Brave Conquerors Of Weakened Tribes
They could never in any great haste
their false glory dare to forsake.
Why abandon that gleam in their eyes
for truth in those sad tomorrows?
Dwell not in that bitter splendor
A victor with a yellow wreath.
In pride hide being a lying pretender
never giving up what fate bequeath!
Restless spirits from vanquished foes
can not invade that haughty parade.
Brave conquerors of weakened tribes
living out a false, arrogant charade.
History now reveals the dishonor disguised.
And tales of false victories cleverly contrived!
Robert J. Lindley, 10-14-2015
In the past, the main thrust of the Holocaust/Genocide Project's magazine, An End To Intolerance, has been the genocides that occurred in history and outside of the United States. Still, what we mustn't forget is that mass killing of Native Americans occurred in our own country. As a result, bigotry and racial discrimination still exist.
"In 1492, Columbus sailed the ocean blue" . . . and made the first contact with the "Indians." For Native Americans, the world after 1492 would never be the same. This date marked the beginning of the long road of persecution and genocide of Native Americans, our indigenous people. Genocide was an important cause of the decline for many tribes.
"By conservative estimates, the population of the United states prior to European contact was greater than 12 million. Four centuries later, the count was reduced by 95% to 237 thousand.
In 1493, when Columbus returned to the Hispaniola, he quickly implemented policies of slavery and mass extermination of the Taino population of the Caribbean. Within three years, five million were dead. Las Casas, the primary historian of the Columbian era, writes of many accounts of the horrors that the Spanish colonists inflicted upon the indigenous population: hanging them en mass, hacking their children into pieces to be used as dog feed, and other horrid cruelties. The works of Las Casas are often omitted from popular American history books and courses because Columbus is considered a hero by many, even today.
Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2015
War crime trials had come and gone
And Nuremberg became old news
But there were some who would escape
They packed their bags, with no remorse
Changing names, and hid away
They had shamed the course of history
They had slithered through the cracks of time
from the lowest form of man's intent
There was no gray, just black or white
The blackest black defaced the way
humanity was meant to be
Some trails of slime don't wash away
As years went by, new wars ensued
Old men, by now, like snakes reside
in masquerade, and false pretense
while rejoicing in the news today,
in hopes cold crimes have been forgot
But cowardice remains alive
A holocaust of man's design
Humanity must not give up
And wickedness will not command
For justice seeks its own reward
and somehow fate will have its day
We pray these reptiles spent their years
slinking low, like snakes, they are,
haunted by the ghosts of war , thinking of the millions gone
thinking of the things they've done…sinking deeper in the grave
spending days, while drinking fear,
instead of drinking coffee in the cafés of Berlin
Inspired by Contest: "A Last Line Prompt"
Sponsor: Julia Ward
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2016
Analysis read—and wronged—and pulled
Lulled into our idealistic mess
Words no longer ours but hung distress
Farced in carnality—they are ruled
Soundness remains what we will believe
And all else is but tethered nonsense
Clinched tightly in unfriendly absence
Overcome in overwrought relief
The judges judge on behalf of tongue
When ears and eyes close achingly tight
And perhaps in woe we find them right
For witches sought and bound must be hung!
Lower than the softened dirt that cures
Where worms in halves blindly come to eat
The higher crush with tormented feat
And the suns scorch what is left of hers
Answers never tried—and cured to hide
They look to superior sources
The rotten are the strongest forces
Ripened and toughened with bequeathed pride
Contest: Metrical verse
Sponsor: Giorgio Veneto
Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013
Southern love, Southern hate
they are the opposite of each other
I have memories of both in the State I love dearly.
Going back to a old plantation home in the South ,
as a child I played in the many Pecan trees , collecting baskets upon baskets of fresh pecans .
the smell of fresh pies , of pecan and rhubarb , oh my Mom took the prize .
One afternoon , School was out , it was in summer , reminisce of fresh lemonade
My Mother called my name 'child come in here now " in the middle of the day '
she many times called and I would hide in this paradise full of honeysuckle and pecans .
This time the tone was one of fear , and alert , "come inside Now"
I ran to the top of the old plantation stairs to my Mother .
I saw in the distance what seemed to be a parade in the day .
This time the parade was of people in "white sheets ' going door to door,
just like salesman they would knock , they would greet .
my Mother said " We have no time for this here " leave now , and leave fast. yours is only teachings of Discriminate .
she sent them quickly away , giving back the paper , the invite
These people dressed in funny white sheets .
only later I discovered what this was about
Your Parents do their very best , to keep any Evil out .
These people are not just from the South , they are all over the World
Leaving me that day with no doubt . Make the choice you have , we all do
Remember Gods Children are innocent , and many a color , they could be Blue ~
Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013
Suffer not o man she cried desperate for consolation
Compassion twisted and tore at her heart
but the world she knew was silent.
Painful sounds from death filled wars, would wound her more
than jagged poison tipped arrows that pierced much too deeply.
And yet she carried on in quiet song as the world she knew kept silent.
And if the dying weren't enough, the sight of bloated bellies
and distraught mothers and sacked villages laid bare
by the unwilled force of child soldiers, would crush her spirit.
How could the world she knew keep silent?
Thinking that God did not understand her despair
She wept with abeyant tears that could not flow
as the world she knew kept silent.
To live, to die in the soiled spattered flow of time
passing through, passing through
Is the secret so sublime? Cannot she grieve?
Then silence no more was heard.
Instead a curious word within emerged
from her meditation of life's graces
a Hebrew word "Bitachon"
What was not known in agonies
was revealed in her silence.
Copyright © Allan Koven | Year Posted 2013
A thunder-clap, the storms approach
Each eerie revelation
No hope for man
Nor none for 'roach
A prophetic annihilation
The World awaits, a harrowed end
Mans soul, it hangs
Tentative, it bends
Ensnared, in its false treasures
The evening veil of darkness
Accomplice, to the Moon
Covers up its naked secret
A portent clear
A harbinger of doom
His end, long in the making
A teardrop in the Ocean
He waits there, shaking
Unsaved, in his devotion
Arch-Angels, weep eternal
Both wings and hands are tied
The Wind it cuts
The Rain can never
Wash clear Infernal ties
Faith, leaves you , at the Alter
Tattooed, in your own shame
In Times of War
In Trial by Fire
Death, calls you by your name
A Tribute to Edgar Allen Poe...
Copyright © peter walsh | Year Posted 2015
Adolf Hitler was the most evil of men
As evil as a human could be
Should've been hung by his you know whats
Before his killing spree
They say he was actually a human being
I certainly have my doubts
Wreaking havoc on a whole race of people
What was all that about
Perhaps he was the devil reincarnated
Or maybe Genghis Khan
Shouldn't make light of his murderous exploits
Purely just an evil man
Can't imagine it will ever happen again
The world's a lot saner now
Ya right! Guess I'm sounding a bit delusional
A lunatic out on the prowl
<3 <3 <3
© Jack Ellison 2014
Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2014
She watched the towers fall to earth that pristine, young fall morn.
She saw the skies so clear and blue and then the clear was gone.
As horror filled her inner soul; her heart and mind were lead.
The towers crumbled one by one . . and everyone was dead.
Harsh sobs came forth from deep inside, but still her face was dry.
More sadness than a tear could bear; her eyes refused to cry.
She prayed to God: then called Him out. She begged Him intervene.
As all the while the horror grew, with each new ghastly scene.
The day wore on becoming night: grey ash and twisted steel.
So much to work through in her mind; how could this all be real?
"You need to cry", she spoke aloud; you need assuage your soul.
You need to sob: make peace with God, if your faith's to remain whole”.
Yet still the tears refused to come, denied her all relief.
It seemed that tears could not begin to lessen untold grief.
Then came a truth from deep inside, meant for her . . and me.
“If you could cry for what you've seen, you'd overflow each sea”.
“If tears would pay for all the pain that man has caused to man;
Salt lakes would one day cover, what was once earth's arid land.
Could tears atone for every lesser creature man's abused,
More water from the eyes would flow, than earth could ever use”.
“Tears surely meant to bathe this sphere, like soft and healing rain;
The air and soil and streams befouled for mankind's worldly gain.
Why earth would be a pale blue orb . . a landless, liquid ball.
Could tears atone for man's misdeeds; no earth would show at all”.
Copyright © Diane Lefebvre | Year Posted 2015
Cast in stone and written in blood
Are the ideals of a lost nation?
Paving the returned ashes of the ancients
Their patience wore thin by the actions of the passionless
Armed in tools for a journey with no set direction
But their steps forward
Matter to no particular purpose but a means to no end
Instead to destruction
Is their surrounds with earth shattering sound to deaf ears
In the hope
That the blind see and fear the renowned vision of tears
And overcome by what comes over
With a super nova of banished spirits carving out time
In hope to expos
The sickened seconds and momentary minutes into hours
Those who have powers
Will note the swinging vote they wield
Those who are in this field
Have only the word as a shield
Blood spilled and dead, limp, bodies
Will be served on the far vision
Will be the cutlery of the day's dishing
From the table view only red is seen
Because all that within is left on the scene
Those who were framed in this picture
Can only refer to the Revelations of scripture
Those who were in erratic panic
Had to mirrored the ignorance that of "Titanic"
How can men put their belief in false security?
As survivors of today were fooled by the hope of tomorrow
Let’s not borrow the bravado of a lost society
Because Christianity is the true model we should follow.
Copyright © siza sibiya | Year Posted 2013
I do not know?
They say it did not happen
That we did not really see
The horror's and the sadness
That the Holocaust would be
They say it's just not true
That there was never any plan
To kill every boy and girl, woman and Jewish man
They say they were simply, casualties of a violent war
But the proof is there for us to see
In what they had in store
There are pictures of the death camps
Of the survivors thin and pale
Of the ovens that were fired
And the smell of death so stale
In the mass graves that littered the land
In the experiments that they documented so freely
In the letters from loved ones, long gone
In the asset's seized
And to the victor went the spoils
As the Jewish people died, staved and toiled
In the concentration camps
With names we should always keep in mind
Mauthausen and Gusen
Like letters of the alphabet
Should be stored in memory for all time
Yes, they try to say it was not real
That it was all a lie
That six million Jewish people did not really die
But the simple truth lies waiting for the world to find
So remember our history
Pass it down your family line
Our children now so far removed from these tragic times
Need to have reminders
To ensure that they don't develop blinders
To the evil that filled the land
And of the dictator Hitler with all his mass destruction plans
Yes, it did happen
No matter what they do or say
History can never be erased
As long as we remember it that way
So for all the lives and families that the Holocaust destroyed
We must continue to remember the suffering and the pain
So we can be prepared should such evil call on us again
Lest we forget
And others will die
As evil is the only thing that could tell such a lie!
Copyright © Bernadette Langer | Year Posted 2006
Fathers are beaten, crucified,
in vicious murder, multiplied;
we dare not be ambivalent.
Have mercy, Lord, omnipotent.
Mothers tortured, gang raped and killed
by cruel butchers, hate distilled;
the mute images, eloquent.
Have mercy, Lord, omnipotent.
Headless children no more know play;
their little heads on pikes displayed;
the slaughter of the innocent.
Have mercy, Lord, omnipotent.
Heinous, evil atrocities,
the nations posture, impotent.
Have mercy, Lord, omnipotent.
On mountaintop, fearing the worst,
the entire world should give aid first;
so fearful of entanglement.
Have mercy, Lord, omnipotent.
Another holocaust witnessed,
people remain anonymous;
the world will not be innocent.
Have mercy, Lord, omnipotent.
August 10, 2014
Copyright © Faye Gibson | Year Posted 2014
The darkened chambers pierce the veil of sanity,
cold lifeless air surrounds and crushes like a vice,
eerie silence cannot muffle the wailing voices entombed,
death by evil, pure evil, permeates the flesh.
For "Four Lines" contest sponsored by Broken Wings.
Copyright © George Aul | Year Posted 2015
SILENCE CONDONES DU & DRONES
Serves up fast kill -
Who pays the bill?
Spent uran'yum? -
Small watts; big ill.
To store, or $ell?
Makes heavy shell.
Blasts through walls well.
Deployed now, swell!
The order's passed:
Deep fried dark ass.
The searing flash,
Such menu class:
Some sauce? Must ask.
Breathe toxic gas.
Eat here? To go?
Death swift, then slow.
Too late to know
the drift; winds blow
a deadly flow,
through lungs, where go
the silent blows
to genes, thus sown
such seeds of woe.
War profits grow,
Health defects show.
Yet who will know
how was bestowed
this plague of glow?
With press in tow;
Truth's shaft - sans bow.
Sick Vets soon go
Six feet below -
More graves to mow.
Their health care dough
Drops to ZERO!
Life's value: Low.
We watch the show;
Caught in the flow.
Too few say: NO!
To war we go,
Safe status quo
Lets madness grow.
This shadow foe
Strikes deep its blow.
We've sunk so low.
We make no row.
No threat we pose
To leaders, those
Who send the drones
that bomb the homes
In target zones.
Crushed fam'lies moan.
While killer clones
Just count scorched bones.
Copyright © Richard Ledford | Year Posted 2016
Visit To Auschwitz
I wish to hear the names long laid to rest
forgotten in their time, an empty prayer,
who wanted nothing more, through life's long quest
than just to know some good's alive somewhere;
their black and white of days, we'll never know,
wreak havok to the minds who hold back tears,
and though I hold them back, they have to flow
so they are not forgotten through the years.
I'd sing the children songs, if I could sing,
of life and love and better ways to be,
and if I thought my song would ever bring
one ray of hope, I'd sing til death of me!
But wordless are the songs, now echoing
from times when death was all a prayer could bring.
© Ron Wilson Arbuthnot
aka Vee bBdosa the Doylestown Poet
Copyright © Vee Bdosa | Year Posted 2016
There's a very good reason to bring me across;
It's because no one else would e'er suffer the loss
Of a worthless old vagrant and rounder as I
Who has been so long ready and eager to die.
Now, you needn't attempt to pretend such surprise
As I see there in those predatory keen eyes.
I have kept your dark secret for many long years
Which ought instantly quell nearly all of your fears.
This poor Earth has grown fat with too much human flesh;
It is now past the time that it be purged afresh.
I am sick unto death of my own fellow man
And I just cannot wait to destroy all I can.
We mere mortals are prone to assume we're so great
While ignoring this planet's unfortunate state.
Take a look at the carnage we've wreaked in this place,
Such a tiny blue pearl in the vastness of Space.
So please tarry no more in deciding my fate;
Father Time is the Thief I most savagely hate.
We shall clear this world clean of all warm, weak detritus
And we'll never allow the foul vermin to smite us.
Copyright © Roderick Molasar | Year Posted 2015