Violence God Poems

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Details | I do not know? |
Why is my skin color different?
Did God make me this way?
When he made me, did he have
intentions on me being a slave?

And I thought we were all brothers,
including all the ones of different colors.

But why are they beating and hurting the others.
Someone save me, I didn't choose this life.
These scars, they've carved me with the sharpest

All I have is my faith.
Because if I'd held on to anything else
it'd be theres to take.

What is it that I ask for?
Equality, I preach.
Something small to you, 
but makes a difference
for me.

Whipping, spitting, hitting on me.
Raping our women in your wife's sheets.
Taking our children and turning them into workers.
No sense of empathy, grief or composer.

For the brotha' on my left and my sista' on the right,
with the courage that I hold I will continue to fight.
You have taken away my freedom, and most of my life.
But what you have failed to obtain is my state of mind.

Go ahead work my body, and do all that you please.
This is just a shell anyway, it's not coming with me.
You spit, you laugh, thinking you gained the world.
You think you have power because you've raped a young girl.

Stand tall sir with all of that pride.
And go ahead and hold it until the day that you die.
But your day will come when you'll fall to your knees.
Feeling the burn on your body from the whips you've given me.

"The LORD is my sheppard,"
I continue to say.
While my soul goes up as God takes me away.
I wish you peace with smile on my face,
knowing that God teaches the fullness of grace.

Copyright © Amber Binford | Year Posted 2014

Details | Epic |
The fireplace kindle in the moonlight.
I am along deciphering the mind’s eye.  
God is here with me tonight.
The popping flame was a yellow reddish fire.
The wood burned and the smell was a delight.
My thoughts were ablaze to set the Devil afire.
Of course, I will let Lucifer exist.
He is confrontational to my holiness.
In that God is the omnipotent, Satan is the Devil defeated.

Insofar as the world is perilous, many (as I) must conquer their demons by 
     rostrum of our crusade as a battle won.
In India, primitive to the philosophy of religion, the reality is profound.
Deities are of one and of all.
There is such a thing as the Christian Satan.
They are enemies to Brahmans, god-giants.
Demons are devils crackling vigor.

This campaign is of war not of battle.
The action plan is to deploy Christian powers.
Revelation statuses such.
The plague of our time is trinity.
Spheral by one Godhead organizes the consecrated force.
The mercenaries are on the battlefield of and for the Lord.

With giants and demons how the monkey king detonates causing the wrath of 
Demons are decapitated and bodies are slanged from here to yonder.
God bellowed, “We must behead the monkey king.
He is the demon of all entities.”
The lashes influence the giants lambastes.
The Monkey King’s demons had formed their attacks.
God’s giants’ impact condemns.
They beheaded the Monkey King.
Penned January 17, 2015!

Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2015

Details | Elegy |
Reality is lost and I fear…
That someday, somewhere so near…
I will fall amongst the people so dear…
I fear…that I’ll just be another one…
Another one lost…

I wonder what the cost of my life is
not to get political…
But I want to know what the cost of my life is
Is it money, is it land?
I do not own any of them, I’m just a simple man

I remember, when I ran across your land…
I remember when I kissed my grandmothers hands…
You ripped me away from her, from my home
You took me away from my heart, you took me away from my soul

I feel helpless, I feel low
It’s hard to play along when I know, I have no role
I have become a slave.
After all the love I gave.

When I look at my country, people I want to save
When I look around me, people I wish to change
It seems like a hard thing to do…
When the world around is bigger than you

To the fools who dare murder in his name
When God gave us life…
He warned us, only he can take our lives…

Oh Syria, my home
Oh Syria, my all
Oh Syria, what did they hurt you for?
I am Proud to be your son…

Copyright © Zeki Majed | Year Posted 2013

Details | Clerihew |
To Victor Frankenstein, let's give a nod
Who was most infamous for playing God.
What he reanimated deranged his head
And left many that he loved all dead.

Copyright © Mark J. Halliday | Year Posted 2014

Details | Dramatic monologue |
   Who's that staring through my window walls, with eyes as old as time
the clock has not yet moved and the wind outside has died
no breath for me to find nor the strength to check the time
unless the minute hand is lying theirs a chance i may have died
I wish this all a dream but the eyes i see dont lie, they have told me with their watching that all men do really cry
yet in vain is all my wishing but perhaps this is delusion of a sedimentary man with his mind ripe for losing 
Come at me then red devil, I shout within my mind yet the tension I had hoped for was delayed and rather dry
no ravishingly velvet flame encircled this such room, nor were the furniture and ottoman  thrown like an old shoe
marvelous the time in which a demon throwns your home and his only one intent is to stare right through your soul
 to that i bid goodnight to you, to do as you wish, regardless of the manner I am nothing more then fish. to be shot out of a barrel for a fellow such as this
If you do deem it fit that I wake another morning all i ask is that the clocks all please return to working order

Copyright © chriss todd | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme |
  Cain's Self Denial 2015

4 a m again alone,
In a room full of peers
A raging war is being fought,
Confined between your ears
Drafted into battle, with no enemy to engage
Yet volunteering unwillingly fueling dueling rage
Mystic river flows, with the blood of innocent
No longer even knowing, or caring how truth was bent
Angry at nobody, and everyone in between
Sabotaging yourself, and unraveling every seam.
Imaginary enemies
Whose roles change day to day 
A game with no clear rules 
Consciously  unconsciousness, I know that I must pay 
What promise can be spoken, to bring life into the void, uttered self denial, to speak within the ploy
And the enemy I can't see,  nor begun to understand 
Callously reflects my cards and always tips my hand
The price you pay for breaking souls, just keeps on feeling cheaper 
You soothe your conscience with the ancient line that your not your brother's keeper
There's no bad and there's no good, you played the only hand you could 
And the hollow eyes around you, pretend they couldn't see
You shake your head and try your best to pretend you don't believe 
Yet you know too well the horror. . .  Of what you've come to be

Copyright © Kelly Crenshaw | Year Posted 2015

Details | Elegy |
A kestrel dips into an updraft
thinking he knows the world
tranquility gurgles 
through silent valleys
over mountains
around the earth
through the wind

The creature soars ever higher
in great swoops and dives
the horizon curves as it eludes vision
the stars pulse their siren
but thrill denies
adrenaline overrules
their ambient warning

Gust to gust each fades 
quicker than the last
whispers carry the weight of wings
and their soulful song breaches sanity
prayers of rightful good
where petty purple banners
crest twinkling hearts

The last thermal ridden
last lyric dies
as flight’s drone fades
upturned wings alone
the sky empty oblivion
as the sun aligns its beady eye
to the looping path of the bird

Two brittle forms 
grapple in light
which blots out the senses
and protects 
what can never be touched
divine oblivion 
smites the naive bird
an archangel buried
in a crypt 
six feet deep.

Copyright © Avery Swarthout | Year Posted 2015

Details | Blank verse |
A Christian soldier with a gun and a crucifix is a man of God
A hoodlum with a gun and a crucifix is only a hoodlum
A Muslim with a flag and a gun is an Islamist terrorist
A Muslim with a flag and no gun won't make the news

Copyright © Cameron Hartley | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme |
A spirit of violence is creeping in this country to invade.
In our large cities citizens are becoming afraid.
Race related shootings are more frequent,
Stirring up hate and feelings of discontent.

We have to worry about terrorists, and loners acting in rage.
It is a sign of the end times in this day and age.
Our national motto is "In God We Trust."
We need to put God back in America, an absolute must.

Written 9/26/16
"What is Society" contest
Sponsor: Ironic Zink
Awarded 7th Place

Copyright © Brenda McGrath | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |
Whence diplomacy fails mankind.
Soldiers amassed with patriotic duties to fulfill.
Some willing, some underaged, some desperate.
Weaponry and vehicular production overdriven.
Military strategies drafted that await execution.
Prayers flood the heavens, farewell letters penned vigorously.
None prepared for what’s to come, sweet talk is all they have.
Come dawn, they depart for the frontlines.

Unto the battlefield where the enemy lies.
One step forward and all hell breaks loose.
Gunshots pierce, artillery’s shrapnel far-reaching.
Mangled corpses sprawled for families to mourn.
Commands roared but not followed for fear fuels the men.
Chaos ensues ruthlessly with no end in sight.
Death and blood saturates the gruesome battlefield.
Oh dear God, do you hear the cries of sorrow?
Oh dear God, do you see your land blood-brimmed?
Who will you aid when good and evil are indiscernible?

Countries conquered, engulfed by terror and atrocities.
Air raids never ending, bomb shelters becoming the second home.
Civilians contemned, slaughtered like pigs, experimented on like rats.
Prisoners of War starving to the bones as they labor restlessly.
Anguish ever present but naught can be done to rid it.
Oh dear God, do you witness the atrocious brutality?
Oh dear God, will you show them mercy and end their misery?

Homeward, anxiety ravages mercilessly like a plague.
Will my beloved return for college?
Will my darling return to love?
Will my dearest return to tuck me in?
Answers undetermined for life preaches uncertainty.
Politicians stand unscathed whilst comrades lay crippled.
In the perpetual bid for peace, the world drowns in blood.

Copyright © Shawn Tan | Year Posted 2016

Details | Choka |

When the silence of Violence is here; we know that God is  near. Everyone’s fear will disappear; When we find the love that God hold’s dear. He touched the world with his heart; Now it’s time for a new start. Let the Silence of violence stand so that we can protect our land. Thank God that we are finally here to share the love that God holds dear. Lets bring back the hope that God believes in the most. With Peace in the world we would all be priceless pearls. Lets love not fight; Lets show our children how God can make everything alright. Love thy neighbor and thy friend, we will all be blessed in thee end. Violence free is what I want the world to be. Violence free will start a New History. If we lead by example our children will be the perfect sample; Of what life could be if our world is Violence Free. So let’s Silence The Violence for a PEACEFUL ENVIROMENT and let’s Silence The Violence for God’s SPIRITUAL GUIDENCE. Bless our City for we need GOD not GUNS. God Bless our City for we have Won. VICTORY OVER VIOLENCE is what I see for a happy and SAFE COMMUNITY.


Copyright © SONYA ARRINGTON | Year Posted 2012

Details | Verse |

There was 
a time when war 
became no more and time
stopped.  Why reason?

There is
a time when feuds
become Armageddon.
Life stops dead still...
Verlena S. Walker
Date: April 13, 2014
Sponsor: Nette Onclaud
4th Place

Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |
will find
next victim.
will be
 sexually attracted
to her.
At First:
But you 
will soon 
get bored.
you will play 
the game
of tearing 
her apart.
you will
Utter Contempt
Pure Hatred
 in your heart.
you will 
start to
 she kill 
herself already.
in your eyes
that is 
the perfect 
a woman
commit suicide
 then claim
 that's she's 
Nuts and Crazy 
you think
 you can 
walk away
that you 
got away
 with it.
But God, 
My true God 
watching you
 his angels.
 believe me.
 will deal 
with you.
Unholy One.

"The Unholy" song by Slash

(This is nonfiction)

Copyright © Holly Bohto | Year Posted 2016

Details | Rhyme |
Try me, fool, and the semi gon' bang
I'm a big dog, I gotta' let my nuts hang
If I go to jail, best believe I'm bonding out
I always handle beef, that's what I'm all about
I'm not a punk, somebody lied--
I'm bustin' shots, let's get that fixed

I keep it 100, like whole-numbers, no fraction

You're a toy, all looks but no action

So much beef, I can open up a diner

Catch me underground, call me a miner

I keep it real, you haters is processed

To the streets I'm a god, bow down, get blessed

I got rank, like a zebra, I got stripes

Diggin' in ya' chest, you know pressure bust pipes

Got heat, I'm like an Arab with no turban

Shots burn your chest, like drinking Burbon

I cock my tool as they approach, get ready

Make sure you're on point, and hold it steady

When they get near, that trigger get a pull

Give straight head shots, it's an unspoken rule

Shots rang out, like the bells of Notre-Dame

I was long gone, before the law even came

Copyright © Arcene Janvier | Year Posted 2013

Details | Villanelle |

Villanelle: The Dilemma of the Non-Violent – 45

Sound the gongs Blow the trumpets Let pigeons soar
The most well-kept secret’s about to be sawn
At last Great Leaders can reveal the true Law

Who makes worlds go round and round like swinging door
Who turns on firmament lights like on home lawn
Sound the gongs Blow the trumpets Let pigeons soar

Who drew Andromeda into Milky Way’s maw
Who raised Wall of Galaxies as tennis lawn
At last Great Leaders can reveal the true Law

Who made glacial periods run like mad wild boar
Who swung meteorites like golf balls every dawn
Sound the gongs Blow the trumpets Let pigeons soar

Truth ricochets like Le Bourget planes roar
The secret’s hidden from us poor folks ill-born
At last Great Leaders can reveal the true Law

Thanks to COP21 we now know much more
NATURE is the plaything of those who use brawn
Sound the gongs Blow the trumpets Let pigeons soar
At last Great Leaders can reveal the true LAW

© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2015

Copyright © T Wignesan | Year Posted 2015

Details | Villanelle |
Villanelle: The Dilemma of the Non-Violent – 51

Brand not NATURE God word fallen in misuse
As if it were an all-pervading spirit
Principle rules laws all physical in use

NATURE eludes all mental means to confuse
IT stands not still for anyone to pin IT
Brand not NATURE God word fallen in misuse

Ignore the myths the holy words made obtuse
The mystery’s in the vastness made to fit
Principle rules laws all physical in use

IT rules supreme and has no use for our Muse
Nor for the genuflections of our spirit
Brand not NATURE God word fallen in misuse 

IT takes life at will though one suspects a ruse
Is life ours to dispose as we wish it
Principle rules laws all physical in use

We have but this life no home in Multi-Verse
We can take nothing with us when forced to quit
Brand not NATURE God word fallen in misuse
Principle rules laws all physical in use

© T. Wignesan – Paris,  2015

Copyright © T Wignesan | Year Posted 2015

Details | Sonnet |
there's method to the madness
and a method to incivility
there's a vastness of redress 
and an obvious instability

bodies and anti-bodies
in constant fight for dominion
decades, in fact, many centuries
enforcing perceived God's opinion

crossing oceans, crossing hearts
cross ways and walks and words
crossly notion to tear it apart
peace seems abstract, and absurd

but no matter the toll and cost
men draw a line, then blithely cross

© GoodGuysoul 2015-01-14

Copyright © Goode Guy | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |
Yeats got it right--
the center will not hold.
We are falling apart and
know it not: what succor
will there be for the blind?

So evil plays out in furtive
hit and run, slaughtering
a movie theater, killing nine
in a church, rampaging 
through a kindergarten--but
their spirits are released to a 
world devoid of evil, hate,
while their killers have sadly
murdered their own souls,
damning them to a black
tormented darkness for
God knows how long.

Copyright © L. J. Carber | Year Posted 2015

Details | Villanelle |
Villanelle: The Dilemma of the Non-Violent- 38

More the man-made gods the more the quarrel
Who wants to pray in a private night-club
Each faithful thinks his god’s beyond riddle

Where faithfuls gather their gods aren’t idle
Rather would they arm theirs to teeth with club
More the man-made gods the more the quarrel

Strange each nation sports some god from cradle
Nations want exclusive membership club
Each faithful thinks his god’s beyond riddle

All nations dream holding World by bridle
So they give their gods the fossil fumes rub
More the man-made gods the more the quarrel

When words from gods one another needle
Do they hesitate to reach for the club
Each faithful thinks his god’s beyond riddle

Now that gods got our Earth in a throttle
Will ONLY GOD intervene: that’s the rub
More the man-made gods the more the quarrel
Each faithful thinks his god’s beyond riddle

© T. Wignesan – Paris,  2015

Copyright © T Wignesan | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme |
Maiming, killing, chaos, happening throughout this nation, happenings everyday.
Saw an article in the newspaper about the City of Detroit. A killing frequently just another day.
Now as Christians we should realize and know that violence breeds violence.
So what do we do? We arm our educators so we can protect our children our innocents.

More people this year have been killed in Detroit than in the Afghan war.
Right here in the U.S.A. violence is leaving a tremendous scar.
Our children being taught through the airways, video games, that same sex marriage is OK’
Our Television media explodes when violence is shown; our moral compass is in disarray.

This goes back along time our nation is a relatively young nation compared to the Vatican and the Pope.
Yet since our very Foundation we are supposedly a nation that believe in God, Christian today think that this is a travesty a joke. 
We lead in exporting smut triple x rated films nasty movies that turn up everywhere we are being misled.
The devil, his legions, control the airways they have crept into our culture, our families, our moral compass is dead.

As Christians we should pray in repentance, turn to God’s Commandments, and trust our Father.
Trusting corrupted leaders, trusting in man, is not the way in history it has never worked, this is what I’ve gathered.
Detroit a city gripped with terror, fear, a city where our children die in crossfire.
This is a national concern a must change policy towards children, to see them gunned down the situation is dire.

The four horsemen have been riding for a long time.
Ignoring the “Word” Ignoring the Father is truly the real crime.
We do ourselves no justice, with our free will we as Christians must trust in our Savior and the Lord.
Asking God to guide “Us,” in electing officials that have the courage to say enough, let’s go to God and His Son for help. Let’s truly as nation follow the “Word.” 

Copyright © Robert Ball | Year Posted 2013

Details | Quatrain |
Your word oh God is like unto a lamp
that guides the footsteps of your flock
inscribed upon their hearts like a stamp
and the path of the master they stalk

On the road to Mount Zion they walk
and the gifts they bring you in praise
about their redeemer and King they talk
and his banner is the one that they raise

Their garments resemble the spirit of light
and crowns of radiance upon their head
wield the Word of Truth do they fight
with principalities the earth will shed

Against the rulers of darkness they stand
the fallen sons of God and their wiles
they hold the shield of faith in their hand
to defend against that which defiles

They wrestle not with flesh and blood
against the strongholds of darkness they wield
with the gospel of peace are their feet shod
and the sword of the spirit in the field

They fight against those who mankind would harm
the war is not with weapons of steel
they have gone forth to sound the alarm
to flee from the gods where the fallen do kneel

The knowledge of God teaches love and truth
and tender thoughts of understanding
so many minds acquired hatred in youth
and with the armies of Demons are banding

To understand God his Word you must know
discerning the powers that rule in his stead
the Word who is master the truth will you show
least on the wrong path you be led

The sword of the spirit is the Word of Truth
God does not torture or rape
The Demons are ones who with war do sooth
and the face of this world shape

sources IICor. 10:3-6 Eph. 6:10-17
Mark 13:2 II Tim 3:1-5 
Apocalypse 11:18 , chptr 19

COPYRIGHT © all rights reserved
2010 C Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC

Copyright © Poetryof Providence | Year Posted 2014

Details | Villanelle |
Villanelle: The Dilemma of the Non-Violent – 36

Blame not the man whose mind is not his own
From birth to death he’ll do what he’s told
Must he not those who’re not his kind disown

Does the killer kill what to him is unknown
When does he decide when When he makes bold
Blame not the man whose mind is not his own

Do those who are killed kill in the Unknown
Killer who killed Who cast him in mind mould
Must he not those who’re not his kind disown

Who does the killer kill if not his own
Who’s the real killer Can it be told
Blame not the man whose mind is not his own

The mind that’s massaged from birth makes no moan
Neither those who kill  by proxy for gold
Must he not those who’re not his kind disown

When each god must swallow words not his own
How might those bred into belief take hold
Blame not the man whose mind is not his own
Must he not those who’re not his kind disown

© T. Wignesan – Paris,  2015

Copyright © T Wignesan | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme |
Je déteste les attaques ISIS vendredi, 
Ils etaient ignoble, dégoûtant et le mal, 
Au nom de Dieu pour la religion, 
Avec les mentalities és dans l'oubli 

nous devons justifier structures démocratiques, 
En défense, en tuant tous les terroristes
Et la question de l'acceptation de Dieu, 
Avec les valeurs humanistes personnes. 

Il ya de tout dans la liberté, 
De pensée, de parole et d'expression, 
Et si vous ne pouvez pas accepter cela
Vous devez apprendre la leçon.

English translation:

I hate the ISIS Paris attacks on Friday 
They were vile, disgusting and evil,
In the name of god for religion 
With mindsets in oblivion 

We must justify democratic structures 
In defence, by killing all terrorists,
And question the acceptance of god,
With humanistic people values.

There is everything in freedom 
Of thought, word and expression,
And if you can't accept that,
You need to learn the lesson.

About the ISIS attacks in Paris on Friday 13th November 2015

Copyright © Rhoda Monihan | Year Posted 2015

Details | Sonnet |
A young boy stands, surrounded by shadows
Within the midst of a glittering blade
He says he can’t bare to see his morrows
Preparing for his final escapade

He indolently raises with a grin 
This shining dagger with its deadly head
The boy is committing his dying sin
This glistening dagger is now blood red

The boy falters to the floor; He’s now dead
He quickly realizes in disarray
He’s awoken within a fiery spread
Punished for the being that he would slay

He's trying to pray for his salvation
But he’s here for his deathless damnation

Christian Scott-Myers 11/17/2015

Copyright © Christian Scott-Myers | Year Posted 2015

Details | Bio |
By Michael Williams
It seems wherever I end up going,
everything is hidden, nothing showing.
No one sees, no one knows,
just how this story goes.
Not a care, not a worry,
everyone is in such a hurry.
Too busy to stop, too busy to see,
what has become of me.
Self-hatred and denial are my tools,
no one knows me, they are fools.
Deceiving them all is my game,
I do this and feel no shame.
Filling all my lustful needs,
sewing and planting my deviant seeds
caring not about the shame,
just causing extensive pain.
What is this I think I see?
It’s the Lord, looking down at me.
The look I see in his eye,
is enough to make me cry.
Ashamed of who I’ve become,
of who I’ve hurt, and what I’ve done.
I don’t like who I am,
I don’t feel like much of a man.
Help me Lord, hear my plea,
I can’t stand what has become of me.
I’m tired of the sorrow; I’m tired of the shame,
I’m tired of this hurtful game.
Help me Lord, for I can see,
there is nothing you won’t do for me.
Give me the chance to start again,
I know I can live free from sin!

Copyright © Michael Williams | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse |
It was supposed to be a shopping trip,
a time for a mother and daughter
to spend time together,
talking about the latest fads,
and the newest fashions,
and why her mother should
let her get a tattoo.

Time to share a decadent dessert
at a popular pastry shop in the heart of the city,
then light-heartedly complain to each other
about how it would go straight to their hips.

But now dust and debris cover the sun,
as people scream and children cry,
and subway cars are overturned,
and portions of tunnel disappear.

She was about to tell her mother
about the new boy in school,
and how he had smiled at her in the hallway,
and that his locker is right next to hers.

But her mother is no longer listening,
for she lies on her back
looking blankly into space,
a thin line of blood trickling from her lips.

And somewhere in another land,
people celebrate and rejoice,
thinking that God has
heard their prayers.

Copyright © David Pekrul | Year Posted 2017

Details | Rhyme |
Jehovah is our creator and I appreciate the love that he has shown.
I will worship and love the Lord forever even if people break my bones.
People can beat me, stone me and whip me too.
But they can't stop me from loving Jehovah, that's something they will never be able to do.
If people want to persecute and attack me, let them take their best shot.
But if they think that violence will make me stop loving Jehovah, it will not.

Copyright © randy johnson | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |
It's true
Bunking its task
in the blue sky
Golden sunshine
Lies down morose
In sorrow
Laying its head on the tree trunk
Looking pale
It surprises me
As I see it smeared
With ashes of fear
All over its countenance
Will he too be raped and murdered
Like the hapless Rohingyas
Fleeing their home country
In utter misery
In spite of the Nobel peace prize laureate
Aung San suu Kyi
Ruling the country essentially
In Burma or Myanmar
Futile is all prayer

I am afraid
I cannot bare my mind further
Even to the lying sunshine
Let alone to friends of mine
Or to the grains of truth
Nowadays in sooth
Everywhere they are
Even in water and air
Invisible shadows
Ready to bulldoze
Those who refuse to wear
The chains of fear
No freedom 
No reason
Live in subservience
And keep silent

Sunshine left Anita and her husband Collin
For good
No regular food they could have
The factory where he worked
Having been locked out
No treatment for cancer
She was suffering from
He tried to take to stealing
She thought of visiting an old friend
In lieu of her body
Spine shivering fear they lived in
Without and within
Until he strangled her to death
Choking the very breath
He had heated his lips with
Holding her tight

To escape witnessing
The excruciating process
He killed himself
Hanging from a ceiling fan

The world now
Is an aggregate
Of broken images
In various stages
Of haemorrhages

We all are a curious amalgam
Of God beast and human
In various proportions
It is the beast
We are afraid of
The way we walk away
From natural sunlight
To a life where sun doesn't shine
In the dark so obvious
The beast is out
His fear conspicuous
Fear never comes alone
Its never failing companion
Is poisonous aggression
Looking for our flesh and bone

The God we inherited
As a harvest of many centuries
Of civilization 
The beast brushes aside
In ostentatious pride
In annihilative fear

The way
Terror attack traps are laid
We are neither living nor dead
We have to be up and doing
With our candles unlighted

Fears galore
Our lashless eyes and fearful ears
Are nervous
Fearing any moment
Someone taps our door

Our jasmine lives
In fear psychosis
We do not know
Today or tomorrow
The hyena
Will be hounding 
Whose bone marrow
Mine or yours

We must keep alert and discreet
Whether at home 
Or in the street

September 17, 2017
For the contest Fear ll 
Hosted by: Debbie Guzzi

Copyright © Probir Gupta | Year Posted 2017

Details | Rhyme |
A man broke into my house and killed my entire family.
Because of his corrupt lawyer, he was found not guilty.
He killed another family and was found not guilty a second time.
His lawyer convinced the juries to find him innocent of the crimes.
I was going to have vengeance by killing him and I was really going to do it.
But God was just as angry as I was and he beat me to it.
The killer got third degree burns all over his body when he was engulfed by flames.
God made him pay because he was an abomination who brought nothing but shame.
I went through hell when he was found not guilty, it was too much to sustain.
He survived for four days after being burned and he was in excruciating pain.
I was working on night shift and that's why I wasn't able to protect my family.
God's vengeance was worse than my own, that's why the killer died in agony.

(Even though this poem is fictional, God really does have vengeance from time to time.)

Copyright © randy johnson | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |
When people were invented by Mother Nature,                                                                     
she came up with an added twist.                                                                                         
She thought it was funny.                                                                                                         
It wasn't.                                                                                                                                  
It was this:                                                                                                                                 
she made people argue, row, fall out and disagree.                                                               
The killer was brilliant;                                                                                                                   
it was over small things.                                                                                                      
For example: a man scratches his brother's bike.                                                               
Result, a big row;                                                                                                             
another is a girl smiling at her sister's partner for a second too long.                                 
Result, a big cat fight.                                                                                                                   
Big things like people losing their houses, jobs or lives resulted in less arguments. 
Mother Nature was a moo cow when she programmed this into us.                                          
Now who's got my frigging pen?                                                                                                            
When I find out who, there's going to be hell to pay.

Copyright © nick armbrister jimmy boom semtex | Year Posted 2015