Best Desecrated Poems
Unequally yoked didn't deny
common grace in an atheistic womb.
Half of the prayers were enough for him.
Blessed in health and time,
but reckless in his early years.
Under other tapestries laid all those fine linens of Egypt.
In each embrace, I placed a wager on just how slow your anger.
The hypocrite damns their own house.
Demons perched on the edge of puberty,
filled my son's eyes hopeless and left his rare word—flat.
Paper towels the papyrus of superficial coping
lines of scabs formed sleeves of braille
as the wages of sin reached for my son's throat mocking
two inpatient stays hanging in a precarious chemical salvation.
Another orphan from faith and repentance disobeyed,
juxtaposed with Job who lost ten.
Fear cultivated the prayers that grew
the humility that put your Son on the Cross,
and wouldn't gamble with mine.
Your general call turned effectual
A new volition has moved my son to gather
with those that feed the hunger
from the table of the Word.
When the hand of Grace shakes the elect
from their own slumber
in The Storm on the Sea of Galilee.
Taken back from Rembrandt's thieves,
no longer hidden away.
Beyond Jonah's anger that killed the vine,
and desecrated memories of seized temples
roam those ghosts of the giants of Lebanon.
Every idle word winnows the threshing floor
forever the wheat from the tare.
The solace that the chosen
are given in this life's labor
under The Cross that the world must hate,
divine regeneration gives the measures
of reverence and gratitude
for every thorn on this side,
and your Heaven full of treasures.
Restless, roving soul
needing, reaching, grasping
aching, antsy, anxious
impatient since birth
my soul is a gypsy
wandering the earth
I delve the depths
for spiritual solace,
that place of rest-
scouting rough terrain
searching, probing, seeking
habitats humane
Empty hateful faces,
“GOD-forsaken” spaces-
this place is a wasteland
breaking my heart
humanity desecrated
all falling apart
Bohemian gypsy soul
deviant, despised
traversing the expanse between
‘what is’ and ‘what should be’
I long for an asylum
a better place for me
Desolate and downcast
pitifully sad nomad
feeling forgotten, abandoned-
destined to roam
but soul exiles aren’t forever
HE will guide me safely home
Eyes of Anguish
His eyes are the same steely gray
as the gathering storm clouds.
As he turns toward the distant hills
his stare becomes vacant and haunted.
He sees through visions or memories,
of another day, another life, long ago.
There were many lines upon his aged face.
They've been drawn with the quill of time.
His wrinkles could never have concealed
the hopeless anguish etched so deeply
into his bronzed and weathered skin.
Humility and pride fight bitterly
on the battleground of his features.
The boldness in his stance is evident.
Emotions pour from his eyes and his soul
as the sorrow from his heart silently cries,
"This was once mine, never more to be."
Who was the heathen? Who ravaged the land?
Not this man who respected Mother Earth.
He sadly dreams of yesterday's glory.
He soared with eagles and rode with the wind,
but he knows it is all 'suvate' ~ finished.
Time was the enemy of this Native American.
His spiritual world was taken away when
the greed of man desecrated the need of man.
Now, he can only mourn for a life that was,
a life that now lives on only in legends.
Nebulous angels vacant worth
Foresee no fortunes adulate
Dawn's desecrated, faithless birth
Supine mother to stillborn fate
2/21/20
For 'Poe-etic Verse' contest
sponsor: charles messina
Shared 2nd Place
You have been lurking into my temple
Doing not so nice things but still I am
Strong trying to receive my wings
I have been raped, cut, molested, and killed
But still I live
I have been harmed in many of ways
Taken from my body day by day
But still I survive
I am a victim in this society
But still I strive
I have been desecrated and tortured for my women hood
But I am still human
One that has been born
Torn through this emotion
But still I am a child on this earth
But I have been abused and taken from my worth
I am terrified for my territory
I am marked in this village of manipulation
My dignity taken
But still I thrive
I reach out to tell others
That you are blessed because
You could be the one waking up with nothing left
Your family, your friends, your body, your life
Could just be taking away
Or maybe you could be the one selling your body everyday just for your rights
I am stereotyped, threaten, and abused
My body has been walked over and reused
If only you new
I want knowledge but I have to ask
I want to vote but I cant
I have to live in this cage that I can’t escape
But still I stand strong
And I wait
Cancerous and tired
Drowned in a blunt loneliness
Again, the angel cried
Without a tear, voiceless
Cradled in the wind's silent caress
The moon, sole in the sky
Monolith of a forgotten day
Feathers scattered, unable to fly
The angel, mute, no more hands to pray
Restless, sleeping in dismay
From the darkness, new days arise
Senseless conundrum, undeniable
Unfortunately, the angel was wise
Hopes, only tales from a gone cradle
A lifeless God's deceptive mumble
Stars died in the blood of dawn
The angel's wounds slowly faded
The world's puppet, a mindless pawn
Twilight, once more desecrated
Another silly day for the condemned...
I stood too long
in the public square
strangers wearing masks
desecrated my presence
tossed paint upon my visage
roped and toppled me
shattered my past
erased my future
all because I paused
to gaze upon the beauty
of a common ground
John G. Lawless
7/16/2020
The Bed
Your Mouth
My Touch
Our Lips
It’s a fever
In the night
Forbidden
Forbidden
Desecrated and damned together
Desecrated and damned forever
One naked flesh, we’ll die together
One naked flesh, making love forever
The Flame
Your Cries
My Salt
Our Wounds
It’s a fever
In the night
Forbidden
Forbidden
Desecrated and damned together
Desecrated and damned forever
One naked flesh, we’ll die together
One naked flesh, making love forever
The Earth
Your Rain
My Seed
Our Life
It’s a fever
In the night
Forbidden
Forbidden.
Desecrated and damned together
Desecrated and damned forever
One naked flesh, we’ll die together
One naked flesh, making love forever
Hell
Regrets
Confessions
Of Love
Your Love
My Love
Our Love
Love
It’s a fever
In the night
Forbidden
Forbidden.
Desecrated and damned together
Desecrated and damned forever
One naked flesh, we’ll die together
One naked flesh, making love forever
Hear the whispering voices of our tribal ancestors,
Echoing against the rough rock skin of Chacoan Canyon,
Telling the outsider white devils, that this is sacred ground,
Do not dare to tread here, for your own salvation's sake,
Lies at risk.
Can't these intruders hear, the rattling bones of the dead,
Beating against the native drums, calling forth the guardians
Whom protect these revered mountains, and ancient?
Forgotten ruins.
It's a presence of malevolence, given off by shadow stalkers,
Whom elude detection, spiritual chameleons these the unseen
And the unheard.
At dusk's twilight hour, does blood's mountain so flicker
Crimson red, for within dwells the beast, whom feast upon
The forsaken, those who have desecrated the purity
Of this sacred tribal land.
Weeping women of generations plead for mercies
Leniency, but the creature knows only basic instincts
Need for survival, and this is his native hunting grounds
Territory.
Can you not feel its eyes watching you from above?
Does not the hair stand up straight on the back of
Your neck, flee out-lander to a different venues location,
Before it is too late.
No medicine man's enchantment, or incantation's spell,
Can save thee, the sacred right's ritual is older than the
Desert sands that blow against these rock canyon walls.
In this arid arena the fallen are taken prisoner, by a dark
Phantom gladiator, who seemly is made of vaporous mist.
But the chieftain elders praise his existence, for he is a
Guardians sent by the power of the Great Spirit,
To protect and guard this land of native wonder.
Many thrill seekers come here to behold nature
In its raw state of brilliance, and few leave
Unscathed, for they have been touched by
The presence of the supernatural.
In chacoan Canyon, where the Colorado River
Still runs wild and free.
A killer crouches in a stance's freeze, waiting
For his next meal to step forth onto his sacred
Feeding grounds, welcome tourist, unto the ritual
Bloody feast.
The beast does smile, with fiendish delight, come'
Any further my friend, the creature speaks, and
You belong to me for all eternity.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Ticker tape life into a single frame
Moon and stars silhouettes look down upon the sane
All the pristine porcelain faces lifted up to care
Intertwined fingers optimistically seeking out repair
Tolerance is not the toiling only of the brave
To find unified understanding is what the species craves
Eating of chrysanthemums call to darkness, be eclipsed
Bathe pure enlightenment producing innocence
Causing hearts to swell with love, beating live balloons
The “Perfect world” residing within Fabergé cocoons
Ticker tape life into a single frame
Darkness and misery secreted from disdain
All distorted tarnished faces sodden with despair
Lungs expanded beyond capacity, choking on the air
Hollow heads full of sorrow roll in like crimson waves
Crashing upon hopeless steely shores with desecrated pain
Soaring far from absent shadows into the great abyss
Bitter taste of hateful words linger on pursed lips
Lacerated tongue, swollen, bleeding from its wounds
Inhuman world residing within lanolin cocoons
This is copyrighted material. All rights are reserved. Reprints must be requested in writing to
the original author. © Alisha Groves
The beach gathers its dead. Thousands of horseshoe crabs
come home on the full moon’s tide. Their courting dances,
scrawled with claw and carapace in the wet sand, leave
with the ghost hands of nursing Autumn wave.
Their nests of jewel-colored eggs, covered and soothed
seasoned in salt sea, gestate beneath a slurry of debris.
Right side up each skin colored husk with its barbed tail
rocks in the bubbling broth of Cape Cod’s bay.
Belly up, they appear as an open invitation to the plovers
who flock overhead and arrow down en masse to dine.
Piping plovers, masked in black, hopscotch through the
detritus, connoisseurs of this turquois egg-like caviar.
Among the life and death of sea we walk, barefoot, and
cautious wary of the scramble, the jutting barbs, the bits
of un-soothed glass, the desecrated cairn which barricades
the dying life from the living sea.
Published First in Sounding Review 2015
Africa My Homeland
I am the face
fixed on a map
A space
with boundary, leaving no gap
I am a homeland
desecrated when I was abducted from my rightful nation
A brand
with a name which precedes my reputation
I am a continent
incapacitated not to live up to his flair
A dissident
doors shut daily to his face unless I straightened my hair
I am a riddle
narrated to my kids stuck in Britain, France and America
A bridle
used only by Africans for Africa
Lost Battles
Rubies and blue sapphires all winking in the sun
as they topple down the stream
today the bloodshed’s done.
Lo the fallen kingdom, the people all enslaved
wickedness upon them, not one will be saved.
Royal purple satin, overlaid in gold
carried in a babbling brook,
collecting river mold.
Lo the bloody water, the desecrated field
carrion birds as judges, and naught will be repealed.
Broken swords and broken shields are littered all around,
the body of a crownless king
is prostrate on the ground.
His arms are reaching toward the bank and nothing in his hands
outstretched toward a kingdom lost, upon the bloodied sands.
So kneel and pledge your fealty to the headless royal crown
join it in the depths below,
breathe in - and then just drown.
Or bow your head upon the blocks, the axe above you hangs
hunger for what once was yours, and suffer from the pangs.
No mercy will be given, no pardons and no grace
the foe is screaming at the gate,
“Surrender, show your face!”
The only option left for you is rise and try to run
or join the captive sapphires all winking in the sun.
10/13/16
It is simple things that which
are forgotten
Desecrated and defiled
Fossiled into the past
Isn't it you and I
Who make things simple
And that which is simple dazzle
How can I forget
How memory like a mirror
Always reflects on me saying
Don't stop dreaming
Don't stop loving
Don't stop believing
You cease to live if you cease
to
dream
Pave your own path
Drive your own passion
Seduce your own zeal
Never manipulate your own
destiny
Don't walk infront
Cuz no one might follow
Don't walk behind
Cuz no one might lead
In the dying embers of the day
On the banks of disparity and
despair
We find reasons to embrace
Those simple things.
Murky water left to drink
floating particles of death
Erie presence leaves discontent
As something wicked floats in it.
The bone chilling chilly wind doth blow
off Lake Erie with flurry snow.
Late at night off cold dark shores
Shadows of a floating barge
Clouds of soot from steamers clogged
Pollutes the air with killer smog
when something wicked this way blows.
Perverts creep on angry streets
Children homeless are their prey
desperately at the mercy of
She gets plucked like a sweet ripe plumb
as something wicked this way comes.
There were no herbs, left to purge her
This was strictly death by murder
Blood dripping from their lips/
Every scary thing they fling as;
Vampires odors fumigates,
the evil deeds, their gluttony brings.
They've Desecrated the graves of men;
Though we stand by, we cannot extend,
at least a stick to beat the bush;
Or make loud noises and pretend;
While something evil this way spins.
© Vicki Acquah | Year Posted 2014
Inspired by Ray Bradbury
reposted 2017