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Evil Son Poems | Evil Poems About Son

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

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Details | Free verse | |

Lives In The Son

With me it’s not a matter of “If I could talk to God”
I have talked to God, I talk to him all throughout the day
I first talked to God when I was forty-one
I was an evil man
See, I had lost everything and everyone I had ever loved
I was in prison, which was nothing new
Except on this particular time, which was also my last time
I was in the hole and hate was all I had left
God set me free that day
He gave me a gift called Poetry
And from inside that cell
I sprouted wings and with every poem I wrote
I flew on the wings of an angel
Then out of the blue he returned my wife
Who had left me over a year before
After talking me into turning myself in
Well if I could talk to God this is what I would say:
Through the pain and tears I cried 
An evil soul laid down and died
And of the stories that soul could tell
Delivered from the pits of hell
I thank you God for the blood of your Son
That enabled my sins to be undone
For giving me the gift and desire to write
The strength inside to stand and fight
For the love of my wife as well as my kids
A way to undo all the evil I did
I am your servant may your will be done
For what once was the darkness now lives in the Son
Lord why have you given all this to me?
I try to understand but still can’t see
You are the beginning and the end of time
The keeper of love and all that’s divine
And I was evil upon two feet
Tired, lonely, broken and beat
I don’t deserve all you have given to me
Try as I might I still cannot see
But till death I’ll do all I can
To live your word and be a man
I am your servant may your will be done
For what once was the darkness now lives in he Son
Anyhow if I could talk to God
I reckon I would probably say something like that

Copyright © Michael Jordan

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

Copyright © Jim Pemberton

Details | Nazm | |

NaFarmaan NaKhalf Baitay Ka Noha-- Elegy of a Disobedient and Evil Son

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

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!

Copyright © Ivo Cosentino

Details | Free verse | |

An Emperor's gift to his son (the story of the root of all evil)

There once was an emperor who had a son
a son who would need to learn lessons in mastermining
to govern the world 
thus he gave his son a gift
the lottery

By doing proper math,
formulating teams
to purchase every possible ticket
to win his own lottery
a life lesson of a bribe to demonstrate his ability of doing some excellent math

by mentioning this one day
the emperor's son was ostrocised by society
shunned, introduced to temptation after temptation
drugs and alcohol
held hostage by society

driven to madness
the emperor's son
lit a house on fire to serve his prison sentence
away to a mental institute where he was mentally and physically tortured
through an abusive therapy of medications
reverse psychology

Not sure if my father is still out there
if i'll ever get to meet him
if i was kidnapped or switched at birth
this is my story of a gift an emperor gave
turned society into a disgusting life long experience
while living constant punishment of how pointless life was
formed their own teams
using the emperor's son's formula
rubbed their happiness and succes in his face
proceeded to use their funds to keep their hostage miserable

There is nothing worse in the world you can do to me
it's all been done
nothing worse than existance
i know this from personal experience
many of you were bribed and ready to do the wrong thing
many of you who looked upon a tortured soul and couldn't see his pain
just retaliate with more punishments for his imperfections
nothing more than perfect emotions anyone would feel

This is my story
a truth i've never known or been told
desire parental tests by some doctor who is not going to accept a bribe
i deserve to know the truth
it is definately my turn to have something good happen to me
for the first time in my life

when for the first time in my life
don't be surprised to find it to be an overwhelming experience
of one person's struggle to defend their own life
discover their truth
outwit their suppressors
and overcome the knowledge a disgusting life experience
that will never happen to anyone again

I lived the root of all evil that you used as a weapon
as i was claimed victom to your comandments you used to blackmail me with   
make me look like i was the 
do not lie about this
start talking
i'm sure there is a higher reward in freeing societies captive
so he can meet his own father
im tired of trying to comit suicide on christmas and my birthday

Copyright © Troy Jeremy Nelson

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? 


Copyright © tom mcmurray

Details | Rhyme | |

An Eye For An Eye

Your son was a lowlife hooligan.
Last year he murdered my son.
When it came to having the ability to show mercy, your son sure did lack it.
He shot my son right between the eyes because of his expensive jacket.
My boy gave him the jacket but he killed him anyway.
When I identified my son's body, your son had to pay.
Your son wanted to prove to his gang members that he was big and bad.
He shot my son in cold blood and returning the favor made me feel glad.
Your son was arrested but a bleeding heart judge let him out on bail.
A few hours later your son became the victim of a 44 Magnum Shell.
I killed him the same exact way that he killed my son, a bullet right between the eyes.
I didn't realize that a man could get so much pleasure by seeing another person die.
It was an eye for an eye, I pulled my gun on him and it felt so good to shoot.
But your son's death isn't good enough for me, I hope he fries in Hell to boot.

(This is a fictional poem)

Copyright © randy johnson

Details | Narrative | |


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- 
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 

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-
I am sure reality has been restrained from YOU-----your entire life.

 Only one BEING would know my PAIN--- without you-- MY ONLY 
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 
I leave with you my final plea—you would KNOW HIM as your- 



Copyright © Wayne Mattison

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.

Copyright © Nicholas Westerhausen

Details | Lyric | |

Forgotten Son~ Evil~

As I cut your throat 
Blood covering my hands 
I feel your life draining,
Your very existence given unto me
As your dreams drip from my finger tips 
You slowly fade…
Pictures of your family fill your eyes
As you slowly come to your demise
I will forget all I have done
Escaping into the darkness 
I am god’s only forgotten son~

Copyright © John Cornell