Best Brutal Poems
My mirror tells the brutal truth,
a woeful tale of vanished youth
Where one eye squints and one eye shines
and broken dreams are long dark lines.
Emotionless and coldly callous
Honesty without spite or malice
Shamelessly silent yet telling all
Reflecting the writing on the wall.
An image appearing all too clear
Becomes too telling, too austere
Once colorful hues seen on display
Have now faded into a dismal gray
To know and see what is real and true
But then to sadly regret the view.
Telling myself it doesn't matter
Yet knowing, one is bound to shatter.
Sandra Weiss
Daniel Turner
early morning....
I watch a chickadee perch on my bay leaf tree,
dropping down to sip water from my birdbath
next to the tiny cherub angel, leg extended
in welcome-
my hand loomed rug, crafted by a bluffwoods
Grandmother, lovingly watches over me-
His shadow arc's and infiltrates my prism,
if I'm less brutal today, maybe others will
feel it too-
..... maybe
feel it too
In the Maritimes, it is difficult
Especially, on the Bay
Where winds are carried.
The temperatures drop down, really low
Could swear, you're in the Arctic
Snow piles up too.
The brutal winter wind, stays close behind
Dressed up, like an Eskimo
You will beg for warmth.
Copyright Cynthia Jones
Feb.6/2007
To all women battered by brutal men
Cast not the blame at the foot of heaven
The dyed cloth by brutality stained
Shake that rag in demon's lurrid face
The summons writ for him disdained
By God and the better virtues of the race.
Then come down to the spiritual waters
Here, find balm for wounds and craters
Of flesh and faith, the Creator's love await
Your witness to the truth of sin
Swing wide your forgiveness like a gate
Let his words flow where pain has been
For he who made you, his little flower
And brimmed the bee in your fragrant bower
Was not intent that a petal should fall
From pedacle or heart bruised to tear
But promise one day, it shall worth it all
Glory restored from winds of despair.
A fierce ache within my chest
an intense crushing feeling
The mere thought of you has
my being vibrating from
searing pain
How foolish to trust in another
"I'm not like the rest!"....
only makes me doubt more
Physically...the scars I can handle....
it's the scars upon my
Essence I can't take any longer...
Impossible to hide the harsh pain
behind a smile any longer
I can't fight your ripping at my emotions
with your rusty dagger...
You broke me beyond repair...
open wounds never allowed to heal....
if you had cared at all you would
see this but I see you never did....
my brutal realization
Brutal honesty I dared myself to write, so without hesitation writing brutally honest I begin. Demons control the facade of angels that surround me, I'm loved, though demented. Webs of deceit control the strands of truth I spin, sober under the constant influence of drugs. Justifying sin with the temptation of forgiveness, because only My God not yours, can judge. So vengeance erupts forth with haste, though your God forgives, mine allows to seek revenge. So within no future ado allow me to introduce, my new poem, "Who I really am". A force, a disciple, a testimony of hardships, a story needing to be told. A convict, an addict, a prisoner by law, a tainted and unsaved soul. Manipulator, manipulating my manic depression as an excuse to continue my sin. Cheater, liar, thief, praying wrongfully that some others life may come to an abrupt end. Evil intentions intended on indicting others sickness to hide my own sickness within. Plotting revenge on enemy's, not accepting apologies, refusing to forgive and forget. Brutally honest I dared myself to write, but now with hesitation I allow these words to be revealed. Yet it is up to you to believe these words are honest, or am I using them to keep my secrets concealed.
Going to war armed with a metal pole,
A stiff breeze cuts the summer air.
Becoming safe is the primary goal,
And the chattering and cheering begin to blare.
I stop to turn and face my enemy,
He stares me down, ready to battle.
I can only imagine what lies ahead of me,
But I'm tough, so I know I won't rattle.
The first shot is fired, the battle's begun,
And the shot comes close, but misses its spot.
It may have come close, but I will not run,
I dig back in and wait for the next shot.
Wind kicks up the rust colored dirt,
As a next shot, colored white, is coming near.
So I deflect the shot away, without being hurt,
Then dig back in again, feeling no fear.
A third shot is fired in the ferocious fight,
And as this next shot closes on in,
I focus and swing with all my might,
Knowing this is a battle I will win.
I smack the shot long and far,
This will be my moment of fame.
The shot clears the fence and hits a car,
And I know my homerun has won the game.
Broken “Perfect”
Blowout Preventer
Billowing Petroleum
Burning Profusely
Bodies Paining
Burning Peeling
Bleeding Pleading
Buried Passing
Blighted Preserve
Bayous Profaned
Beaches Polluted
Biosphere Poisoned
Banned Products
Boats Parked
Businesses Pinched
Breadwinners Penniless
Beleaguered President
Bluntly Proposed
“Billions Promptly”
BP Provided
British Petroleum
Blind Profiteers
Bloody Pumpers
BRUTAL PERFORMERS!
British Petroleum
Broke Permits
Betrayed Public
BRUTAL PERFORMANCE!
Waking me in the wake of her brilliance
words spoken,written in convoluted high tones
ringing meaning esoteric and quite unknown
the craft was hyped in meteoric terms
shining bright, sending craven tremulous brain numb.
Harking, in glory she strode the road
on which no one else was allowed
they lined up till she ticketed
them for her rich comments
looking at the teeming crowd
I too went and pushed as a throng on.
She was allaying the fears of an unwary(me included)
do not worry if you do not know'tense agreement'
I am here and with you the manna heaven sent
I would 'salad';I would 'marinate'; I would'contemplate'
and 'I would ruiminate',for heck as sure I would,
your poem would come out shining from wood
wait till I am through with that ,sit there in suspense
as I put on spectacles English and thrash you hence
the poor bloke waited with breath baited
like a rabbit flagellating as a helpless bait.
After an hour, the wise lady looked up
gave a list of typos to the poor bloke as his corrective sup
and in the end she wrote
with ten spell mistakes of her own galore
this poem was all wrong and even the topic was
actually this guy should have come to me
and got the poem written by me
on a topic of my choice
and claimed this was his and will be
it was only then would I give a positive critique
as it stands it is a loser because this do-no-good
pooh phah phah, is the author.
Now let me do the right thing
somebody close has died
yes,he did and they did not lie
I began a poem for lament
but that young bloke came like scent
I forgot the lament and wrote
a collaboration of ass cream whip and ah! in it sent.
Well the critique royale with her hyped and marketed skills is on to her next critiquing ticket.
Sip that blood .. fill thy melancholic heart
bandage my deep wounds then dig me a grave
may my life begin if I shall depart
for the mortuary life had me enslaved
and my conscious mind cursed his sanity
scattered am I among those frosty dreams
to proceed my road to eternity
and satirize the life I won't redeem
so tolerate my sin .. accept my wrath
for in this perfect world am incomplete
survived by death .. anxious for my last breath
drift in grief as I flip my final sheet
thus I rot shrouded by desperation
till I'm blessed with thy brutal salvation
I may be gentle as Jack
but patience is what i lack
my best word is smack
therefore,no nut is too hard for
me to crack
I always walk in the park
even when nature says;its dark
cos,my every step ignites a spark
so i don't deserve that nike mark
I creep before i walk
so i think before i talk
my muscles is like a bundle of
stalk
thats why am stronger than a
hulk
so i leave more traces like a chalk
I bath with words
lotion with oratory
and perfume with poetry
so i make the library my secret
laboratory
Am not too much of a wordsmith
but i drop iron-lines that can not
be beaten by a blacksmith
the WORLD is a dark movie
so i act more better than
willsmith
am now your cinema,so grab
some wool-candy and take a sit.
Its 'THE BRUTAL MAN'..
I go brutal with words...
In the canvas of twilightish insanity
Appear pomegranate designs of passion
An intellectual dance of day flowing into night
In the sea inside skull, the heartbeats of humanity
Vibrating with rurality towards urbanity
Get oxidized in the lemon and salt of mundanity
No concern for the formality of meter and iamb
And thus blooms out the filigree of feelings
Beautiful Sylvia Plath effect revealing
They invite us to the mirror
Of our reality of current disintegration
Reeking of brutality and volcanity
Collapsing rhythm joyously spells fatality
And cheerfully grows an inanity of mentality
Eating into our diamonds of morality
You often say you will return and love
Are you afraid of the expanding emptiness
And the vitality-sapping black holes?
We do not know why profanity is considered a value
We do not know where our brutal rooms lead to
We only see green leaves dropping dead every day
__________________________________________________
25/01/2017
Word Challenge - Poetry Contest hosted by Silent One
Remembering the time of fragrance
Now everywhere spread is gloom
Vision is blur, nothing in vein
Flames are set by those insane...
Kids swayed under canopy's light
Their noise was sweet and sound
Now still is all let it move someday
As all has turned to burnt hay...
Every drop of tears are saved
For children to gratify their thirst
Suppressed are the uproar of cry
To not let the caravan descry...
Get this babel away from here
It keeps us wary and vigilant
Even lullaby cant make us sleep
Like a nocturnal we just weep...
Efface this agony at once
Even the fern wants to stem
Hidden are the figurant and finch
And ceaseless are we of the lynch...
Cant even glimpse through the window
Fearing for a shot coming by
To know who are alive and dead
For not being a part of this brutal bloodshed...
Their pen
spreads pure venom
by wearing gentle dress
on the throat of third world to rule
of noose.
-September 12, 2018 Chattogram
You pick up the pieces
of your broken heart
The one that he
tore all apart
With his hurtful words
and painful lies
With every word
a part of you dies
Love is brutal
but not like this
He's not supposed to make
you fear his every kiss
You can let him go
STAND up and FIGHT
Give him up
for what you know is right
Find someone who
will love you
Someone who is
honest and true
Find that someone who
with every kiss
You will soon begin
to miss
Love is brutal
but in time you will find
Love is also
patient and kind