Best Bloodier Poems
What does innocence cost, you ask?
It seems it's just a grand,
For I know a girl who had hers sold
By her Aunt, in a foreign land.
They sold her soul at fiftteen,
To a middle-aged traveling gent,
Who filmed it all for the internet,
In a dirty basement rent.
She begged her aunt to spare her,
To not let this monster soil
The cherished gift God gave her,
For an hour's salacious toil.
She swore to help them honestly,
And work three jobs, if needed,
But this was quick, the die was cast,
No matter how she pleaded.
She screamed and cried when the hour came,
While the man did what he pleased,
And she prayed God wouldn't see her,
That her aunt would be appeased.
When thru, the sheets were bloody,
And she hurt so down below,
But bloodier still, her spirit,
(Though that wound didn't show).
He let her use the hotel's bath
To clean the vile mess,
And gave her fifteen dollars
To replace her ruined dress.
"A buck for every year!" he laughed,
And threw it on the floor,
Then yelled at her "Get out of here!"
"You filthy little whore!"
Well, with those words, his horrid act,
And the soul he stripped away,
Over time that's what she's now become,
Though she makes a grand each day.
See, they didn't just rob her virtue,
They put her soul to death ...
Now she curses him and her auntie,
With every living breath ...
And she doesn't need her faith now,
There's no happiness or mirth,
For no God could ever repay her ...
For what her soul was worth.
~ 7th Place ~ in the "HASHTAGmetoo" Poetry Contest", Debbie Guzzi, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Let's Talk About It" Poetry Contest, Richard Lamoureux, Judge & Sponsor.
Oh bloody and evil Catherine de Medici.
The queen has acted impetuously.
Thousands have died because of her demands.
Witness her red bloodstained hands.
A wedding is a time of joy and jubilation.
Instead, there is death and devastation.
She thought the Huguenots would seek retaliation.
It started with an attempted assassination.
An attempt was made on Admiral Gaspard de Coligny.
He led the Huguenot protestant party.
Catherine took some Machiavellian action.
She wanted to eradicate this rebellious faction.
There had been widespread death throughout the land before.
Peace brought an end to civil war.
Margaret de Valois had married Henry of Navarre.
Once again, hostility permeated the air.
Killing spread from Paris to the countryside.
In just a few months, thousands had died.
No bloodier episode had ever been seen.
The culpable party was the evil queen.
I thank Wikipedia.org online encyclopedia for information I obtained to write this poem.
Made up super heroes we're taught to love
Made up archetypes we watch get rough
We cheer on as they dispense justice
We've stopped questioning why we idolize this
As our heroes have become more brutal and more violent
We've become more detached and less present
We're passing our degradation of what it means to be a hero to the next generation
They won't be impressed until it's more violent, bloodier, the next super brutal sensation
Once upon a time we were falling in love
Now you look down from up above
Once I was as free as a dove
Now I sit alone in this dark conner
Friends turned to strangers, loner
My heart does not work, and there is no suitable donner
My tears for you have put out my hearts fire
You no longer sit and stoke my hearts pire
You were the conductor of my heart's choir
No more concerts or melodies,
can't harmonize.
My tears are as numerous as the stars
You inquire about my heart, I have locked it behind bars.
All these thought come to mind, New scars.
Deeper, bloodier, cry harder.
The seven seas can not contain tears
nor soothe my fears,
of living a live without your caresses
AND now, I can only think as I watch you sink to the floor:
Four feet, we could of been four
Five feet, only had to wait five weeks more
Six feet, and once more my tears pour
Standing that morning at that Lexington field
Not knowing what drama the day would yet yield
When off to my right rang the shot of a gun
I knew that this dreaded war had just begun
No one knowing who had shot first
This day would go down in history as being one of the worst
Stumbling my way threw the gray smoky haze
Everyone looking like their in a daze
Brothers and friends lying dead on the ground
And i know that bloodier days are still yet bound
From demanding England, America has just tore
For that first shot has just begun the Revolutionary War
Form:
It was a hot June./ Late afternoon./ I stormed into that saloon / like a 30 men
platoon!/ The bartender says, "Gentlemen not in here." / I smiled and said, "Old man have
no fear."/
You wanna take this to the street?/ I can hear your racing heart beat./ How dare you
try to compete!/ Call me a poetic athlete./ I hold the title not you./ My verses are sicker
than swine flu!/ You probably never been in a fight in your life./ I'm that damn good - go
ask your wife!/ OOPS - did I mention something you didn't know?/ Someone ring the bell
it's a TKO!/ Someone call his mom./ This is going to be bloodier than Vietnam!/ What?! You
heard it through the grape vine?/ I'm a poetic fighter on the frontline!
You reap what you sow./ I slaughter any foe,/ and just in case you didn't know./ I'm
the great grandson of Edgar Allen Poe!/ So what cha think about that?/ I'll beat you with my
wiffle ball bat!/ I'm trained for combat./ Walking over poets like the bottom of a doormat!/
Someone turn down my pens thermostat!/ I think this paper is about to catch fire!/ My
words will wrap you in barbed wire!/ I will own your soul./ This pen is my pistol!/ N. C. is
where I'm from ./ My lyrics will set you ablaze like Napalm!/ Read the headline,/ I'm a
poetic soldier on the frontline!
Yes I will haunt the night./ I feel guite / comfortable on the frontline./ Call me Dr.
Frankenstein!/ A freak of nature, not of this world./ Don't talk smack/ Jack/ It's a fact I'll
take yo girl!/ A cassonova from birth./ I'm not of this earth./ I know you can't stand it./
But I was born on another planet!/ You hear my voice,/ and my weapon of choice,/ a razor
sharp scimitar!/ I can hear/ the fear/ I'm the fallen star!/ So as I drop the H-bomb/ I hop
back in my UFO./ You know where I'm from/ beyond the rainbow!/ At last you feel the teeth
of my canine!/ A poetic soldier on the frontline!!!
* This is just me venting, not written toward non of you guys...hehe
now captive of the Internet
a junta's brutality is beset
captured for the world to see
the batoned beating of democracy
North East Africa, it can't be claimed
to solely fill this role of shame
but now viral bits are flying 'round
protesting people's being beaten down
women the circumference of the world
are persecuted for their gender's creation
cell cameras will, a new day herald
responsive answers from caring nations
people can be beaten and put down
forced to some savage submission
but what goes 'round comes 'round
violence begets, of its own volition
Mohandas lead too, where many follow
the harder, bloodier road of peace
declarations of change only ring hollow
when silenced by some thought police
© Goode Guy 2011-12-22
http://www.npr.org/blogs/pictureshow/2011/12/21/144098384/the-girl-in-the-blue-bra
I was born in the odds,
I lived through it,
dotted the lines on my path
I was born among hyenas,
these scrambling to stiffen the last breath,
Amidst hurts and hate first from home,
A lot cast in mirage and fantasies,
Hope too soon cut short,
Survival, a struggle,
Unexplainable Fratricidal warfare,
The closer in blood, the more bloodier,
A race without consent
A badge of calumny,
Shot on the heels like Achilles,
Bore cruelty from innocence to adulthood,
Unending miasma, the debacles of a short existence,
Abandoned, secluded,
for reaction occasioned by their own bile,
Childhood stolen,
set on a slippery path as they watch a peradventure slide to my ill.
From ambuscade, they drew their swords,
Their arrows bathed in blood unabated,
Aiming at my marrows,
I groan and mourn in the dark,
Enemies as friends monitoring,
Friends as enemies watching.
This path not by Choice.
I lived through it,
A thousand bands of beasts assaulting,
Into this war, enlisted.
I was born there, buoyed by troubadour,
Somewhere in Africa,
My right are taken away from me,
Where laws are drafted by criminals,
Where the police pay themselves on the streets,
Where certificate are mere papers with payments,
I was born there ,
Where criminals are protected and sanity deemed madness,
Somewhere in West Africa
where compassion is extinct
The survival of the fittest,
Street boys kills to survive,
Scholars abandon politics to simpleton,
Where the brightest are critics and cadres prevents the ambitious
I live there,
Where certificate is a document to escape,
Lawyers now charge and bail for survival,
Doctors protesting like urchins
Poets selling cosmetics,
bankers riding "Okada",
Amongst drug peddlers,
Amongst cultist,
Where clergymen induce the gullible,
In this cage we call country.
I was born there.
I just want to rhyme and have fun
Look at everything I bounced back from
Going back to write about every path I crashed on
Orgasmic flow, so when my pen touches the paper, my pad comes
We all enjoy a bad pun
Learned to dance in the storm because I never had sun
Made it to the future without my mask on
Showed the real me, hate me or love me I don't care
There isn't a thought I won't share
If I think it, I'll say it
I'll get to the top, the best you can do is delay it
But you won't stop it
I won the fight with depression, when you thought I'd lost it
I'm Mike Tyson, Mayweather and Brock Lesnar all wrapped in one person
I always find an alternative route, so I won't be put off by diversions
A few demons tried to destroy me, but I got my mind together
When I pick up a pen, I rhyme better
I carry my pad like its a Bible, no apologies if you find that Blasphemous
Taking my pen or pad away is hazardous
Speak for myself, I don't need an advocate
I've got the courage to say anything I want, when you're lacking it
Never been afraid to speak my mind
"Leave these lines" "you need those rhymes"
Are most of my thoughts when writing
My pens fighting
Trying to create something great, I've only been good so far
But when I move my pen on the pad, I guarantee it'll leave blood on floors
My pen will leave you bloodier, than any weapon you choose
Found a way to win when I was destined to lose
Depression and abuse
Mistakes are the lessons I use
With my rhymes I'm connecting with you
You'll enjoy some of these lines and hate other lines
But I just wanted to rhyme
Storms glistening sporadically
Inspiration wavering dramatically
I can’t move like I should!
I am fighting against the reveling, reviling flood
Evidence of many spawning deaths cannot stop me
And the zombie maggots grow as they are left rotting
I can’t stop now—but I have no particular place to go
Mentally merrily on my slithering way
Into creepy caves of my intellect and hemorrhage
The saliva of its mouth and the cruelty of its teeth
Ensnares me into multitudinous quicksand of truth
Raining in this cave is the vile that will keep me working
I watch others drink it and it drives me to fury
Take of me what you may—but don’t take me all away!
I will remain in the inspirations of time!
I will remain like the grime on the succulent wine
Like gathered dust on the ivory keys
The music will always stick to me
Your words will plant a grave into my lines
As my madness entwines and bewitches their minds
Weathered in the snowing wrath of immortal sorrow
I cannot wish for a bloodier tomorrow
I will glisten like blue fires as long as it storms
And the rest will shred into dumped, plumped worms
Infecting everyone in the inspired malevolence
Of pure, sick false innocence
Braid your way if you dare
Encircle me to your snare
But do not drink of me within a fathomed rig
Or I will turn you into the stone of a pig
5/3/17
The world getting hungrier
Times getting uglier
And bloodier
Compared to animals, have people always been nuttier?
Needs growing
And greed showing
Far from easy going
Regardless of what you read and are knowing
Better keep going
Above and underneath the counter
The pursuit of power
Each and every second, minute and hour
Resources being sought out and devoured
Has it always been this way
Who is to say?
At a high frequency
Since the beginning so much secrecy
And not nearly enough decency
As the scales often tipped unevenly
Continually tilting
Near or far, above within and below any building
Who cares if it was thrilling
Too much senseless killing
It's beyond bone chilling
By: Dalton Ogletree
Do you know, static clocks move faster than moving clocks?
Do you know, silence is not the best response to a fool?
Do you know, a man is also a woman?
Do you know, snakes don't like to bite?
Do you know, monkeys hate banana trees?
Did you know Africans loved being colonised?
But do you know, every African is autonomous by nature?
Did you know, freedom is not free at all?
I'm sure you know that blood is ticker than water.
But do you know love is bloodier than blood?
Written October 30th, 2018.
In the beginning this boat was bare,
Greenest with infant's sinless stare;
Before soles more selfish than sane
Had trodden its dreary derelict main.
First to blacken its still-tiptop form
Were kith and kin as is sin's norm;
For if brother Cain won't Abel kill,
Which other bloodier maniac will?
Then hopped wild neighbors' feet
Onto this boat's floor sterile neat;
And like schythes thrust to the hilts,
Hurt this bud that yet writhing wilts.
Nor were classmates' limbs and toes
Any kinder to this vessel's prior woes;
Hasty to sprain its ingenuous naiveté,
Sterner kilning did than fire dealt clay.
There finally was that first-ever flame,
Wooled to the wrist like a mild dame;
Which vulpine swill in flannels guised
Took I, and at last this boat capsized!
Jimmy Doyle Wright
Born: 7/29/1948 Died: 4/4/2016
Written: by Tom Wright
Jim was a loving, husband, father, and brother;
Who will be remembered by most for his wit.
Jimmy’s life began like a breeze
Whispering through thirsty grass,
And terminated like a wagon wheel
That was two years dry of grease.
Warring with death, he became,
Battle hardened as a Bois d’arc tree;
The bloodier his prognosis became,
The more abundant were his sharks;
Not once, did his witticism submit to pain,
Nor did he lose faith as he battled.
But when time runs out clock hands stop,
All things, too soon, come to an end.
* 2nd Timothy 4:7
Jim has plowed his field
And now his harness hangs in the barn.
Tom
Everyone agrees that war is cruel
Everyone agrees that war is suicidal
Everyone agrees that war brings mortar, anger
Hunger, pain, suffering, death, horror and terror
But a nuclear war is deadlier, nastier and bloodier
More painful, more criminal, more diabolical
More devastating, more witless and more evil
Human being was born to put things together
To build, not to annihilate and not to murder
God created humans to make the world better
Not to destroy, not to burn or to shatter
A nuclear war would be a total disaster
No human is really dumb to have such a war
Let’s swear not to have a darn one. We can roar
Like lions to scare off the tigers. We can fistfight
All we want. The best way to test our might
Is to dialogue, to talk to each other like humans
To avoid the ruins and to find lasting solutions.
Copyright February 2022, Hébert Logerie, All Right Reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several poetry books.