Best Atrocity Poems
I stole the silver lining
from the clouds above
and wove them into a mantle
for my bare shoulders
no longer will wishes come true
this atrocity realized
the heavens opened
crying sparkling tears
these I beaded on a
golden thread for my neck
when darkness came, I pulled
the twinkling stars from
the night stitching them
into a flowing skirt
using the crescent moon
as a tiara for my hair
for these sins I am damned
instead of creating something
beautiful, I pillaged it
selfish, narcissistic, envious
of beauty beyond my own
1.
Too many lives were lost today/
too many more will follow/
but a buck was made.
2.
A snow topped mountain/
is a mountain no more/
it's a hole without coal.
3.
The laws/
with double standards/
make justice weep.
4.
Will the last of humanity;
in their impunity,
erect a grave?
5.
As children die off yonder/
the profit seeking man/
unknowingly kills his own.
6.
The countless dead are counted/
the countless living are discounted/
the sham is sold.
7.
The sky rains ashes/
as the tides come in/
painting distant landscapes blind.
Once human could do what the angel fully failed
Now human can commit what Satan itself cannot
What we are in modern civilization experiencing here
In early 21st century, in an atrocious house, Myanmar;
Covered in colored fells they sit in meditative mood
They know about what they have thought in mind
But coming out of the spots with poisonous nails
Humans they tweeze to kill making artificial hells,
The Bamar are wildly piecing, burning alive humans
Dissecting, exfoliating and feeding the animals,
Often they dangle the victims to the pole and pike
Then torment cutting, burning severely they like;
They are seriously hungry for children and women
Molesting, punching, raping, finally killing is aim
Torturing and torturing they turn young girls crazy
Then again they return to meditation and seen busy.
You bombed, bombed
Now you airdrop aids
You killed, killed
God’s children
Pregnant moms
Innocent women
Poor toddlers
Weak boys and sick men
No reason
You poisoned water
You robbed, robbed
Now you want
To give sweet ice cream
To children
You are crazy
You are sick
How naughty
What a shame
How nauseating
The world is at war
This is sickening
Hypocrites
You are, yes you are
You bombed, bombed
You killed, killed
The world is at war
Humanitarian
Food, bombs and missiles.
Copyright © March 2024, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
compassion felt in my chest,
in my abdominals,
in my mind…it hurts
i cannot speak
of such atrocity
as I have heard about
i feel sick
what inhuman entity
would do such things
no human
could
one would have to be
possessed
by the devil
do you follow such creatures?
do they inhabit you too?
scrub yourself with hyssop
tongs to your tongue with heaven’s burning coal
the tongue is out of control…the final fruit
is self-control…line up the tongue
with God’s Holy Spirit
speak life…be whole
A white washed fence; clean and pristine
On the other side of the fence; cream and olive green
Clear to both- is that the colors fade
Even if one is more in the shade
The sun beams down on an olive branch
That had been extended by chance
The side of the olive green
Has a cream colored rose-painted in a summer scene
Never have the two given up the feud
So both are unsightly and rude
The bullheadedness was getting old
So, the children scold-
The parents
For not accepting each other; when the time was right
Like in the beginning of the fight
A child will learn quicker than an adult
Which road to go down; before it is time to start a bout
About how close a tree is on one’s property
But it is the parent that will create an atrocity
Landscape of Hiroshima about eight-thirty a.m. After the death angel Enola Gay turns away she gave birth to the little boy as fiery rolling smoke starts clearing Etched upon a wall a boy and girl playing with a ball Those there could not see it for their eyes were melted A city meshed with death blood iron and rock A three year old boy partially dripping skin cry’s for mom But a twelve year old girl looks unharmed but within days Poisoned by death’s light she withers away As you pull back from this horrific seen It only magnifies for a hundred thousand plus Stench smoldering flesh mingled with everything The land of sun lays beneath a blanket of death A city leveled by little boys fierce foul breath And then aftermath for years later Countless children die or are born defective
Hangman, hangman,
That man is being hung
Stop the atrocity.
Let us hang him,
Since we are all guilty
Unless you're sinless
Accessed in a mortality?
Whether the Indigenous People,
robed in leathers, head dressed in feathers,
who had their own sovereign nations,
wanted it or not,
June 2nd 1924,
U.S. President Calvin Coolidge
condescendingly signed the Snyder Act,
a.k.a., the Indian Citizenship Act, into law,
thereby conferring American citizenship
on American Indians.
He had it backwards,
it was no more than an affront
as, whether the Indigenous People
wanted them or not,
it was American Indians who,
altho' they made no claim to own Mother Earth,
should have conferred American citizenship
on the Paleface People,
who were mere trespassers on tribal territory.
And Woody Guthrie
(1912 – 1967),
another white man,
was not referring
to Native Americans
when he wrote,
'This land is your land.'
viewed viscosity
varying velocity
of atrocity
(animosity)
(aristocracy)
(a democracy)
(of veracity)
Men in blue, are your
blood-stained uniforms ashamed
~ post-atrocity
M-orbid
A-trocity's
R-abidity
L-ets
Y-ucky
N-astiness
P-lague
O-ur
N-ation
T-o
I-nflict
G-rief
O-r
N-uisance
Topic: Birthday of Marlyn B. Pontigon (June 21)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
Woke up with a headache
Throbbing to the beat
Of that song on the radio
Always on repeat
Sung by a masochist
Written by a creep
How I love when I’m criticized by the meek
By a rickety white man
That’s morals are constructed
By hate and inequality
Love that’s paired with scrutiny
Plus constructs that are weak
Trust my lovely brother
He’s funded manipulation
For a proper nation
Where the homos repent
Where the women are mothers
Where the church is forced on the troubled
Where naturalism is turned to ash
Where equality is taught to be bad
Woke up with a headache
Throbbing to the beat
Of the rhythm the soldiers make with their feet
Reciting orders told to them
Mistakes will certify being beat
They learn the steps to a dance
Named the atrocity
I was saddened to witness
The atrocity of the bystander.
He seemed like such a decent guy.
J-eopardy
O-f
A-trocity
N-otoriously
S-trikes
A-s
N-asty
C-ontagion
H-as
E-pidemic
Z-one
Topic: Birthday of Joan S. Sanchez (May 30)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic