Evil Son Poems | Evil Poems About Son

These Evil Son poems are examples of Evil poems about Son. These are the best examples of Evil Son poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Couplet |

Overcome Evil With Good

A loving husband, a great man of God,
Few people would dare to walk the path he trod;

Came to spread the Good news of the Bible,
Left his own country to live among tribals;

Came to serve the poor with a great vision,
A friend of lepers, he did a great mission;

His heart was full of love for the dying,
But some of the people thought he was lying;

They did not understand his message, but
They sadly thought that he was there to convert;

Two little sons, unaware of all this,
Ready to meet their dad, saw nothing amiss;

They had come to him for holidaying,
And they were going home after a meeting;

On the way, wanting a warm place to sleep,
The man and his young sons laid down in their jeep;

The silent night was startled by loud cries,
When fifty men came with evil in their eyes;

For no fault of theirs, three kind souls were killed,
For loving lost people, their own lives were stilled;

On that fateful night, evil did smother
Three men of her family, killed together;

It was the worst blow his wife ever had,
But she forgave the killers. Good conquered bad;

They were killed in a murder cold-blooded,
Brutally those three were incinerated;

The missionary work went on to thrive,       
Though Graham Staines and sons had been burnt alive.

                       --R           I--
                    -- U  N      L   V --
                 --- B      T  A      E ---
                STAINES AND HIS SONS
                     (_)                 (_)


{Graham Staines was an Australian missionary who was burnt alive in Manoharpur village (Keonjhar district, Odisha, India) on 23rd January,1999 along with his two young sons, Philip (10) and Timothy (6) by a mob of about fifty for allegedly 'converting'  the villagers to Christianity. After his death, his wife, Gladys, continued his work among the lepers until she returned to Australia in 2004. In her affidavit before the Commission on the death of her husband and two sons, Gladys Staines stated: 

"The Lord God is always with me to guide me and help me to try to accomplish the work of Graham, but I sometimes wonder why Graham was killed and also what made his assassins to behave in such a brutal manner on the night of 22nd/23rd January 1999. It is far from my mind to punish the persons who were responsible for the death of my husband Graham and my two children. But it is my desire and hope that they would repent and would be reformed."}

Copyright © Jo Daniel | Year Posted 2016

Details | Free verse |

Lives In The Son

With me it’s not a matter of “If I could talk to God”
I have talked to God, I talk to him all throughout the day
I first talked to God when I was forty-one
I was an evil man
See, I had lost everything and everyone I had ever loved
I was in prison, which was nothing new
Except on this particular time, which was also my last time
I was in the hole and hate was all I had left
God set me free that day
He gave me a gift called Poetry
And from inside that cell
I sprouted wings and with every poem I wrote
I flew on the wings of an angel
Then out of the blue he returned my wife
Who had left me over a year before
After talking me into turning myself in
Well if I could talk to God this is what I would say:
Through the pain and tears I cried 
An evil soul laid down and died
And of the stories that soul could tell
Delivered from the pits of hell
I thank you God for the blood of your Son
That enabled my sins to be undone
For giving me the gift and desire to write
The strength inside to stand and fight
For the love of my wife as well as my kids
A way to undo all the evil I did
I am your servant may your will be done
For what once was the darkness now lives in the Son
Lord why have you given all this to me?
I try to understand but still can’t see
You are the beginning and the end of time
The keeper of love and all that’s divine
And I was evil upon two feet
Tired, lonely, broken and beat
I don’t deserve all you have given to me
Try as I might I still cannot see
But till death I’ll do all I can
To live your word and be a man
I am your servant may your will be done
For what once was the darkness now lives in he Son
Anyhow if I could talk to God
I reckon I would probably say something like that

Copyright © Michael Jordan | Year Posted 2009

Details | Rhyme |

America Is Being DESTROYED From Within


As sin and perversion often become integrated… So many lives and families are being “disintegrated.” Many are being driven by sin’s temptation force… It’s no wonder much of this country is way “off course.” The morality and values that once made a great nation. Are evaporating…. Leading to a “spiritual separation.” Love, honor, and respect of God… Is often a “thing of the past.” Anything of God seems to be disappearing FAST! God is our only hope! And him alone! Only he can bring healing to our broken homes! He’s the answer to this wounded nation, that bleeds! It’s only God that can meet all of our needs! He’s our provider… The great: “I am!” Won’t you reach out to him? And give him your hand? Why not give him a chance? And allow him in? A brand new life for you… Is waiting to begin! May we allow God’s holiness and love to reach down into our hearts… Asking; “Lord please forgive our sins!” Is a good place to start! By Jim Pemberton

Copyright © Jim Pemberton | Year Posted 2013

Details | Nazm |

NaFarmaan NaKhalf Baitay Ka Noha-- Elegy of a Disobedient and Evil Son

BeAdab gustakh jab aulad ho jaye
Chain sukh maa'n baap ka barbaad ho jaye

Cheen le budbakht jo walid ka sarmaya
Jeete jee kion baap na barbad ho jae

Aasteen ka saamp that beta nhi the woh
Maut ae usko woh barbad ho jae

Baap kee jo he raza Allah kee bhi he
Aashna is qaul se aulad ho jae

Maa'n ke hee pairoan talay jannat ko kar talash
Rah se bhatka jo too barbaad ho jae

Beta boorhay baap ka baazu he kehlata
Beta ye na samjhay toh barbaad ho jae

Nek o taabaydar ho aulad to wallah
Walideen ka dil khushi se shaad ho jae

Kia karein woh waladeen jab nakhalaf beta
Mayel e jaur o situm eejaad ho jae

Qibla o Ka'aba kuch kumtar nhi maa'n baap
Kaash hurmat aashna aulaad ho jae

Deen o dunya chin gaee naKhalf betay se
Baap per jo mayel e bedaad ho jae

Tu ne mera dil dukhaya to he mere lal
Hashr tak tu unsuni faryaad ho jae

Kion na ho jae pidar phir zinda dar-goar
Jab pisar badbakht hee sayyad ho jae

Copyright © mazhar butt | Year Posted 2014

Details | Rhyme |

Contemptible Cuisine

Oh, Mother! Why are you such a rotten cook?
I tremble at the sight of this horrific gruel!
I dare say you are being jolly cruel!
Oh! God! Please get me off the hook!

Copyright © Ivo Cosentino | Year Posted 2014

Details | Ekphrasis |

Saturn Devours His Son

In the void lurks a titan.
The father of the gods themselves.
Though by now he wishes that he was not.
But the selfish titan lord Kronos,
The father of the Olympians named Saturn,
Must want to reclaim the life that he poured into his children.
As he stands there,
Crouched in the darkness,
The only thing that one can see
Is that among the titans,
Even the king has no honor.
One can also see the visage of Saturn himself.
In his mighty but frail old hands
He holds an eviscerated lump of his own flesh
Pouring out his own blood,
A son of a titan,
A god of Olympus,
Made a meal by the one who gave him life.
As this lord of Olympus,
Laid low by a bout of cannibalistic hunger,
Dwarfs a full-grown human being,
The titan that feasted upon him was larger by far,
As an adult man would be to a small child.
But on his massive frame he wears no kingly robes;
Only the pale, rotted flesh of a beast who has spent days
Consuming his own children.
His head wears not a crown,
But a face so animalistic that "face" does not describe it,
So vile that the lowest of animals would object to it being called animalistic.
His sunken eyes
Are a pair of eyes that are windows to a vacant soul.
From his red-stained mouth a godly entrail hangs,
And the same mouth is opened yet again
To bite again into the godly flesh
That he has now come to enjoy.
The dark, rotted mouth
Of a titan who has devoured his own son.

Copyright © Joseph Coogan | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

An Emperor's gift to his son (the story of the root of all evil)

There once was an emperor who had a son
a son who would need to learn lessons in mastermining
to govern the world 
thus he gave his son a gift
the lottery

By doing proper math,
formulating teams
to purchase every possible ticket
to win his own lottery
a life lesson of a bribe to demonstrate his ability of doing some excellent math

by mentioning this one day
the emperor's son was ostrocised by society
shunned, introduced to temptation after temptation
drugs and alcohol
held hostage by society

driven to madness
the emperor's son
lit a house on fire to serve his prison sentence
away to a mental institute where he was mentally and physically tortured
through an abusive therapy of medications
reverse psychology

Not sure if my father is still out there
if i'll ever get to meet him
if i was kidnapped or switched at birth
this is my story of a gift an emperor gave
turned society into a disgusting life long experience
while living constant punishment of how pointless life was
formed their own teams
using the emperor's son's formula
rubbed their happiness and succes in his face
proceeded to use their funds to keep their hostage miserable

There is nothing worse in the world you can do to me
it's all been done
nothing worse than existance
i know this from personal experience
many of you were bribed and ready to do the wrong thing
many of you who looked upon a tortured soul and couldn't see his pain
just retaliate with more punishments for his imperfections
nothing more than perfect emotions anyone would feel

This is my story
a truth i've never known or been told
desire parental tests by some doctor who is not going to accept a bribe
i deserve to know the truth
it is definately my turn to have something good happen to me
for the first time in my life

when for the first time in my life
don't be surprised to find it to be an overwhelming experience
of one person's struggle to defend their own life
discover their truth
outwit their suppressors
and overcome the knowledge a disgusting life experience
that will never happen to anyone again

I lived the root of all evil that you used as a weapon
as i was claimed victom to your comandments you used to blackmail me with   
make me look like i was the 
do not lie about this
start talking
i'm sure there is a higher reward in freeing societies captive
so he can meet his own father
im tired of trying to comit suicide on christmas and my birthday

Copyright © Troy Jeremy Nelson | Year Posted 2010

Details | Rhyme |

An Eye For An Eye

Your son was a lowlife hooligan.
Last year he murdered my son.
When it came to having the ability to show mercy, your son sure did lack it.
He shot my son right between the eyes because of his expensive jacket.
My boy gave him the jacket but he killed him anyway.
When I identified my son's body, your son had to pay.
Your son wanted to prove to his gang members that he was big and bad.
He shot my son in cold blood and returning the favor made me feel glad.
Your son was arrested but a bleeding heart judge let him out on bail.
A few hours later your son became the victim of a 44 Magnum Shell.
I killed him the same exact way that he killed my son, a bullet right between the eyes.
I didn't realize that a man could get so much pleasure by seeing another person die.
It was an eye for an eye, I pulled my gun on him and it felt so good to shoot.
But your son's death isn't good enough for me, I hope he fries in Hell to boot.

(This is a fictional poem)

Copyright © randy johnson | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse |

Said the New Jersey Bomber A Terrorist

Said the terrorist,
Terrorized and
radicalized by what the mind dictates.
Spreads it’s evil into the eyes,
stares into arrogance
justifies presumptuous actions 
and forces you to comply. 

Did I not think?
Once done,
irreversible these actions?
But no,
this rude bravado
assumes it carries the weight of God.
Who am I to dictate such ignorance?
They do on to me and so I do unto them?
For whom?
Did God ask you to take revenge?
No that is of your choice.
I chose my actions.
The devil speaks into both ears,
into your eyes,
into your visions,
into your hands,
into everything you do.
You become the devil’s advisory,
a chilling killer.
Think again!
God is not on your side!

Why do we do what we do?
our infectious mind
spreads through the eyes,
motivate our visions 
till we comply.
© Al. Juman  The "said" Poet  7/7/2016

Copyright © Al Juman | Year Posted 2016

Details | Blank verse |


 In the beginning, it is like walking on a narrow track
With olive roots over the ground to trip you up and branches
Of trees slapping you in the face, if you fall get up and 
Continue to walk to be tired is not an alternative for a rest
The track gets smoother and wider, but it rains muds up to 
Your ankles and you have to cross a stream.
After the ordeal you look back and wonder who helped, you inner
Strength the id it stepped in when most needed
Ahead is a shiny asphalted road waiting just for you.
I can`t promise you happiness and Hallelujahs,
 But promise this when at home and the day was long you 
Will smile feel contentment for you have walked the walk, 
 Your feet are dry and life is not as bad as you thought.

Copyright © jan oskar hansen | Year Posted 2016

Details | Prose |


Oliver came to the final decision, that he 
would never find the long lost son of the 
queen.He searched and searched but 
continued to hit a brick wall. All he had to 
go on was the address of the home for 
unwed mothers and the date the male 
child was born. The home was no longer 
there it was now an apartment complex. 
As he was deep in thought his phone rang.
" Oliver you have to get home now"
"What is it mother?"
"Son it's the queen.  She is in real bad 
shape and she has been rushed to the 
hospital. Oliver she needs you dear."
"I'm on my way mother." He stated with 
tears running down his face. Although
the Queen was from royal blood, she 
never treated him or his family like the
help. She treated them like family, to 
Oliver she was the grandmother he never 
had. A few hours later the dark shadow
that followed his every move placed his
own phone call.
"Sir I don't know what has come up but
Oliver is at the New York airport.  He's on
his way back home. He looks terrible and
you can tell that he's been crying. To put it
bluntly he looks like someone has died."
"He must have heard about my poor aunt.
The Queen is gravely ill if you know what 
I mean?  That crown will be mines in no 
time and I can't wait."
As Winfred hung up the phone two single
tears ran down his cheek.  He loved your
"grace" too in his own special way. He was 
also sad for the kingdom because he knew
Prince Jacob had a heart of stone.

Alexis Y.

Copyright © Alexis Y. | Year Posted 2017

Details | Chant Royal |


The Temptation 

The girls in the bar that had floors made of
Stranded schooners timber came and sat by us
Many sailors had drowned here
On their way to Saragossa Sea their blood had
Run in the cracks on the floor 
Drip, onto the sea below the colour of crimson
I looked into her eyes an evil goddess with
Green eyes yet I followed her to the rooms at the back
And she laughed when she caught me. 

Copyright © jan oskar hansen | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |



if the word is all I have left, 
that explains why it comes so 
easily for me. think of my death 
while you live because without 
the word, I'd be worm food. I 
can't help but weep for those 
men that're stuck for life.
young foolish men too foolish 
to walk away.
young foolish men too drunk with 
love to breathe. I can't help but 
weep as I too was once that young 
fool. as they stand within a 
structure, everything that meets 
a woman so to will meet that man 
and every man after that. the 
greatest cliché ever given to a 
woman, is that since she is the 
one who gives life, she too can 
take it away.
the closed-minded see this as an 
empowerment for women.
the wise see it for the false
empowerment it gives.
it isn't what lives in you as you 
walk this planet, it's what dies 
inside as you run the path around 
it. as good men fight for their
children, fight for their money, 
fight for their insanity, fight to 
just avoid the unnecessary 
darkness inside new loves, the
life is slowly sucked out of them 
like the nicotine inside a cigarette. 
but maybe they got this cliché 
as a murderer returns to the 
scene of the crime, the first act 
never enough.

By: Chicano Eddie

Copyright © CHICANO EDDIE | Year Posted 2017

Details | Lyric |

Going Postal

There is no place for me to go 
I'll spend my life right here I know, 
I lost my job then lost my dough 
Last night I lost my bride with adio'! 

I stayed the straight and narrow road, 
And carried, always, my own load. 
Missed not a day of work, I'm told, 
For twenty years. No pocket watch of gold? 

It tore my heart apart you see; 
They threw me out then tossed the key 
Without a nod to loyalty 
Or help me find a job at fifty-tjree.

So now I'm standin' over daddy's grave, 
Ten days from calm to ragin' full-blown rave; 
Hey daddy! I'm no good and I'm not brave 
But I'll be killin' souls your God can't save: 
I'm hopin for a score of fifty-three 
One soul for every year of wretched me. 

I do remember daddy tellin' me when I was young - 
"I'm proud my son of every single song I've ever sung, 
Because the wrongs I found in life to fire and ice were flung! 
The Good Book said to cling to IT so to IT I have clung - 
That Book was good to me young son and helped me climb each rung." 

An unsophisticated man from birth until you died, 
But damn it dad you took me to the brink of suicide; 
I grew to be not me but you and you died satisfied. 
But dad, life spent denying truth denied the Wolves outside. 

I took a look at your Good Book and found profound its way - 
Make sure you do to those who did to you and don't delay! 
Hey dad, I thought I'd share with you, I bought my gun today 
And it's a beaut you'd love to shoot and help me bag my prey; 
But in the grave you stay to serve your well deserved decay. 

I wish that I could do to you what I must do to them; 
For you put all the evil in me I can't seem to stem. 
My heart and body, now my blood, is turning pus and phlegm, 
But when they're dead then I'll have fed my sweet revenge its gem, 
So I can turn and kill myself and evil you did breed. 
You lit your pious Book up bright, why not your evil seed? 


Copyright © tom mcmurray | Year Posted 2010

Details | Blank verse |

a painting of oblivion

Painting of Oblivion 

The canvas is uniformly white  
As a screen depicts nothingness 
And there is immobility.
Occasionally a red dot appears
when a mass of void is moved
Into life in the form of a life
A beast or a man? 
The mystery is no one knows
Why this randomness occurs 

Copyright © jan oskar hansen | Year Posted 2016

Details | Narrative |


Joseph-----born in October 1994—to your Mother and her family.
When I collided with your Mother—in 1993—all she was-
absence for------was you!
All she would declare is---She needed a child to complete her- 
A Son or Daughter ----that did not matter to her!

If this echo is all too familiar--- I assure you--- it is NOT!
You see --my dearest Joseph --you are THE MISSING -- FATHER’S SON.
You have only known one view of this great epic —But--- today—you 
will hear of THE MISSING -- FATHER’S SON.
Forced by your Mother and her family to NEVER--- have communion 
with you!

Given your Mother’s madden name at birth--- you lived in her- 
Unable to communicate with the out-side world--- forced to never-
have communion ---with me--- MY ONLY SON!!
You see my dearest Joseph--- you are THE MISSING -- FATHER’S SON.
Only one BEING would know my PAIN--- without you-- MY ONLY 

It would seem some evil force be-hide the whole perplexity.
You force by your mother and family---- into--- a fatherless child’s-- world
Me forced to live with-out----- my only Son—which cause YOU to be-
I am sure reality has been restrained from YOU-----your entire life.

 Only one BEING would know my PAIN--- without you-- MY ONLY 
But---- HE sent HIS-- only SON to the CROSS--- To die for you and me.
Beaten, bruised, tormented and Crucified----beyond recognition---for OUR SINS!!
ALL THANKS be to HIS Heavenly Father----because with-out HIM---
you would not have a Padre.

You see --my dearest Joseph --you are THE MISSING -- FATHER’S SON.
If some evil force is present—he would know that the HEAVENLY—
Father is your father ------after all.
Because HE -----and HE alone ----can only be a Father to the 
I leave with you my final plea—you would KNOW HIM as your- 



Copyright © Wayne Mattison | Year Posted 2010

Details | Free verse |

First Trial

He says we must take up our cross
to follow him and that his yoke is easy.

One must hole back the rushing river
made from desire melting at the peak.
Standing, awaiting, the wall of water.
To hold it back. To keep it from allowing to grow
terrible and evil things in the fertile soul.
Yet every moment, the weight increases.
The Son melts the cold, hardened ice
to give the soul liberty from its threshold.
Eventually, at long last, it lessens.
The soiled water begins to evaporate
as the Son continues to work.
It heats the water asunder into ether.
The fist burden is through,
but what water passed through your grip
has begun to cultivate evil below.
Evil that grows in the soul
is tougher to destroy than
that of the infertile peak.

Alas, another trial awaits.

Copyright © Nicholas Westerhausen | Year Posted 2008

Details | Rhyme |

Barron's Trauma

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

Details | Lyric |

Forgotten Son~ Evil~

As I cut your throat 
Blood covering my hands 
I feel your life draining,
Your very existence given unto me
As your dreams drip from my finger tips 
You slowly fade…
Pictures of your family fill your eyes
As you slowly come to your demise
I will forget all I have done
Escaping into the darkness 
I am god’s only forgotten son~

Copyright © John Cornell | Year Posted 2007

Details | Ballad |

The Gold and the Rainbow Serpent

All stories have a beginning, body and an end
This story was a journey that I would have to defend
We left home the last day in the hot glowering sun
We drove to the end of the bitumen as the journey had begun 

In the Outback there can be long dusty miles to travel
As we drove the mystery of the journey started to unravel 
Charlie Dinner-plate was one of our crew mates too
Who knew the land as one of the Arrernte  people true

Onward with permission to Oak Valley north of Ceduna town
We sat in the dirt with the elders asking what would go down
They agreed for us to look on their land on the area of the map
It was the first hurdle in our search for the fabled gold track

But Charlie warned us there was one place we couldn't go
For The Dreaming legend of the Rainbow Serpent on show
So we journey through the area and explored the sites we found
And the task was difficult in the scorching baked rocky ground

Until there could be only one place left for us on the sacred soil
But Charlie told us it would mean certain death in our toil
There was a long discussion until he left us there on the track
And as he drove away I saw him looking one last time back

I wish now I had heeded Charlie's warning call
Leaving that place forever and not taken my final fall
It took us five days to find the gold in the rolling hills
As we staked our claim with so much gold it spills

But around the last corner we saw the elders standing there
In total silence they were just looking at us in a total stare
I stopped the car then the chanting started through the air
When the one in the middle pointed a bone at us with such care

Now that was barely a month ago and I have lost it all
My partners are dead from strange happenings in their fall
And the gold has disappeared as my fatalistic call has begun
As I sit in this cabin waiting for what to me will finally come.

© Paul Warren Poetry

Copyright © Paul Warren | Year Posted 2017

Details | Free verse |



black roses fight for air
they'll never bloom
while the weeds grow 
out of arrogance
skeletons bleed

skies blood red
clouds lose faith
the darkness is 
the world for many
skeletons bleed

what are you waiting for?
what are we waiting for?
the days ahead fall short
to the blackest of nights
skeletons bleed

rainbows stand broken
like glass on a broken frame
the faces have no names
the names have no faces
skeletons bleed

they were taken from me
I'll ask, "How do you do?"
you must never forget
to you both, I love you
skeletons bleed

as they stand ready to fight
the tears never came
oh, how they've grown
I love them more 
than they'll ever know

soon their faces 
will be mine
and they'll carry 
it with pride

as the skeletons bleed
in this forlorn world.

By: Chicano Eddie

Copyright © CHICANO EDDIE | Year Posted 2016