Best Bludgeoned Poems
Strong Coffee Ate A Silver Spoon
Strong coffee ate a silver spoon
Blind feline lapped up the spilled milk
Sweet relief cannot come too soon
I slept on sheets of finest silk
Gone such dreams with vanishing moon
Dry toast from molded bread was made
Served with the world's gold gilded lies
Sides of temptations, well displayed
Seeds of regrets in cherry pies
I, a blind jackass, sorely brayed
Eggs were scrambled while feeling pain
Table sighed, "Why am I left bare?"
Except for heartache's tenured stain
and foolish pride that placed it there
I hear cries in horrid nightmares
Plum jam scooped from a broken jar
Morn's mirror showed my old hurts
bludgeoned by love's iron bar
Stove hissed at me, "Your just desserts!"
I deserved each deeply etched scar
Robert J. Lindley, April 2nd, 2002
Rhyme, (Early dawn, Breakfast speaks, Life's foibles)...
two bible-blabbering, prattling pastors
from two denominational sectors
ended up in stitches and bloody plasters;
those around said it actually began
when one yelled, "faith alone can save a man!",
the other screamed, "only charitable acts can!";
swinging bulky bibles, shouting curses,
they whacked each other's eardrums and noses,
bludgeoned and bloodied their righteous faces;
so ironic, how they maimed each other
for faith, for charity and didn't bother
to heed the Lord's words: "Love one another."
Andy was a pretty young girl,
Flirty, fun, always busy, in a whirl,
She was popular at school,
Was intelligent, nobody’s fool
She never was short of a date,
But this would become her fate!
There was at college with Andy,
A nerdy guy called Randy,
Always unpopular heartily disliked,
He spent time alone, always hiked,
And occasionally, biked.
He asked Andy to join him one day,
She felt sorry for Randy, decided to say
Yes, so off they went on a trip
On his bike,
She had no idea Randy was
A complete psyche,
Rode far away from people in sight,
He bludgeoned Andy to death
With might
Used his bicycle pump, threw her down,
Off a mountain, into a shallow
Lake to drown!
Rode back to college, and was in tears,
His face had scratches, her friends
Worst fears,
Were foremost in their mind,
Randy was a freak, one of a kind!
She fell of the ledge Randy lied,
As he continued his story, and cried.
A helicopter flew to the scene,
The police were at this stage keen
To discover the absolute truth,
About this nerdy looking,
Pimply, youth.
Police feared that Andy was dead
The Chief of police at a
Press conference said,
Randy killed Andy, her hair stuck to his
Bicycle pump,
Pushed her and she had landed
Below in a slump.
Randy was found guilty, sentenced to die
By lethal injection,
Which didn’t bring back beautiful Andy,
With her fair complexion!
“Le lacrime del Cuore”
As the tears faithfully fall on cedar wood
A chaotic still thru sacerdotal sky where it stood
And blood rapidly runs down on cypress veins
Where the palpitating pine sadly shows its pains
The birds of prey perched perfectly passive
As the heart hinders to their words impassive
Nazarene nails reveal their tenacious teeth
And the sands of sorrow bellow underneath
A bludgeoned body from east to west
As the wounded wood is gently blessed
The heavens hibernate with clouds of grey
To meaningfully mourn this degenerative day
The cryptical cross now stands surreal
For a King is crowned with thorns that seal.
(March.24.2016)...June.6.2016
Jesus Contest
By Anthony Slausen
War
in the street
faces
marred by defeat
crying, fighting
kicking, biting
where is the truth they’re refusing?
can’t you see humanity is losing?
sapphires
seeking retribution
victims
of senseless persecution
amnesty
road blocked by political futility
stubborn leaders
breeding this brutality
martyrs
paving ways brave and proud
but signs say, ”NO PROTESTING ALLOWED!"
people
risking their lives
to benefit future generations
placing themselves on shelves
for the sake of their children's salvation
for now, they fall
bludgeoned in defeat
with hopes of a brighter tomorrow
for this bloodshed today in the street
~JSLambert
© 2011 JSLambert
My Heart Shall Not Fade In Crying Red Rust
I shall beat down the walls of your dungeon
And smash its power into fading dust.
My spirit by you will not be bludgeoned,
My heart shall not fade in crying red rust!
Once, I saw such goodness in your sweet soul.
Those years have all vanished into the dark,
Where raging waters drown love in its roll
Madness of your hate shows to be so stark!
I still long for that soft gentle touch
With the press of those sexy luscious lips.
This heart cries deep, in loving you so much
Despite cut of claws on your fingertips!
I can never change pains of fate and time.
Yet I cry my loss in poetic rhyme!
R.J. Lindley
Sept 23rd, 1976
Syllables Per Line:
10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10
Total # Syllables: 140
Total # Lines: 17 (Including empty lines)
Words with (syllables) counted programmatically:
Total # Words: 116
Note- Old poem, slightly edited today to improve its form
and omit sad and deeply personal messages vented at the time of
its creation. Although its extra verses (altered or cut) to bring
down to brevity of the sonnet form were very good, I will keep
the original intact in my private writes, for my children to read
only after I depart this existence.
Sharp as a whip, and not really drunk,
the drunken monk
has the sober monkey on his back.
A cylinder of mighty words
chained to a cylinder of craft and trickery,
behold the clever nunchucks,
I don’t follow the trickery, perhaps you do,
the blank look on your face, though,
suggests that you probably don’t.
Monkey be still,
Five Finger Shush Punch,
we’ve been bamboozled, you know.
A gorilla in a china shop
is smarter and more dexterous
and, by extension, more destructive
than a bull in a china shop,
but he also understands close to none of it,
he’ll randomly smash it as he pleases.
Nothing too clever, please,
Five Hammer Crunch Punch,
we’ve been bludgeoned, you know.
21st May 2019
Thus I sail the sacrificial scabrous seas and touch tormented tides
Battle-scarred in the breeze and washed ashore where evil hides
The Sun regrettably retreats where malice mortals digressively dare
Walking barren saliferous streets where I live on a penniless prayer
The citadels of submission crucially crumble where they saintly stand
In their unholy cognition you are a slave to their carnivorous command
Embedded in stone my tangential tears will endure beyond the grave
Bludgeoned to the brutal bone by the unlawful carnal knowledge knave
Lost in oblivion my blood runs calamitously cold by the river's edge
Beware the Ophidian with sabotaging scales leaving you on the ledge
Deceivers of the realm punitive penetrators connivers as they clutch
They manipulate and overwhelm with their torturous tender touch.
Let's stop the abuse...and spread the real love
Aug.01.2017
Let's talk about it
Sponsored by: Richard Lamoureux
1 original, poem on the theme of abuse, emotional, sexual or physical.
Any form is acceptable.
Voices bottled up, far away…out of reach
I still hear them, echoing in my brain
I try not to believe the fear—the disdain
So long I have avoided their gaze,
But here they are again, at a distance—
All ablaze!
I toughened my shell that night,
From the amplified words drenched in my hands
I cried so many tears for no words came
Unionized by grief and frustration,
How could I ever embrace such abandon?
I thought I could recognize by the fruits
As they were right before my eyes
But within their very cores,
Tears blur the rotten cries
The very words and deeds unspoken—untold
The very truth you tamper and mold
As fists clench—as confused youth look on!
He fashioned you with gold!
I hear gleeful harsh warnings—poetry—of the collateral damage of my brothers
Running up and down the streets—rampant to get at others
I try to see the beauty in every single shade
But now, all I can do is pray
Voices bottled up, far away…out of reach
I still hear them, echoing in my brain
I try not to believe the fear—the distain
So long I have avoided their gaze,
But here they are again, at a distance—
All ablaze!
All I can do I can do is pray
All I must do is pray
As the fumes of the anger light up today
Destroying all trapped inside
Splitting the atoms of our faith
I promise you will fall!!!
How gleeful you all are!
I promise the unity is all a dream
Nothing’s like it seems
Inside, I feel blood boiling, but I cringe
Refusing to add to the chaos
My voice box bludgeoned by their fears
Replaced with stranger’s tears
Too long have I avoided my gaze
In the mirror showing nothing but the hardened
Unable to recognize the rot within
I stay…I pray
Until true words heal and answers free
And the rest I leave in the hands that see
Here they are again
Within me, around me
Surrounding me
Frozen—cold… unfeeling, BOLD.
He fashioned us with gold
He fashioned us with gold
Don't transfix me with a gaze that shakes
my complacency and threatens to resurrect
feelings I let die--actually bludgeoned to death—
eons ago.
Don't speak to me in that seductive tone,
reminding me that I am flesh, not a well-oiled
machine. Don't touch me with demanding hands
that seek the warmth and fulfillment I can't,
or won't, provide.
A final warning:
If you must try to summon forth a dead or
dormant thing, do so not simply for the challenge
of conquest.
Awakened things must be nurtured.
Posted October 16, 2017
October 29, 2018, entered in Julia Ward's contest--Favorite Free Verse
from October or November 2017
Entered in Brian Strand's Contest
it can be a market crash
a global outbreak
it can be a Mount Saint Helen
for me it was Northridge, California
January 17th, 1994
I saw myself in the eyes of children
hungry, shocked, confused
clinging to mothers
their reality and the earth
both trembling underfoot
I was given no script, no rules to follow
all that was asked of me was empathy
to understand, to be one of God's children
to see nothing more became an eligibility factor
one man came bruised, bludgeoned
his stare a chisel to stone
the truth echoing from his wife
her face, her words
the doors that he crumbled
the force of his mission
to save neighbors
dozens if not more
how he flew under media scrutiny
sitting before me
my heart the only thing between them
and the miracle of sustenance
I became severed
then placed the gift of humanity
squarely at their feet
“A fight of voice exceeds one of fists.”
Bludgeoned, broken, cast away,
Time devours, your name decay,
Ascend beyond the gilded throne,
Unsung, unrested, still overthrown.
Happy Women's History Month!
The candles are extinguished today and the crucifix covered in black
for the One whos life was once bludgeoned with ignorance and greed
As He readied for heaven, he took each heavy Pontus whack
for sake of a world that could not accept nor believe, His Holy Creed
Some repented while others shouted profanities and ignored His tears
as He carried the Cross towards His final resting place, He slowly wept
the sky, grueling dark unbending, did not shed the rain nor smear
while His laced up sandals walked the sand without God's intercept
"But If I, With The Finger Of God," He once implied before he died
but this was not to be, for the Son of God belonged to man's transfix
He walked through throngs and herds as he closed the great divide
they watched, as clustered Halos grew around His bloodied Crucifix
But If I, With The Finger Of God could wipe away His pain
be more then just a writer recalling His death with ink and quill
The world would be changed as I know it, and He would Reign
Yes He is the One who died but also, the One they could not kill.
THE BLACK AND BLUE BLUES
There was blood on the street
On his shirt
And on his shoes
Yet it never made the news
Just another person
Just another tale
Just another sister with a sorry story for sale
A beauty bound to lose
Yet it never made the news
There had been thousands of tears
Throughout the years
And nights of varied and sundry fears
Her face was painted with blacks and blues
Yet it never made the news
She’d been to the cops to tell her story
“listen lady, no guts no glory”
To them it was too ordinary so they’d refuse
I’d pick up a newspaper to peruse
And still her story never made the fu**ing news
When the law finally caught the case
They understood the condition of her face
Needed not was D.N.A.for the culprit was known
After he beat, bludgeoned and broke every bone
This was a couple who should had never become a pair
She with morals and he with his nose in the air
Because she was his dynamite and he was the fuse
And she died yet it never made the fu**ing news
© 2011.….Phreepoetree ~free cee!~
To eye the purple bruise of dawn
That routs the road you travel on
In draughts no man can verbalize,
And yellow forks the bludgeoned sky
In tongues that lap at thunderstorms
Which fuel the rain that hunts you down –
To joust the iris of the sun
That browns the green of hissing lawns
And droughts the earth where buff it lies
In dusts of wind you can’t deny –
To nock the angle of the bow
That knows the way the arrow goes
And draw the cord that hurls it down
The road you ride to the unknown –