(Innuendo -- Pigs)
All around are sticks and stone
Feel God's loving arms around you
-----At last, I am redeemed-----
A feast of my soul, you shall receive
A cake for dinner, I made out of stones
Ratchet pigs fill their dirty mouths,
Consuming my soul, sipping on champagne
At peace with myself, brushing off the walls
Nevertheless, tonight they speak in tongues
-I strain my ears to listen;
While pettitoes approach my page
I hear the squeals, I hear the chit chat
from he/she that wears no shame.
Am I she, the evil one?
The one you penned -
Under the influence of manipulation
Trying to stifle my voice of beauty
No matter, I am crazy, a dreamer
Never claim to be THE INNOCENT,
The Poet Destroyer!!!
I ignore the walls when they speak
Nevertheless, tonight they have eyes
They watch my every move
A trotters dance, of togetherness
Forgetting the reason we are here
I will win and conquer my privacy
You can't destroy what you can't see
I am the glory of my day
I am God's pet!!!
A Lamb, wearing white
To others a wolf in disguise
Spitting slithers, swear
I am the Devil's Advocate
I marvel how they snort at night
Today I will crash the sore whispering party
You! My friend, no longer exist
You are naught more than cobwebs
You will dream about me, write about me
I will give you ammo, then read it from you.
I will show you what a demon is!
Like the light and envy of every moon
I shall ask my reflection and remove
the residue from hogging lips.
I will watch you urbane the truth
The heat and lust I conquer from you
A font with no reflection, dating apples
Heading away from its own advice
A hard task from its quill, enjoying leftovers
Pinpointing fingers among shallow dreams
It's sickening to see pigs pat each others back
Feeding on my demonic words
Convoying innuendos in my bearing
Now it's my turn, to turn the roaster on
With no interest in removing muddy sheets
I shall smile and walk away
In - joy - my heart beats and smiles
Knowing, I made you look --- AGAIN!!!
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2016
A SOILDERS THOUGHTS
I cannot sleep tonight
rarely can I sleep in the day
My grip is tight and my eyes alert
so you can have a safe place to lay;
There are eyes that watch my every move
eyes of fiery red
Hoping to catch me slip an inch
hoping to see me dead;
From door to door I knock real hard
hoping that they will let let me in
My life in constant danger
as I search for these ruthless men;
Everyone speaks the same
for it's I who's in a foreign land
The only difference between right and wrong
is when they raise up their evil hand;
I realize that I am not on vacation
as I stare deep into their mirror
I realize that I have a job to do
And that is to fight against this terror....
Copyright © Edward Hill | Year Posted 2010
In summertime, the ivy climbs,
and hides the castle wall.
The king dreams of late,
that the sea is so great,
and yet - his boat is so small.
As swift as a fox and
dark as a raven on wing,
seven hundred soldiers march
into the valley of the king.
Long overdue, a battle ensues
flanking the powers that be.
Children cry, and good men die,
the monarch is now on his knee…
Soon the horsemen alone
try to maintain the throne.
But the long way around
is the shortest way home.
The evening is filled
with chaos and smoke,
and the kingdom is
stunned by it all…
Soon the sun will go down,
and in spite of his crown,
the king will undoubtedly fall…
His rival’s strength
by a king overtaken,
his life is now but a pawn.
His authority lifted,
the power has shifted –
an era of glory is gone…
Copyright © Cole Banner | Year Posted 2013
A kestrel dips into an updraft
thinking he knows the world
through silent valleys
around the earth
through the wind
The creature soars ever higher
in great swoops and dives
the horizon curves as it eludes vision
the stars pulse their siren
but thrill denies
their ambient warning
Gust to gust each fades
quicker than the last
whispers carry the weight of wings
and their soulful song breaches sanity
prayers of rightful good
where petty purple banners
crest twinkling hearts
The last thermal ridden
last lyric dies
as flight’s drone fades
upturned wings alone
the sky empty oblivion
as the sun aligns its beady eye
to the looping path of the bird
Two brittle forms
grapple in light
which blots out the senses
what can never be touched
smites the naive bird
an archangel buried
in a crypt
six feet deep.
Copyright © Avery Swarthout | Year Posted 2015
In ancient times when cruelty abounded, everyone's fate
was controlled by powerful gods who engaged in debate...
deciding where they lived, how they met their death;
today they are similar ones but act with much stealth.
The twenty century was chaotic, bloody and bellicose;
Nazism represented world power, conquest and victory,
and Fascism symbolized the iron hand of ugly tyranny...
Roosevelt and Churchill had a plan to subdue their vice.
Maddened Hitler committed suicide by poison and
Mussolini was hung in Milan; these despised tyrants
faced their final hour enraged by the advancing fiend,
but did they realize the atrocity of their madness?
When men become gods, their morals can sink very low
and by pursuing power, they mock the one who dreams;
and while expanding their evil empire to the extremes,
they gloat over their rivals' wealth--fearing it will grow.
Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2016
44 DROPS OF BLOOD
by Coui Kim MinSu JA
Silence has consumed my lonesome soul
Beneath the sheets of my darkest fall
I broke my armor, my helmet and my sword
I lost the battle after I gave my all.
These hostile MOROns speak the language of war
Treachery is their dialect, how nasty they are!
They house the villains, they feed the crooks
Yet they always call their god, every time they shoot.
I lost my sight though not am I blind,
Revenge is the light, the only light i find
My wrath and my curse are constantly roaring
Within my heart I can no longer contain.
With these 44 drops of blood I solemnly swear
Doom are these wicked, for gone are my fears
Now, I raise this peaceful banner and flip it up RED
Cause I thirst and hunger for all of their HEADS.
Copyright © Jasper Abcede | Year Posted 2015
Fire and smoke, and ashes of black.
The tale only told,
On a white marble plaque.
Destruction, distraughtion, never foretold.
Til this day, by a knight,
So brave, and so bold.
A camp, set a light, and burnt to the ground,
By an evil, so dark,
Set homeward bound.
They met on a Friday, and agreed to a fight.
Both ready, and armed,
It would start at midnight.
Stood in a circle, that was drawn on the floor.
Facing each other,
Audience cheering for gore.
A bang of the gong, and the battle began.
The knight gave one hit,
And the evil man ran.
Archers took aim, and fired their load.
The knight turned away,
And into the sunset, he rode.
Now I ask you, dear princess, can I be your prince?
Don’t you see, I’m the knight,
Have been ever since.
Copyright © Adam Forth | Year Posted 2014
Tell me America ,
Will you win this war ?
Will you bring cruelty to gallows ?
I see you daily here;
Left and right like pendulum,
Ups and downs like leaf-cutters,
Building army, building allies,
Pacing faster on trick’s ladder;
Still this monster is gargantuan,
Like phoenix looks its soul,
Like elixir its spirit.
Storms cruelty gathers daily
The brutish it breeds like hornets,
Their fangs like shoemakers' hammers;
Making hell of every metre
That I am affraid America;
From which hedge will you strike,
From which side will you come ;
To bring brutality to its knee?
The day mother bought a hen
And let it loose for airing a bit
No sooner it met the brutish
Than the cruel scraped its head
With their vampire’s aching-pecks.
On their feast of bear your fangs;
The green were shredded like young okra,
And the gray like potato chips;
Every foot wore sock of red ;
That an aged man sermonised :
Monster's world , young as the day is ,
Lions have made morsel of antelopes.
Who shall tame the lions ?
Who shall safe the necks of the antelopes ?
Tell me America, will you win this war ?
Will you bring cruelty to gallows ?
Will you tame the lions and cage the peckers ?
The lions are roaring everywhere and there,
The noise is becoming louder and deafening
Worldly peace in monsters' cage , tell me,
And please be eloquent; will you win this war
Or do we start decorating crowns for terrors ?
Copyright © KAYOD5 Kayode | Year Posted 2014
every story has someone to hate
all must rise and take the bait
in the end they always fall
for they can’t outsmart them all
their pride is always their demise
yet in the end they can surmise
that somewhere in the vast
there was a problem they can’t get past
so they come up with evil plans
make inventions with their hands
to destroy the world they detest
which holds the problems to which they contest
they do not want to be shoved
for in the end all they want is to be loved
Copyright © Ashley Last | Year Posted 2013
Beyond the dark t’ward light of day
There is a land far, far away
This place is known as Shandamaire
A little castle’s nestled there
Around this castle dark and tall
There is a garden still and small
The flowers there no longer bloom
Within their little garden room
But it was not so long ago
That you could see the flowers grow
The blossoms there were bold and bright
While welcoming the morning light
T’was then a princess young and fair
Strolled the grounds of Shandamaire
All of the birds and creatures small
Would answer to her lilting call
The princess loved her favorite toys
A dancing doll that brought her joys
With a button where one eye had been
And a sturdy soldier made of tin
The kingdom loved the charming lass
With hair of gold and skin like glass
And everything was perfect there
In the lovely land of Shandamaire
Then came an evil prince one day
To steal the princess’s land away
At first he tried to win her heart
But with her land she would not part
He decided then to make her leave
So as the kingdom knelt to grieve
He’d take it for his very own
And seat himself upon its throne
He chased the girl with golden hair
Through hallways in the castle there
Out to the garden she did flee
And begged the prince to let her be
The soldier and the dancing doll
Heard their tiny princess call
And hurried to the garden path
To stop the evil prince’s wrath
Next to the garden’s old stone wall
The princess saw the dancing doll
But the doll and soldier were too late
To save her from her awful fate
The evil prince gave her a shove
And rocks fell down from up above
The sturdy soldier made of tin
Kept the wall from falling in
But while he held the wall in place
A smile came to the prince’s face
He took the girl with golden hair
And left the land of Shandamaire
And now within the garden small
A rusting soldier holds a wall
Through winter snow and summer rains
Sturdy and stout he still remains
And high atop that garden wall
Are the remnants of a dancing doll
Its face you see is never dry
As tears fall from its button eye
Eternally they stand and wait
For their princess by the garden gate
And if you look they still are there
In the far off land of Shandamaire
Copyright © Stephen Washam | Year Posted 2010
On The Beach
Imagine walking on a beach after you finish school. Enjoying time alone. Happy that your studies are going well. In your own little world. Then they come for you. Snatch you off the beach. Take you to their boat and kidnap you. You've never been so scared. Not knowing what's happening or why. Little do you know, you won't see Japan again. Enemy soldiers came for someone. They found you. They need Japanese citizens to teach spies the language. But you don't want to do this. You go crazy. Not in anger but mentally. Your 'life' there doesn't work out. Your fate is bad. 'Suicide' by drug overdose. Your body thrown into a pit with others. A terrible fate. North Korea did this to you. And to many more who are missing.
Copyright © nick armbrister jimmy boom semtex | Year Posted 2015
in the spanish quarter
her eyes fixed on the dim light passage
as she awaits the coming hand of deceptions
with her recital of whispers like a prayer
she sweats openly
to her its a pressure point at the breaking
its a devils delight in the black heart of evil men
so as the wick of her flame clings to its purpose
as it burns true to pure
as you knew it would
you sit by her side
wait out the hours
forsake the dawn it never comes to this desolate place
forsake all trust love hope
they fled this desolate place
stand for who you are
stand for rights victory over wrong
truth even if it means your death
Copyright © mark junor | Year Posted 2016