When I was called little brother,
It meant I have an elder sibling.
One from whom I could learn,
Between Light and Dark.
What about the Grey?
Only a few would about the grey;
Would even begin to aspire,
Is grey the divider?
What is a divider?
In essence a carrier,
Of both dark and Light;
Having both thane sight!
The grey is never contrite,
It does and will do on sight!!!
Come with your purported might!
Unseen seen chaos,
These are my instruments,
Will be eaten as sacrements.
For continual human growth within,
Mistakes rectified by the elder or role model;
Taught the current crop must be,
Lessons are as seeds;;;
Planted into our mother,
Blending with Earth, Water and Sun,
The seed transmutes and soon the seed has had its fun,
A plant is now the end product.
We humans are also ever transforming,
Perhaps not as apparent as natural beauty forming,
But what is natural beauty?
What is beauty?
Random randominity is beauty natural,
Random beauty is natural randominity,
Natural randominity is random beauty,
Beautiful randominity randoms naturally,
Not an over-spill,
Understanding and comprehension,
The trick however is to pass on that understanding and comprehension.
But how do you do that?
When most of the generation is tuned to the Playstation!
Violent games evocating the continuation
Of our disgusting violent nation.
Perhaps attempt to not scold or tell;
Allow thane actions to speak wonders,
As an undiscovered well.
Keep the resonance of thane bell,
Perhaps another revolutionary,
Your prodige has to be selectant,
Of his student, his confectionary.
Without this passing down of knowledge,
We all might as well eat the most poisonous berry.
Copyright © Chad Greef | Year Posted 2013
Father, oh, father can't you see what you've done.
Your hate has destroyed the lives of everyone.
You treated us bad and cheated on our mom.
Your temper was like trying to disarm a bomb.
Everyone said what they thought you wanted to hear.
Why you were always so angry was never very clear.
When I was four I saw you throw an ashtray at mom's head.
That was the day I new you didn't care if we were all dead.
I had to live with that knowledge my entire life.
It was clear you never should have had kids and a wife.
Once I was surrounded by a gang of street thugs.
Terrified, I talked my way out without throwing a slug.
You were watching in disgust from across the street.
You couldn't wait to get me home to begin your browbeat.
Instead of being happy that I didn't have to fight,
You made me feel worthless, chicken, and anything but alright.
As strange as it sounds I'd like to say thank you.
You were my anti role model as I got older and grew.
You showed me in many ways what not to be or do.
I knew I had to become just the opposite of you.
Here I am many years later, proud of what I've become.
Your lessons of anger and hate I was able to overcome.
Copyright © Scott Williams | Year Posted 2016
Tried to trace this man,
studied the case and had my plan,
a soul is whispering from somewhere
asking for help, I said, back off !!!
But a call is a call
it searches my soul and being,
then found myself doing it
i must say, back off to this man!
Met him and succeeded
invited me to his place, we proceeded,
as I enter his great place
full of goons, must I back off from it?
He offered a drink as he mixed,
he went for a while to change his shirt,
so when he came back and drink his piece,
Alas! 10minutes, he went off asleep!
Traced the walls for possible passage,
and I have found where she was a savage
I hurriedly searched for the lock and there I found
hanging at the back of her life size portrait in grief profound!
I ease to unlock by the key I got
and quickly lift her up, help her to get up
we walked pass by the sleeping monster
tried cautiously to escape away from there.
Damn, he is awake!
He advanced to kick
threw it hard so quick
too glad I managed
to kick back in a glimpse!
I reached my gun, hidden on my waistline,
Aimened vigorously, with authority
Stay where you are!
Back off !!!
He tied her up,
used her for his cover-up,
urging needs of flesh he had...
Damn man, back off !!!
Two years she wept for pain
asked mercy from this man but in vain,
she almost lost her mind and gave up her soul...
Spare her, back off !!!
Caught between the crossfire
of ravaging flame of bonfire heat,
Burnt her skin like hell...
Back off !!!
He tried to get up, moved forward,
I have to trigger the gun,
I said, "Come on, and you'll be gone!"
Back off !!!
And bullet is heard, ripping his left leg,
fell down to the floor, he cried and beg
"Daughter, I love you so much, don't let her do this!
help me, tell her back off please!"
I almost killed the man!
Yes, why not? I can do it!
But I controlled, called backups
I will never back off to this fight!
I saw her weep loudly, her life was a mess
Damn to this vulture who eats his own flesh!
He deserve a bullet on his head, don't you think?
Ruining his daughter's life, he must be thrown in hell!
Flesh to flesh, blood to blood
Is it easy to back off and just let this pass?
No way! How dare anyone would say:
Back off, Carole, stop and never look back!
No, no, no, no, no!
He must pay his crime, I swear he must die!
But I am not a killer,
nor a hunter but I would lie,
If I don't admit I wanted him to burn in hell and die!
Then I turned my back, let them get him
Turned him over, trembling with anger
He must be thrown into steel bars
let him pay what he has done, for years...
Steel bars, keep this man!
(dedicated to the victims of sex slavery and incest)
Copyright © Inner Whispers | Year Posted 2014
I'm begging you, please don't hit me again.
I'm not able to defend myself, I'm only ten.
Please don't hit me again, it hurts both physically and emotionally.
I don't deserve to be hit and if you were in my shoes, you'd agree.
My emotional scars can never be removed because of what you've done.
You've been a terrible father but I haven't been a terrible son.
Please don't hit me again, your blows bruise my body and make me bleed.
Being taken out of this house and put in a foster home is exactly what I need.
(Even though this is a fictional poem, many children are victims of child abuse. If you see a child being abused, please do what you can to stop it.)
Copyright © randy johnson | Year Posted 2014
She's a seductive Merlot,
wears pearls like a lady
slurps oysters like a sailor
swears like a banshee when
she can't have her own say,
tiny bit of sugar, lot of spice
not the type of girl you
bring home to mother,
doesn't give a bird flip,
she's tangoed with lions
won't ever be possessed,
she can outrun you
hit a grand slam right
between your eyes,
a fiery dragon and
kitten all in one,
her daddy used to have
his way with her,
can never win her heart
it was tarnished
many moons ago,
crawled into her bed
Copyright © Paloma P | Year Posted 2016
Yes I am white, and yes I can write
From the DM and V so you think
I can not spill my guts or MC
I am dumb if I choose to believe
That I got any skill to convey
So much pain I have felt in my chest
From my dad smacking me in the head
Cause an F on a test and I guess
That's enough to put hands in the cuffs
And arrest the big pest that's oppressed
And has left me a mess and completely distressed!
I will no longer be so depressed
Or this pressed to suppress all this hate I possess
So no rest till I break these two chains
That have plagued all my veins, its insane,
When we don't have an answer!
Bruce Banners, the standard,
We lose all our manners
And start with the slander
Then harp on the "pampered"
With heart crushing banter
So dark is my candor
Were used to being used
and tossed in the hamper
I'll wash my lacoste but it only gets damper
And that's when I got get up, its enough
Cant let Russ, just adjust, my outcome
Or who I become!
Copyright © Mike Conway | Year Posted 2013
My heart still holds the unused beats,
My shallow lungs long the stolen breaths,
And the bones, cloaked and masked, run empty of flesh.
The eyes that dreamt the dreams,
Are now separated from the sockets,
Like sharply detached staccato tones,
Sinking into lonely depths,
Weaving evaporated future and moments with vacant gaze.
I still stand still like the way they had hung me,
Wearing the same wreath of barbed thorns,
The skull and skeleton fastened in the trellis,
And buried in the sod that holds the blood
The blood of my chest,
That somewhere still runs raw in rivulets.
"Come lay your head on my stretched shoulders.
Listen to my melancholic memories"
I am calling to you, can you perceive?
I'm not the scarecrow you see,
It lassoes my soul. The farmer's soul.
Here I stand still echoing out my torments in mummed shrieks,
The secrets and confessions,
The complots and conspiracies of my spurious sons,
Who killed me softly to meet the hunger of affluence,
In lucid illusion of benevolence.
One day the clouds with swelled wombs will moisten my parched gullet,
The empty spaces below my feet will be nourished,
And the breeze hitting the poincianas around,
Will finally lull me to eternal sleep,
When obstreperous sins will be cleansed,
When justice will be served,
And truth will be harvested at every silence's leap.
Copyright © NAYANIKA DEY | Year Posted 2017
The little child was born into a home of violence and abuse.
Sadness was the closest thing to love and that was no excuse.
A little child screaming as his mother gets slapped and tossed all around,
While his worthless father struts thinking he is something he is quite profound.
The little children with ragged clothes and snotty noses just stood there in tears,
What an impression this father has made for them through the years.
We live in a monkey see monkey do get messed up society,
Most of the children grew up watching their parents fighting never knowing
Alcohol or drugs, seemed to dominate most of the poor.
The thing they didn’t realize this was only a temporary escape door.
The pain that was eased only led to more grief.
Till violence took over in the name of relief.
The daddy was loaded up paying the bills, food, utilities and rent,
While momma stayed home pregnant and got fussed at for the money she
They had sunk so low they were ashamed to attend any church,
Afraid that the pastor might point them out as he stood on his perch.
What is the answer if any to this little tale of mine,
How can we make it stop, can we ever draw a line.
I do know that hate begets hate so could love be the key?
Has anyone ever tried it long enough to truly find the answer of this I would
love to see.
All of my life I have heard do unto others as you would have them do unto you,
Such a simple answer could this be all we need to do?
Think About It!!!
Copyright © Ronald Bingham | Year Posted 2007
Before the birth of fatherless children
Life was good, the land was peaceful
To the field we went happily
Children knew and played with fathers
Peace died because war was awful
To unlivable areas women fled unhappily
Fathers taken as war hostages
Evils of sickness, hunger and thirst we endured
In our hideouts, the worst of evils was war rape
Unknown gunmen made us impregnated
Fatherless children we delivered
Children of mothers they are
Community hates this for man decides
On him, mother and child depend
Wordless the mother is, and so the child becomes
Unhappily and unfreely the child grows
He cannot play with his unknown dad
So shame builds on him, as no father he has
We never decided to bear a child in impurity
Who will never be at harmony
And whose life and education are risky
For he is fatherless and family ignominy
Ultimately, mother and child need basic rights
For they both are victims of their innocence
Poem by Mugisho N Theophile
Copyright © Mugisho Theophile | Year Posted 2017
Why did Kathy Griffin post that horrific photo...
To show her hatred or to get tweets of sympathy?
Think about Barron's trauma: he shivered terribly...
seeing his dad severed head held up by a psycho
who played with his childish emotions so inhumanely.
Written on 6/3/2017
Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2017
She was bad, cunning. pretty and bold,
And her story I must tell before I get old,
Her father an Earl who fell on hard times,
Turned Rogue and then was hung for his crimes.
She was brought up a Lady, thought everyone fools,
Was devoid of Scruples, and obeyed no rules.
She could fence shoot, and out ride any man,
Reeking revenge, her reason to live and plan.
Two men she blamed for the family's woes,
Both would be Seen writhing in death's last throes,
The first, Lord D'arcy, an effeminate young buck,
Cheated her father at cards, he was now out of luck.
Confronting him at Boodles, exclusive gaming club,
In male attire, shocked members were, like rats in a tub,
Her verbal wit he could not match, her challenge he accepted,
He died at dawn, she ran him through, her skills he underrated.
Lady Caroline Rothclare, her vengeance She would follow,
But she needed money, or all her plans were Hollow,
Dressed in black She wore a mask, a pistol adorned each hip,
And many a highway coach was robbed by her daring Ladyship.
The second man she blamed the most, a Banker without heart,
Extension to her Fathers loan, he would in no way part,
she was of course not right to take, this evil point of view,
But hatred blinds our thoughts, and so she Killed him too.
I would like to say, her evil ways were punished by the law,
But her life was long and happy and eventually she saw,
that life could be much better, If she turned her back on crime,
And now she very rarely robs, she just doesn't have the time.
Copyright © Damian Cranney | Year Posted 2017