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Best Violence Poems

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Details | Violence Poem |

Texian Macabre Arena

The First Texian Macabre Arena Ballad (The extended free-fallen edition)
 
In another life, is where I first saw your face!
Summer, afternoon, lying wounded, next to the dead
Unopened gun powder, mass destruction in a land of disgrace
A blood thirsty battlefield, is where I first saw your face
The sound of war, hidden behind my hands that bled
Crawlers, rendering their lives upon the open space
 
Jaws of steel, broken, embracing the warm feeling 
Summer rain, lungs of blood, their last dying post
Glorious by numbers, every blade was screaming 
Gemstone losing touch, in touch with the Holy Ghost  
Soldiers come in a little closer, as if they were only dreaming
Crawling, missing limbs, twisted nightmare with no ending

Macabre reminder, retracing the aroma of eternal life
Secrets buried like a treasure under the walls of sudden death
Revolutionary tears found on a rusted Bowie knife
Lanterns, crackling against every last dying breath,
Dirty piles of crashing wind pipes, and sudden death
Rummage like garbage, the dead Texian
A Falling Alamo Star, taking one last twinkle and dying breath

The Forgotten Patriots, I can't remember the names
Written on the wall, I can't remember the names
A folktale arena is where I first saw your face
The 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, and 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


Details | Violence Poem |

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 ~









          


Details | Violence Poem |

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.


Details | Violence Poem |

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)


Details | Violence Poem |

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


Details | Violence Poem |

Tough

A vignette of domestic violence and the weird rationale of love amidst such 
circumstances - adapted from how it was depicted to me by a female friend and 
taken from her own personal experience.

I was defined china and porcelain, 
Inlaid glass flowers and gently spoken;
Fragile in doe-eyed delicacy, 
Pleading and begging not to be broken.

I loved him with total forgiveness, 
Did not, could not, would not understand 
The dark chaos mood of lability, 
The spontaneous violence of his hand.

Blue and black bruises indecorously swelled 
Question marks about tear brimmed eyes;
And I wept and despaired in confusion, 
Smashed and grabbed by wherefores and whys.

How could he dream to hurt me so, 
The brutish malediction of his touch?  
How could he stand to hurt me so, 
When he knew I loved him so much?

And now the years have drained away 
Like sweeping veils of rain;
The agony of our breaking apart 
Ever haunts me with anguish and pain.

I still see him some times, 
Rarely, truly out of the blue, 
On the old territory of familiar streets 
When unconsciously passing through.

And always shook by the stalking truth,
A lancing bright-bladed knife,
And with dogmatic aching my heart lets me know
He was always the love of my life.

And I know there's no sense to be had
When I look to the heavens above,
Just the sad and lonely heart of the matter:
You never can choose whom to love.


Details | Violence Poem |

'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


Details | Violence Poem |

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.



Details | Violence Poem |

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 .....................


Details | Violence Poem |

A Soul Cries

A soul cries yet nobody hears him
They say he has neither a head nor limbs
But he has a soul and a spirit
Undesirable is the soul to be taken from the womb

A soul cries yet nobody hears him
His voice is so mild that no one can hear him
He’s damned for a crime he didn’t commit 
No supplication and inspiration to share

A soul still cries yet nobody hears him
He has neither words nor songs to hymn
He’s languishing from a lashing whip 
A victim to hatred, dubiety and immorality 

A soul cries yet nobody seems to care
He pleas for his precious life to be spared
Yet with a mild voice no one will give an ear
 With despair he cries and screams into the night

A soul cries yet this girl has turned a deaf ear
A voice tells her “eliminate him from here” 
But a master fate will sometimes have it to be
The Dame escorted him six feet underground

The Poet Preacher © 2014


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