Best Beaten Up Poems
Hell's perpetual fires
Burning up my frenzied desires
I'm gurgling up a rebellion
Can you feel it frothing?
You sure have claws
That scratched my skin raw
The blood is everywhere
Do you see it spilling?
I barely recognised your voice
Cold and harsh like beaten up ice
My ephemeral lovesong was meant to be sung
Can you hear it dying?
Just one more knot
Tied up your body to the cot
I'm pouring the fuel around
Don't you smell it burning?
Goodbye my sweet love
Endure what you deserve
I've been waiting to burn you to ashes
Did you see this coming?
Categories:
beaten up, death, deep, mystery, ,
Form:
Free verse
Thought Police
Be careful what you say,
be careful who you say it to.
It might be heard...
by someone that does not like it!
They will come to your door,
and even the score,
even if there is no game
involved at all.
They will just call,
on you, that's who,
even if you live at the zoo.
Truth beaten up on the sidelines.
Propaganda given an upper hand.
Media stroking the boss...
of the paper,
the airways,
and the fairways,
no longer fair at all.
Criminals on the streets,
let go for their crimes,
to make room for more important...
lawbreakers,
earth-shakers,
and memory makers.
Fearing their words,
may yet have power,
for even an hour.
Those that do not go along,
with the climate change agenda,
and will not take the shot,
or get the clout
or rub on each other
to get the pox,
like a fox... (in heat)
will be dealt with in the darkness
of powers at their central station.
The moon is full of men,
that have given their lives over,
to cover the reality,
we live in.
The rationing of water,
then food, and gas,
only the beginning...
of the end.
We will all go without,
but don't shout.
Be quiet and accept what is ahead,
the dread enough to fill
the voting ballot box
full of hope...
or treason?
Categories:
beaten up, abortion, abuse, addiction, allah,
Form:
Free verse
Got to hold it together, try to keep my cool,
Even when dealing, with imbecilic fools,
Should know better, but they freak me out,
When in the wrong, they just scream and shout,
My problem is, I won’t back down,
Especially if right, and dealing with clowns,
Should I be the one, to hold my tongue,
Guess it all stems, from when I was young,
Always had to, stand up for myself,
Show any weakness, get beaten up, no help,
That’s my dilemma, remains with me today,
I’m wiser now, still can’t turn the other way,
Hold your ground, never let bullies off, scot-free,
Face them down, no good cowards, you’ll see,
Only seek easy targets, to punch below the belt,
Fight back hard you Lion, watch their bravado melt.
By
David Kavanagh
Categories:
beaten up, abuse, allegory, bullying,
Form:
Couplet
Why did you leave me
without you by my side I'm clueless
you left me and and everything started to fall apart
I was trying to connect few pieces of my broken heart
but now it seems like my heart is broken into a million pieces
I know I live in a cold world
but I didn't think your heart was frozen
you told me you wouldn't hurt a fly
Yet you hurt me and I don't know why
I'm starting to believe, your love was a lie
love was suppose to be blissful
but nowadays it seems like it's a fight
and one end up beaten up
yes one end up getting hurt and left with a broken heart
why did you leave me,why did you leave me
I should've known you'll sting like a bee
Then hide behind trees before you leave me
but that's life and I wish there could be some peace
between us so I'll let you breathe
Categories:
beaten up, heartbroken,
Form:
Free verse
After a wonderful late afternoon walk in the park,
my wife and I moseyed over to the Japanese Hibachi Grille for some dinner.
What we got into was some good old fashioned drama down at BeniHana...
You see, I got me a fetish for shiny cookware,
so as the patrons' eyes honed in on the iron chef
dicing up onions, shrimp, and chicken...
mine were busy fantasizing about concealing Ginsu knives
clankin' in the kitchen.
"Brew Silly began his routine with the hot fire volcano bit
atop the flat grille.
In the distraction, my sticky fingers began reactin',
slippin' utensils inside my zipper, for a thrill.
Things started heatin' up as folks were eating up;
Spatulas started flyin'!
Mushrooms were a fryin',
My conscience stopped trying...
tired of getting beaten up!
Now, if I told you I was lookin' at what was cookin'...
I'd be a lyin'.
I mean, I was really tryin',
but the devil had me by the klepto-hands...guiding me.
Riling me up.
He said, "Go for one of them Wok's! Do it now Big Dog!
Get yir rocks off! Knock yir socks off!
Quick man...sly like a fox, Hoss!"
My heart said, "No", but my head said, "OH HELL YES!"
Sadly, I was in cahoots with the devil,
bass mixed with treble,
trouble poundin' in my chest!
So guess what came next?-
I grabbed one of them big brass bitches,
signaled Jessie's ass with a quickness,
and started gunnin for the door!
Of course, my good hearted wife started whinin',
"Honey, I wasn't done, now what are we leavin' for?"
"Listen baby, I'll explain later.
Right now it's time to go!"
As we passed the pretty little hostess,
she banged the gong and said real fast,
"AHH, Tank-You Berry Much F'wor Cummean Fwolks!"
We jetted towards the park, but it was getting dark.
My legs began to fail. The cops were on our tail.
We tried to walk and play it off, but it was no use.
We should have stayed and ate our food,
and drank our brews with "BREWS!"
The pigs threw me to the ground,
then began to squeal and bark.
They tossed us in the County Jail,
twenty thousand bail...
____________FOR TAKIN' A WOK TO THE PARK!!!
~"True story ={WinK+Wink}
Categories:
beaten up, absence, conflict, funny, innocence,
Form:
Rhyme
The voice of a refugee
What happened to this world?
So beautiful in the past
The rivers lakes and oceans
And fragrance of the grass
And now the land is barron
It's no more fertile
I hope that the plants grow
Once again for a while
What happened to our society
So generous in the past
Now there is terror
Scaring the mass
Aware of all around me
but one thing I could not stand
It was worse than I could see
Women being beaten up
Children badly tortured
Level of terror rising up
No one's being nurtured
I want to change this
And bring back humility
Return the nature's bliss
And bring back prosperity
Then I realised that
I should be the change I want to see
To bring back that ball and bat
Instead of guns and artillery
I want to live freely
And not be so confined
It's not easy being a refugee
No house to live and place to find
It's my request to the world
To please help me
To be the change I want to see
And again be free
Categories:
beaten up, betrayal, community, grief, sympathy,
Form:
ABC
{This "Free Verse" entry Received HONORABLE MENTIONS
IN THE Intergenerational Poetry to Bridge the Generation
Contest UNO Elders & Youth track" 2017
UNIVERSITY OF OMAHA
OMAHA, NEBRASKA}
(I was the only male entry in contest)
October 15, 2017
I'm A Teen This is What I Struggle With
I’m a teenager I’m upset depressed
Being so,
I’m A teen this is what I struggle with
And I ain’t gonna call you mam or sir
That’s in the history books nobody does that anymore
I represent 30 percent of us that are one or been bullied
All adults want to do is make us study
I close to being grown you don’t understand
I know as much or more than a woman or man
I’m A teen this is what I struggle with
I am tired of always being diss
I ‘m a teen this is what I struggle with
Feel like I’m imprisoned, these are our teen issues
I have a right it’s my body part selective if I selective
It’s my life if I choose to be sexually active
My life complicated I’m not the only one you used drugs smoke pot now what
Back in your day
Getting drunk the past month I also say
My life, my right again you did that too by the way
I’m A teen this is what I struggle with
I am tired of always being diss
My message is I’m not heard, I’m hurt
I eat the wrongs things I get big obese some of us throw up
You can call it stayin thin being bulimic
Can’t get no education, don’t have patients for them
They can’t teach or tell me nothing gonna drop of school
Maybe I’ll join the Army
Where are the grownups when I have my problems peer pressure?
They don’t have an answer for them
I’m A teen this is what I struggle with
I am tired of always being diss
The sexting, hot man what a body, But when I get older that picture still out there
Don’t have to be beaten up physically now it’s done electronically, on social media
Just when I think I can control my life and mind
On screen violence TV shows, movies and violence video games
Keep me wake for weeks and days
I am tired of always being diss
I’m A teen this is what I struggle with
09/26/17
written by James Edward Lee Sr.
for Intergenerational Poetry To Bridge Generations Elders & Youth 2017 Contest
Categories:
beaten up, anxiety, community, confusion, depression,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
I wish I was a tough guy
The kind you meet in books
Made of rock hard muscle
With rugged hard man looks
A Raymond Chandler hero
Exuding macho charm
A super spy or villain
With a beauty on each arm
I’d love to be the kind of guy
That others see and fear
The bane of every coppers life
I'd look at them and sneer
I might fall for a sucker punch
Get beaten up or more, but
I’d meet them face to face
And then, I’d even up the score
Wish I could be like Marlowe
And ooze testosterone
Women falling at my feet
For my heart as cold as stone
I would stand up to the bad guys
When I’d won, I’d get the dame
They would say “who was that tough guy”
I’d say “Rupert, that’s my name”
Categories:
beaten up, funny,
Form:
Rhyme
A true mirror would reflect you truly without omission or apology;
It would bring to the shore your shadow and show you fully.
After burning down your flesh and melting down your bones, the high fences holding you in, a true mirror would set you free!
A true mirror would leave minds in awe of the fullness of your supposed 'emptiness'
It would echo your strength when feeling weak.
It would paint to perfection the kindness of your hips,
The gentleness of your waist,
And the patience of your eyes.
A true mirror would break the chains holding you
A true mirror would shine light on the compassion of your arms,
How you pick up your sister when she’s all trodden down, beaten up and losing hope.
It would write your words on clouds and like a permanent photograph lift them high as they heal, build up, and say to your brother; You can do anything and be everything you want! To you there are not limits
A true mirror would unclip your wings and let you soar.
A true mirror would reveal you truly, as you are – a god reflecting God!
Unstoppably
Unshakably
and undeniably restoring the world!
So go ahead and break the glass on the wall
Smash it on the floor and burn the box
Erase the lies you were told and set yourself free!
You’re not just tall bones, dark skin and sad eyes
You're not pain and frustration
You’re not another human walking the earth to fault and fight
You’re a god reflecting God!
Unstoppably
Unshakably
and undeniably restoring the world!
A true mirror would tell you no lie
It would show you exactly as you are meant to be,
It would speak to you in the voice of thunder
Frightening the sleep in your mind and scream loud in your heart
You are a goddam god, now wake up!
Categories:
beaten up, god, hope, inspiration, inspirational,
Form:
Free verse
I try to reach out to anyone who will listen, who will take my beaten up, tired, hand,
All I get is a turned back, dirty old looks, a hurtful laugh, I can't hold my tears back.
All I get is self doubt, self hatred, and poor hatred for those who love me but I don't believe them.
All I keep hearing is, "everyone has their own lives, kids, jobs, to deal with, well you know what? So do I, one has autism for God sakes. All my life I have been alone, nobody cares I guess, oh well never mind I'm done.
I just want to ask one more question, do you mind?
Can I GO AWAY too? Because I'm done fighting, I've got Nothing Left!!
Categories:
beaten up, abuse, addiction, anger, betrayal,
Form:
Concrete
I’m a racist shopping trolley,
I’m proud and happy and clean.
I don’t like hanging around with trolleys rescued from the river,
Beaten up all rusty, and mouldy, and green.
I’m proud I look after my wheels,
Never crashing into shelves in the store.
I can’t stand those horrible trolleys that let themselves go,
Making folks fight an unwinnable war.
I’m a racist shopping trolley,
I’ve a bright red handle and red baby seat.
I can’t stand those blue handled trolleys, they look so different to me,
They can’t even try to look red, I know, I’m better, I am elite.
Categories:
beaten up, racism,
Form:
Rhyme
The wind blew gently, rustling the leaves of oak
Skylark flitting from bough to twig
Dawn breaking from its evening cloak
Silence surrendering to new life's jig.
Fenland life awakening, yawning to the rise
Of sun's warming beauty, filling oe'r Earths skies.
The moon fades with gradual ease of time
Its evening shadows eclipsed by suns' rising prime.
Streams of ribbon meander, gentle dreams
Wander by the birch of forest glen.
Glistening, sparkling reflections of sun's beams
Filtering heavenward; raiment of soft sheen.
Cock crows his hour, robin sings his song,
Buckish hare leaps, birds of game play
Hide and seek with shooters throng;
Beaten up, open sighted, birds of prey.
Floral quilted hues upon carpet woven green,
Nectar guided insects hover on the wing.
Gold, incense, myrrh gifted to their Queen,
Warbled sonnets echo thus, this beautiful wonderous thing.
Categories:
beaten up, seasons,
Form:
Ode
A 23 year old girl who was very happily living in this world,
from Bihar this girl came to Delhi to become A DOCTOR.
Her pretty face appearance was shown for the last time to her parents,
as her dreams had all split as the turning point in this girl's life was quite absurd.
it was not at all an understandable situation as NIRBHAYA on the night of 16 December
was in a white bus where,for 2 hours she was brutally beaten up.
The six people behaved in such a vulgar way,as the girl had asked them for there
body parts to donate.
This incident was a shocking one,as nothing like this had happened in the past.
Rallies were held for her,people were crying,as she was fighting for her life,
but her will power was so strong,that she told her parents
that she was going to come back to see the 6 demons die on the spot.
Unfortunately this did not happen as her last breath she took was on 29 December.
But her parents continued to fight for her,and at last NIRBHAYA got her justice in the
second week of September the 4 were ordered to be hanged.
Among them there was a teenager who was jailed by the commissioners,
one of them hanged himself as his guilt had irritated him for the behavior he had done.
After that the whole world rejoiced on the victory of this brave girl,who was no more
but only in the candle lights of the people.
Categories:
beaten up, grief,
Form:
Free verse
•to zimmer (v.t.) – to flash brilliantly with apparent blinding insightfulness, suggestive almost of a certain numinosity.**
•** numinous (adj) – of or pertaining to a numen***; arousing elevated or religious feelings.
•*** numen (n) – a deity; a divine**** power or spirit.
•**** divine (adj) – of superhuman ***** or surpassing excellence.
•*****superhuman (adj) – exceeding ordinary****** human achievement.
•******ordinary (adj) – you, perhaps, and I, most definitely.
TO BEGIN WITH, THIS IS NOWHERE NEAR THE BEGINNING…
Me and Bob Dylan ( that is, the person sitting next to me
who I had every reason to believe was he
who possessed THAT reluctant voice of a generation,
and the person I had no reason to believe wasn’t me)
were cruising in a beaten-up FE Holden down Dictionary Highway, a nexus of beaten
tracks, without a number, but known by all numbers between zero and infinity,
simultaneously stretching in all directions at once past everywhere and nowhere,
taking in along the way such memorable places as The Black Stump, Billyo,
Woop Woop, Buggery and **** Creek, and, in a kind of lexical alchemy,
bringing you right back to where you thought you were
thus producing near-stichometrical tales such as this.
We were on a rhyme-spree.
“Bob, ” I asked, “to what now do you aspire?”
To which he replied, in a drawl slow as a wet week,
”A spire? A place no man can dwell”.
This was going to be a long ride, I could tell.
…to be continued, or, TO END WITH, THIS IS NOWHERE NEAR THE ENDING...
-
Categories:
beaten up, dream, journey, metrical tale
Form:
Prose Poetry
Before we expect them to speak up.
Before we judge them.
Before we make fun of their sufferings.
Before we label them by names;
Let us take a good look at our mindsets.
When they keep silent we call them cowards,
They report the abuse, we laugh at them.
Her name is Rose
But we change it to "the girl that was raped"
Her name is Bridget now we call her "the wife that was beaten up by her husband"
We say things like "Only a coward and fool can be beaten up or raped"
How do we expect them to come forth?
Before we expect them to stand up and fight, we have to change our mindset.
Stop laughing at them and start encouraging them.
Categories:
beaten up, abuse,
Form:
ABC