Best Barbarity Poems
Rising from the desert sand
was a shimmering mirage
of a thousand shouts
Heated winds of fanaticism,
intense and blowing violently loud
Shrill calls to blood prayer seethe,
breathing fiery invocations
of a perverted philosophy
Screaming death to the infidels —
a scarlet smeared mirror reflecting
black cloth covered savagery
Crimson prayers are the daubed untempered mortar
which cements the foundation of this shakily rising kingdom
Whet the glittering scimitar swung grisly:
Beheadings are the blade’s
propaganda recruitment shock TV
Desert crisis ... dreaded carrion claws of ISIS,
oasis mirage bathe the sociopaths in bloody bliss
Mutilated bodies floating upon the desert sea,
a raised dark flag boasts of a fleeting victory
Prideful utterances of unspeakable barbarity
Contemned caliphate mercurial rising ...
now descending quickly below the horizon
Crumbling desert kingdom,
butchery sow the seeds of your ruin
The sand castle rise to power was ever so brief,
a pirated religion kingdom soon to end suddenly
Taking hostage your own faith,
now the proselyte guards are
fleeing from the palace carnage
Crumbling desert kingdom,
butchery sow the seeds of your ruin
Innocent blood spilled in the sand
will be your caliphate’s undoing
Crumbling desert kingdom,
blood reap the harvest of your ruin
Let your prophets of terror and rage
shout a false sanctum call to prayer
Intoning not this one truth: God will surely repay!
Categories:
barbarity, death, judgement, religious, truth,
Form:
Elegy
The sky is red by the blood being shed
The conscience of civilized world asleep
Where in the world is humanity being lead
Here is a corpse there is a throat cut deep
Vultures are feasting, dogs devouring
Devils dancing, angels clamoring
Monsters feasting, demons dancing
Guns tottering, weapons wielding
Is Muslim blood thinner?
Easy to be shed without remorse
Palestine, Afghanistan, Pakistan, Kashmir and now Myanmar
And existing Al-Qaida, Lashkar-e-Jhangvi and Taliban’s curse
Tortuous perils and vulnerability,
Fanatical sectarianism’s brutality
The two-edged sword of bigotry
Parochial savagery and barbarity
Religious teachings innocuous
Be them of Buddha, Muhammad or Jesus
Where are your wits, where is the focus?
Insensitive, vicious and callous
Await the leaping Hell-fire’s tentacles
----
Categories:
barbarity, conflict, death, faith, horror,
Form:
Rhyme
This once majestic creature - its form
now a dried hide stretched over mutilated bones.
As defenseless in death, as it was in life,
its tusks hacked from its noble skull.
Its ear rests serenely on its shoulder
among dead sticks the carcass testifies
to the barbarity of evil men
front legs folded back where it heaved in agony-
gave its last breath to vile humanity.
Who can explain to children, the reality of
their storybook elephants or zoo friends?
Out in the wild places, even when protected
they succumb to greed and avarice.
Someday the spaces of Africa will be filled
with extinction.
4/7/2016
For Silent Ones
Images that make you think - #2
3rd Place
Categories:
barbarity, africa, corruption, death, earth,
Form:
Free verse
Our swollen faces
have become dashboards of our miseries,
The wounds may heal
but the scars will remind us still
of the the tears we shed to the blood lost,
of the shallow holes we dug with our bruised fingers
and the rough terrains we lay our heads at night
Its the look on our faces
that continue to say it all;
The scars, the blood and the tears
What now
have become a new song to our barbarity?
Worse than imperialism and tribalism
will this fresh wound on our faces ever heal;
a people willed to terror
killing their mastered skill
human blood the pill to their social and economical ills
Fresh wounds on our scarred faces
We cry, we continue to die
Crying before we die we ask Why?
How high should we take this poetry
to awake the gods of peace to this marooning barbarity?
A fresh wound
on our scarred faces
More blood in the streets
than there is safe water to drink
The beloved face of humanity
is all tattooed with scars of hate
We cry, we continue to die
Our swollen faces
have become dashboards of our miseries
From our swollen faces
the soar songs we sing crying
says it all better;
The scars from healed wounds
may remain on our faces a piece of history,
a narration of our past
symbolizing the ills we conquered
and know better to avoid
Wise enough to avoid the same stupidity
Categories:
barbarity, peace, war,
Form:
Classicism
Walking along the trail he thought about days past.
They were told they had to leave, but never were they asked.
The morning dew was cool as they began the long walk west.
When his father said don't look back he knew it was for the best.
Leaving his home was hard, he couldn't begin to understand.
The place they were going was said to be grassy meadowland.
As the days turned into weeks many of his people perished.
The hope they felt in the beginning had already vanished.
It's impossible to know the horror they were forced to endure.
Without John Ross however, they'd have lost more to be sure.
There's no doubt they were forced to endure heinous barbarity.
However, he walks with head held high because he is Cherokee.
Categories:
barbarity, betrayal, courage, native american,
Form:
Rhyme
Ellis Island
Men come here to see a statue
With hungry masses at it I knee
I come here to breathe again
The simplicity of the allusion
For I knew Moby Dick
Was not why alone
Our children were born
Blemished like the rainbow
So I come to see
Where he had slept resisting to return
While he decolonized my illusion
I have seen the pen in its might
How time was never fast enough
To catch a metaphor in flight
And yet always I fear more
The impotence of the sword
In a Proletariat hand
So this is where they flocked you
Among the impotent and dying
Among the anxious and lying
You who were our brightest son
Boldest mind,
Most fearless thinker of the time
I wept too without the Federation
But cannot find the courage to curse
My own wrong
I thought all games are wars
You think all wars are games
A means by which barbarity
Prevents my integration
With self and other self
And the selves
I become being civilized
I saw the sea
You invented the water cycle
The thing that no man yet has ridden.
Categories:
barbarity, history, peoplemetaphor,
Form:
Free verse
An extra shot of whiskey,
To keep my hands steady,
A potent dosage of psycho,
To kill everyone in this fermented grotto,
A torrent of tears,
To drown my homicidal regrets and masochistic fears.
Sadistically driven by revenge claimed so long ago,
Sewing makeshift stitches over my gaping emotional wounds,
Accumulated from years of abuse that created our antihero,
Performing nightly spectacles of barbarity to receive my dues,
I am a woman consumed by vendettas yet hollow to the core,
Trapped within empty bottles and dirty syringes,
Desperately searching for any hope to restore,
A fragmented psyche from becoming completely unhinged.
Another round of glaring lights,
To soothe the intoxicated patrons demanding a fight,
Another bottle downed,
To loosen the limbs and lose track of the ground,
Another match between the violently stupid and the hopelessly depraved,
To find out which ones which after I've vehemently raved,
At my booze for not buzzing,
At my chems for not lifting,
At myself for not quitting,
At my life for not ending.
How many more nights can I take of this,
One more shot and I'm bound to burst,
One more chem and I taste death's kiss,
Since leaving the womb my life's been cursed,
I should end it all with one good shot,
Scream a final "screw you" to the world through my double-barrel microphone,
Not like anyone's gonna listen whether they be across the Commonwealth or within earshot,
So it's either throw the match and die with the last laugh,
Or crawl into a corner and let my splattered brain write my final epitaph.
A sudden muzzle flash,
With the sound of cracking whips and roaring thunder,
The fragrant aroma entices my nostrils with the perfume of rabid gunpowder and easy cash,
A fight to the death interrupted by a hail of gunfire? Yea, sounds like my usual drunken stupor,
Maybe it's my guardian angel coming to save me,
Well she's got red hair and a nice ass so call me a believer,
Looks like you won't be taking me out tonight Reaper you old thief,
I've got a prior engagement with my shotgun,
And a date with destiny.
Categories:
barbarity, drink, loneliness, romance, woman,
Form:
Rhyme
Reason insufficient, put no man above the law
And to instigate
To aid and abet in any form of hate
Is a fundamental conspiracy
Against his own exalted view
Of the savage transformed to deity by reason.
I cannot speak of St. Bartholome's massacre
But I know revulsion
For five females raped, the youngest only eight.
Blood drips from that philosophy
Without balm or cross
That by subtle argument construe
Men who knew the difference between wrong and right
Performed this gruesome deed by cover of night
I cannot trust the lofty exaltation
Of the savage and his barbarity to volition
Something more sinister and more dark
Something meaning that rebellion
A greater purpose than reason can opine
Is significant man's madness all the time
O Kant, I lay it at your door
Mal es el nombre primero
You are neither god nor with us
And its more than reason that you are dust
Death is no aesthetic illusion
But I have seen since the Enlightenment
Men crawling up and down in delusion
Finding scraps after scraps
All your freedom is anarchy
While they are strangled
In your brain numbing conspiracy
Exalting the fall to a greater throne.
Categories:
barbarity, philosophy,
Form:
Free verse
future generations of a democratic socialist society
will study our barbarity
and study
how and why
the transition from democratic socialism to communism
will be made with great care
to avoid the pitfalls of returning to capitalism
the communist society
will study us with sorrow
but the seeds of the work that we do
will later blossom as we are remembered as heroes
as those who stood
for the children of tomorrow.
bless us all.
truth peace and love be with us all.
Categories:
barbarity, absence
Form:
ABC
Those given to Odin swung from trees with blackened face,
whilst Kali’s servants strangled those they sent to her embrace
The people of the sun tore beating hearts out on their altars,
for the sacrificial procession through the ages never falters
We shake our heads and ponder the barbarity of man
and question any gods who ask for death within their plan,
yet none has spilt more blood, nor cried as loud with their demands
as the god of greed and privilege whose disciples run these lands
Sent to meet their makers through the medium of war
we find these sacrificial victims bombs have blown, and bullets tore,
offered up to fill the vaults of these extremists and fanatics,
sacrifice disguised through slippery verbal acrobatics
They’re drowned when vessels sink, sent down to Poseidon’s watery tomb,
for the silverware some suckle leaves a thousand without spoons,
and the gamble between a leaky boat and a slow death through despair
is one that more will make whilst prophets preach of taking others share
Starved in slums, or worked to death in roles of servitude,
Illness without medicine and bellies without food,
victims of these economic modern day Crusades,
where the armour’s turned to suits, and the pen’s more deadly than the blades
Don’t let the veneer of civilisation hide the brute that lurks beneath,
for the sword still spills the blood no matter how fancy the sheath,
and the god whose sway we’re under is as brutal as his kin,
growing fat upon the sacrifice the system builds within,
and the high priests of the Dollar Gods ensure the victim bleeds,
as they bow down in Wall Street temples to appease the Markets needs
Categories:
barbarity, political,
Form:
Rhyme
You're my Knight and I'm you're Lady
a medieval flash in time not maybe
your nobility conquers any quest
with armor and sword dressed
Remove all apparel you need it not
for you've won the battle you have fought
leave your saber in the stone
magic comes from inside hence thrown
And the ruler will also disarm
to you I'd never harm
defenseless you are to exalt
cavalier without assault
Our virtue exposes all infrequent prosperity
excluding obnoxious barbarity
Your lord and vassal can retreat to isolation
drop coif and shield and leave all avocation
Categories:
barbarity, fantasy, love, trust,
Form:
Rhyme
Moral army,
As always said," African youths
are well organised and disciplined."
Fighting with the westerners
in african territories
It is not the calls or visions.
Everyone is tired to see dead bodies
of the innocent young people in the forests,
savannahs, deserts , and waters
because of the few selfish world leaders
and bourgeoisie societies
Moral army,
Majority westerners must admit publicly
their failures
and merciless
Then stop needling the young Africans
who are rising with words
not swords
with forgiveness
not heartless
with Christocracy
not ( illuminati) or Freemasonry
With reality
not hypocrisy
peacefully
not barbarity.
Moral army,
Let say "
Adieu to archaic method
of wars , rebellions, terrorism in Africa."
Pillage of African resources for centuries
And still failing to do things by themselves.
Look at the good moves of chinese in the world
who are working very hard
to build their economy.
They continue to cause chaos in Africa
Which is empowering China and Russia.
Africa could be superpower by now and
help them because of its natural good heart.
August 6/2023
Categories:
barbarity, africa, truth, western,
Form:
Free verse
Snow piercing the night so sleek,
Rapidly pounding my face to obscurity,
Chilling facets that make me meek,
Losing my calmness and security,
Driving and hammering its purity.
Blinding whiteness overpowering physique,
A storm that features pure barbarity,
Securing my still eyes into mystique,
Delivering my motions to lose stability,
I may never again feel any solidarity.
An epic storm unlike any other so bleak,
Shall bare within history a true rarity,
Totally listed inside of nature’s freak,
Total design of Jack Frost’s tyranny,
Legend of this storm will go into posterity.
date written
11-29-2013
Categories:
barbarity, nature, night, seasons, snow,
Form:
Quintain (English)
Raped of all freedoms, basic democratic rights
Restraints ever tighten casting underdog to fight
Sharp scratch of needle pierces State sectioned vein
I submerge to a world of the psychiatrists drain
Adult my dummy preventing tongues loss to bite
Held within induced seizures epileptic in might
I welcome the darkness, one silent scream
Memory the victim midst non-consenting scene
Consciousness awakens clouded mind to dull mist
Punch drunk I sit to chemical onslaughts new fist
Medicated features exaggerates hollowing face
Expressionless my return, a salivating disgrace
Emptied companions stare at floors, piped TV
We sit, we quietly stare at the nothing now to see
Surrendered manic thoughts, depression held at bay
Psychiatry cures tomorrow by destroying my today
This legalised torture, "Electro Convulsive Therapy"
A disproved mental abattoir of Victorian barbarity
Why erase future names from the timeline of mankind
Whilst celebrating all achieved by past great bipolar minds
Categories:
barbarity, horror,
Form:
Rhyme
Christianity slips away in times like these;
ashamed of crimes committed.
Bloodshed without remorse
tears out the heart of the innocent.
Unfeeling the mighty
ride the steeds of Satan
as they unleash their barbarity.
Using and abusing to their advantage.
Twisted Mankind sees no wrong in
destroying Mother Nature and
crucifying its fellow creatures.
“They are lesser beings”,
“they feel no pain” taunts the
Son of Adam.
The crucified line a dark road
in Man’s triumphant blasphemy.
A calf can be heard calling out
for its mother in the darkness.
Whilst a lamb hangs limply oozing blood.
A lamb was once before crucified.
Blessed are the meek.
Categories:
barbarity, abuse, angst, animal, bible,
Form:
Free verse