Best Bloodiest Poems
Why, the greatest enemy of man is man
for man has subdued everything else
Fear not the tiger, fear the murderer's plan
Just hearken well to what history yells!
At times twas jingoism, at times a rancorous desire to do harm
Fear just man's malice and his ugly evil
If his dagger blow fails, he'll get you by black magic charm
His heart and mind alone well shelter the devil.
For how many fall prey to lions or snakes
one could even count them on fingers
Man invents a cure for smallpox but missiles too he makes
and he mercilessly kills without harbingers.
Man invented as many things for his destruction and harm
as he did for his benefit and good
He's inventor of bombs as well as tractors on the farm
And doesn't he detest acting as he should?
Man alone is behind the bloodiest of bloodshed
The angels too had foreseen his wars and battles
From the gory battlefield to the humble homestead
with the shrieks of murder our earth forever rattles!
Close your doors and your home secure
not to deter beasts, but to lock out the robber, the thief
For no greater danger than man lurks there for sure
Fear not the fierce bull, that you can turn into beef!
Wild beasts might be known to gobble us up
but isn't man as well found to be a cannibal?
Gosh, humans too on human flesh do sup
Man tis far more fearsome than any poor animal.
The greatest enemy of man thus is man himself
How much blood has he ruthlessly spilt of his own kind
Look out for the bottle of poison on his shelf
Till the deed is done, no knowing what goes on in his mind.
The poor young lady refrains from venturing out at night
How now, what does she so fear?
She fears nothing but assault by man's might
so rarely is she stalked by a grizzly bear!
Fortunately for us, this ain't how it always ends
man can always be the best of friends
So we can still count more on buddies and cronies
instead of focusing on foes and fiends.
For man he can be a hero and saviour
if judicious he is about right and wrong behaviour.
Besides religion as I know, infact does actually foretell
That the end of ALL killers and murderers
is that inferno of divine wrath we all know as hell!
4.
Now things started to become clear,
Both Alahsar and Salahmar in the same space,
One would find Victory, the other, leave this place,
light and dark in the eternal battle.
Alahsar, of God's light,
Salahmar, of dark's evil joys,
which of them would wane away?
Devil's fear, or Heaven's glory.
For Alahsar, the city of light,
mortals, their lives laying down,
numbers falling as Algahrs push forward,
is this the end of light, hearts filled with hate.
From the golden gates a mighty moving,
women, they come forth with speed,
hate filled eyes and trembling cries,
yelling out their cry of war.
Still the foe were many more,
the Algahrs always to the front,
mightily they begin their push,
the might of dark within each beast.
Too hold the foe would take great strength,
strength was fading, ebbing away,
the Algahrs now did mighty push,
death and destruction on Badicha lay.
Still mortals stood, though blood did flow,
man and woman, power decreasing,
children watch from mighty walls,
as parents and friends meet their end.
Dark Man fighting, vengeance dear,
Warrior Queen spreading fear,
the bloodiest scene before the gates,
blood for blood,by sorrow's river.
Utamol, with almost life of own,
cutting, slicing, stabbing home,
Dark Man with his awesome grace,
Sends evil from this land of light.
Warrior Queen with power and speed,
destroying all this evil seed,
cries of pain are everywhere,
so many lost, their dead eyes stare.
On the plain great dust clouds rising,
screams of mortals and beasts fill the air,
lightning flashing, thunder crashing,
onward the struggle of life goes on.
Within the heart of living terror,
weapons crashing, teeth a-gnashing,
will miracle come to Badicha?
Shall mortals halt their slow retreat?
Alahsar's own are falling back,
dead and dying are underfoot,
now mortals they must hold the foe,
forward warriors, toe to toe.
No battle ranks or strategy to follow,
Hold position and strike down the foe,
Dark Man now in heat of battle,
Arlaghs feel the hate of Utamol.
In this time before time,
sorrow's song, the last song to be sung?
Strike with rage, power and might,
Become battle Gods, the power of light.
Cry goes up, "Walk in the light,"
the arms are weary, still fight for life,
still the battle crashes on,
what end shall be, before the dawn.
To Be Concluded..........
Captains Log Star date 8391.1,
I now face a terrible dilemma. After the bloodiest of battles with a crew from
another dimension, a crew of doppelgangers, in essence a crew of ourselves, we
have finally gained the upper hand, and this other Enterprise, Enterprise of
ourselves, Enterprise of unquestioning faith, is tumbling, helplessly through the
coldness of space. And I, I remain unsure of my next move. Do I destroy this other
Enterprise before it makes me believe in the ideas I hear repeated the most? If I
destroy it, what will the consequences be for me and my crew?
(Status Mr. Chekov?)
Captain, her shields are down
With no anti-matter inducer interface
Basically she's a wounded wessel
Just hurling through space
(Spock)
But her coils are recharging
As is that of her design
You have only a brief window
Before her mains are back on line
Mr. Sulu, arm photon torpedoes
And stay ready with your hand
Lock phasers on target
And then await my next command
(locking phasers)
(Uhura)
Captain, the other Enterprise is hailing
Wishing to express their desire
This faith-based you wants to discuss
The terms of a mutual cease fire
(ON SCREEN)
(the faith-based me}
What's the meaning of this attack?
You have taken this too far
And don't you dare forget
I know how blood thirsty you are
(the questioning me)
You represent the old me
The empty parrot of my faith
But so often you gave me comfort
During the loneliest of days
(the faith-based me)
Then we have an understanding
You can see that you need me
I just want.............. to live.....
To love and ........to breath......
Gunshots be leavin 'em children alone
they gotta find a way all on they own
kids screamin out sets for hope
then run around with a crew slangin dope
can't forget that they saw they fathers go
witness to earth the bloodiest show
to young to truly understand
despite what ya heard God won't hold your hand
It seems to me that we've been forlorn
destined death after death to mourn
lookin at the future of us all
death to brothas come at a sudden call
little children begin to see the light
keep on killin knowin that it ain't right
but desperation sets in hopin for death
because it's to painful to take another breath
How many of my brotha's died last week
an an answer given not for the weak
life like this shoulda made us sick
creepin in streets tryin not to get licked
time again are numbers start to dwindle
hopein for knew life in this race to be kindled
but all we ever do is disappear
it's funny that are lives are consumed by fear
and are youngstas reproduce fast
more brothas get shot lives endin in head casts
why do we gotta die at such a rate
a brotha feel cold heat as if it's fate
and as my brothas always seem to die
my race got another reason to cry
little niggas is our only men
no more elders in my dearest black kin
Now we got kids runnin da street
that means, the judge and jury da heat
the boys in blue pilein up da dead
crackas in th oval office shakein da head
the ghettos so lost can we find a way
it seem's that the only hope we got is to pray
and children already learn how god do
give to those who take so we take with a 22
now we gotta cope, sippin' on brew
gettin faded thinkin bout the dirt we do
and that just make a brotha think
why we be born livin on da brink
seein bodies fallin fast in packs
cause it be like we forced to fire back
so thelast thing is to put bodies in bags
at da funeral drapin our brothas with rags
chaos, am i ... all that is not understood
poison, am i ... once on your lips, the taste of ruin
callow, am i ... a child's heart that beats erotic
obsessed, am i ... as the black coal scarecrow's eye
clement, am i ... friendship and love, embers of my soul
byzantine, am i ... tangle of wispy intentions, dreamed
singularity, am i ... Universe and atom - lepton and void
horror, am i ... warm darkness that whorls, obsidian fire
ocean, am i ... cold abyss - ebbing, flowing - pulled by the moon
heaven, am i ... of the dearest light ... the bloodiest weep
life, am i ... the lost ache for love ... the purpose, pure
death, am i ... but a tender ripple in the surface of eternity
timeless, am i ... naught but now, naught but never ...
naught but ... i.
Written and submitted on May 12, 2020
For the "I Am: A List Bio Challenge" Poetry Contest
Andrea Dietrich, Sponsor.
April 12, 1861 the cannons could
be heard for miles around,
the war had started,that
led both sides to a long
and hard struggle.
Why was this site
chosen to start the fight,
it may have been that
this fort was not prepared
for a battle of any kind,
a shortage of cannons,
and other weapons,
hardlyl gave them any
chance to defend the fort
Abe Lincoln later in
his most famous speech,
said A Nation divided cannot stand,
which is a true statement.
The Civil War was to become
the bloodiest war in our history,
before the firing
on Fort Sumter
it was an unknown place
to most of the people,
now it stands out
as a major landmark
in our country.
wrote 4-12-11
Poet: Ken Jordan
Poem: Four Little Girls
Edited by: Sparkle Jordan
written: August/2014
Perhaps
you remember
the four little girls,
savagely killed
in the bombing of the
16th Street Baptist Church
in Birmingham -
Or
perhaps it's just a faded
memory,
vanished through
time -
Maybe,
you were too young
to
remember,
Or
perhaps you weren't born,
at the time it happened -
But,
if you knew
of
this seedy
racial attack,
on the
all
African-American
House
of worship,
then it's impossible
to forget.....
Forget that racist klansmen,
planted a bomb under the steps
of God's House.
Forget that four little girls,
was preparing a sermon:
"The Love That Forgives."
when the bomb exploded.
Forget that four little girls,
lie breathless in the ruins
of the church -
Forget that four mothers were left
behind to suffer a lifetime
with broken hearts, and weeping eyes.
Forget the most bloodiest,
heinous Sunday,
under Southern sky's,
that reigns horror,
in black blood -
Black blood stains, in the pew -
Black blood stains, in the pull-pit -
Black blood stains, in the basement -
Black blood stains, everywhere -
Black blood stains, that will never
go away - in Birmingham.
How can we ever forget....
God,
want let us forget.
For through the fire,
fallen brick
and
shattered stain glass,
God,
left ONE stain glass
windowpane
intact -
JESUS
leading the children -
My God!
My Lord!
I’m sitting alone in a nightmare again,
A dream that’s not of my choice.
Sitting with iced eyes drilling my skin,
Alone, here, without any voice.
And no one can hear my screams in the night,
Nope, no one can hear what I roar,
And no one can see the wounds on my skin,
I’m captive in the bloodiest war.
Often I’m trapped, unable to move,
Unable to break out of this room,
While other times I’m chased, chased in a hunt,
A hunt to my imminent doom.
I’m here, alone, to battle my sleep,
Imprisoned on this warpath.
My weapons are belief when meditating myself,
And, before sleep, running a hot bath.
They say, all is done to please the mightiest of Gods,
Then, why oh why, mankind is up-against such
Bloodiest of odds?
(C) Obaidur Rahman. Published in the poet’s debut book of English poetry titled “The Mystic Inferno” in 2012.
Age's bloodiest showdown looms,
Or such it seems by its lurid form;
Spirit's sharpest arrows must fly
Swifter than is their agile-witted norm.
Now Armageddon's most savage sword
Cruelest aim of softest landings takes,
Though target's dexterous fightback
Its most foolproof arsenals stakes.
Thus unfolds time's deadliest flare
Under high heaven's beneficences;
Watching on with an eye dimly fair,
Umpiring blows with arcane mien.
And though its yet baffling to tell
What dismal odds in virtue's favor stand,
Eons of war-waging jurisprudence repel
Smiling wins for Gaol's tempestuous fates.
I teach History, you see.
But, I don't know what it is.
Just as Hollywood remakes classics
with new faces for new generations,
I suspect,
I do much the same.
I do try to sweep away
the old myths and lies
of History, but,
as each class, each year,
recedes farther from my age,
I wonder,
am I just replacing old myths,
with my myths.
Is there something tangible
that I can teach?
Have we evolved at all?
I sit here, just past the bloodiest century
since we left the savannah,
and I wonder,,,
Am I just another shill.
New myths for old!
New myths for old!
Come and get
your hot new myths.
OREKE
Oreke!
I've seen the brightness that comes with the sun
I've witnessed the moonlight defeat the darkest night
I've dined with the breeze exhaled by the ocean
Travelled on the back of the walking river
And fought and triumphed in the bloodiest war
But never behold a beauty like Oreke-lewa
Oreke!
A Nubia, she's beautiful
A lily, she graces the valley
An imagination, yet so real
A beauty-full part of God
Oreke-lewa
Precious like precious stone
Oreke!
She's not a soldier
Yet, around my psyche she lays a siege
She's not a sorcerer
Still, I feel enchanted by her magical gaze.
She's the aroma
That wafts from that delicious meal
That Rent the air and ride on the senses.
Her touch,
Like the sweetness of the intact-palmwine in the morning.
Oreke!
Let me end this race with you
Firewoods, I'd hew and split for your parents.
I'd be at your beck and call
I'd fetch and carry for you,
Oreke!
The town-crier said it thirty-many years ago
About the pool of blood that swept my fathers time
Not excluding the famous town-crier of that era
People freely bought their ticket to heaven and hell
The goats refused to listen to the town-crier voice
Atlast the beautiful timebomb exploded
My town-crier died in the process
The moon is black again with evil
Frustrated hungry souls litter again
Many,more mouths hungry
They will gather at the jungle of jungles
Armed to the teeth,chest,face,legs and hands
My metal gong is crying to the ears that cares
Twenty-twenty the newworld said
Twenty-fifteen the gong master says
Mouths would feed on carcase
Conspicuous ribs,ostrich necks,mosquito legs,insane
pot bellies
The boys are oiling their metals in the jungle
The magicians are still drinking wine in the rocks
Hungry mouths dropped like grapes and mangoes
Moremi and Amina come with utmost speed
Deadly spirits art hunting for blood blood blood
The celestial fire is burning, the blood bank opens
Where is my blanket
Where is my metal gong
Where is my slaughtered heart
The sky is red with blood
But will be washed away with flood someday
Deadly disease would ravage
Fine flesh of the land, my land, our land
Worst that the battle of cakes
Worst than the battle of the windmill
Worst than the battle of cowshed
Trigger target target would bid my
Chummy chicks to the deep blue sea of silence
The battle of the jungle would be won but lost
Bloodiest blood bath of our time my time
The Dark Horse rises
in the dead of night
to reap his gruesome prizes,
and deliver a terrible fright.
cloaked in the darkest black,
and the bloodiest red.
with his body of bone he's already dead,
and with his scythe he'll hack!
He comes for you
in the black of night,
and what a gruesome sight.
You'll feel fear anew!
He hacks your souls
with his scythe so sharp,
and with them you pay the tolls
to pull away the tarp,
of heaven.
If your souls are black,
and filled with darkness
for eternity he'll hack,
and you are defenseless!
So when the Dark Horse rises
in the dead of night
make sure his prizes
are clear of darkness,
and you just might
receive his forgiveness!
A man wakes up with demons,
In his mind, he is conflicted with religion.
The Holy Bible and the Amish,
Have different views on,
Everlasting life in heaven.
He was paranoid.
He had mental illness,
He called the Bishop the Devil,
For telling lies about heaven.
All the Amish knew of his sickness,
Yet did nothing to help.
Finally taking him to the hospital,
Only to learn he was schizophrenic,
Yet was he??
No, it was later realized he had,
Chemical poisoning in his brain,
Caused by the cleaning engine fluid.
He was released with medication.
The next morning he killed his wife.
Removing her brain and disemboweled,
Her organs explaining that she didn't,
Understand that the Holy Bible was truth,
And the Amish was the curse.
This is a true story. The detective said,
It was the bloodiest and worse crime scene,
He ever witnessed. A man outside was,
Teaching him that praying will guarantee,
Him everlasting life.
The Amish only learn if they have,
Everlasting life when they die.
The Amish man found it confusing
And a curse.