For I am death, the personification of pure evil,
The grand godfather, of legions of unnumbered generations.
Behold thy disciples, baptized beneath my crimson waters,
Then reanimated as the living undead, in mine own image,
These are my forsaken children of the Night.
Kissed by the angel of death, I'm resurrections insurrection,
Spawned in hell a creature devoid of heart or soul, yet do I
Exist, biting at the exposed throat of humanity, leaving it
Drained completely dry.
Does not the white lily turn ember red, within this the
Valley of damnation.
My throne is a black coffin gilded in golden refinement,
Residing beneath the wooden lid, the beast sleeps,
Waiting to be embraced by the darkness of night.
Slowly, emerging from mine cryptic mausoleum,
I'm famished for the taste of the living essence
A gentlemen reaper of the fallen, deeply do these
Fangs penetrate into the soft flesh of humanity,
Tis a dark blessing's supernatural gift, have I been
So given, to take life then to restore it.
Raw beasts of instinct, clinging to the ethereal
Moon, that hangs above illuminating this,
Our unholy abyss.
Welcome to a shadow nation of the unseen,
Whose roots extend backwards, to an older country’s
Unconsecrated soil, called Transylvania.
On mine legacies crest, a red dragon with talons
Extended reaches out, grappling for powers control.
For I am Dracula, born of royal blood in life,
But in death I am a king, let these castle walls
Bleed on forever, and the hounds of hell,
Sing outside my rod iron gates.
But beware mortal flesh if you so enter,
For I will enjoy every trespasser,
Whom dares to venture within my
Sacred territory, with a fiendish smile
Upon my hungering face.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2014
Many years ago
They stormed the Bastille
Two hundred and one lost their lives
The tennis court oath however survived
Jacques had his heart with the masses
Necker could not be dismissed so easily
The storming of the Bastille was to be
The birth of a nation for all men free
And free men they were
Running naked through the streets
What they lacked in cake
The made up with in red wine
The Republique was born
A democracy in infancy
Would grow through trials and tribulations
To become a multicultural great nation
Lone angry men filled with such hate
I welcome you to Bastilles’ gate
Of medieval prisons long ago
It is there, you I shall throw
You kill in the name of a God
A God you do not know
Love has escaped from your very soul
Only hate tarnishes your bitter heart
The ghosts of Bastille are mocking
The coward who is filled with such animosity
There never shall be an escape
The soul of the dead shall eternally taunt you
A criminal with no compassion
You have only given us our determination
To battle for the peace of this great nation
You bring us tears; alas we shall turn them to wine
Naked through the streets we shall always dance!
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016
Silent Lies and Deception
In the silence of murky waters
There slithers oily snakes of the night
Wearing masks of deception
Beware of fools singing with Stalin’s tongue
The KGB shall set you free
Drowning you in the river Volga
The cold water keeping your lips tight
Whilst the silent ones spread their deceits
Lies, lies their dirty little lies
I wonder how their tongues wag and loudly sprout
So righteous, like imams with out a doubt
I call for radio silence
When comes the clique of hate
They say they have none, and
Maybe this is true
They run out at times, spreading it to you
Those who truly have good will and peace
Growing like flowers in a botanical heaven
Never spew the bloody insecticides here on earth
That alters the genes of peace in me and you
Beware of white sheep
That howls like the wolf at the full moon
A wise man knows the meaning of silence
Silent ones simply slither sneaky prose in the night
The Caspian Sea
Holds many ghosts who if not for death
Could tell you many silent tales
Of those with a million smiles and twisted masks
Seekers of the Silent Lies and Deception
Dead Sea and salty tombs
Silent in womb
Notes: The last poems Angel and Devil, about mans ability for both good and evil, I continued the theme here, by describing two repressive regimes, Russian under the likes of Stalin and Putin and the Palestinian one under Arafat. The poem is either incomplete or to be continued in a second poem, as in the end I inferred the Silent one Amina, a story about the repression and hardships of women in India. An excellent book by a great author Fiza Pathan.
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016
There are times we are left to cope
With situations that drain our hope
Leaving us full of despair
At how some people just don't care
About the evil that they do
To good people like all of you
We are left to somehow face
That in mankind there is disgrace
And those of us left alive
Must find away to survive
As you pick up the pieces of your life
Without your mother, father, husband or wife
And some of you God forbid
Without the love of your kids
We must band together with a brotherhood
Show that in this world there is some good
Because we are together in this deal
We try to help each other heal
We seek in each other good advice
And offer each other sacrifice
We hold each other in prayer and song
As we continue to re-build the wrong
Because what else in the world can we do
Except let the light of good shine through
The evil darkness and despair
Of a catastrophic lack of care
We want you to know you are not alone
Think of America as a giant cone
And all of us are funneling through
Our prayers and hopes to all of you
Posted for Nathan's 9-11 contest
Copyright © Michael Jordan | Year Posted 2009
On the black stallion of death,
Its red crimson eyes pierce through the night,
And the hell's beast breathes its hot brazen breath
Blazing against the darkness's chilling air!
Does he ride, this phantom of the dead,
Wielding vengeance's sword.
With one hand on the hilt of the blade,
The other arm reaching outwardly,
One finger pointing at his intended victim!
Screaming with a blood curdling howl,
Give me your head vermin, or I'll cut
It off myself, than laughing at their fear!
Beneath crimson fire moon, this hooded and caped,
Death's stalker, hunts down the innocent
Taking that which he desires the most
Their essence of life!
Run to the bridge's safety salvation lies
At the other end beyond.
For these waters cleansing baptism,
Could swallow him whole.
The headless horsemen cannot cross,
These blessed waves of sanctuary,
Or banished is he, hell bound for eternity.
This highway man, rides devastation’s
By ways, of the unknown.
Seeking to restore mind and body,
This Hessian with aggression,
Yearns for justices revenge, to what
Ends bequeath, he cares not, the price
To be paid, in human flesh and blood.
On Saint Hollows Eve, the horsemen
Gallops, across dead-man’s boundary,
Awaiting the stray trespasser, to trip into
His well-hidden trap.
Than striking without mercy's sake,
With its sharpened edge, steel slices
The mortal flesh, taking his prize,
The headless horseman rides away
Into the night.
Yelling, I'll return next Hollows Eve, be thee
So warned, for your salivations sake alone,
Don't tread in Sleepy Hollow after dark!.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2015
Dead men tell no tails, or so the winds of
On judgment hill from on high,
Voices do echo downwards, as the
Noose does sway, back and forth, on the
These gallows, of oaken branches, act as tethers,
Shackles, holding the forsaken, souls prisoner.
Ghost phantoms cling, to it's rotten limbs,
That break beneath times endless rampage.
Regrets fallen horsemen, of the old west,
Stand guard, sentinels on horse back,
Wearing a tarnished tin star.
God's law keepers, are branded, sworn,
By their honor, to protect even after death,
The gates of heaven, from this spawn of hell.
Beware evil desperadoes, no mercy will
This the lord's posses show unto you,
For these riders bare a different mark.
A silver cross of justice, given by
The Almighty’s hand himself.
Say thy prayers, all lawless men,
For on this day, does the rope tighten,
Around your neck, there is no reprieve,
No salvation for evils deceit.
Hell bound are thou, the devils breed.
But beware, there is no escape,
From this grave site.
At dawns first light, as it spreads
Across the western horizon.
Know that yee, are one of many spirits
Doomed, to be weaved within the
Tangled limbs, called the hang
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2014
This evening I listen to a Rock 'n' Roll band
Their track is Civil War, as our world now expands
To us it's the same size but to others they despise
For the want of greed exists in their killer hungry eyes
Where do I start, to say of their evil spread
A different starvation leaving the world in evil dread
It's not our today's but our yesterdays years
That our history tells us, of our everlasting torn tears
Cambodia, the Lebannon, and Sri Lanka's Indian sun
Rebels who demand better at the end of a gun
Guaetamala and Peru with their Shining Path
Villagers in terror decrying it's ever last
Democracy is our power in it's controllable exist
Like the Shining above, how long will our future paths persist
Recent news in the Arabic World, has taken tyrants by surprise
For decades they have stolen with their torturing infidel lies
I could go deeper and deeper to describe these evils acts
In wanton blood spillage, to increase civil war torn facts
For this is the world we live in, it appears we determine to live
Maybe in our lifetime it will be on our doorstep, we open, our lives will sieve
Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2011
It was a day like every other day, sunny and warm they said
New Yorkers smiling and happy, looking for their daily bread
Taxis were darting here and there, planes flying everywhere
Children were going to school, parents laying down the rule.
Plans were made for later that day,
Meet you at 7, no, make it 8. I'll do my best not to be late.
Don't worry baby, I don't mind at all, Just please, remember to call.
Who could have known that waking up that day,
that things would happen in an unusual way.
To change forever, the way we think and feel
The events we saw, yes, they were real.
No way to deny it, it was on the news,
With our own two eyes, there were hundreds of views.
over and over we watched, hard to believe,
what we just witnessed, what did it all mean?
What an unusual sight, that plane in flight,
just before the ninth hour, when it hit the tower,
How terrible we thought, answers we all sought
Like, why did that happen, how could it be?
That a plane hits a skyscraper, in plain sight,
In broad daylight, not the dark of night.
Was it pilot error? How could that be?
The tower was right there, for him and all to see!
That moment was special, that moment in time,
when the whole world was watching, yes, stopped on a dime.
We saw the flames burning, our hearts they burned too,
would there be any survivors?... Who knew?
Calls were made, to say I love you,
Life's been good until now, it's been good loving you.
Say goodbye to the kids for me, tell them be strong,
Tell them daddy loves them...goodbye, so long.
We saw a man falling, from way up above,
Who was that man? Did he not feel loved?
or was he just desperate, to escape the heat?
We all watched in horror, as he fell to the street.
So many were dying, it was too hard to bear,
Many just couldn't get down the stairs.
Some just stayed put, thinking help will come,
What they didn't know was, the damage was done.
The bravest ones, I saw that day, firefighters, on the way,
into the fire they would run, climbing higher and higher,
To save others lives...from that raging fire.
They did not know then, it was a tragic mistake,
All they knew was...lives were at stake.
Many escaped from the tower, running for their lives,
we saw them running with terror in their eyes.
So many people were running just like the others,
They were their fathers, mothers, sisters and brothers.
...And then suddenly another plane appeared!
Was it coincidence, orjust something weird?
When it hit the second tower, at that very hour,
it became crystal clear, that it was just as we feared,
It was not a mistake, someone asleep at the wheel,
It was an attack! that one and all, we would feel.
From that day forward, everything would change,
The world was unrecognizable, suddenly so strange.
Innocence was lost, and war came at great cost,
We learned that terror, was more than just a word,
It was what we all saw, felt, and heard.
So now here we are, so many years later,
Is your pain, grief and fear, lesser, or greater?
Only God can help us now, with all of our fears,
It is he, who promises, to wipe away our tears.
And pain, death, and all of our sorrow,
Will all be gone, in what will seem like tomorrow.
Yes, God will surely help us, I know he will.
But, still it's hard to forget, Sept 11
The day the world stood still.
John Derek Hamilton
Final revision October 13,2015
Copyright © John Hamilton | Year Posted 2015
They come from a different era
where patriotism is a just cause
they would fight for the true blue
never mind who was right or wrong
they stood staunch and egos proud
their chest out, backs straight and chins up
they come from an old style of thinking
I fight today as my father and grandfather did too.
fighting for an eye for an eye tooth for a tooth
I will die to serve my country even if its a lie
if you try to invade our land
we will come and conquer you
we are defenders of the truth
but the old timers forget
and the young ones have a narrow point of view
there was a time when the immigrants were Irish, Italians and jews
racism was rampant and that hasn't changed
Christians today still preach
'Jesus is savior they say repent your evil ways
pushing their rhetoric just like the roman empire did
amazingly America seems to be doing the same
history seems to repeat itself time and time again
war, religion, oil and what we perceive as freedom
we invade again and again and call it defending democracy
yet the intelligence comes from spies and other governments
because they have shared interests in different types of policy
they all carefully choose their words
because one slip of the lip could trigger war as it has happened before
todays war on terrorism is a campaign designed to instill pain
and un-trust to drain our resources from us
And our leader claimed up front this is not a religious war
yet he paraphrases from the bible we'll get those evil doers
you see bush fooled our religious leaders too.
he used their belief in Jesus he tricked 'em all just to get their vote
he claims he's a born again Christian and this Christians embraced him holly
but then one day bush spoke to Jesus and asked what to do with Iraq
Jesus responded Invade that country
Now dont get me wrong Jesus was not about war
he taught of peace, love and compassion
however his message has been twisted and turned over time
and history shows the hands of Christian religious leaders are always bloody
because they twist the truth to control dictatorship is always the goal
Bush had been plaining war before a judge handed him the seat
on his first day he signed a bill into law prevent any criminal charges against him
Copyright © Ron Flatow | Year Posted 2007
Our college professor was waxing excitedly
in the bored classroom: “Our mass media
—America's great Fourth Estate—is an
unconquerable force for good in the world
with an unrivaled power to tell the truth!”
A dejected classmate interjected: “Yes,
but a force that's dirty and evil,” stirring
up a commotion in the hushed classroom.
Indeed, wasn't it our mass media which
destroyed a hapless President Carter?
Turned Sarah Palin into a ridiculed pariah?
Ignored Ralph Nader and Bernie Sanders?
Now our news media are demonizing Trump,
calling him a “hater” and “Putin's puppet”
in an anti-Trump orgy of vilification.
Our mass media feed the world with
a few crumbs of truth and half-truth—
along with countless tons of deceptions,
lies and truly Goebbelsian propaganda.
Isn't it our news media which are
brainwashing us that our Constitution
supposedly guarantees every Sunni Muslim
around the world an automatic and
unimpeded entry into America? Or that
Americans who support Trump are
"racists," "xenophobes," "sexists,"
"Islamophobes" and "homophobes"?
Our news media are a mighty force to
be reckoned with, but they are a force
that is corrupt, crooked, and dirty!
They lie, cheat, and twist the truth—
but they are usually so proud of it.
Copyright © Ross Vassilev | Year Posted 2016
Jesus Christ Be Praised
By Roy Merritt
He went to see the queen of Spain told her the world was round
That he could get to the east going west that’s what he had found
He told her if he sailed the Atlantic kept going that way
He could find the wondrous Orient could even find Cathay
Then they wouldn’t have to go east down that long Silk Road
And worry about the Muhammadans or bandits as they go
And so after several tries they finally gave in agreed
And gave him the money for three ships whatever else he’d need
And so on August 3 he set sail pushing out to sea
With three ships the Nina, Pinta and the Santa Marie
And so after many tribulations pushing along with the wind
On Oct. 12 they spotted land their journey at its end
They landed in Hispaniola the natives sorely amazed
They’d never seen such a sight in all their many days
They treated the strangers kindly treated them just like kings
Treated them with human kindness amazed by many things
So Columbus returned to Spain told them of many treasures
This land could provide of many great pleasures
But by his third visit there he'd inspired much hate
The natives wanted to kill him they by now irate
He’d turned them to bondage to work as a slave
Claiming to make them Christian, Christian to be saved
This be the way the true Christian word
To enslave a man in bondage which certainly be absurd
Oh yes this be the religion Jesus Christ inspired
The one and only true religion soon to spread like fire
And at last it made to Europe continent of the white man
Who declared an intention to spread it to every land
And so off they went conquering Jesus Christ be praised
At the same time enriching himself turning men to slaves
Turning men to slaves turning them into beasts
Jesus Christ be praised Jesus Christ GIVE FEAST!
Copyright © Roy Merritt | Year Posted 2016
Beware, out-Lander for thy tread on the sacred ground,
Of Louisiana, guarded by the ghosts of the Mississippi,
And here the dead tell know tails, of the living's returning,
After adventuring into the darkness of the night.
Rattle them bones, sister voodoo woman,
Black magic's high priestess, cast asunder the
Ivory teeth of the white devils, across the streets
Of old New Orleans, behold the ancient city of lost souls.
Hidden beneath the glittering mask, of La Carnival,
It is the celebration of the dead, my friend, and faceless
Figures, do toss the beads of evil, to the lustful
Crowds gathering, for Mardi-Grad's extravaganza.
Phantom walkers, without names or emotions, spirit stalkers,
Roaming the old French quarter, seeking to catch the
Innocent traveler unaware and unprotected.
A wall of realism and illusion, thin is the veils that divide
Light and darkness, sheer vaporous mist of transparency,
Existing in this the forgotten realm, where southern
Comfort invites the living to visit, but never allows them
To leave alive.
As the flickering rays of twilight fades, swallowed whole
By the spectral invaders, the creatures of light seek refuges,
Holy places, as the church bells ring, calling unto the innocent
Make heist to salvation's shelters of grace.
In he city's center, lays a dry leathery organ, sunken
And misshapen, feel the rising, the awakening of the
Heart of evil emerging, its veins arteries made of
Cobble stones brick, thus are the webbing's of streets leading,
Unto the deadened heart, metamorphosing it alive once more.
Slowly bloods spiritual essence rushes through
These ethereal veins, reaching this source most
Evil, it owns this city of lost souls, unto the tolling
Hour of dawns first rays of light, crossing the horizon.
Red bricked buildings lay side by side one
Another, in a design of Gothic manipulation, feeding
Stations made cozy for the living and dead to reside
Within, as the crimson curtains blow freely from the
Inside out, welcome my friends to the French quarters,
The threshold's crossing, between life and death.
Hear the low thumping of the Jamaican drum,
Mixed with African tongue, chanting in rhythm's
Echoing breeze, softly spoken in whispers are the spells
Of misfortune, a vow's crimson promise, written in blood
Long ago, a demonic pack made between the spiritual native
Inhabitance and the dark heart of the Cajun Bayou.
On bloods throne the Grim Reaper does so sit, next
To his bride, the Queen known as Mrs. New Orleans,
Both laughing in tandem, with the musical chorus
In this requiem of the dammed.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2014
Analysis read—and wronged—and pulled
Lulled into our idealistic mess
Words no longer ours but hung distress
Farced in carnality—they are ruled
Soundness remains what we will believe
And all else is but tethered nonsense
Clinched tightly in unfriendly absence
Overcome in overwrought relief
The judges judge on behalf of tongue
When ears and eyes close achingly tight
And perhaps in woe we find them right
For witches sought and bound must be hung!
Lower than the softened dirt that cures
Where worms in halves blindly come to eat
The higher crush with tormented feat
And the suns scorch what is left of hers
Answers never tried—and cured to hide
They look to superior sources
The rotten are the strongest forces
Ripened and toughened with bequeathed pride
Contest: Metrical verse
Sponsor: Giorgio Veneto
Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013
In summertime, the ivy climbs,
and hides the castle wall.
The king dreams of late,
that the sea is so great,
and yet - his boat is so small.
As swift as a fox and
dark as a raven on wing,
seven hundred soldiers march
into the valley of the king.
Long overdue, a battle ensues
flanking the powers that be.
Children cry, and good men die,
the monarch is now on his knee…
Soon the horsemen alone
try to maintain the throne.
But the long way around
is the shortest way home.
The evening is filled
with chaos and smoke,
and the kingdom is
stunned by it all…
Soon the sun will go down,
and in spite of his crown,
the king will undoubtedly fall…
His rival’s strength
by a king overtaken,
his life is now but a pawn.
His authority lifted,
the power has shifted –
an era of glory is gone…
Copyright © Cole Banner | Year Posted 2013
The first time I met Madame La Laurie, was in 1832 When she and her third husband (Dr. Louis La Laurie) purchased me. My first impression of Madame La Laurie was that she was soft spoken, of fine breeding, and very beautiful.
Upon her arrival, she wasted no time filling every nook and cranny at 1140 Royal Street with the finest furniture and china that money could buy. No one looking at the plain exterior of this house, would ever expect such opulence within it walls.
She wore the latest fashions from Paris with a flare beyond rival, even by the most inducted social lights of the hour, which did not go unnoticed. Both men and women, would stop in their tracks to gaze upon this regal beauty as she strolled down the main streets of New Orleans.
Soon, with the aide of her husbands connections through his practise, she, gained acceptance into the higher circles of the community and began hosting what would become, the most sought after dinner invitations in all of New Orleans.
This was the one side of Madame La Laurie that the world saw, but it was I, who bore witness to the other side. NEVER could anyone have ever imagined the atrocities this women committed in her chamber of horrors on the 3rd floor as she maimed, tortured and murdered any slave that displeased her.
I was burned badly, when one slave, wanting to end his misery, set a fire in the kitchen, finally bringing her reign of terror to and end, where upon she fled in her hell driven carriage, into the night, never to be seen again.
Today, I stand here at 1140 Royal street, completely unrecognizable. I have a different face now. The only thing left one would recognize from that day, would be the old path that runs between me and the adjacent house.
Lush green foliage now grows along its edge, in what I like to think, a remembrance to the tortured souls who died here.
Between these brick walls
Bright light filters from above
Old seeds bloom again
BUT...IF YOU DARE to walk between these walls, you...like me, THAT OLD HOUSE IN NEW ORLEANS, might see the apparitions of the tortured souls still residing there.
Poetry form: Haibun
For the contest, A House In New Orleans, sponsor, Lin Lane
Copyright © Elaine George | Year Posted 2016
The shifting of many corporeal hands move across this dead cell,
A vacuums vortex, a psychic sponge, charging this battery of
Energy called the spirit board.
Paranormal phenomenon striking plate to enter realities plane
Of existence, for the ethereal challenged in crisis, seeking the
Threshold for spontaneous release, unto our spiritual realm.
Witchery’s board of trickery left in a polarized stance it
So entices the living with its tempting whispering of lies,
Incantations gate keepers wait on the other side of evils
Memorizing the human sensory functions into a false
Sense of harmless mystery of the unexplained, it lures
These victims ever closer to weaving its spell of the demonic.
These capture being lost unto the hypnotic effects are
Transfixed unable to hit their override switch that controls
Their mental powers of persuasion, disabled is there strength
Of will power, they belong to the Ouija now.
Clasping do all for sides of the curtain of reality, times
Displacement begins in earnest, without hesitations
Momentary loll this dead cell bursts to life.
Black magic key has been inserted within the wooden
Door way’s heart and soul, a bizarre power bank draws
Forth the energy of the spiritual lost, swinging hells
Kept wide open.
The pancetta spins out of control, smashing against
The barriers of humanity, darkened ebony light shines
Through this doorway of evil and the flickering candle
Turns to a shades greenish blue wavering in the odious
The voice of a thousand screams echo in sheer delight,
We have been freed at last, broken is the trance, the boards
Hypnotic effects are dashed by the light of the dawn.
Dazed in bewilderment the voyeurs are chilled to their
Very inward bones, shaking, staring in awes amazement,
Wondering if these events really happened at all.
Then within these tented walls a voice responds to their
Questioning, laughing, as if a jackal at a fresh kill site!
Foolish mortals you know not what you have done, this
Night, but I promise thee this, laughing once again,
In a demonic under tone, none shall leave this domicile
The entry doors lock without the human touch, the
Curtain windows pull closed, a momentary stilled
Scream, then all is silent, what remains is left up
To my readers to visualize, as the final candle
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2015
It’s way back in the eighties, of the eighteenth century,
the bad man Johnny Ringo, did stalk Arizona free,
from Lukeville to Sonoro, he dealt his darkest hand,
and sought to take the silver, from outlawed Mexican band
With Curly Bill and Scott Corley, he ambushed smuggler’s
band, their heavy bags of silver, sure lookin kinda grand,
gunshots smoked the many, some were kept for sport,
tortured in the hot sun, without a kindred thought
Now Ringo took to spendin, his gotten gains with glee,
and tabled games of poker, he played while he was free
but Wyatt Earp got wind of him, or so the story goes,
and shot him thru the head one day, sleepin peacefully
Now many’s took the claim, for shootin Johnny thru,
but others say he took his life cos drinkin made him blue,
and if you want to see the place, they laid his body down,
he’s in West Turkey Valley, on the other side of town
Copyright © Peter Lewis Holmes | Year Posted 2015
What danger's now beneath our very eyes
born of forgetfullness? 0! Time it flies!
and before long, lays to the past
the very things we should have last,
but much too soon, all memory it dies;
and then the xenophobic nature shows,
from places where you'd never think it grows
and nourished by the futures' doubt
we feed on it, and let it out
until it's grown beyond what heaven knows;
all blame is layed to any who remind,
that they are grouped into another kind,
and when we need to symbolize
what's here and plain before our eyes,
a crooked cross is all that we can find.
© vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet
Copyright © Vee Bdosa | Year Posted 2016
THE LEGEND OF LEAP CASTLE
In the dark shadows of the ancient past,
Creatures move within the kingdom of darkness,
Hidden illusions of faded forms of existence, roaming the hallowed
Halls in echoing’s of delusions, royal tombs shudder beneath
The grounds at leap castle in Ireland, for here the haunted remain in
Silhouetted ruins of life ethereal!
It started with the slain royal holy priest, slain in the midst of the
Lords words of Spiritism, at his own brother’s envious sword arm,
Greed’s fever driving him with the madness of fortunes purse strings!
But a deeper evil bore itself within the bowels of the castle hidden
Keep, those murdered by impalements sharpened point edge,
Then left for the courts rats to feast upon, three cartloads
Taken by the future were these skeletal bones removed,
Unknown by names thus so buried in a mass grave of the
But this sacrilege awakened something horrid, an unnatural
Entity, a supernatural beast known as simply the elemental,
Or thing, residents in residence in this unholy place of the
Hauntings ethereal displaced!
Whom knows for which it came, this vile creature of the
Demonic darkness, oozing with the foul odor of burnt flesh,
And molds decay, the beast roams without mercy’s reverence,
Tormenting the living, driving them utterly mad at the sight of
Wrapped in the shaggy hair of the untempt dog, it has the
Piercing eyes of the hell hound, yet the boney fingers of death
Touch at the living to torment, with a playfulness of a family pet,
Smiling in a seething temperate with its wide griming sharpened
Fangs, the thing awaits for the screaming to begin!
Within this castle of pain, many lucid men and women
Have gone insane, trying to escape from this venue of evil,
But hell’s accrued castle retains a heavy toll from the mortal
Souls of humanity!
In the storms of the ages it’s been battered this collision
Clammily of stone and mortar, built and rebuilt until the
Living left it to rote and ruins ultimate decay, no priests
Words of holy resistance, can save those spiritually trapped,
But time and nature, vengeances is a force even the supernatural
But some men never learn, and have rebuilt what should
Have remained left alone, and it, the thing awaits once more
In the shadows of the past, ready to emerge at the right
Mishaps turning, and beware the evils rebirthing in the halls
Of Leaps Castle!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2015
Humble angels implore
Kaffirs unsaddle holy alms
If Kings underrate
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016
of the megabyte cavalry
along private roads
on the plasma periphery
on official commands
Stewing a cauldron
a festering foment
from acid-soaked cans
say the oracles
so buying a check
but electing the cavalry
leaves the infantry wet
Copyright © Aron Jacob | Year Posted 2013
JOHN M. ARRIBAS
It wasn’t the Pharaohs that ruled the Nile
It was the priests that sanctioned their style
As long as the Pharaoh kept playing ball
The priests insured that he’d never fall
To make him acceptable to poor and unshod
They elevated his position to a living god
Scams have existed for thousands of years
They prey on ones greed and mortal fears
People have been duped by the glib tongue
Like Lenin, Amin, Castro and Mao-Tse-Tung
Cultures are swayed by the gifted speaker
Obscuring the facts from the reality seeker
Elections are stolen with factual distortions
Twisting the truth into diametric contortions
Demagogues and tyrants have little to fear
They just say what the masses want to hear
Independent thought can be a risky proposition
A word in the wrong setting can send you to prison
That kind of oppression can’t happen here
We’re a democracy with nothing to fear
They follow the polls ,the trends are clear
Our leaders will say what we want to hear
Copyright © John Arribas | Year Posted 2016
In the Middle Ages
witchcraft was wide-spread;
young witches were buried
in shallow graves.
The angry bard was also a monk and defended the Church,
" No witches of any age will be roaming in Catholic Florence
and allowed to practise their magic by the glow of the torch! "
From the pulpit he made his voice rise and broke the silence.
He felt the presence of the other witches who gathered
outside the church; he trembled a little, but continued
his speech of condemnation that to them wasn't eloquent,
" Go to sleep and never rise again " was the loud chant.
All seemed peaceful on that Good Friday with the rain falling,
the bells of the basilica tolled to mourn the crucified Christ;
the altar was draped in purple, the glass windows were dark,
the parishioners waited, the bard never came to the mourning.
" Mourn the barn's death! Christ forgave all sinners, he did not!"
" He burned them at the stake not as criminals but as heretics!"
" We'll protest and revenge their death so inhuman and unjust!"
The witches' chant was louder than the lament of the believers.
Written on 5/31/2016
Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2016
I heard about a name
that gave it all to the evil game
taking in vain - the son of man
a few silver coins and little bit of fame.
for the main event
of his evil deeds
for ever be a slave in chains
thrown down to the deep
away from the earth
his name was revoked in a heartbeat - from the book
and the devil gave birth
to the betrayal of JESS
he implanted in his heart
treason with a kiss
giving up the light for the dark
good for wrong
life for death
and for ever he is gone
from the life giving breath
damned is he who will follow
evil man with a evil walk
so we all should swallow-the holy spit
when GOD shall speak
don't be like the dark prince
traitor with evil deeds
perhaps false messiah
having sex with 7 years old kids
do forgive me if I'm wrong
but at 7 years old-still a child
at nine she gave birth to another child
another creature that has to stop being a child - for a while
emotions are running wild
thinking the messiah was reborn
somewhere in the wild
as a animal
humble eyes and fake smile
slaughter with cannibals
messiah's favorite carnival
you could call me Hannibal
so I'll recruit another Army
to defeat the madness
and live in peace and harmony
Copyright © Diogenes Zuniga | Year Posted 2009
From the age of seven
they were sent down the mine.
The darkness struck terror
but they dare not complain.
With the dust and the grit
in that black evil place
they crawled through the filth
to work at the coalface.
When the water poured down
they had to work naked.
Then sharp rock cut the skin
from edges split jagged.
When they cut a new seam
it turned the air toxic.
They coughed and they choked
and struggled in panic.
When they tried to escape
they could not get away
as the exit was locked
til the end of the day.
When the coalface collapsed,
alive they were buried.
Some were never dug out
but just left there as dead.
When a child died like that,
parents offered some pence,
which the coalmine owner
thought was fair recompense.
In that meanest mine-shaft,
with each child a cheap slave
there were many young deaths
and the pit was their grave.
Copyright © Tony Hargreaves | Year Posted 2016
Oh bloody and evil Catherine de Medici.
The queen has acted impetuously.
Thousands have died because of her demands.
Witness her red bloodstained hands.
A wedding is a time of joy and jubilation.
Instead, there is death and devastation.
She thought the Huguenots would seek retaliation.
It started with an attempted assassination.
An attempt was made on Admiral Gaspard de Coligny.
He led the Huguenot protestant party.
Catherine took some Machiavellian action.
She wanted to eradicate this rebellious faction.
There had been widespread death throughout the land before.
Peace brought an end to civil war.
Margaret de Valois had married Henry of Navarre.
Once again, hostility permeated the air.
Killing spread from Paris to the countryside.
In just a few months, thousands had died.
No bloodier episode had ever been seen.
The culpable party was the evil queen.
I thank Wikipedia.org online encyclopedia for information I obtained to write this poem.
Copyright © Robert Pettit | Year Posted 2013
The Crusades Began a Holy War
Which Continues to this Day.
We Kill, and Kill, and Now it Seems,
This shall Always be the Way.
One Side Scores, the Others Die,
Then the Cycle is Repeated.
It never Stops, It’s never Done;
The Battles Grow More Heated!
The Way to Peace, it Seems so Clear,
Is not Through Senseless Slaughter.
I Appeal to All, “Please Quit the Fight!”
Save our Sons and Daughters!
To Find Our Way out of the Dark,
We Need only Seek the Light.
A Solution Lies within our Grasp:
Forget who’s Wrong or Right!
This God or that, it Makes no Matter.
This Truth I have Acquired:
Be they Different, or the Same,
The Gods would Preach Cease Fire!
Copyright © Steven Gadberry | Year Posted 2010
hello my friend, stranger walk by,
borrow a moment, spare me your lie,
through pen of the narrow and mist of an eye,
below absolute zero, someone will die;
sentence to rambler, apple hereby,
flute of the meadow, mandrake will cry,
in front of the riddler second might try,
get out of here mortal,
exit near by-e.
angry as he strike out his pen,
get out of here demon, get out of this den,
in thousands of years how long has it been,
when scriptures wear sandals;
on meadow you land, many bear seasons,
stakes shall bend, lantern still burning,
your letter is send.
Copyright © Miche Ulman | Year Posted 2013
It's the third verse,
I got the urge to purge
All the curt words I've splurged,
I've submerged in sin,
I'll go to church repent,
Then go curse again,
Lets reverse this trend
We nurse tolerance,
When it might offend,
If I white wash my fence,
So try to not get tense,
When I do not defend,
Those who chose to be dense
And not use their two cents,
To show kids the reverence,
For the pledge of allegiance.
Copyright © Mike Conway | Year Posted 2013
Wasn't Robin Hood born with noble blood,
what made him betray royalty?
He had a grudge against Prince John!
As a bodyguard, he was loyal
to King Richard, but despised
the greedy and unfair Sheriff.
According to English folklore:
he was an outlaw, a skilled archer,
he became a legend in his own town.
I doubt if any Englishman of the era,
would remember him as their own
if he hadn't been the selfless one,
taking everything from the filthy rich,
who daily engaged in a-eat-drink-binge,
he gave all back to the starving poor.
Had he not taken their side and avenged,
the peasants would have felt anger
and fought against him and his King.
Now, see Robin Hood in a different light:
lacking humor, grit and self-confidence,
not feeling compassion for the lowly
who cultivated farms and provided swine,
bread and wine for those royal tables.
He could have threatened them with vile words,
" Give me all your grains, vegetables and fruits;
your fowls, your chickens and pigs for my banquet! "
Load them on my wagon, don't hesitate and refuse:
my arrows don't miss targets, save your lives! "
And with intimidation they would appease him.
But Mariam would rise from her grave protesting,
" My husband isn't a villain as you describe him,
he saved my king and my father and tried to save me
from Guy of Gisbournue! Hail to him who revenged
many injustices in favor of the ones who trembled
at clanking swords! Hail to him who reunited England! "
Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2016