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Best Violence Poems

Below are the all-time best Violence poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of violence poems written by PoetrySoup members

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New Violence Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Violence poems are below this new poems list.

Quiet Violence by Dee, Laura
Domestic Violence, pure and simple by Raynes, Lewis
Why I loved domestic violence by Raynes, Lewis
Terror, Violence, and The Truth by Buhain-Baello, Cynthia
Of Storms and Domestic Violence by Tuason, Thayne
INTRODUCING VIOLENCE by Baniti, Nailah
Violence Ends by Henderson, Steven
To the Male: Domestic Violence is Wrong by Frank, Mark
To the Victims of Violence by Campbell, Michael
Violence as an instrument by Tesfaye, Haile

View all new Violence Poems

The Best Violence Poems

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Texian Macabre Arena

The First Texian Macabre Arena Ballad (The extended free-fallen edition)
 
In another life, is where I first saw your face!
One summer afternoon, lying wounded next to the dead
Unopened gun powder, mass destruction, a land of disgrace
A blood thirst battlefield is where I first saw your face
The sound of war, hidden behind bleeding hands
Crawlers, render their lives giving grace
 
Jaws of steel, broken, embracing, warm feelings
Summer rain, lungs filled with blood, one last post
Glorious by numbers, screaming blades
Gemstone in touch with the Holy Ghost  
Soldiers come in a little close 
Crawling, missing limbs, 
Twisted nightmare with no ending

Macabre reminder, retracing the aroma of eternal life
Secrets buried like a treasure under walls of sudden death
Revolutionary tears found on a rusted Bowie knife
Lanterns, crackling against the dying wind
Dirt piles of crushed windpipes -- sudden death
Rummage like garbage, the dead Texian
A Falling Alamo Star, taking one last twinkle upon the sky

Forgotten Patriots, I can't remember the names
Written on walls, I can't remember the names
A folktale arena is where I first saw your face
Fairness of stuttered surrender slicing through iron brace
Crawling, with the hunger to live, a clean finish with grace
Exposing, scars needing mother's hands, mothers face

Across infested meadows, the aroma of burning skin
Distant, before Texas and her annexation, 
Gruesome, before I lived, Texas and her mortal sin
I pledge, my love, the honor, a legion, I'm a full blown Texian
To Every Forgotten Texian Patriot----- We Win!

By: PD


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2014

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Pirate Bay

```Pirate Bay the Haiku``` 

pirates fierce and mean 
drowning fish, sea to sea 
parrots on their butt 


```Polly Wants A Cracker``` 

bloodthirst & brutal 
Quartermaster Gone Wild 
dirty wings on deck 


```Sea World Adventure``` 
ship crew goes on strike 
sailing the Caribbean 
wooden leg splashing 


~*~


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2015

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Screaming at the Sky


Screaming at the Sky
Mothers screaming mournfully at a deaf sky holding their heads helplessly as they cry pitiful tears for innocent, defenseless children slaughtered in fatal cross fires, deadly drug wars drive-by shootings, and cases of mistaken identity on blood-splattered streets, senseless endless violence; but who really gives a damn, only grief-stricken mothers screaming mournfully at a deaf sky.
(Form – Enjambment posted as Verse – 8 lines with 7 words in each line. The 1st line and the 8th line are the same) 10-21-2014


Copyright © Pandita Sanchez | Year Posted 2014

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9 11

                                    
                                                               
                             America the Free  ~             America the Brave ~
                           Freedom with price              Capitalism attacked
                            the many taken                   hearts broken still
                              one World                           try to rebuild
                            sadness and tears               fall hard with fears  
                            guilt by association             many accused still
                             souls evaporated                shattered dreams 
                            tears fall on innocence          left with anger 
                             The proud fearless             knew the inevitable
                              policeman fireman             many lives lost
                            grieving does not stop           12 years later    
                               New York city once          proud  & shameless 
                             refusing to let fears in          protecting ours 
                                left in shock still              question's unanswered                    
                               nothing learned                     nothing gained  
                                ready to attack                   many left behind
                              anger greets denial              anger meets rage 
                               unacceptable still                 refusing new love 
                            wanting days to rewind           let us go back in time 
                              acceptance  allowing           the victims leave in peace
                              the brave taken young           leaving us sadly old
                               haunting dreams                     lost spirits dwell
                               no answers to hate            never forgetting that day
                               Evil entered suddenly              unforgiving fate
                                entering our City                we stand with the fallen
                                 How to fix                            how do we Change 




           
            This can be read many different ways ~ This is a poem I am so proud to write ~









          



Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013

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Reflecting on Police Brutality

It was the spring of ‘74 when my student peers and I
were on the tail end of a group excursion  
through southern Spain, across Gibraltar’s Strait
and into the exotic northern tip of Africa.
I remember lots of greenery and mountains
and the fascinating sights and sounds inside Tangier,
but one small thing that happened somewhere between
the time we viewed the landscape we traversed 
and our time inside our destination city
stands out in my mind forevermore.

Our bus had briefly stopped on the street of a town.
I was looking out the window when I glimpsed a child,
looking poor and ragged, not so old.
He ran down the block with an orange in his hand,
an older man behind him in pursuit.
Quickly I observed that the man 
was a type of law enforcement officer,
 for he wielded a long strong stick
which he proceeded to use on the unfortunate lad
once he had caught up to him.

The event was very near our bus, 
so I could watch with growing horror
as this country’s version of a cop
unleashed brutality on a fellow human being,
a boy who was no doubt simply starved for food.
I saw the heavy stick fall repeatedly
till it struck the boy’s ear and blood gushed out. . . 

I would later view ornate gold buildings in Tangier,
 see colorful hand-crafted clothes and rugs, and smell
the aromas of strange delightful foods,
but beneath all that wonder was the singular event
that stayed inside my brain.

I think of my own country - free, so very free,
with laws against “this kind of thing” that had appalled me;
a land so free that gangs of filthy evil men, 
even sometimes with the help of the police,
had in days of yore lynched the black man
for crimes as meager as the taking of that orange,
or worse, for no crime at all!
Hateful mobs had beat and hanged
men and women, even children,
In the midst of the beauty of 
fragrant magnolia trees . . .

Civil Rights has done a lot 
to eradicate these horrors, yet even now,
a remnant of the Ku Klux Klan mentality
exists inside the minds of some, and even in
 the minds of some we trust to uphold the law.
I cannot know the thoughts that enter
the minds of law enforcers who think they are confronting
a person who they’ve deemed a criminal. 
I cannot know their fear when they see, perhaps,
what they suppose to be a weapon.
We cannot know their backgrounds 
or if they harbor prejudice against another color
or against the lower class.
The court and the jury decide the fate of those
who have used what our society may see as undue force.
God alone will judge them in the end.

We, as citizens of all the world, must be aware
that violence can be used
when the threat of it against themselves
is perceived by our police.
How sad to think that some of those 
who serve to offer us protection ,
whether out of ignorance, fear, or prejudice,
are using brutality so haphazardly. 

Those in my own country who have seen 
or even experienced police brutality
must have felt the same horror I felt the day I saw
a child beaten in a foreign land.
Who am I to judge another country
when mine is also mired still in sin?
God help us all to fight against 
the inane and unjust cruelty of those
who practice police brutality.


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2014

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Death Muses of ISIS

face down
shot dead- see fear
all round

speak- tell
they'll hear-hush now
death knell 

breathe light
killers are near
tonight


Poet: Debbie Guzzi
Date: 11/26/14
Contest: Whispers of a Muse


Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2014

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Remembering When

I remember when . . . 
kids fought at school.
At worst, they’d end up with a bloody nose.
But kids today get bullied publicly
and ridiculed on You Tube videos.

I remember when . . .
folks’ arguments
took place and few of us were “in the know.”
Today, though, we see idiots galore
that cuss and brawl on Jerry Springer's show.

I remember when. . .  
brutality  
was televised when kids were tucked in bed.
Now your child need only type the word
and see a victim get shot in the head.

I remember when. . . 
 we had a war,
but it was “cold” and seemed to be maintained.
Today the terror is at your own mall.
We’ve lost  -  in spite of all that we have gained.


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2013

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IN SEARCH OF WISDOM'S TRAIL



Among,
The towering mountains of menacing fanaticism and
in the midst of the shadows of constant fear,
Agonizing humanity,               
Desperately, is crawling in search of  
The trail of understanding,

Praying

That it would lead her onto the valley of God-loving
Peace
Where the peoples of the world, respecting the beliefs of
Others, in harmony would live,
Glorifying God’s wisdom which saved them, from falling
Into the ravines of voracious hate where Man's 
Annihilation awaits!



© Demetrios Trifiatis
  10 JANUARY 2015




Copyright © Demetrios Trifiatis | Year Posted 2015

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The Undyings' Curse

Deep in the earth, a crypt of rock
slumber guarded by casket locked
Lips grope silence ‘ever more
 rasping thought, remembers whispered lore
Outstretched palms the roots do clench
tranquility stilled by festered stench
And eyes, sleep caked, are propped ajar
ignites no life, but collapsed star

Burned blades sigh, Winds’ dying gasp
bones brittle snap within her clasp
A lonesome howl the moon does draw
vigil broken, it twists its maw 
Upon an arena of endless stone
the granite gates they’ve passed alone
And entered a world of burning eyes
eluded the judge of smoldering cries

A faultless gait, no stumbled draw
a reaping brought  by scythe and claw
Opal edge which shrouds a cause
aberrant blade shapes nature’s laws
Dictate a script, the stars can share
an open secret, a language bare
Steps continue, feet are drawn
across gray grass, undying pawn


Copyright © Avery Swarthout | Year Posted 2015

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FGM

*
Female sexuality
Fanatically robbed
Fraught with violation
Forever left in shame.
Folds of indignity
Forceful invasiveness 
Fulfilling love denied.


-------------------------------------------
*I feel very strongly about this topic.
  Have been meaning to bring it up.
  This Pleiades is short but meaningful.
--------------------------------------------

Contest: Any Poem#29
Sponsor: Poet Destroyer A.
Placing: 2nd


Copyright © Paul Callus | Year Posted 2014

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KISS MY CLOUD

So you say you want to sit on MY cloud.
The view, you say, is rainbows and bluebirds.
I understand you hate your polyester,
Dishwasher safe, blue light special cloud.
It is weak, sagging under the weight of your expectations.
It is no longer fluffy, no longer billowy, no longer white.
It is empty and dingy and flat. Like your soul.

You can't see the best part of my cloud because it is on the inside,
Where it is built from the sweat of a hundred strong women like me.
Where the walls glisten from the tears shed as others like yourself tried to steal our cloud's glory.
But like this cloud, though we look soft and billowy, we are steel, cursing forth our thunder and glaring bolts of lightning to protect ourselves and our own.

My cloud is high now, but it has had its lows.
Where were you when others avoided and mocked us as nothing more than valley fog?
When the view consisted of puddles of want and winds of despair?
Did you once offer me a seat on your cloud?
Did you give me a hand up? Or were you too busy looking down on me?

So excuse me if I block your sun, ruin your picnic, cancel your flight.
But I will never ignore you.
Come closer and I will whisper a message in your ear:
HEY, YOU, GET OFF OF MY CLOUD!!!!


Copyright © Cindi Rockwell | Year Posted 2015

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Twixt Blaze and Claw

Abuses hurled and Alcohol gurgled,
In the vortex of confusion
And blurred vision.
Intoxicated pleasure from surreal leisure.
Fooled senses and numbed conscience.
Wiped existence of love and kindness cuffed.

Lashed at the one he once loved.
Cringed and clung to her faint faith.
She and her cursed fate.
Exploding paroxysm of hate.

Her whipped ivory skin and bleeding lips,
Eyes with teary tinge,
Has the harvest moon singed.
Stillness of the night, pierced
By memories of bitterness-sodden years.

"Hurt me not", she trembled with fear,
"let me live for my girl, dear".

The cries colored skies crimson.
Just one reason--Her little girl.
 
As her daughter stared
With flaming locks and eyes that flared.

By Angom Amy (15)


Copyright © Amy Angom | Year Posted 2014

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Moonless Nights over South Sudan

Moonless Nights over South Sudan
heartless Moon, don’t tell me that you weren’t looking when soulless soldiers dragged me from my mama’s terrified arms in our village in Rubkona County
I know you covered your ears so you wouldn’t hear my screams piercing the fetid air as those butchers dropped their pants repeatedly ripping my body and soul apart
and I saw you cover your eyes so blinded that you wouldn’t see the stark horror reflected in my own eyes the hot tears scorching my cheeks sobbing for childhood forever lost
oh Mother Moon, Mother Moon please cover your face behind billowy black clouds so that you can’t see your daughter’s dejected, dead eyes
cowardly Moon, I forgive you even after you turned your back on me filling my days only with your dark side as I sink deeper into a black hole with no hope to guide me safely home
but helpless Moon, how can I blame you? for you’re only a mere observer powerless to defend me feeling guilty for abandoning your innocent children
Moon, you’ve witnessed it all before the torn and bleeding the tortured and maimed all tied tightly to weeping trees reeking of despair and pain
Moon, will you soon forget my body dripping with bloody shame? will anyone even remember me? am I no one…with no name? will you, Moon, mourn for me?
like you Moon, I am already ancient over a hundred years it seems yearning for freedom… waiting for death… and I’m only twelve years old
Note: This piece is dedicated to all the women and young girls who have been abducted, raped, and/or killed in the secret rape camps in South Sudan over the past two years. According to a human rights investigator, many of them are held indefinitely, tied up with hundreds of other women in these camps and used as sex slaves. Those women who escape from the sex camps are the lucky ones.


Copyright © Pandita Sanchez | Year Posted 2015

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Slouching Toward Ferguson

His life was gentle, and the elements
so mixed in him that Nature might stand up and
smolder

bodies in unregistered cars idling softly toward oblivion

some quick to anger
some quick to profit
some quick for justice
some tigers lapping blood
some mothers still at 3AM

hands on shoulders with coos commanding
that in a tear and turned cheek there be 'integration'

parody: an orphan annie reboot
parody: 'little black sambo 'round the tiger pit he go!'

we have rioted the last of our colors
bleated them with flexed toes to the wall at the edge of the universe to reverberate starless between
eternity
nothing
and madness

we have bleated the last of our colors
with centuries gone by without tongue, sockets or lobes

we will bleed the last of our colors
some quick to die
some quick to steal
some quick to burn
some quick to 

lend me your car keys

in a night of full of Alarics
I will bury you

in a night full of piccaninnies
I will melt you to butter

in a night where flames are fishhooks
Sir I need you to step back please

O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth,
that
we have cried Havoc
let slip
and with purple'd prose stamped this hollowed earth

We who have lived so long
Sir?
shall with our breath turned mist
I need you to
stain only under stones
step
that pave with slippery breath
back
a headline for last weeks massacre
step
and tomorrow's graves
I need you to
I drew a line in the sand and you crossed it They are not breathing
Look! Look there!
No. I will not.
He dies


Copyright © Brooks Lindberg | Year Posted 2014

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A Different Kind

*Written based upon an incident in January that came back to mind,
and would not leave!*


        "A Different Kind"


"It".....reared it's head again today,
I thought I had "it" under control,
but when I saw that man strike that Woman,
I lost "it" all the way to my soul!

Why couldn't I have been like the others
who chose to be deaf and blind?
I know I can't really be like that,
I choose to be of a different kind!

"Hey you, leave that Woman alone!"
I heard the words out of my mouth race!
When he turned his head and our eyes met,
for trouble I was already braced!

"Mind your "f-en" business" I was told,
"this doesn't concern you at all!"
But if he did again what I just saw him do,
one of us was going to fall!

Out of nowhere up pulled a police car!
They took over and took him away.
What could have been worse didn't happen.
A witness for her I was that day!

After her interview with the police,
she walked to me and said "Thank You!"
I said "You're welcome!" and I knew inside,
I would do it again if I had to!

To be or not to be involved it seems,
is definitely a matter of choice!
But if nothing else, rather than go blind,
speak up, shout out and give voice!

Life has certain moments 
where the choice is to see or be blind,
and I know I must exercise caution,
if I choose to be of a different kind!


WTA-IV 4/20/2016


Copyright © Walter T. Ashe | Year Posted 2016

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The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier

The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier - Canada

We all know you now
You have fallen at our feet
You have guarded them all with life and limb
Noble and brave
Only to fall at a cowards last call
You have stirred the souls of the unknown heroes
Their appall shall seek the just dues of our defamers and saboteurs
Young lads who now welcome you in the hereafter
Shall haunt our enemies from near or afar
The drum rolls sound, as the rifles salute
The Unknown Soldier
You are unknown no more


Notes: In memory of Nathan Cirillo and Patrice Vincent both killed in cold blood on the week of Oct 26, 2014 by cowards in the name of Islam. Nathin Cirillo was standing guard at the tomb of the Unknown Soldier.

Also in memory to the 1000’s of unknown soldiers, young men, who fought so that we may be free.


Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2014

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Before and After

Bust to the extreme 
And collide with your foes 
Be ruthless and heartless
When smash on them hoes 
Leave no stone unturned 
When your searching for a "snatch"
Always be ready 
To smash that ass 
Cause they sneaky as **** 
Waiting patiently for you to slip 
Or get down on your luck 
Then you looked surprised 
When your ass gets stuck
Like how could this happen 
How could this be 
They said they would have my back
Always 
Always and tomorrow
Are two in the same 
Cause when you wake up tomorrow 
Its today 
And always is cool 
Till it comes time for change 
And that's all I'm gonna say 
You seek fortune 
And you seek fame 
Then your a prime target
For them bogus lames 
And trifling dames 
That try to get at you in the beginning
So they can snatch your change 
When you do make a name 
Its all the same 
Every mother****ing day 
But u *****es ain't slick 
Cause you all look fake 
Like a ***** with teary eyes 
You know she got raped 
And took against her will 
Just cause some ***** ass punk 
Needed a thrill 
Well meet your maker 
I got a deal 
Cause sent down in my presence 
And your soul will get drilled 
Chilled and chopped up 
And diced up into a meal 
For the dogs to eat
Now am I keeping it real 
Or just real ill 
My fates already been sealed 
You silly bastard 
I'm on the chopping block 
And all you hear is my laughter 
Before and after 
The rapture
*****!


Copyright © Justin Waddle | Year Posted 2013

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Water Wall


As he slept in tranquil dream, 
Suddenly he flew, it seemed. 
Thrown and landing on the floor, 
Shaking walls and splintered doors. 

Just as quick, the room grew still. 
Distant tremors he could feel. 
Out the door, and up the rock, 
There he stood in sleepy shock. 

How could oceans disappear. 
Then a hissing he could hear 
And a trembling, heavy roar 
Headed for an empty shore. 

Sunrise turned a greenish hue, 
As he climbed, a better view. 
Seeming far too large, he saw 
What must be a water wall. 

Thought of ancient stories told 
Of a wrath that could unfold; 
Sucking oceans with a breath, 
Spewing endless waves of death. 

Instinct quickly cleared his mind. 
Panic now, he clawed and climbed. 
Up, despite the screams he hears, 
As a village disappears. 

Once an evil came to call, 
Scooped them up and took them all. 
Now he's old, his stories wane, 
Of the morning Satan came.


Gene Bourne 
08-18-14


.

.

 


Copyright © Gene Bourne | Year Posted 2014

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The Malkavian part 1 perfect version

His mind has all the meaning of a madman that is screaming
Tortured and tormented, a life lived to be lamented
Drained and defeated, his family finally retreated 
Leaving him believing that he was beyond redeeming 
The doctors sent in spoke of hope and healing 
The drugs they administered only made him more demented 
Cemented is the feeling that his life is just an echo 
Of an endless, timeless, all-consuming screaming 

His best friend is a disproportioned bird, appropriately named buddy 
Whose monotonous motion in drinking is somewhat soothing to his being 
Though not potent enough to stop, the persistent pounding of the screaming
Often he stares into the emptiness of nothingness, contemplating the beauty 
of its existence 
Only to find his mind is drowning in a confounding conundrum he can’t quite 
define
It’s hard to be philosophical when your mental testicles have fallen to the proper 
level
So sometimes he whispers tongue twisters until his brain blisters
Madmen mask madness in the meticulous mastery of mindless tasks

Buddy was telling a troubling tale, of a dragon drunk off of some dwarven ale 
Who through two days, threw up flames and burnt down the tavern and town 
When the door to his room opened with a plume of plum perfume 
In stepped an inept and unkempt nurse named Nancy
Her green eyes and fiery red hair caused his heart to flutter and flair with fancy
She had quite the quiet voice and was quick to trip over her own two feet 
A bit naïve, she would easily believe anything she had heard or seen
He knew he would make her his, no matter the time nor energy 

It was easy for him to pretend to be prim and proper 
Just a mask to don in order to dupe his doctor
Circumventing the system that couldn’t save him 
He was as he always had been and would be
In constant pain and agony with no desire for sympathy
Just in need of some freedom from his prison and medication
Meditation and mantras had given him the sentiment of a design
On how to inhibit the screaming, and maybe even end it

Four years plotting and planning the perfect moment of promise
A fire formed from a single flamed fueled from an accelerant 
It raced through the halls, up the walls, over the ceiling, killing all the residents
Eighty-eight inmates and staff burned alive in what felt like an instant 
Such little time to search through the bodies, looking for a single person
He found her on the fourth clinging to the bathroom faucet 
He lost his virginity to the burnt corpse of Nurse Nancy 
To his amazed mind, he was astonished to find, the screaming was silenced



just a note I cannot reduce the font so the lines fit without overlapping as they 
do in stanza two


Copyright © Nathan D. | Year Posted 2014

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I HAVE DIED SO LONG AGO

I have died so long ago.
The pieces of my bones were buried in Sheol.
It was so dark where I lay now.
My flesh is rotten and almost gone.
I have lived once in this world,
Where a loving family I was involved.
A dearest mom who loved me so,
Loving siblings I treasured most!
I'm a free-spirited young lady.
I love to entertain the world,
Wind hums as I hit the notes.
The nature  became my hidden world.
I was once  a fruit in a tree.
Until one day, a harvester picked me.
Still unripe, too young and fresh.
He stole my innocence.
Too many years past and my seed grew.
I have started bearring fruits.
But the harvester did not content, 
He pulled me out from where I'd been.
He murdered me on one darkest night.
Then buried me beneath the ground.
I'm so helpless, no voice to shout!
My breath is counting one by one.
Until I surrendered the last air in my lungs.
I have died so long ago.
This girl that you used to know,
Isn't the one who writes a poem.
She had died so long ago.
She walks every night to find her home.




Copyright © Aiyah de Torres | Year Posted 2014

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'and another stiff one for my drunken pen'

mulberry moonshine




the world can be a rabid dog, a goD frothing backwards while Mr. Clean reads 
a sermon from the pulpit as a false prophet causing me to yell, "Shim-shum 
shimmeny-shum, up from the shadows of the Shoalin slum! Fee-fi-foe-fum, 
eye smell the blood of a fallen one!" My pen was a sword, 'twas inevitable eye 
would end up skewered upon its venomous tip as violence begets violence yet 
silence is just a distorted sort of violent indifference. Live by the s.word, die by 
the s.word, so eye buried ghosts in the sands of Kyushu, revamped my stylo 
into a drunken vomit spewing masochist churning blood and piss into another 
batch of sum county mulberry moonshine. Instead of a wu-tang sword, eye have 
me a la la la la la la la la la lush of a drunken quill spilling forth the woo to the foo 
times twenty-two thousand and dirty-three. Blame it on the pen, but wot came first,
the chicken or the egg? Who is the bad influence on whom, weaving excuses on a 
loom propped up by yet another empty bottle of the wicked county prune. Eye want 
to write lines of eloquence filled with bullfrogs and butterflies, rainbows and baby's 
breath, but this drunken pen has a mind of its own, slithering in-between the scene 
of salesmen saying it from rusted metallic mountaintops, "I have found the way, 'tis 
not YOUR way, so cut your hair son ok!" Hey hey hey! wot are you referring to? 
Elohim, miholah, bespolah, holapsfofahcahmall? ?Fofahcahmall? Theysbe suddenly 
sounding very small while this pen of mine is drinking itself into a stupour, brewing 
up another stew of vomiticus grammaticus long.windy.gusts - eye didn't intend on 
rhyming these lines, my drunken pen has once again taken over, pushing me to 
letgoletgo and pray in hopes that it drinks itself straight in order for bullfrogs,
butterflies and everything nice like sugar, lollipops and rainbows to finally begin to 
show from out of the freaky flow of this ultra triple-distilled drunken ink - slow right 
down into something quaint and normal, wash this drunken mess down the sink 
without having to fink with my dirty think, my dirty think - the first sign of the crime 
is denial - drunken pen, drunken hand? Drunken hand, drunken pen? Oh good Lord, 
here come the bends once again, yeah, here come the bends again, there's only one 
thing left to do and it's to fold this paper into a neat package eye can mail off to the 
People-In-The-Sky so they can offer me some insight into all of the reasons why


Copyright © Chris D. Aechtner | Year Posted 2012

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Enemies of the Peace

Enemies of the peace
Are not consecrating the life
Tampering with the nature
Crucifying the childhood
On the sidewalks
Burying the chastity
In the brothels
Killing the light
Before coming the dark

Enemies of the peace
Adoring the wars
Kissing the poverty
Dreaming with the famines
Clapping for catastrophes
Destroying everything
Schools
Hospitals
Synagogues
Churches
Mosques
Temples

Enemies of the peace
They want to uproot feelings
To extinguish the flaming longing
In the hearts
And burn the growing yearning
In depths of humans

Enemies of the peace
Robbing the dreams
Jailing the tears
Deforming the colors
Crushing the flowers
Turning off the hope

Enemies of the peace
Not knowing the love
Not appreciating the values
Not believing in the peace .....................


Copyright © Naji Almurisi | Year Posted 2013

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The Bullet From My Gun

The Bullet from My Gun



I am propelled like a bullet from a gun barreling through space, 
Through your flesh, 
Through the time you have misspent on this Earth now ending,
Too late to regret the bending trigger of my gun.



I penetrate your vagina, 
Your mind, 
Your sense of inner self,
Tearing through your false resistance like a runaway train.



I cannot stop, I am momentum now.
Ripping through your many lives, 
Decimating your hopes for the peace tomorrow that now will never come.
Because my trajectory is certain and yours is a wet pipe dream.



You are obliterated into fragments by the curling of my finger.
Now Isis will never find you.
Fear is still a man’s best friend:
And a little pressure goes a long ways.   
 


Copyright © Igor Goldkind | Year Posted 2014

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I Laugh AV

I want to laugh
Laughter brings sunshine
Alas I only cry
The court jester does his best
To be a fool
Dancing and twirling his illusions
The children do laugh
As children will
At the circus clown on his unicycle of idiocy
Me, I can only cry
I feel pity and sorrow
For the old fool
Beating who the hell knows who


Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015

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I Am One Of Them

Life's Hard
It's filled with pain
And misery
My mind is stained
Stained with every memory

Sometimes I think today will be my last day
This place causes me so much pain
I wish I didn't have to stay

Some days are worse than others
I'm starving
Dying for food
I'd do anything

To many things go through my head
Will I be able to keep down my next meal?
Will I live for tomorrow?
Is this terrifying place even real?

I feel so alone
Yet I'm surrounded by people
But this place could not be called a home
There's no life in these places
Or in these faces

Everyone looks dead
As so do I
Most of us haven't been fed

My eyes have been marked
With these dead bodies that lay upon the ground
Without a soul I still look at them
Soon I may be found
As one of them


Copyright © jack Taylor | Year Posted 2014