Prepare your home like a fortress
For the battle’s already come.
The Fallen One’s hosts are endless,
And our world may be soon undone.
We already are surrounded.
Prepare your home like a fortress.
Don’t stand there looking astounded;
The Adversary’s merciless!
Watch what you say; be most cautious.
Hide rations behind walls and floors.
Prepare your home like a fortress.
‘Friends’ may be crashing down your doors.
Disasters, plagues, insurrections,
Or whatever may cause distress.
If you can’t escape, load your guns!
Prepare your home like a fortress.
Copyright © Mark J. Halliday | Year Posted 2014
(a place no one has ever been)
We live out in da country
Miles away from anyone else
Papa and six boys, well, we're young men now....just sayin
Momma died at childbirth when baby brother was born
Love it here, cept at night, sleepin through “the howlin”
Big old wood frame house, island by grassland; den da forest
We keep a farm of pigs, goats, even cows; what da heck for ?
Every night Papa slayed an animal; laid it at da edge of da woods
Never new why until he called us six boys together one creepy night:
“Boy’s, listen to me, listen good….your Papa’s dying,
It won’t be long
The last 20 years, your Momma and I set out here a sacrifice
I don’t know what in God’s name is out there
This thing ain't human
Notice how it’s quiet for a while so you can get to sleep
It’s feeding time
Damn right, it’s eating the sacrifice
Long as we put them dead animals out
When I’m gone, it’s up to you six
Be my Nightwatch, ya hear me boys !
You all are men now
I love each one of you very much”
Father finished da story, den...
Said no one ever been in dem neck of doze woods
He bought property twenty (20) some years ago;
Prior owner told him da whole story
In a way I look at dis big monster as our protector
I've heard screamin at night, den da 'howlin'
O man, den dis loud munchin, chompin, chewin masdacated cry
Den more 'howlin'
Call da police ya say? No way. We safe...
So long we feed him, or it
At night: WHOAAA am scared to death
Papa's been gone a few years now
It’s up to us six to offer up da sacrifice
We older now and don’t all nestle up in one bed
Howlins still be, but we sleep at night best we can
Hated killin doze animals, deys didn’t do nuttin wrong
Dares no other way; we twied once and almost got ourselves scavaged alive
Am not goin out dare, never, not to
A place where no one has ever been
Copyright © Thomas Carney | Year Posted 2014
A place constructed in scents and colours
but walled by the bile of human character.
Chilling air leaving behind an itchy mind
and everything good in it, possesses a side effect.
A holy temple and a war zone are mixed bred
where the heart beats, jumps and relaxes in every minute;
where freedom is bagged and heavily conditional
and liberty, long been under serious medication.
The theaters are good narrators of its reality
b’cos every nice countenance and pleasant gesture
is a product of a well dedicated rehearsal,
hilariously crafting good times out of a certain time table.
The wind of joy crosses this dwelling
on its way to nature’s conference
but avoids the same road on its way back
as the red antenna signals its usual danger.
An Indian slave enjoys more freedom
and a hundred times liberty is experienced within a prison’s walls
than this place, merely existing to satisfy reality’s fame.
If this is a home- hell is an empire of peace.
Copyright © Funom Makama | Year Posted 2015
SARAJEVO - HOME AGAIN
Don't worry little girl, you need not cry,
we know your tears, and feel them every one
and all too well, though many more must die,
you will go home again, it is not gone,
but merely re-arranged, or burned at most,
the place called home still thrives for you one day
to dream and build again, a fence, a post,
four walls to keep you safe where you can stay,
and never see again man's evil eye
nor feel the pain of hate that brought this on,
and though for now you sit alone and cry,
the bombers and the butchers will be gone.
Your home is safe, and waits for your return,
Though nothing's left, except what will not burn.
© Ron Arbuthnot
Copyright © Vee Bdosa | Year Posted 2015
Magnificent mountains with trees so tall
emerald meadows, meandering streams
such a divine beauty to enthral.
Kashmir is beautiful only in my dreams,
my return to valley unlikely it seems.
I wish in my homeland, peace prevails
there death still dances with ugly eyes
over two decades gone by, my heart wails.
I have saved childhood memories as prize,
someday valley will have peaceful sunrise.
July 11, 2016.
Make a Wish - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Kim Merryman
Enter the CONTEST NO 211 any form-any theme max of 14 lines Poetry Contest.
In the year 1990, I was forced to abandon my home in Kashmir due to the turmoil caused by the separatists. Since then, I haven't been able to go back and I wish and pray for peace and maybe someday I could visit my homeland.
Copyright © Meenakshi Raina | Year Posted 2016
Everything around me just doesn’t feel real
Nobody can understand how I really feel
There’s gotta be more to life than this
Everything is leaving me in such a bliss
It feels like everyone is tearing me so far down
Even if I scream it seems like no one hears a sound
This all feels like a world of nothing
Falling so fast not being able to hold on to something
Listening to every single word that people say
Only is taking me to my own dismay
Trying to get out of this mess
Maybe this is only a test
Hoping to find something meaningful in this world of hurt
Not matter what I do I need to stay alert
Out in this lonely dark place
Hoping to find at least one decent face
Time is running so thin
Now I’m getting worried from within
This evil creature is staring into my eyes
Implanting such terrorizing lies
No matter how much I scream
I can’t escape this evil dream
Living in this cold and lonely place
Terrors I must always face
The only thing that gets me through
Is knowing one day I’ll be saved and be with you
Now I’ll just sit here and pray
Praying with me you’ll always stay
Copyright © Zach Mitchell | Year Posted 2012
The looking glass and the reflection are broken,
but it does not lie
He has spoken
Yet, I do not recognize this who stares back
The moon was high,
the time was nigh,
after that, I would have to make my pack
Being a hateful sight won't help
Being stupid only overwhelm
Being THIS won't do,
I want to be apart from you
For this and for that,
I had set free my only gnat
I blame only her,
I already felt my soul suffer
The fake joy, I sought
Love, whatever it is, I've found none
I desired to abstain with this mad search,
As it only turned to aught
Love's name I now smirch
I want to hang my heart in a knot
To stop or to slow down things for a second,
I had to be bitter with a certain person
Someone who never ever beckoned,
My soul exclaimed " Onto myself, arson!"
It feels like I am treading the path for my demise
But I know that I am not
Finding myself knee deep in lies,
I may start to rot
I sought means to feel this void again,
Being Involve by Anguish's chains
To be under the care of Dispair
The line now lies blurred,
for Jehuty's light is sick
Negative emotions, stirred,
letting go of her old soothing trick
Our bond is broken,
letting out what was left unspoken
The hurt starting from the inside,
reflections upon this husk, on the outside
The crimson brings rust
This woman gave me life
A life I didn't ask for,
nor it seems I have the right,
when to choose to fast forward it
My mind roams far, about what is life
Surely, can't be this
Forwhy this isn't right
I gave her disdain and hatred instead
She spoke of her ways
But all I grasped were failures
A nature passed onto me in daze
A gift of ignorance, with many lures
To her, to me, to you, from the world,
resulting in the utmost worst upbringing
To allow her to glimpse, was my worry,
perhaps it was too much punishing,
presenting why she shouldn't have had a lineage
Which brought her the tears,
as she saw the linkage
Whilst an old shears,
was brought as a visage to me...
Now that tears were given,
blood shall be given
Flowing down the drain,
the shadows in my mind and body are slain
An attempt to undo this so called life,
obscuring the sight, should suffice
To not see, to not feel,
to not think, to not exist
You may think,
that there are always another ways,
as like by the paper and ink,
that a life, or a fraction of it, should not be to one to reclaim
Alas yourself you deceive,
as only through such mannerisms,
a man is free from peeve
Copyright © The First Born The First Forgotten | Year Posted 2014
Many people have houses that are filled up with ghosts
And the problem they cause is the huge shortage of hosts
For there aren't many willing to tolerate that
Which is where I ride in with my ghost buster's hat.
It was long, long ago when I started to read
All those books about demons and statues that bleed
I became fascinated with all of that stuff
As I learned they were more than just hoaxes and guff.
But I slaved through the years learning everyday skills
While contenting myself with vicarious thrills
Till the time has arrived when I don't need to work
And I'm doing the job fearful owners will shirk.
For a modest retainer I bed myself down
In suburban locations, or sometimes in town
Which the families fled to preserve their own lives
When the husbands at last were convinced by their wives.
And I'll care for the place while concocting a plan
To evict all the 'tenants' just as soon as I can.
All my methods are those that have worked in the past,
From kind words to hard music that's of course set to blast.
In response to your unspoken question I'll say
That the ghosties occasionally come back to stay.
Which is how come "retainer" is the word that was used
And of gouging my clients I won't be accused.
Copyright © Roderick Molasar | Year Posted 2015
by Steven Pineda
There is a place that I work at that is called Walmart. I get ready everyday just to go to work for the evil corporation of slave drivers. The managers there are like giants holding whips slashing you and telling you to do there bidding. You do get a break ever two hrs but the water they give you is gasoline and is nasty and they shackle you to the store so you will not try to escape and run for your life. I stand at the register which is an evil machine that sticks its claws into you and doesn't allow you to move till you feed it money. And the thing you should be scared of is the almighty customer which you have to bow down to and do what ever they say. As I stand there waiting for them to come with all there nasty goodies their going to buy I tremble because I can hear the sound of their foot steps which is like nails on a chalk bored screeching towards you. If they choose you and go to your line beware for there are not forgiving and will throw you to the fire at a given chance. The first customers comes towards me and with whips starts hitting me and telling me to move faster to ring up there items so they can go home and dwell in they cave they came from. Hands hurting, Fingers bleeding this is the life of a cashier. At the end of the day I reach the doors and something magical happens I grow my wings back and fly home to enjoy myself. Then in return I become the customer and make another cashier bow down to me.
Copyright © steven pineda | Year Posted 2011
Emerald eyes staring at me
Staring at my floppy flabs
Staring at my rounded face
Staring at my too-small eyes,
Staring at flat nose,
Staring at my fat limbs,
Staring at my thin lips.
Jaded eyes all around me,
Cynical with tedious envy.
Copyright © Sarah Rose Linas | Year Posted 2016
So close I know we surely must be by now;
Long traveled roads and shaded breaks
Have brought us slowly here.
I hear that you are thinking of me,
That you have never really looked away.
And now I walk towards the ashes of what we called home,
No matter how badly my body is now worn.
I knew we would meet here one day
And so I cut my wrists to show the way
I wanted nothing but to take you here to me.
Copyright © Greta Kitts | Year Posted 2015
I do not know?
A necessary evil in this world is war, that is for sure,
It's necessary to use force, so human dignity and rights may endure.
What's evil is all the blood money lining top government pockets,
So many innocent people are dying and only government can stop it.
Who really knows how much money they intend to make,
How much money is worth all those innocent lives that are at stake?
How much longer is the United States going to justify staying in Iraq,
My personal opinion is oil is less important than dying soldiers under attack !
Saddam is in jail, a new government is now in place there,
Now leave them alone !
It's time to get more help for Katrina victims,
SEND THE TROOPS HOME !
Copyright © Dianne Smirnow | Year Posted 2006
three days pass
yet hopeful he is
little purpose in sight
prayers he sends
but little is there of light
is it a hopeful test
or is it a blasphemy quest
what does he have in mind?
the poor man has little life
little of will
and little of pride
he wanders his home
and perceives it collide
what shall I do?
where should I go?
the poor man asks
no answers to know
he waits still and duties fullfill
little does he know
his fate isn't ill
God is mercy
God is pride
God watches him
and with Devil decide
the texture of his path
and the hills he must surpass
the man sits yet alone
waiting to go home
Copyright © Marik Ishtar | Year Posted 2017
I am torn into a million pieces unable to
be sewn back together again,
people are hurting and I stand alone.
Friends abondon you says the Devil in my ear
they will destroy you if you get to near,
I cry out "Why does it have to be me why
not someone else?" the Devil replies with
an evil reply because you have sinned and
pushed your friends aside!
God calls to me from the dark deepths of my
soul and and tells me too come home to him
away from the Devil and all of his evil
ways I say when can I come home to you oh
my Lord he says now come to me the Devil is
not your friend and you pushed them all
away you must find your inner self and not
be afraid to battle your demons and get
them away then you can come home to your
place up above!
Copyright © Amber Bradshaw | Year Posted 2007
I live in a home of pain
And I find death everywhere
I feel lonely and scare
And nobody care
I wish I could run
But I never dare
To stand with a gun
The life sometimes be not fair
Give us things over bear
My care got broken in half of the way
Dark surround me, I hear voices say
You going to die, not survive
No way to get out alive
I lived as a freak
My body is wreck
That what I have been told by a snack
Do I have to believe it
That I am nothing but a shit
And let it go
My soul and know
I should be that tough
And face misery with a laugh
Copyright © Rahma Ahmed | Year Posted 2017
(I got the idea for this fictional poem from a movie.)
I hated my neighbor because he had the worst home in town.
His house brought the neighborhood's property value down.
I did some pretty low things to try to make this man sell.
I broke all of his windows and I even sent him hate mail.
I wanted him to sell his home and I would not to stop.
I even lied and had his dogs taken away by the cops.
I told the police that I saw his dogs attack some little kids.
I'm in a lot of misery because of the horrible things I did.
He cried as the cops took his dogs away.
That poor man took his own life that day.
I wanted to drive the man to sell his house, not to commit suicide.
I haven't been able to forgive myself no matter how hard I've tried.
What I did was evil and it was extremely cruel.
That poor man is dead because I was a fool.
Copyright © randy johnson | Year Posted 2008
Smash of a broken lock
Whispering, they talk
Time, it seems to stop
They’re in my house,
Searching for some loot
A tried and tested crew
What damage they may do
When they find us,
They'll find us.
Footfalls of the stairs
They think I’m unaware
That I would never dare
Come out there,
Go out there.
Doors smash, they see my wife
He brandishes a knife
My shotgun roars to life
He falls down,
The others turn and fly
The ringleader he lies
Looks confused as he dies…
He made his choice
...So be it.
Copyright © David Welch | Year Posted 2017