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Violence Art Poems | Violence Poems About Art

These Violence Art poems are examples of Violence poems about Art. These are the best examples of Violence Art poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Free verse |

Art of Love

This times, you would receive the two things from others.
Violence or grace. 
Jealousy to your success,
And grace to your failure.

So, you should not be sad.

Survival is meaningless with grace. 

Believe me,
You are the king or queen of love.
Try to distribute your love.
Don't want to see yourself as the beggar of love. 

One day, future of mankind will be written with your love.
You will become history.

(The poem is dedicated to my favorite poet Charmaine Chircop.)


Copyright © Sandip Goswami | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

Black Winter

Black Winter

She hid behind veil
The coldness
Her companion
The umbrella her armor

I died
Years before
Her last kiss
In heaven I adore

I shed tears
At my widows pain
In paradise
I go insanely insane

Black widows
Weep in the dark
Dead spies
No one finds, eaten by sharks

Shifting winds
Freezing rains
Snow drops reliving
The survivor’s pain

As she walks down her rue of memories
Umbrella shielding her tormented face
Embracing the coldness, embracing lost fate
Teardrops wipe the history from her case

We never existed us two
When I died under enemy plans
My lover had to flee her fathers land
No one is safe at Palestinian hands

Hatred buried so deep
Hamas bloody knifes never sleep
Child and foe, kill them for the goal
My lover is dead, Arabic beauties lost soul

Israel is the Promised Land

Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme |


Nobody moves...nobody talks,
And who dares...gets sharp folks,
Stuff his mouth...stuff her rear,
Terror reigns and tearing fear,

Disfigured being a pierced face,
To whomsoever present my case?
They are all backing his daily deed,
This new species...inhuman breed,

Countless kids they're all slain
Like Abel by Brother Cain,
Ali does not need his bath,
Because he had it already red,

Nor Omar needs to eat,
He had the entire menu and a treat,
Can't you see his swollen tummy,
Wrapped like an Egyptian mummy?

Torture is still on,
Celebrating one million and a half at down,
With a French bleach,
And an Italian stitch,
With a Spanish applause,
And an Anglo-Saxon pose.

Copyright © Abder Derradji | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rubaiyat |

So Called Dangerous Minds

They gives a us a voice, but don't want us to speak.
The president's black I bet he doesn't write his own speech.
Words that he speaks come the people that keep in unequal,
D.C. is evil the future is bleak.

Unless among us is a Malcolm X 
All for one and together we're stronger than the rest.
My mother strong ,God is our Father 
Jesus Piece lays on my chest.

Moment of truth what's left to be said,
word is bond,nothing is worth more than respect.
Which needs to be earned 
shots fired so I'm hitting the deck.

Deep in the street cracks is where secrets are kept,
Nikes on the feet of the ones who keep running for checks.
Turnt cheek to the causalities take a deep....
Breath after breath, war between us, love lost into between deaths.

Copyright © Gerald Moise | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

Hero of War

With my men holding our flag high,
we storm a school and hold the children
captive, handling them like enemy soldiers
they are not, as they cry and scream, some
probably living with trauma for the rest of their lives

“I am a hero of war!’’ Is that what my countrymen think of me?

As smoke of explosions and burning cities fills the air,
we indiscriminately shoot on whoever is coming close
to us, in the end realizing that we have shot mostly
innocent civilians who have nothing to do with the war,
after the smoke has partially cleared out in the air

As I cautiously walk ahead to ensure that all the enemy soldiers are dead, my boots feel a bump; a hand of a woman holding a white flag for peace, as white as snow, with her clothes drenched in blood

“I am a hero of war!” Is that what my countrymen think of me?

Before the sun sets, my men and I sit around
a bonfire and plan our next move and next
attack on the enemy, without realizing that
the enemy is war, brought about by hatred
by people who we call leaders

“I am a hero of war!” Is that what my countrymen think
of me?

Name: Teddy Kimathi

Contest Name: The Poet III

Copyright © Teddy Kimathi | Year Posted 2014

Details | Lyric |

All Along the Watchtower Re-Visited for 9-11

"There must be some kinda way to find out here"
Said the seeker to the stealer
"There's too much confusion
I'm struggling to be the reveal"

"Conglomerate men, they drink my wine
Politicians dig my earth
None will level on the line
Because none of them are worth it" hey

"There is reason to get excited"
The seeker, he kindly spoke
"There are many here among us
Who feel our governments a joke"

"Now you and I, we've lived through this
And this is not our fate
So let us not talk falsely now
The hour is getting late", hey


All along the watchtower
Liars kept the view
While all the women came and went
Barefoot servants too

Outside in the cold distance
The C.I.A. did growl
Two riders were approaching
And the wind began to howl, hey

All along the watchtower
All along the watchtower

All along the watchtower on that tragic September day
We need some investigation, for someones has to pay
Now you and I, we've lived through this, and this is not our fate
So let us not talk falsely now, before this generations to late

We will always remember, and remember who we lost that day
We need some investigation, for someone has to pay
All along the watchtower, a nation in mournful cries
We are not so blind, it's amazing what you can see when you close your eyes

All along the watchtower
All along the watchtower

James, we lost you in Kensington, England. The Star Spangled Banner will
live long in your past. I can't say the same for some of your American so
called country people. Thank you for allowing me to gracefully use . . . .
'All Along the Watchtower' it's blatantly obvious someone was not.

To all the lost in the 9/11 tragedy, my thoughts will always be with you.

 All Along The Watchtower by Jimi Hendrix, with some lyrics changed 

Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2010

Details | ABC |


The insider, 
of a windowless room 
outreaches a gun.

A signature assault 
nips at your heels 
in revenge.

Mind in a rubber sac, 
in search of- 
a real country.

A balloon thought,
soars high, towards infinity, 
to snoop at the god.

You should have 
myriad tears, for the 
fallen,*Black Beauty from unknown.

Satish Verma

Copyright © Satish Verma | Year Posted 2015

Details | ABC |


Lying and hypocrisy are perhaps the worst form of murder. It is murder of the truth!

Copyright © Daniel Schack | Year Posted 2016

Details | ABC |

Storm in the Lords

For shall the almighty dance with wickedness 

Freasting darkness solidifies clashing swords 

Forsaking us illuminates our lust for fulfillment 

Attributes for grace heightens desolation’s plot 

Fiend mends the holy terror back to life 

Your gracefulness is deafening to us sinners 

Exuberant romance awaken golden hour twilight 

Lightlessness fuel starts to shed our midnight skins, 

Letting us rejoice among the self-righteousness waters 

Perplexing there was no storm in the Lords 

Storms among harts in airlings wings has forsaken ourselves

Copyright © Luke Stashak | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |


In matters of importance & civility,

Guard your hearts out of respect with & humility
There is arise in a delicate strength in numbers & so it may seem
Workplace violence is also determined by levels of deterance;

For the heart is deceitful above all else so who can know it,

One must become attentive toward all forms of posted protocol initiatives
To profile who fits the person in question fits a certain criteria
A brief moment in silence toward any harmless brevity

One must look intently into everyone in our society;
Mark the man who would be willing in which to explore
Justifiaction as an easy ploy?

What would life be like without its protection?

A quest for reason amidst desire;
Let us take a deeper look into this equation
We must strive to learn each day
With matters of detering & detecting our nations borders

In retrospect, with the service that should be implemented;
Each facility must be fully trained in equipping their workers
To become the best one must learn to achieve with quality excellence
In matters of strict enforcement it is of extreme importance

To form an essential delegation & communication

One must never sit still nor lightly negate their responsibility
Those foundational fundamentals that far too 
It is important to remember that plans must be implemented to become effective
Security should move to accomadate all party's that are involved

Never to relent nor give into any false compromise system nor structure of thought
Workplace violence prevention should be resolved with the utmost respect & dignity
Throughout the vast expanse in time,
Commuication has been the essential fore runner toward this success...

One must virtual deter & report matters of security;
Since the days previously to the onset of the tragedy that had occured with the events 
of 911;

Immersion in a culture that promotes constant development should be the chief aim.

Copyright © Mario Vitale | Year Posted 2012

Details | Couplet |

Nima Natima

Nima Natima was born out of rage
You might feign comprehension but it's really quite strange

She is sweet, well drawn, and overall witty
but the previous page says “CALM DOWN. DRAW SOMETHING PRETTY.”

Violent scrawlings occupied the previous page 
Proving Nima Natima was born out of rage

Copyright © An Anomaly | Year Posted 2016

Details | Blank verse |

Unpolished art in the middle of the night

She runs with her sorrows and cools her forehead against a love that wont ever last.  Her high-chilled windows are stained with lies she'll tell just to have her way.  She pretends the hum of her engine is what makes her shake.   The people in her life keep moving and she's left wonderin' how people manage to keep existing when she herself is so still. 

There's no self preservation with her, it's cowardice and she'll convince herself it's not, but it's cowardice.   She'll never ignore those sexual advances towards her from men who sit beside her. 

Biting her nails with quickness, counting her dignity that she loss in her reflection, looking for herself in a face she doesn't recognize, and the men who sit across from her, she'll worry he'll hear her thoughts. 

Tells herself, I'm waiting, but she isn't good with promises she's made and whispered words are just pressed into her palms that are open.  I don't think she'll listen for me.  She forgot, I'm the clanging sound of the wheels on the track, the screech of the breaks as she pulls into another man's station.   She'll never listen for me because, well, I'm the hurricane that's bout to destroy her world.   I'm the voices that fill her car with those vanilla noises with a missing filling. 

She'll never listen for me.   Tells herself constantly, I'm waiting, but does she know I've stopped waiting for her at the end of the line?   I've stopped waiting for her train to pull into my station because when she's known in the dark, why wait for a train that never comes an wont ever stop when I'm not man?

Copyright © Stevie Yost | Year Posted 2015

Details | Ekphrasis |

Stag at Sharkey's

Paint smell,
paint the vulgarity of action,
of unheard words,
of the hole in your shoe,
a hole that has never been repaired,
remind you of the years,
years of hands kept in pockets,
times never acted on,
cheeks red from being turned.

Filled room,
illegal booze,
smoke drawn
through wrapped tobacco leaves,
moistened by slobbery
drunken lips who belch
“hit him, hit him” 
shoved out of the 
corner of their mouths.
Two rutting men,
beasts beating, 
canvas flexing under each 
one-two punch,
upper cut, 
step and bob.

Paint bellows forth,
catching that wind from the gut
moving from that georgic state 
to the animals that we are.

Busted brows, split lips,
a broken nose,
distorted by sweet sweat.
Center of vaporous
licentious clouds of
spectator unfettered fury.
Ropes hum from fervor
keeping the bettor from the betted
as Tom “Sailor” Sharkey
pockets the Manhattan dough.

Copyright © JP Armstrong | Year Posted 2017

Details | ABC |


When besieged by
shooting, the word kills word.
Meaningless show.

The day will unfold 
bringing blood on street.
I will pray for night.

Sectarian push 
decimates the forest
of daisies.

Satish Verma

Copyright © Satish Verma | Year Posted 2013