Best Crimes Poems
My confession
I murdered them all
impostors
claims of poetic devices
when the evidence was only
rants piled upon rants
A circle of praises
made the courts dizzy
the frauds committed
only added to their notoriety
under oath
all their poems shattered
The judge looked me in the eye
how do you plead sir
"Guilty as charged your honour"
I here by then sentence you to 19 days
you must pay for each crime
one day for each scoundrel exposed
We are the Terrorists
dead babies don't cry
therefore I must
In a land torn by evils cruel hands
where innocence once thrived in golden sand
echoes now haunt barren torched lands
of children lost, tears fall in graves of pain
Fourteen thousand souls, too young to know
caught in the crossfire, victims oppressed
their laughter silenced as dreams cut short
in a horror of genocide where all limbs bleed
Babies cradled in arms, so tender and small
now lie cold and lifeless, victims silent in white shawls
their tiny hearts, once filled with hope's embrace
now silenced forever in a merciless disgrace
The army's march such ruthless crimes
leaving devastation in its tide
families torn apart by Israels cruel wand
as they mourn the loss of those they held fond
Oh, may their memory be a solemn vow
strive for peace and harmony, lets end sorrow forever now
for in the wake of such unfathomable hate
lies a plea for humanity to erase this state
My Colors are Black, White, Green and Red
Black for the darkness of Israeli crimes
White for the purity of resistance
Green for the olive groves once tended
Red for the blood, Zionists love to spill
Bible Trumpers flying hypocrite kites
lacking morality, dignity, a sore site
another Hitler, another people torn
can humanity repeat, time will tell
KKK Nazis and Zionists, all belong in hell
Worn shoes, suffering, victims scares
horrendous crimes, the devils evil grip
in tents and shelters exist tears and fright
tomorrow, if we breath, let Palestine live
eternity for the innocent, let every child be free
My colors are Palestine
My colors are Humanity
My colors are crayons for children
My colors shout, never silent
My colors are for the oppressed
My colors are music and song
Free Free
free Palestine
Free Free
free Palestine
Free Free
free Palestine
Free Free
free Palestine
Little men making laws
Little men seeking flaws
Little men laughing at the meek
Little men weaker than wounded sheep
Oh little men, come ye here
I shall score and brand you till you tear
You will whimper and cry out for the savoir
All due to your immature and cruel behavior
Poetic Crimes
On and on
they go
the vaccine makes three heads
and sixteen toes
An elephant trunk
and five giraffe necks
not to mention a terrible
desire for Bill Gates micro softy
The 1600's sure had a basket
of stupid apples
how they bred them youngins
into 2021 is scary
Fools existed from the beginning
they will quote gods to the very end
while ventilators count one by one
their last feeble heart beats
Good riddance to the selfish few
go die and let us be
sadly a few will make it
moronic slugs murdering the
innocent
The consumate sleuth Sherlock Holmes
Hardly lacking the wit chromosomes
With the faintest of clues
To bemuse and confuse
Cracked crimes in the Welsh catacombs
AP: Honorable Mention 2023
Submitted on January 27, 2019 for contest LIMERICK 3 sponsored by JOSEPH MAY - RANKED 2ND
there once was a time of simple pleasures
like hop-scotch, marbles and electric trains
hop-scotch turnd into scotch on the rocks
when i got drunk enough to realize what adulthood ordains
childhood led to my becoming a hood
i held a lot of adoration for adolescence
my youth was an era of hopes and dreams
and faith formed of fact was at its essence
stealing kisses in the kitchen became blatant thievery
i played spin the bottle until i spun out of control
jumping rope landed me at the end of my rope
and sin seeped deep into my soul
I recall when nursery rhymes first became rhetoric
And when reality dashed the dreams to which I once clung
Now, at sixty four, I have only one regret
And that is the fact that I didn’t die young
© 2012 copyright PHREEPOETREE…..~free cee!~
Please read the rules above. Obey,
Lest you receive a quick “NA.”
So many fail to read my rules,
So many fail to heed them. Fools!
There’s quite a few, yes, I agree,
Take note of number fifty-three,
Which warns you must use perfect rhymes,
Imperfect ones are common crimes.
Instances of this are ample,
Let me give you an example,
By some guy, let’s call him “Blake,”
Two violations for heavens sake!:
“Tyger Tyger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?"
Perhaps ‘twas written by a child,
Whose scribbles with a pen were wild.
Who dares rhyme “eye” with “symmetry?”
This poet barks up a wrong tree.
And also violates Rule Eight,
Good spelling is my main mandate.
“Tyger?” Really!? Sounds precocious,
But the spelling is atrocious!
I found another case just recently,
A poem that starts out quite decently,
Then ignores my main decrees,
The errors seem to come in threes:
“…Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
‘Surely,’ said I, ‘surely that is something at my window lattice,
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore …”
That’s three bad rhymes, all in a row,
Although it seems to have good flow,
(Suggest you study E. A. Poe),
And syllable counts? Inconsistent!
See Rule Ten, I am insistent.
Imagery superb? Yes, granted,
But who rhymes “haunted” with “enchanted?”
Such rhyming crimes are then repeated,
If only they could be deleted:
“...Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—
On this home by horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore ..."
Could these mistakes I just ignore?
“NA,” I say. Quoth: Nevermore!
Submitted February 29, 2024
Overly Particular Judges Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Matt Caliri
Judged: "NA"
There lies a land behind the smoke,
Where silence screams and hearts are broke
Where lullabies drown in bombs and drones
And cradles turn to shattered stones
Babies cry with lips so dry
No blood, no milk, no tear left to cry
No schoolbell rings, no hospital stands,
Just bones and ruins buried in the sand
They queue for crumbs and bleed for rice
A bottle of water, the price of life
Each has lost __ be it a child or spouse
a parent, a sibling or a shattered house
Then phosphorus rains on wrecked-out souls
To burn their skin to elevate their pains
And we the modern civilized race
Watch stage 5 famine take its place
What further war-crimes must I define
Palestine bleeds while the world stays blind
Ah was standing there liming,
Thinking ah was having some fun
Laughing, drinking, and singing
On the Island of Sun
Along came a car with some thugs
And before you know it,
Ah was shot, and now I will
End up in a 6 foot pit
Yuh cannot take time outside
Yuh own home and land
Cause before you know it
You are shot and it’s grand
Trini’s liming
Is not a good thing
It does not matter;
How much you dance and sing
Beware of the gangs
They will take you out with a bang
Written by mj july 28 2013
This ink switchblade scraped the page
Imbibed by my musical sage
This isn't just a love sick cantata
A heartless melody, baby hold that fermata
Oh look out! More lyrical crimes
Hear me butcher these rhymes?
My murderous hymn in 4/4 times
Jesus was Palestinian
At this sad time
solemn remembrance
200,000 plus slaughtered Palestinians
bombed and shot
like fish in a gold fish bowl
none will come back to life
in three days or ever
children lost
murdered by the most evil
cult in the world
Bethlehem surrounded yet again
bagpipes will prevail..........
Hind the Red Deer
Along the river bank
on a sweltering day
there she was, shining in radiant beauty
lariviere quenched her thirst
her timid smile, gentle touch
personified kindness in tranquility
the desire of many men over time
for she was not one woman
she was a piece of history
re-incarnated many times over
you may have known her as Hind Al-Husseini
who cared for the children of the Nakba
passionate for the plight of all women
her history and roots she proudly expressed
with a museum of folklore, all impressed
Then there was Hind Shoufani
who learnt love from burnt villages
we are all tired, always though in the hearts
love falasteen
re-incarnated yet again
as Hind Rajab
an innocent child
like Jesus feared by evil
and those with power
shot this child over 300 times
sixty bullets for every year of her life
a gentle life stolen by the star of David
of course there was Rostom of the Nile
whose sensual moves so captured the eye
she remained a mystery to most
the humble and shy often do
passant hind at the rivers edge
red hair blowing in the breeze
sadness of the world, a suffocating heat
on the other side of the river
was it my imagination?
or did I see a small smile?
The Nurse of Zionism (part 1)
She visited the stolen land
loved putting her feet in the sand
the sand was not pleased
the crushed bones of Palestinian dreams
olive trees burned so Europeans could party
Over three hundred bullets in a six year old
"Its complicated"
Thousand of children slaughtered
"Its complicated"
Doctors raped in IDF prisons
"Its complicated"
Children used as human shields
"Its complicated"
Hospitals bombed on purpose
"Its complicated"
Medical equipment smashed by soldiers
"Its complicated"
IDF dress up in Palestinians women's cloths
"Its complicated"
One will never heal
with a heart so cold for others
selfish, self centered, self absorbed
to the core
Nazis had nurses too
I should not be shocked
The Angel of Tel Aviv (Part 2)
I ask why the ones
with hearts of gold
carry such a heavy burden
of pain, loss and sadness
The world such a miserable place
nurses should carry compassions grace
mostly true
for in the afternoon sun,
the Hanoun in bloom
in Tel Aviv an angel of mercy
restored my faith in humanity