Elegy Hate Poems | Elegy Poems About Hate
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How did death find me?
I thought I was just dreaming.
O like seriously
I slapped death.
I know you can't!
But I just did.
This is how I reprobated his blue.
I fetched the sky for him to sip
Since his throat was dusty
Like the harmattan.
Yet still smile did not dance on his face.
The waft of the volcano slapped him up
So he was dripping here like a crying bottle
Filled with unflustered water.
O poor you!
I pleaded with the heavens
For the seed of air
Since Mr. Death was dripping here
Like nobody's business.
Hm, hm, hm.
I can't believe this.
Mr. Death is indeed a Judas.
Upon all the things I did for you, Mr. Death,
You made me devour the knife.
O Mr. Death,
So can you crunch the moon?
O Mr. Death,
O Mr. Death,
Did you know deep within that
I'm more than a Victor?
No, you don't!
Yes! I know very well you don't!
Copyright © Jonathan Nartey | Year Posted 2015
Orchestrated plots from the birth of corruption
Meticulously cunning, blue print semantics
Shadows overriding sheer manipulation
Much more to its sleeves, sly gimmickry and antics
Overlapping smokescreen piling up to its feet
Diversionary tactics, garden variety
Principles dropped, conceded an utter defeat
Distraction thirsts for blood, hounds for the killing spree
When darkness overcomes the illumination
Claiming a population, an epidemic
By the hundreds on process of elimination
Resistance is futile to such obvious logic
Retaliatory, uprising insurgence
The masses’ response with strings attached
Casted under a spell, hypnotic indolence
A fearsome adversary, no other can match
Time’s in fast changing pace, turning the wheels of fate
Right up into the very heart of society
An impending apocalypse spearheading straight
The core that dictates man’s unending enmity
Copyright © Jeffrey dela Cruz | Year Posted 2015
I should be hating all
Who don't love me,
Not care about them,
Who doesn't deserve my care,
Not respect them,
Who don't respect my thoughts,
Not love them,
Who can't love me,
Not leave them,
Who tried to capture me or
Whom I try to live with and
Not free myself from them?
Now,not blame them
Who blamed me for every bad luck,
Not listen to them,
Who took me fore granted,
Not forget them,
Who never kept me in their memories,
Not talk with them,
Who always talked with conditions,
Not forget all and move on,
Or stay there for revenge,
Move on for me,or
Sleep in past forever.
Copyright © ANEESHA SOPORI | Year Posted 2014
…the barred and sealed cattle wagons
at the Konzentrazionslager
the faux pas relief
from urine mud faeces sweat and tears
unkempt armpits buttocks best wear
turned to damp rags
reduced to moaning cattle
even the heifer wan straggly limp
…the last quick dab of face powder
the lipstick dried blood tan
the felt hat lying soggy stained
through bellowed haste
on the mudcaked barrack floor
the wampumpeag plucked by the helmeted claw
stabbing on sole-cold cutting cement platform
averting glances on sapped sagging busts
shoulders hunched buckled in
fingers reaching to scratch loins
whose the naughty stench
then the trooped Indian file
stray belongings dumped
in a wasteproduct pile
the once highheeled gait
slumping to a side
from the hips down to a jaggedknee limp
prodding the miasmal mist
the exposed varicose veins
the knotty pubis
the mons veneris
the intimate warts and moles
last year’s Ceasarian stitches
the rump twitched less
the lack lustre sentry gazes
the unmasked leer
the disdainful pursed lips
neither shame nor pudeur
and then the last gangway to nowhere
the Ave-Maria road to Himmelweg
From the privately pub. coll. (re-worked 2016): longhand notes ( a binding of poems), 1999, 115p.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 1999/2016
Copyright © T Wignesan | Year Posted 2016