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Prose Poetry Hate Poems | Prose Poetry Poems About Hate

These Prose Poetry Hate poems are examples of Prose Poetry poems about Hate. These are the best examples of Prose Poetry Hate poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Prose Poetry | |

And Then I Pray

You came into my life, why? I didn’t invite you, I never wanted you around, you 
know this , but you will not leave, you don’t know how much I hate you, and yet I 
don’t hate anyone or anything. When you hate, to me, it is the same as killing. If I 
only knew how to kill you ……. It would have been done many times over. I awake 
every morning and there you are, ready to make my life miserable, the one thing 
you enjoy most in your life. Wherever I go, you follow bringing your misery into my 
life. Why cant you just leave and leave me in peace? I fight with you every day, and 
it hurts so much, so much it hurts to fight with anyone, even you. There is one 
way and only one way to rid you of me. I think of this often, but then where would I 
be? I would not be, because you are part of me, your name is bi-polar. Handed 
down from my father and from his father, and from me to my son, but he refuses 
to recognize you, so he fights you without help he could get. If he would only say I 
know who you are. I hurt for him everyday, and then I pray.
Oh God please forgive me for what I have brought upon my son. Son, I love you, 
and am so sorry for what you go through. Maybe someday we will talk again. Dad

Copyright © Kenneth Fordham | Year Posted 2008

Details | Prose Poetry | |

I hate shopping

I hate shopping 
but when I go shopping
I know what I’m looking for
I go to the right store
I go to the right floor
I grab it 
they bag it
and I am out the door
Shopping is an awful chore

Copyright © Monty Newman | Year Posted 2010

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Rain-bow Nation


Copyright © Ifeanyi Bob Ekechukwu | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Garden Club Ruse part 1 of 2

For years no one ever had a clue...
Of the secret she one knew..
The child inside her never shed a tear...
Although she lived everyday with fear...
She grew up never knowing what love was...
Till that fateful day, when he met him on the bus..
He was tall and handsome and had a great smile...
Knew all the words making her feel worthwhile...
They fell in love and soon were married...
And that’s when things changed...the love got buried..
The days were long and the nights were lonely...
They seldom spoke, and if only...
She hadn’t seen that ad...this never would have happened..
Join the Garden Club today and...
 wipe all your cares away 
There’s more to this story..I must conceive...
So please follow this sequel and I believe....
You will stop and think of the words I wrote...
And perhaps even take your own personal note....

Copyright © kj force | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Black Skin

Poet: Ken Jordan
Poem: Black Skin
Edited by: Sparkle Jordan
written: August/2014

What do you

when you
at me (?)

has you
speechless (?)

are you

you don't
me - (?)

are you
inquisitive -(?)

What is it
have your

on my
black skin (?)

copyright (c) 082014

Copyright © Ken Jordan | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Hate for Me to Have Anything

Some are so insecure and afraid for me to receive any good measure.
To be complimented or gain anything.
Believe  it or not these are females who dress for their best.
Rock all of their gold and flashy rings.
They carry themselves and present to the public their life is all about them.
Don't let me come in on the scene flashing a beautiful smile.
While watching the room glance at look at me from every direction.
Miss Drama Queen will drop whatever it is that she is doing.
Just to make sure that she stops me in my tracks.
She'll do all that she can to block any of my success.
To add insult to injury since you know that life is really a struggle for me.
Yet you ponder on trying to figure me out.
How I still present myself in a upstanding and put together way.
It drives you crazy trying to figure me out.
Just how it is that I have not fallen.
That I am still able to make it through.
You exemplify you got it going on.
That you have no cares in the world.
Claiming life's brass rings.
Yet you roll your eyes and buck your teeth. 
At the hint of me gaining anything.

Copyright © Cheryl Chandler | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry | |

On Verge

Have you ever jumped in and out of your skin?
Found yourself on top of a hill with no shade to stand under, the skin around your lips and eyes starts to crack and peel.  Don’t you wish for one moment you could simply have a hand to cover the glare and give you a screen, to sooth them for just one instant and feel a breath of relief.

Have you ever bled without pain?
You are soiled red but the gates of pain are simply numb. You simply watch the drops stain. If only a hand could compress the hurt and brake the flow of this rouge river game.

Have you ever spat words of scorn? Only to discover it was a feeble attempt that bounced the daggers back at your wall of ice. They simply echo back, the acid splatters in your face. You regret what you said; you wish you were dead.

Have you ever defied your own line of fire? You’ve broken down your walls of guard and allowed trespassers to rape your morals. If only a hand could pull you back and tug you in, the rules you made would still be in.

Copyright © Goldie Uttamchandani | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry | |


Listen to the wind as it crashes into the towns and villages and downs mighty trees,
Stand still, let it blow until you nearly fall, face its anger and lean into the cold wind,
It brings snow so heavy, flakes will bite your face, freeze your wet golden pig tails
Stand in the blizzard then fall to the ground and stay there, this is your judgement day,

It's time to reflect darkest needs, and the moral ruin in that space, of your passing years.
Listen to the wind bending boughs, branches and the flow of a turbid stream of pollution,
A pollution that floats the wretched souls and bodies of all mankind to death and to hell,
You hear a sound of branches creaking under the strain of despicable wrongs in your life,

It's a mighty power that takes away the beat of the immoral pulse of your sorry humanity,
So now you are ready to listen, so listen hard, but then you know your own sorry story.
Listen to the wind and hail sweeping over dead leaves, throwing them into a black sky,
Do leaves shiver or do they shout out loud in rage as they are scooped up in a frenzy,

Will you pray to your god, ask him for forgiveness as this is your last day on earth,
Or will you beg in the tattered slops of your own righteousness just to save yourself,
Listen to the tolling of the old passing bell that swings in your black dome of vice.
You will feel the devils havoc amongst immortal souls, a hell fire dwelling in your heart,

A story of your progress a disease of lies which sucked away all goodness from your days,
Lies have plucked the red roses from childhood and set a brand of hate on your wet brow,
The story of lies which have stalked and spread up and down the earth for many centuries,
Lies that sweeps millions upon millions to destruction, for this disease there is no cure. 

How many sighs have been noted down in your heaven and how many tears were for yourself,
Those too often troubled fountains flowing like April showers, your wolf's tears fallen,
How many hearts have you broken in loveless famine, all for a want of an act of kindness,
See how deep the dyes painted in your days, a selfish dense black cloud as the background,

So look behind you, see the old man carrying his scythe, he is waiting and he has patience. 
Listen hard, listen well, do you hear trumpets blare over the crashing white landscapes,
Will you pray brimstone or treacle and tell the wind your sins the unacceptable truth's,
Did you sit and drink your wine murmuring everlasting hate in a rich full flavoured voice.

You are just a blank space in a world of nothingness a mere sour taste in the universe,
Your vicious wrongs telling the same old stories heard by thousands, thousands of times,
You close your mind and pretend to forget what cannot be forgotten, tell me are you bad, 
Because I would like to know if you think you are a good example, I would like to know.

Copyright © Terry Trainor | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Mr Wrong

Mr. Wrong

You’re not one of a kind
You smoke;
You get drunk,
You like wars

But you told me
You smoke because you felt nervous when you’re with me
You get drunk ‘coz you think I don’t love you
You like wars ‘coz you’ll fight for me.

My eyes told me too
I hate your lips,
I hate your eyes,
I hate how it looks at me.

But you told me more
You wish to kiss my lips
You love my sparkling eyes
That makes you driving you crazy.

I almost hate everything about you
You’re not attractive, not at all
But what makes it wrong?
You make my heart beats strong.

But you almost love everything about me
I attract you like no one ever did
That’s all for you what makes it right
You’re my Mr. Wrong, but I’m you’re Mr. Right.

Now I hate myself even more
But my heart told me so
I love you more and more
I love my Mr. Wrong

Copyright © jaycel frances tamayao | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry | |



HE WAS asleep
Between space and time
The first light on the world
Floated idly
On him
He was just born.

His folded hands
Glowed a pale pink
To keep the fire of life
He wondered if he was really awake.
Is it the true world?
Is it the true village?
Is it the true nest?
He kept kicking
And cried like a scared owl.

God trod to the next village.


Oh said the voice
Let me kiss you
Let me go in the fairy way
Let me love you earth
Overly cautious she crouched
Over a street strewn with splinters
S o confusing for a fairy
She approached a dark alley 
Full of vermin and dead
So confusing for her noble nose
We call it miscarriage in our land
She said and picked up intruder’s naked smell
Leftover of yesterday’s predation 
She did not move
She was crippled in an unknown fear
The emotion alien to a fairy
I want to love you
But you will kill me
That she said and flew all the way
Across hellhole and slammed into a tree
Still young, bright, full of promises
Though clawed by vampire birds
She moved in sense of rekindling 
I’m glad, I’m sure I’m glad,
I am in the fairy way
Because I came down to love

Evening slipped out of the cave
Crossed the rock wall
And buried the city in soft kisses
Sun god‘s dripping soup
Gave her child a sunset glow
She went back to her cave
To sleep, to grow

Hates were slipping through my fingers
Little ones burning like midday sun
When they cooled made garnets for my sisters.

An ancient cat god
Slammed down to my house
Went out with a sperm-whale
Harpooned by the mouse

Tara, I liked her so much
As a fish and as a friend
So in the Sunday night supper
 She had made a double-end.
She was gruff fish after all
In night-supper it took its toll
Tara, I liked her so much
So I wrote this story on the bark of Birch
I gave a tabby cat one ounce  of gold
That’s the way the story was told


Copyright © RAJAT KANTI CHAKRABARTY | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry | |

I'm Not Gonna Let You Say

Whispers in the dark Thoughts of you. a meeting at the park, A memory, a flash Surrounded by pin-drop silence. The saddest thing in the world, I have lost all meanings of life. My mind overflows with memories Of those few green and fair days. How do I mend my broken heart ? I hate this idea of my heart That you are the one thing, Whom I want the most but can't have. You tore my heart into two, One part has lost all and The other still thinking for you. I hate this feeling of pain, I'm not gonna let you say.....

Copyright © Chittaranjan Dey | Year Posted 2012

Details | Prose Poetry | |

When they love their children as much as they hate us the war will be over

When they love their children as much as they hate us the war will be over

Its doesn't matter which side your on
Whether your a viva viva palestina
Or an am yisrael chai
You know which side is evil, committed all
Wrongs, sometimes you meet people who 
Extol the virtues of this treacherous, 
Terrible oppressor /terrorist
With their shock and awe tactics and 
Disregard for freedom or the right to life And the pursuit of happiness
And sometimes for a minute, particularly 
When you talk to someone you think is 
Intelligent it becomes harder to maintain the 
View on this malignant party you tried hard 
To campaign for and against and although 
Peace (of mind) is all you want
All you could dream of
With this entity at the negotiating table 
Independence is swapped for catastrophe And war
If you give them what they want you will
Have nothing except the need to a right of 
Return to a better time

Copyright © Saskia Kurer | Year Posted 2012

Details | Prose Poetry | |

mosquito and man

Oh no! Why do men hate me so much? From incarnation even as I try to make my legs and hands and buttocks as small as anything! So they can’t say am competing with their colossal legs and hands and their protruding buttocks!
They say; we knew it! Right from the first sight, he was bent on evil with the ulterior motive that, whenever he perches on the sweet succulent, fresh, flesh - of ours, it won’t be noticed. Because he believes men are fools after all, big brains are not found in big bodies.
Men are evil.  As I try to befriend, the more they inflict pains on me. Ok! I feel rejected and dejected by men, I considered it and thought it wise to detach myself from men by living in nearby bushes and rejected dumped waste and refuse.
They say; ah! Mosquito, you always make use of that little sense of yours. It is all pretence; you love men so much that you can’t live without them! Ok, if you say you want detachment, why must it be near men’s homes, or their dumped refuse and liquid waste? Why not very far at the desert so men won’t complain again. You love men! It is even clear as you lay your eggs where you feel you hate.
Men are ignorant. Ungrateful idiots! Their brains are stuffed with manure. Ok! If I hate men, why should I use the talent God gave me to make them comfortable? I use the best musical instrument; harp, flute with my wonderful composing way of singing, just to make them happy yet they detest me. Ok! How many men are musicians? How many even use the talent God gave them? Since God made me a musician from incarnation I will continue to use the talent, no matter how men feel.
Mosquito, Jackson of the age. You sing and even dance for men’s comfort! But the question is, if you love men as such, Why must the benevolent be a sort of boring? Why must it be at odd hours in the night made for resting? Even as we say stop! You still continue your singing. We don’t need it please! Your singing is a discomfort for men.
Ok! What of the affection I show to prove my love? I kiss your flesh and blood, just like any other man does by kissing the tongue and saliva of a female partner for love! Do you appreciate it at all? All I get from you are rancor and malice. Our judgment will be in heaven certainly.
The problem with you (mosquito) is that you don’t accept fault, very controversial and a very big threat to man. That is what you are! Accept your nature. You say you show affection, ok! Have heard of a man who kisses and inflicts pain on the partner? Perhaps by eating up the tongue or ejecting poisonous liquid in the partner’s mouth? But when you kiss, you disfigure our flesh and inject malaria into our bodies. Is that what you call love? We don’t want such affection, just know that; once you come around, we are at alert and always ready to strike! Let the worst happen in your so called heaven.

Copyright © Nnachetam Stanislaus | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry | |

i hate love

How do I live without her?
How do I face the day?
How do I keep my sanity?
While my life slips away

How do I survive with out her?
Now my life is so cold
I can’t live without her
 She no longer walks this world 

Try so hard to understand
Because there’s no reasons why
She belongs beside me
Not with god in the sky

Want to say goodbye to tomorrow
But this life don’t belong to me
So until god really for me to join her
I must learn to live in misery

Love turns my mountain
In to a little stone
Love sends a knife inside me
Didn’t stop till it hit the bone

How do I tell my heart? 
There’s nothing to live for
How do i say to my life? 
 I don’t need you no more

And oh how I hate love
For what it’s done to me
It turns my fairy tale
In to a horror mystery

Why did faith direct this?
And who wrote the script
Why did they turn my life? 
Into a tales fro the crypt

Everyday I get older
My pain is getting worst
And when the grim reaper comes
This chapter will close

And in the green valley
Where the water flows
On the hill under a willow
Is where my soul will go

Copyright © kasim ishmael | Year Posted 2012

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Dagger in the heart

Each time I try to say, “The country isn’t good”
Even as a secondary school pupil
I can’t remember the last I obeyed the iota rule
Even dough I know my parents builds castles in the air
Yet I can’t redirect the wrong footsteps
And I have the got to say, “The country isn’t conducive”
 Even as a medical practitioner-
That has taken an obligatory oath
Yet, when the language of money advance
I can prescribe the most unsafe drugs
I engross in the diciest abortion
 Yet has the impetus to say, “The head of my nation is incompetent”.
Even as a legal practitioner
I am part of the judiciary
I am part of the legislature
I am a the core executive
But, the epitome culprit
 Yet, rush head long to utter, “When shall things be cute”.
As a commercial executioner
I am submerged in fraud
 I am a competent illegal
Seemingly things are likened to my name
But, in spite of the legislative injunctions
  I am always the hall mark of every bad egg. But I still complain.
Even when I complain as a minority tutor
I can’t be prompted in my responsibility
Yet, complains of the recompense for the cute
But, the certainty remains
If I don’t redirect my erroneous footsteps
What is to be done, still remains stagnant!


Copyright © Nnachetam Stanislaus | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry | |


 When judgement come what will you say can you tell the JESUS 
what you done in just one day eye left some fish upon the way then left my bed to 
gather more than eye can eat for eye am blessed my heart is full of love for 
people eye have never met and strangers yell at me from van and make me cuss 
and curse and hate yet the things eye found was blessed a cake a homemade 
cake remember LORD when we ate the cake eye found it in the city park on that 
SUNDAY when the man in the van rolled his window down he yelled screamed 
growled at me so cartoon of a character so rubber legged he would not stop near 
me for eye was mad at THEE for letting evil men get near me they rob me of my 
grace more needed now on SUNDAY as eye sit and feed my face eye will not go 
further with embellishments and lies intended just to sell a story to the men who 
drive the van and bother men with hate for eye found some extra clothing and 
added it to mind for there was no one there in the park today just laying on the 
ground eye passed the beggars sides with full larder laid as eye did not even lay 
it down eye hope they have an empty cup of alcoholic stop eye began this day 
without a fish but now my bags is hard to carry a brand new hooded shirt upon 
my belly my jacket getting heavy my cake and coffee is so nice please KISS mye 
lambea wherever she is at a smile upon her face for eye and love and grace on 
SUNDAY. This is CharlaXFabel number NINTEY. 

Copyright © charles hice | Year Posted 2008

Details | Prose Poetry | |

I wanna love for all

WHEN I WAS WONDERING IN THE GATE OF THE PARADISE IN THE EARTH… SOMEBODY WAS SHOUT AT MY EAR.... " WHOM YOU ARE????" WITH A SHOCK I SAID "I AM A HUMBLE HUMAN" "WHAT YOU WANT?????" THERE THE SHOUTED AGAIN I SAID " I WANNA LOVE...." AGAIN THE SHOUT IS THERE.. "WHAT KIND OF LOVE YOU WANNA????" " THERE IS FATHER'S LOVE, THERE IS MOTHER'S LOVE.. THERE IS SON'S LOVE, THERE IS DAUGHTER'S LOVE... THERE IS BROTHER'S LOVE, THERE IS SISTER'S LOVE... THERE IS HUSBAND'S LOVE. THERE IS WIFE'S LOVE... THERE IS LOVER'S LOVE, THERE IS MATE'S LOVE... THERE IS FIANCE'S LOVE, THERE IS FRIEND'S LOVE... THERE IS DOCTOR'S LOVE, THERE IS LAWYER'S LOVE..." I SAID "I WANNA LOVE FOR ALL...." " DO YOU HAVE ANY BUCKS FOR THE SAME????" THE SHOUT IS AGAIN.. I SAID MY WALLET IS EMPTY... "THEN YOU HAVE THE HATE WITH ME...AT FREE OF COST..." " IF YOU TAKE HATE FOR ALL.. YOU WILL GET FREE ONE GRAM OF LOVE..." “And you can use it your own way!” In the paradise in the earth The price of love going high and high.. And you can never afford the love.. In your life time, because the price will never comedown.... “ I look around to see the source of shout.. Then I see the devil of evil, the emperor of the paradise in the earth.. the Saataan the great, laughing at me in loud….

Copyright © ABDUL RUB ELEDATH | Year Posted 2011

Details | Prose Poetry | |

~ (~) ~ Never Bow Down ~ (~) ~

~ (~) "Because yes I believe as well-true abhorrence is the springboard for more pain, love is the land of peace that lie between." "Denial the raging river running through it!" (~) ~ ~ (~) "Who in the back row, maybe in the front or some where in the middle or between the middle of the two... ?" (~) ~ ~ (~) "Would it be for an honest peace I would myself, maybe for one of you as-well, but for aggression I will not bow down!" (~) ~ ~ (~) "I'd just-soon-parish, because I will never bow down." "Because yes I know love as with hate offers more, but something far greater... !" (~) ~ ~ (~) Because to know love I believe-is to cherish the-gift of allowance, to own the face brimming with the pleasure of this delight, but to be certain also to oppose it as well, it's always ones given right... hate will never know this delight. (~) ~ ~ (~) Because I know mid toils and travels time ticks away yes hope advances pride waylays to and fro, true peace consumes. (~) ~ ~ (~) Golden nuggets turn mossy brown in the streams-time laughs promenades all things are prosperous within the able hands of grace. (~) ~ ~ (~) God's-tender tears-illuminated cascading-down-on-all-are-exemplified by-the-rains I feel-as-they-fall, delighted divinity leaps as it sings-love devoted... it prances... . (~) ~ ~ (~) Because I believe as well today loving moreover is prudent the struggle furthermore the prize, death of hate the mighty reprise. (~) ~ ~ (~) Tiny like a drop in a bucket hopeful is the soul who though longing still remains open. (~) ~ ~ (~) Humbled are the ones who want for nothing more, daring to go further offering all they- can. (~) ~ ~ (~) Exulted and merry are the ones who accept this, joining them, journeying along as they would with them in the beauty of this. (~) ~ ~ (~) Open to the willing peace once the quest of us all yes each our plight now the opportunity presents itself again propels us all together to know, yes-come to-own-for- ourselves-this-delight, the bucket full now sent-to-overflowing washing-the-dirt from our feet; because-lowly is the cry-for-peace... love-the-ladder its-gracious-provision... because though-partial to freedom and honor; cut down prematurely on-occasion surrounded- by-doubt... rising in the effort-love-budding-expects nothing treasures everything is in one way or the other always blooming; its-joy-forevermore consuming... ! (~) ~

Copyright © James Long | Year Posted 2010

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Ashes of Our Innocence

A song can be heard tonight
Swirling about me beating down my strength
Enfolding the whole of me with thick, terrifying captivation
That chokes a city with the roaring thunder of despair
Of the innocent obliterated in the unforgettable heartbeat
When we died with our friends and families
Slain from the once impossible that shattered our world
Tossed aside the veil of our innocence forever

I can stand no more and I fall
My weary gaze heavenward for I have no answers
With my heart weeping, my soul burning
My mind alive with a desperately hungry vengeance
I scream out all of my searing pain
I scream out with every fibre, every pore of my being!
I scream blinded by this maelstrom of emotion
I scream!

Until my voice runs ragged
Until my anger simmers
And here amid a shattered ruin
I find inside the depths of my soul . . .
That which is fierce in us all

I stand and glare beyond the horizon
Where I know the object of my hatred hides
Feeling safe in his pit of woe
“No,” I seethe
“No,” I burn
“No!” I say through clenched teeth 
“I will not falter!
I will not give up!
I will not give into the swallowing lament of night!

I will see you held accountable
I will and I do defy you!!
And everything you represent!”

I . . .
I like my people, believe in a merciful God
Our Lord forgives and loves us all
And this is the God I believe in . . .
But I am a man, just a man . . .
And I cannot forgive you for this, I will not
God may forgive you
But I do not

I . . .
I hate you!
For the lives you have destroyed!
For the fear in my heart!
I hate you for existing . . .
I hate you because now I cannot help but to hate something

It’s lonely where these towers have fallen
And in this solitude I pick up a stone
I move another stone and then another
For I know not what else to do
I find that this stone is not a part of the rubble
I understand that I am not really clearing debris

I am rebuilding

And this dust covered stone now within my hands
Is the first
In a new foundation of our lives
I see my friends
Doing as I do, lifting one stone after another
We are rebuilding our world
Our ideals

And I whisper to the horizon
“Know this
Today we mourned as people grieving for our loved one
Tonight we mourn as a race having just lost our innocence
Tomorrow we will mourn as people defiled by atrocity one last time
But soon . . .
We will weep and mourn no more
And on that day

We will end terror.”

Copyright © Neal Freeland | Year Posted 2007

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Consider us to be dolls

I’ve been made.
Not the way most people are made, with either a fateful mistake or long-lived intent. I
was not born the way people are born, or grown the way they were grown.
I am not real.
This needs saying. You have to understand that this is my reason. I am not a creature of
habit, or education, or coincidence. I am one of design. 
They did not make in a factory or on an assembly line, but that doesn’t matter. I am no
more real than your average toaster. 

I have thoughts. I have words. I have actions. None of them are mine. 

I was made this way. I was made to think how I think, and do what I do, and see how I see. 
	I do not think they meant me to know.
I was not meant to see beyond the veil, to see the strings being pulled. But even so, I
hate who I was meant to hate and love who I was meant to love, and only sometimes do I
confuse the two. I love my maker and hate my maker. I thank the one who gave me life and
curse them for it. 

	It is something strange to live a paradox.

Copyright © Harry W. Holloway | Year Posted 2011

Details | Prose Poetry | |

~ (~) ~ Answering Hate (Part #1 of 5) ~ (~) ~

 Thank you so much for your honesty friend. I paused and took some time with your
statements to me to ponder on it. Yes I have these problems that are always rising up
within me from time to time. The truth is I believe that I need all the help that I can
get. Because my soul is tortured as well by them. I'm glad you were patient enough to read
anyway. Takes a lot of strength and courage to be as honest as you have been, I appreciate
it. It reminded me, that relying on myself alone, and remaining alone with these things
makes it all the more harder for me to remain honest with myself. As you have so plainly
been with me so again I thank you. I just get so afraid sometimes to be this way. But I
feel that honestly it is a true strength that you have. You I feel are truly blessed.
Gifted with this boldness of heart. You carry it well. I feel it is the most precious and
there is no truer strength lying within you. If I were you, well I would feel blessed and
encouraged by it truly... . As for what was stated in the writing it was for me a simple

Though I can tell you myself it made my belly uncomfortable too. When I heard... saw it
for myself for the first time. Made me cry... . Because I truly don't want myself to feel
it anymore than is necessary, being reminded today what it truly means to be like this. As
I considered and still keep trying to grow to know through it how I have in turn been
brought to yield it myself every time I saw for myself my own hate. You know it makes me
more and even more afraid. Because I've been like this in one form or the other my whole
life. I probably always will be without some help, I figure that when I heard this message
first, it rose within me in this greater form. I didn't like it either at all. Made me run
to something more though and today I am feeling a little, sometimes quite better the more
I am moved away from it. Because I also found that for myself, I wanted more than just
this hate and living alone with it. And through hearing the truth of it, I knew that I
alone could not stop it from rising up from within me... . 

Because I don't truly enjoy feeling sick to my tummy like this. It has been for me this
way for a long time and I am finding that it can in its reality surely kill me, because
for myself I let it consume me.

Copyright © James Long | Year Posted 2010

Details | Prose Poetry | |

Love Hate

Iam so in love
Iam so in hate
Ijust can't comprehend it
You get me so high
You get me so low
Ican't show what i'm feeling
Never was the type
To let someone like you
Get under my skin
Tried like hell
To love you more 
Is that a sin.

Copyright © Roy Christian Jr. | Year Posted 2011

Details | Prose Poetry | |


For years I drank
     laughter wine, aged on fears and depression;
(it seems that no one likes a pessimist).

Laughter wine served with plastic jokes
	and drunk from society's suffrage glass.

Sour laughter wine sours the spirit; 	
	sweet laughter wine is a better drink.

It is aged on the hope;
	The faith that social sufferings will end.

It is proper to drink Sweet laughter wine
	from your soul-glass.

Copyright © M. L. Kiser | Year Posted 2014

Details | Prose Poetry | |

The First Unforgivable Sin

When the first murder was committed 
The weapon was useless
Knowing that the soul is what animates people 
He started stabbing arbitrarily at his victim’s body
With the logic that the soul dwells throughout the body, he thought that with one gash the soul might seep out
But he didn’t succeed
Until a stab wound reached the victim’s heart
And that was the end
War is random stab wounds throughout the body of the nation
Unnecessary pain
The point of war is to get to the soul but it’s hard to find where the heart of the problem is
After all these years we still haven’t learnt from mankind’s first unforgivable sin

Copyright © Danita Windy | Year Posted 2015

Details | Prose Poetry | |




The Mind Of GOD

 He became angry, and when he refused to enter the house, his father came out 
and pleaded with him. 
He said to his father in reply, 'Look, all these years I served you and not once did I 
disobey your orders; yet you never gave me even a young goat to feast on with my 
But when your son returns who swallowed up your property with prostitutes, for 
him you slaughter the fattened calf.' 
He said to him, 'My son, you are here with me always; everything I have is yours. 
But now we must celebrate and rejoice, because your brother was dead and has 
come to life again; he was lost and has been found.'" the certainty of days is lost 
in aggravations and in misdirected thinking abilities are missed in dreaming and 
wishing colors were not true the sky is always blue in some peoples world the 
clouds don't move in true reality the clouds fly screaming across the sky to take 
kisses from mye eye to deliver them all to ewe from the kissing place its true oh 
ewe there is many of them there still hanging from my lipps to kiss the lipps of 
ewe. The moral of the story don't get thy dandruff up until the wind blows. WAIT. 
Bulliten: This is just inn hot off the iron. Love lasts forever and yes it forgives so iff 
ewe aer just lately starting to hate me lets nip it now in the bud and snip all the 
hate away and please keep the love thorns are okay when the rose is on vine but 
when picked all the thorns do is cry. Add mee quickly back unto thy eye am 
pleading for mye heart seems to be gone when ewe linger in the ether and do 
not even come just try to find forgiveness in your heart for me today. The concrete 
where eye tried to spend the nite was stiff to muscles used to better beds the dirt 
eye finally found in a corner of the church was fine and warmer out of wind the 
sadness that eye feel is never hate but only love not found and wasted time. The 
anger comes from being left alone.
Eye would not change the way eye am eye would not want it any other way to love 
someone is to miss them when away. My time is spent in vain pursuits of 
happiness continuous searching for food and circuses the hour is almost upon 
the masses no more time to love. Please add me to your list of love as number 
one again mye friend and love the man that eye become is jealous of your love 
and time still searching for your heart and certain ewe aer there in mine and we 
aer both there inside the mind of god. LOVE.


Copyright © charles hice | Year Posted 2008

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~ (~) ~ Answering Hate (Part #4 of 5) ~ (~) ~

I searched for Him inside my heart through my experiences. That I have always known
without Him. And He is still healing me today just as the message states in the very
message contained in the Bible and in the one that was written and offered to you and all
here that made you feel the way that you said. Yes I know that it seemed hurtful, but I
still feel for myself today, it was not truly hateful. It was just how it was offered to
me, and sometimes it appeared to me the same way back then as well, as hateful. I believe
that in both ways God was loving me. Because the more I keep searching within myself for
the truth of my own hate and all their many forms. His ways of loving me I am finding are
far far more! I ran to my idea of Him that I believe we all were given within. I ran to
God through His promise of peace with Him and ourselves and one another an the world
around us through Jesus. I'm truly sorry to have hurt you through this. I hope the other
part of this two sided message will help you. I hope it will. I know it has with me. 

Happy Hanuka friend and again I am sorry. To help another find out the same thing that I
am still coming to find out myself a little more of today and every day, was my intention.
Because my only ambition truly as I fight within myself with the pains that I have caused
everyone that I have known, by living this way, I'm-truly-sorry. I was only trying to
help. Peace be with you friend and come to bless you, and carry you through the pain and
keep you. And so as honestly as I can I am offering this prayer and hoping this as well
for you. That if when you find that you cannot stop yourself from being this way too, and
are able to see it as honestly as this for what it is. You would be open to Him and would
be hopeful, and even more eager in your need for this, and would be willing and be able to
come to accept Him in His greater love. As I feel and am finding out more of today myself
that He is always open to all of us. As I am still eager and willing to find out about
more of Him and about the even more broader idea of this today in all of it's certain
ramifications. He is still open as I feel He is always willing in His simple offering of
this. And as we all are I feel as well growing away from Him in this way from time to
time. I feel He is just as much in His way offering His greater love like this for all of
us... .

Copyright © James Long | Year Posted 2010

Details | Prose Poetry | |

I Hope There is a Heaven the Invisible Man

Across the fields of golden corn there are no subtle waves just wretched waves,
I stand and look and it takes me back to bitterness no clean bright golden days,
I remember standing here with you but you have gone no more smiling at my side,
This was many, many years ago your smile was my sword but you left me you died,
Often I stand in our place with vengeance and anger seeing what we once both saw,
My eyes well up with warm tears I need revenge to calm my hate as never before,
And through my tears I see you my throat burns looking across our favorite place,
So young so pretty full of life my heart stopped, there is so much I cannot face
Living always with sadness trudging through a ruined life it’s been so very long,
You visit my dreams every night then again you leave in the morning you are gone,
And so starts another day of sadness all alone and a heavy aching, bleeding heart,
The words I need do not exist they never will all is pain as it hurts to be apart,
So I get on with my life through its blackness, play the part of a very average man,
Deep inside hidden under hate and bitterness we will be one again, I hope we can.

Copyright © Terry Trainor | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose Poetry | |

~ (~) ~ Answering Hate (Part #5 of 5) ~ (~) ~

As I am still eager and willing to find out about more of Him and about the even more
broader idea of this today in all of it's certain ramifications. He is still open as I
feel He is always willing in His simple offering of this. And as we all are I feel as well
growing away from Him in this way from time to time. I feel He is just as much in His way
offering His greater love like this for all of us... . 

As in is greater devotion and eagerness He is hopeful now in His offering of this gift to
you. I will keep trying in this way more every day that I can see to help you. I will try
and remain open myself to the hurt you feel now that I have caused you. Again thank you
for your honesty with me friend. You helped me more than you know. Because the way that it
made you feel reminded me of this. It helped me yes reminded me to keep searching as I run
within myself to Him. So He can help me with my problems and these many overwhelming
things. That I often carry within myself alone still. Ones that I am faced with from time
to time. That I feel today I would continue to live with without Him and such good people
such as you and would be made singularly, within-myself, to suffer I feel forever with. I
love you for your honesty and for your courage and message, and for helping me... . Again
I am so sorry. I hope that you can forgive me... . I hope that you can and will. I pray
that this message will help. I sure hope that it will. Truly its all that I would want for

~ Love ~ James ~

Copyright © James Long | Year Posted 2010

Details | Prose Poetry | |

~ (~) ~ Answering Hate (Part #2 of 5) ~ (~) ~

Because I feel honestly as I am still finding out more about it, when I am willing to
look, in-so-many-more-ways, it is and always has been. It has held me from my innocence,
kept me from another, and from my safety that I feel now for myself must be placed within
something far greater than me. And so today through the examples that I have known and
have now been shown within the Bible and within myself. Seeing for myself now my sometimes
still faulty view of Him. Honestly today for myself I feel that truly as they are, they
for me are completely insufficient in my ideas of them alone of Him and another. As as
well I feel that through the perfect shame they have brought to me time and again and to
another, and to this world as it is through my faulty reliance on myself through them as I
have yielded them. Through my misunderstandings and faulty judgment of Him and them and
this beautiful world around me, and through the painful examples that I believe now have
always made me feel as alone as I have often felt. With them still evolving within me all
alone and living with them... completely-absent-of-God. Without Him I believe in some way
I feel now they will always be continuing to grow within me. I desire now to grow farther
away from them through Him. As they I have found are always rising up over and over within
me... . 

And as well I feel still-now-sometimes-today that I have in some way always kept them
within myself and brought them in their varied destruction
and-this-ever-more-hurtful-and-even-more-damaging-way to another. As today I feel Him to
be a bit closer to me now and believe this fact just a little bit more each day, they can
only be and bring I feel one thing today for me and no other thing but this precious gift
that I can only hope, will continue to be offered to me through Him... . As I fall to my
knees amid the light shining down on me through the realization of them as I abandon
myself to them and their results and to Him and this idea. Because I figure that it
started or if you will was brought to me through other folks and so many other things that
I have done in my life as a result, and so I would do anything at all to not feel this
way. Because-my-hate, I have found out through asking Him and another for help and through
being reminded.

Copyright © James Long | Year Posted 2010

Details | Prose Poetry | |


theses words can't complate
theyer hard to take
why debates
choose one are otherx
for heavensake

Copyright © kurtis scott aka curtis futch jr | Year Posted 2013