinous lying Fein
What a sinister ploy and twist
with a loaded gun and no fist?
Had everyone sitting and waiting
doomed by a verdict just delaying
Was this just an optical illusion
or, a devious planned conclusion?
Now, this generation too afraid
wearing hoodies will get you dead
But, the Klan was still glad
hoodies they've always had
A verdict they too saw,
ushering in martial law
Copyright © Les Pruitt
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
I simply love being me
for I am so good at everything
step into my city and they
will tell you who is King
one day when I am hungry
I will swallow everything
then and only then shall I
inherit the stuff I dream
even then I promise
not to settle for satisfaction
at any instant half a second
I could spring into full action
so go against me? please,
you do not even measure
up to half of the goodness
that I hold tight like my treasure
still spreading rumors about me
to try and destroy my life
can't believe I let myself get beat by
a stripper and my self-intended knife
try and say I'm gay
even though we both know that isn't the truth
just ask any woman I been with
if they ever needed proof
they'll say I was the cream of the crop
as they took it all night knowing
I just may never stop
I own the status of a legend
now what you got left to say
when I bring it twenty-four seven?
Copyright © Bj Fard
The crone can hear the children's laughter, cold as ice
And they exclaim out "witch", not thinking she can hear
Their parents then admonish, "Try to be quite nice."
Upon her thin, emaciated form they leer
Of love forbidden she has paid the awful price
Malicious magic powers all the children fear
She only wears black, mourning each and ev'ry day
Her world is full of dismal, somber shades of grey
She loved a wealthy cultured handsome gentleman
But she had not the clothes nor proper pedigree
And never would be issued any wedding bann
For poverty did not amuse his family
When finding herself great with child of his, she ran
She felt displaced, just like a dead uprooted tree
In bleak back alley child unwanted disappeared
No chance immoral tainted peccant child be reared
Although she lost her core, her heart, her soul, her mind,
She wandered dazed and crazy back to town she knew
Her fam'ly said, "We never have produced your kind."
There was no place to go and nothing left to do
But after mournful agony she came to find
Satanic powers very evil she would rue
She met the incubi in wooded forest glen
Although she knew it was an awful, grievous sin
Her soul and body raped by evil forces bold
Instilled in her the seeds of their foul awful pow'r
That grew more potent as she grew extremely old
Demolished, shattered self continued still to sour
Her sterile body, now quite barren, grew ice cold
A vile vexatious tongue lashed out at all each hour
Thus she became a bitter venomous old hag
While dressed in filthy clothes; on head, a dirty rag
She met a fine genteel young man, so good and kind
A person reaching out to all in charity
Attempted making better lives where he could find
He wanted human folk achieving parity
However, he had never met an evil mind
The succubus seduced his soul with clarity
She crippled psyche; took his cash, his bonds and stocks
Her languid lips convinced him caged; no keys for locks
Then when the moon was full one night, she murdered him
Around his vile demise all sorts of tales arose
She had dismembered rigid corpse each limb by limb
Disposed so very well of ugly bloody clothes
The whole ordeal had been a gratifying whim
Upon his naked body set a blood red rose
His corpse was never found; base tales do not abate
Today she suffers vile result of cruel fate
Copyright © Alvin Thomas Ethington
BeAdab gustakh jab aulad ho jaye
Chain sukh maa'n baap ka barbaad ho jaye
Cheen le budbakht jo walid ka sarmaya
Jeete jee kion baap na barbad ho jae
Aasteen ka saamp that beta nhi the woh
Maut ae usko woh barbad ho jae
Baap kee jo he raza Allah kee bhi he
Aashna is qaul se aulad ho jae
Maa'n ke hee pairoan talay jannat ko kar talash
Rah se bhatka jo too barbaad ho jae
Beta boorhay baap ka baazu he kehlata
Beta ye na samjhay toh barbaad ho jae
Nek o taabaydar ho aulad to wallah
Walideen ka dil khushi se shaad ho jae
Kia karein woh waladeen jab nakhalaf beta
Mayel e jaur o situm eejaad ho jae
Qibla o Ka'aba kuch kumtar nhi maa'n baap
Kaash hurmat aashna aulaad ho jae
Deen o dunya chin gaee naKhalf betay se
Baap per jo mayel e bedaad ho jae
Tu ne mera dil dukhaya to he mere lal
Hashr tak tu unsuni faryaad ho jae
Kion na ho jae pidar phir zinda dar-goar
Jab pisar badbakht hee sayyad ho jae
Copyright © mazhar butt
Children with an illness,
Go through life,
They are looked down apon,
Because they are different,
When really they are not,
They are no different from you and me,
They have the same blood,
Running through their bodies,
Just as their hearts as well,
So, don't just look apon,
Their outer appearance,
And judge them,
For who they really are,
For a lot of them,
Are smarter and brighter,
Than you and I,
Could possibly be,
On our brightest day,
For they have the gifts,
From God up above,
So, always take the time,
To get to know their inner beauty,
For who they really are,
Cause they too need love,
Just as everyone else does,
If not even more.
Copyright © John Hembree
The innocence transfusing
goat skin drums
children of the mills
children of the junkyard
and we keep filling them with
mercury, nitrate, espestice, baby bombs
blasted out of their shaved heads
Copyright © Blake Holland
Here's a terrifying piece of news about every mother's nightmare...
Happened in broad daylight with numerous customers everywhere...
A mother, busy festive shopping in a local retail store, was distracted for a couple of minutes...
She had her eyes and hand on her sweet little girl of 6 for all but a couple of minutes..
She turned around, panic rising but her sweet darling was nowhere to be found..
Her frantic eyes scoured all over as she desperately searched the whole floor...
Acting fast, she informed the supervisor of the store, and a alarm was sounded...
Panic button was hit and there was a security lockdown immediately effected...
Exit points were secured and free movement among the customers was curtailed...
An immediate search operation kicked in while a loving mother wallowed in despair..
For some 10 minutes it was high suspense noticeably tangible in the air...
Patrons and management alike intensified search in rising desperation..
Until a scream of exultation pierced through the tumultuous situation and turmoil...
A moment of pin dropped silence hung suspended in the air as all involuntariy recoiled...
Then a frantic throng of people rushed in haste to the wash room area....
To witness the emergence of a security lady craddling a bedraggled little girl..
The little girl was a sight, her long hair was half cropped, she was dazed...
Gone was her dainty little dress, she was in a garish pair of pants, eyebrows shaved...
There was a few seconds of shocked silence, then the mother rushed forward..
A huge roar of approval erupted and claps of elation thundered in unison...
Loving parents, do take heed for this was no figment of my imagination....
It did happen and the local daily papers headlined this episode for attention...
All it takes is some 5 minutes for a predator to lead away an innocent child...
In their evil ways, predators have endless devious means to sneak away your child...
I hope this little prose of mine is pleasant enough reading but let it be clear...
The message within is a dire warning to all parents who hold their loved ones dear...
Please be forewarned for dangers abound in the wide world out here...
Please be forearmed in order you and your loved ones are in the clear...
Copyright © KENG CHUAN SENG
This poem is for the contest of genocide, Speak for the lost, I am not entering to win as they have chosen only five genocides to be written about. I am entering this for them to know currently a genocide is happening and we are all silent then what is the point of going back to time while we cannot anything about recent genocide?
Dedicated to all of the kids in Kobane of Kurdistan who are suffering from ISIS attacks and genocide at the moment while the world is watching!!!
Don't ask for her identity
If you see a little girl
with her eyes full of tears.
She must be a kurdish child of Kubani
Or she might be from Shangal!
Don't ask for her identity
Don't ask why her heart is full of fears.
Don't ask for her identity
If you see a little girl with faded hopes
Know that in middle of her dreams
She was awakened by the sound of gun firings.
To escape the rockets
She would fly if she had wings.
Don't ask for her identity
If you see a little girl
didn't act like a child
If you see a little kid with a frown.
She is deprived of a normal childhood
By the fear of ISIS
Trying to take over her childhood,
Trying to take over her town.
Don't ask for her identity,
Just be silent like the rest of the world.
Even when you see her blood in the streets,
Like the world leaders
Be a coward
And don't say a word.
Copyright © Goran Rahim
Some men are afraid of ignorance
They go about the land seeking truth
Opening their eyes to the filthiest of things
Wanting to know everything they can
They will never be fooled
Their knowledge will open others as well
Where the truth lies, ignorance lies also
Like a child longing for acknowledgement
Some fight blindly toward it
In hope to destroy it with their own two hands
Instead, it blooms elsewhere and grows
The truth shows us where the evil is
It exists as we do and lives as we live
If evil in the man's eye does not exist
The absence of ignorance is a lie
Some men instead embrace ignorance
They stay where they are, content as ever
Their eyes see and their ears hear
Their desire to know is dull
The current takes them where it may
Truths are all but happenings
Their present is their pedestal
But the truth is still there
Walking in a dangerous dark
Calling on direction and value
Like a starved child screaming for sustenance
Like a father waiting to chastise his son
Ignorance is never ignored by them
It becomes their god
Can embracing ignorance, then, be a sin?
But even the treasure of truth can kill
Copyright © Laura Breidenthal
Love is a gift served from the heart
More precious than gold or the finest of art
Unrecognized by those who choose to refrain
From giving their all when love turns to pain
Controlled by the fear of losing control
Abused, abandoned no faith in their soul
Instead of embracing the things that they lack
They cower in fear too afraid of attack
The chain becomes stronger the longer you wait
Who is the next to become filled with hate?
It strangles your will as you struggle in vain
Give love unto others to fracture the chain
Copyright © Jeffery Stein
As I hover over the darkened room, I wonder how I have gotten here. Did I die, was I
dead? That was the only explanation I could think of for my disembodiedment. But
concentration was lost as a little light exudes from the shiny bedside table. Little golden
ringlets push back fluffy bunny sheets and tiny painted toes shiver upon contact with the
bare floor. I watch as she looks frantically for “Teddy”, whispering his name with most
urgently. She finds him at last in the toy chest, tossed in so haplessly. She gives him a little
squeeze and kisses each shiny buttoned eye, then scolds him most harsh, for this was no
time for hide and seek, he has a job to do. When she has had too much to drink before
being tucked in to sleep, it is Teddy’s duty as man of the house to escort her to the
lavatory. I glided without a sound, watching from high above as the two made their way
down the dark hall, and said nothing in my waiting outside the bathroom door as the two
giggled, splashing soapy water on the floor. But I couldn’t remain silent as Teddy talked the
golden haired child into opening the front door after the midnight hour. I tried to warn her as
she poked her curls around the frame to look down the corridor. And as the elevator doors
across the hall opened revealing a shrouded man residing inside, my voice got stern and I
spoke with a smoky voice. She can’t hear you, echoed inside my head, but I could
not give up, they were in danger, this innocent kid and instigative bear. I screamed until my
invisible voice was hoarse as I watched the tiny figure cross the elevators thresh hold and
into the arms of death. Helpless I floated my front row seat to doom. And as the metal doors
slunk closed, beauty and bear disappeared under a black cloak and all was lost.
Curse you teddy, you are supposed to be her protector. How could you, she trusted you,
I cried ghostly tears and wept without restraint. What was the purpose of witnessing such a
horrible event if I could not intervene? And as metaphoric tears streamed down my wraith
like face, I myself began to dissipate. I closed my eyes to shield them from my complete
disappearance. But I felt like I still existed in the world of the living. I opened my eyes to
confirm my suspicion and in one fleeting moment of bliss, I realized it had all been a dream,
a nightmare. My heart lightened, my steps quickened and I sang with joy as I readied myself
for the day. What happiness to know that it was all a manifestation of an unsupervised mind
and no child had met an untimely fate. No mourning mother, no depressed class mates, no
scares for a society of the meek and timid. No, all was well. I was a bit startle at the thud of
the morning newspaper hitting the cement of the porch, but I was so high on a life saved by
circumstance, I wasn’t going to let it give me a fright. I gingerly opened the door and bent
down to accept the printed gift from the city when I saw the headline on the front
paper. “Elevator Killer” Claims Another Victim.
My knees sank; my heart sank, never again would I close my eyes, never again would I
This is copyrighted material. All rights are reserved. Reprints must be requested in writing to
the original author. © Alisha Groves
Copyright © Alisha Groves
Cinderella was disliked by her family,
Her step-mother and her sisters;
Whilst she was kind and generous,
They were evil and boisterous.
All her family had a weight problem,
But she was sim and elegant,
Amorous and thoughtful,
Coy, clever and somewhat bashful.
But she hated everyday living,
As she was just a housemaid and a cook,
So she most definitely wanted to attend the ball,
Where the prince could at her look.
But her step-mum said no,
And both her sisters did gloat,
So she knew she must escape,
From her sinking boat.
If your sociology is bad,
You can believe in whoever for you so cares,
And her role-model was her fairy godmother,
Who in her did hope and for her had dares.
She made it such that Cinders could,
Attend the ball looking good,
By transforming what they had themselves,
Into a ball-gown and carriage with hood.
The prince instantly fell in love,
With Cinderella and her way,
But she rushed off only leaving him her shoe,
To follow up on her foreplay.
Love comes above all else,
When things are grim and rough,
And you must determinedly secure,
Those hope-beads that are made of good stuff.
When you just can't find morality in your life,
The monarch’s voice stands for you,
And the King said that his son,
Should search for his love in the many and the few.
So he searched for her in every house,
Finding her in a cold, locked room,
And she insisted on trying on his treasured shoe,
Taking opportunity which banished all her gloom.
You need to take opportunity with both hands,
By its horns, steadfast and sure,
And even make things happen when no light shines,
So that you beckon and you lure.
The prince forced a physical trial,
Of the shoe on each ones foot,
‘Cos love is physical, not just social,
And is not just psychology’s reboot.
Ok, Cinder’s godmother was a magic one,
Not real to her step-mum or sisters,
But when you’re suppressed and called inferior,
Your thoughts are valid for your interior.
Your actions are right,
And morality is with you,
Not those with money or riches,
Whose selfish deeds do not do.
Being born to abusive parents,
Being born different, poor or destitute,
Doesn't mean you must be such forever,
Just that you need to be most resolute.
So Prince Charming whisked her off,
Right out of her house and her life,
And that should be for all of us,
Where hurt and hardship are rife.
Copyright © Rhoda Monihan
Snoopy is a crazy dog
His heads always in a fog
Thinking of some fun new ways
To steal a blanket each day
That Linus loves very much
But its like an evil rush
That turns Snoopy really "mad"
He wants this blanket really bad
Hiding in trees way up high
He'll pounce Linus walking by
With an evil scary look
Becoming a blanket crook
Not giving up he will succeed
Something in him really needs
To win this blanket tug of war
It is deep in Snoopy's core
To find a cooky silly plan
And pull it out of this boys hand
A request from my daughter which I
Copyright © robin davis
He walks with confidence he has protected his family. The successful banker has
done well for his family and his mind is set in stone that he is right eternally.
He does not care if others make the right journey.
He smiles and is satisfied that he rebuked the poor family away from his church. The
poor family with the smart mouth child, who eats too much candy and stole some
quarters. The child whose father rejected him and has no use for his illigetimate son.
The father sends his twenty-five dollars a week to quiet the child support monkey on
his back. The child cries himself to sleep to know his father has no use for him.
Somewhere a hand reaches to the wayward child, to comfort and love. Somewhere
there is love, but not at this disharmonious church!
Don't come to this church unless you have your tithes and clean clothes and know the
I have come to call the sinners!
Copyright © Doris Culverhouse
"Every time, countless stares, they try to peer into my mind.
Every single time, I am so tense, I cannot relax and unwind.
The painful judgment unleashed down upon my own flesh and blood,
Who is right, who is wrong, who is guilty and who is strong. Who is fit to rise from that which dirties our hands and body, the mud.
I want to get away from you, but I fear you not.
I want to watch you suffer as I rise and you rot.
Do not mistaken me, I truly am just a simple, regular girl with nothing to live for.
But that means that I can go to such lengths to grab your heart and crush your core.
Accusing me, I was just fine with that,
But now bringing down my entire family? You scummy, shameful rats!
Throughout my childhood, all I wondered was "why?"
Now, I don't care, when you cross my mind, I chant, "just die."
Blaming us for what?
Shunning us because we fought?
Your manipulation of our minds will NOT be tolerated.
I am the watch dog of this family and will not let you belittle and derate.
I don't need your help and I promise to be better than you,
This is one of the few reasons I will continue living and that fatal day you shall rue.
You stole my childhood, you made me cower in fear, you broke my already fragile soul...
Therefore, allow me to dispose of that heart tainted to the level of corruption, the place where your heart was placed will become a jet black hole.
How sweet shall it be to see that that fragile, odd and silent girl you ignored or insulted,
Will be the end of you and all for she, for ten years and still going, has cultivated,
A garden of thorny roses, beautiful in all colors and tainted with your scarlet blood so saccharine,
That truly this is not a heavenly virtue but a mortal sin.
And yet, perhaps your demise shall not satisfy the craving I so dearly wish to be relieved of.
Perhaps you should continue to live and watch me become the things you wish you could be, but for money's sake, could not do and afford to love.
But that day will come and revenge will be sweet.
It will surely be the sweetest thing I could ever hope to eat~!
May 1st, 2013; 5:13 pm
Copyright © Nico Vivi
Even though I dream that night,even though it haunts me until the moment I wake I shall never remember what it meant to be scared.Though these days I fill with my sluggard ways only to find my nightmares coming back to me in pieces,makes me wonder if I should be happy or should I be sad for what if there is a bigger picture behind them? Time has no meaning for time places death on everything ti touches.There are time where I have lost myself to the dreams where have they strode from why are there forms so depicting why must they scare the inner child of myself out into broad daylight? I know evil lurks at night i know evil lurks for the day I know evil lurks in ever heart,but pray tell why do i have these dreams even the ones of childhood scares never emotionalize me .These forgotten dreams that lay dormid in my mind only to come back when I am at half myself.Once complete now only half remains of who I really am.Forget these dreams these already forgotten dreams never to lay awake fearing the dark like a child under their blankets sleep for these dream have forgotten you my everlasting forgetting dreams.
Copyright © Marcedies Rhodes
Life is not fair
Life is not kind
Life is nothing but evil
Or for me it sure feels like it.
My father doesn't want me
I'm my mother's mistake
My son is the only one holding me
to this stake
we call life.
They say look to god
with prayers and thanks
Look down at the devil
with an devilish smirk
I believe in neither
because what have either done
My life feels like hell
Why did you leave me
when I needed you most?
My baby's father,
Why did you give up
on the relationship
I cherished and kept close?
you're hateful words
have driven my emotions
to be closed.
My life his hell
But I keep going
Stuck on this stake
We call life
Life will never be fair
Life will never be kind
Life will forever be hell
Or so is mine.
Copyright © Keonna Hunt
Every morning, an overview of death’s tombstones is perched outside my window taunting
and haunting me with the scent of a hollow kiss. The worst case is not this thing called death
but the abuse of love that my parents fill into my bruised soul, a child I am no more but I
can still remember the time I cried as one and cried and cried until the face of a frustrated
mother came to ease my pain, and her own unease mind. Disorder clouded my mind but as
a child I did not fully understand what these emotions where, for is a mother not there to
ease her Childs pains, and is a mother not there also to ease her children’s emotional pains.
I can vouch that my physical pain was eased but spiritually my emotions ran wild like a pack
of wolfs searching for the hunter who wielded with him the ax grief. I respect my parents
like any child should, and I disobey them like any child shouldn’t, but what I feel towards
them is different than disobedient and anger. It feels as if loath itself is creeping up into my
heart then into my head like the words of a woman who clouds all sense of reasoning. I
laugh but I cannot truly feel happy even when they do try to appease me in the way I want
to be appeased or so they do think for we never truly speak. I love them; I loathe them, for
I am an outcast even amongst outcasts for they say they know pain but not all pain is
physical for trauma has kissed and slept inside my heart but has it done the same in theirs
also. I shall never know for trauma has chained us into the comfort of its hellish bed and
sealed our lips like everything that is true in life. I am loath now, I am pain now, I am evil
incarnate, but I am an evil whose pain and loath seek nothing but the comfort of peace.
Every morning I wake, and an overview of death’s tombstones is perched outside my
window taunting and haunting me with the scent of a hollow kiss and I wonder when is the
day that I will fall prey under the temptation of its kiss. Death is literally around the corner
for I live by a cemetery’s condo.
* Just a story but i have put SOME of my feelings and my own life experience in there.
Copyright © Guy-Adler Dorelien
The Final Goodbye
When we laid your body to rest
agony of pain enters into my chest.
I started to cry and scream
wishing that this was all a dreadful dream.
But in my eyes I saw it was true
I just wish it was not you.
I never envision the day
that you will be so viciously taken away.
You were young and full of fun
now your life was taken away instantly from me, my beloved son.
Your years on this earth is far too few
and your life was taken horrifically too soon from you.
You should have been allowed to live
since you had a lot to give.
The horrific images in my mind on how you die I
keep asking myself over and over again why?
It is hard for the pain to relinquish from my soul
and keep my mind from being mentally whole.
While your murder is walking free.
The final goodbye is killing me.
© By: Naomi Johnson
Copyright © Naomi Johnson
Once upon a time,
a woman had a baby,
but the baby looked so odd,
so they put the baby away
into a treasure box,
and once against they tried,
this time, wanting perfection.
Once upon a time,
a woman had a baby,
but the baby was slightly ill,
so this one too was put away,
silent and simple little thing.
There was no cry
because it's alright.
Life isn't life
until we say so.
The fine line's been crossed,
there's no going back.
Copyright © Karlin K. Jensen
I do not know?
A child of eyes of the
bluest skies, so pure
and innocent. I often
wonder was that me in
Innocence gets lost,
knowledge becomes the
invader, an intruder of evil
They say that
knowledge is power, yet its a
tower of poor foundations.
We are not our own creations,
our souls require some serious
Copyright © Andy Craig
cute, sweet smile,
crushed under Lust's feet,
Copyright © Sulakshana Bhattacharya
Shocking ... really shocking!
That's my blood
splatter on the floor!
spilling over my eyelid,
clumping my long lashes
tracing my sad cheek
into the side crack
of my lips prompting
my tongue to stick out
to investigate, tasting
sweet zincky blood
about to drip off
my quivering chin.
in your hand, a
shiny shard of glass
ready to strike like
a vicious viper again.
why did you hurt me...
split my skin open,
gouge me with glass.
Are you compos mentis?
Just a spiteful, bitter
ravaged with hate
so blinded by the fact,
I'm just an innocent kid.
Copyright © Denise Morgan
My child, lost in the clutches of the Evil One -
believing that you must be the Evil Son;
Oh my child, my pure white heart breaks.
I look at you, caught
in your dark and solitary prison;
enslaved by a power too dark and too large for you
clawing at the walls of your soul.
I see you from my alabaster fortress,
from my righteous inheritance,
from my holy estate.
Poor disheveled bastard -
lying in society's gutter screaming
nobody seeing your soul
abandonment sealing your fate;
I attempt to shift my gaze
to something beautiful in my heavenly realm,
only to hear you weeping of a broken life
and crying of a broken heart.
My gaze is fixed upon your predicament;
I am caught in a moment of my Father's love
and it catches me unaware;
I was once in that gutter there.
Copyright © Heidi Boardman