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Son Evil Poems | Evil Poems About Son

These Son Evil poems are examples of Evil poems about Son. These are the best examples of Son Evil poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

Details | Rhyme |

America Is Being DESTROYED From Within

 

As sin and perversion often become integrated… So many lives and families are being “disintegrated.” Many are being driven by sin’s temptation force… It’s no wonder much of this country is way “off course.” The morality and values that once made a great nation. Are evaporating…. Leading to a “spiritual separation.” Love, honor, and respect of God… Is often a “thing of the past.” Anything of God seems to be disappearing FAST! God is our only hope! And him alone! Only he can bring healing to our broken homes! He’s the answer to this wounded nation, that bleeds! It’s only God that can meet all of our needs! He’s our provider… The great: “I am!” Won’t you reach out to him? And give him your hand? Why not give him a chance? And allow him in? A brand new life for you… Is waiting to begin! May we allow God’s holiness and love to reach down into our hearts… Asking; “Lord please forgive our sins!” Is a good place to start! By Jim Pemberton


Details | Rhyme |

Contemptible Cuisine

Oh, Mother! Why are you such a rotten cook?
I tremble at the sight of this horrific gruel!
I dare say you are being jolly cruel!
Oh! God! Please get me off the hook!


Details | Lyric |

Going Postal

 
There is no place for me to go 
I'll spend my life right here I know, 
I lost my job then lost my dough 
Last night I lost my bride with adio'! 

I stayed the straight and narrow road, 
And carried, always, my own load. 
Missed not a day of work, I'm told, 
For twenty years. No pocket watch of gold? 

It tore my heart apart you see; 
They threw me out then tossed the key 
Without a nod to loyalty 
Or help me find a job at fifty-tjree.

So now I'm standin' over daddy's grave, 
Ten days from calm to ragin' full-blown rave; 
Hey daddy! I'm no good and I'm not brave 
But I'll be killin' souls your God can't save: 
I'm hopin for a score of fifty-three 
One soul for every year of wretched me. 

I do remember daddy tellin' me when I was young - 
"I'm proud my son of every single song I've ever sung, 
Because the wrongs I found in life to fire and ice were flung! 
The Good Book said to cling to IT so to IT I have clung - 
That Book was good to me young son and helped me climb each rung." 

An unsophisticated man from birth until you died, 
But damn it dad you took me to the brink of suicide; 
I grew to be not me but you and you died satisfied. 
But dad, life spent denying truth denied the Wolves outside. 

I took a look at your Good Book and found profound its way - 
Make sure you do to those who did to you and don't delay! 
Hey dad, I thought I'd share with you, I bought my gun today 
And it's a beaut you'd love to shoot and help me bag my prey; 
But in the grave you stay to serve your well deserved decay. 

I wish that I could do to you what I must do to them; 
For you put all the evil in me I can't seem to stem. 
My heart and body, now my blood, is turning pus and phlegm, 
But when they're dead then I'll have fed my sweet revenge its gem, 
So I can turn and kill myself and evil you did breed. 
You lit your pious Book up bright, why not your evil seed? 

 


Details | Narrative |

THE MISSING -- FATHER’S SON

Joseph-----born in October 1994—to your Mother and her family.
When I collided with your Mother—in 1993—all she was-
absence for------was you!
All she would declare is---She needed a child to complete her- 
A Son or Daughter ----that did not matter to her!

If this echo is all too familiar--- I assure you--- it is NOT!
You see --my dearest Joseph --you are THE MISSING -- FATHER’S SON.
You have only known one view of this great epic —But--- today—you 
will hear of THE MISSING -- FATHER’S SON.
Forced by your Mother and her family to NEVER--- have communion 
with you!

Given your Mother’s madden name at birth--- you lived in her- 
universe.
Unable to communicate with the out-side world--- forced to never-
have communion ---with me--- MY ONLY SON!!
You see my dearest Joseph--- you are THE MISSING -- FATHER’S SON.
Only one BEING would know my PAIN--- without you-- MY ONLY 
SON!!

It would seem some evil force be-hide the whole perplexity.
You force by your mother and family---- into--- a fatherless child’s-- world
Me forced to live with-out----- my only Son—which cause YOU to be-
THE MISSING -- FATHER’S SON.
I am sure reality has been restrained from YOU-----your entire life.

 Only one BEING would know my PAIN--- without you-- MY ONLY 
SON!!
But---- HE sent HIS-- only SON to the CROSS--- To die for you and me.
Beaten, bruised, tormented and Crucified----beyond recognition---for OUR SINS!!
ALL THANKS be to HIS Heavenly Father----because with-out HIM---
you would not have a Padre.

You see --my dearest Joseph --you are THE MISSING -- FATHER’S SON.
If some evil force is present—he would know that the HEAVENLY—
Father is your father ------after all.
Because HE -----and HE alone ----can only be a Father to the 
Fatherless.
I leave with you my final plea—you would KNOW HIM as your- 
DADDY!!

By: WEM/MEW/EWM/EMW















 



Details | Free verse |

First Trial

He says we must take up our cross
to follow him and that his yoke is easy.

One must hole back the rushing river
made from desire melting at the peak.
Standing, awaiting, the wall of water.
To hold it back. To keep it from allowing to grow
terrible and evil things in the fertile soul.
Yet every moment, the weight increases.
The Son melts the cold, hardened ice
to give the soul liberty from its threshold.
Eventually, at long last, it lessens.
The soiled water begins to evaporate
as the Son continues to work.
It heats the water asunder into ether.
The fist burden is through,
but what water passed through your grip
has begun to cultivate evil below.
Evil that grows in the soul
is tougher to destroy than
that of the infertile peak.

Alas, another trial awaits.


Details | Blank verse |

sambissar

Sambissar

Our souls dampen
with torture
And hopes dash in a
hurry
Like northern
watermelons
Crushed by a hundred
thousand cattle.
Our hearts beat in
fear louder than a
drum,
Louder than the
fierce noise of an
enraged mob -
Our flower has been
plucked before
blossom
With our
maiden-blood running
deep
Streaming deep into
the merciless earth
Our paths are
slippery with the
oil of confusion
The heart of our
mothers are sore
Like backs of the
herds man's flock
Beaten severally by
the narcissistic rod
We, who have been
cuddled in the cold
Now face the fierce
wrath of these
beasts;
We who still suckle
on our mothers'
breasts
Have been
sequester'd and
flung far in the
forests
The echo has
subsided far beyond
the continents
The revolt has
mingled with the
wind and vanished
The unfought battle
has been won, none
vanquished!
We have been
abandoned to our
fate!
The tabloids have
forsaken our plea
The maddened
competition stole
the day
With men all over
glued to the noisy
boxes
And children
everywhere
"hooraying" away
But our mothers
truly can never
forget us
The breast we have
suckled cry for our
return.
We bleed, we cry, we
mourn, we appeal,
Please, please,
Bring Back Our
Girls!

E. R. Chesterfield