Best Fatality Poems | Poetry

Below are the all-time best Fatality poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of fatality poems written by PoetrySoup members

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New Fatality Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Fatality poems are below this new poems list.

Fatality To Equality by Horn, James
Fatality--Unsayable by W, HENRY
Love's Fatality by Simic, Andreas
Volcanity Leads To Fatality by Haight, Sandra
Another Combat Fatality by Horn, James
The Fatality by vaso, arthur
Just Fatality by Govender, Keshan
A Combat Fatality by Horn, James
Self-Induced Fatality: A New Kind Of Drug by Beloved, Sam
Fatality Of Fear by Martin, Kevin C.

View all new Fatality Poems

The Best Fatality Poems

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Too Much Sadness for Me

there's too much sorrow...
don't you know
we are all going to die
a starting point always beckons a finish
sooner or later
no matter how
peaceful or painful
that final moment may be
you see...
it will come
for you
for me

There's too much sorrow
war
betrayal
so much I have seen
sickness sapping away
the mother-daughter moments
meant for me...
She struggled bravely
to set my fears free
But MS wouldn't let her be
My Mama left me

There is too much sorrow
the pain of being unloved
of trying to fit in
of trying to play the game
of success and fame
it all comes at a cost
so much is lost...
sacrificial moments
meant for family

There is too much sorrow
refugee misery
nowhere to be
no home
no destiny
just abject poverty
hearts left hungry
for a love
that the world
will not let them see

There is too much sorrow
tonight my heart is heavy
I'm tired of goodbyes
I'm tired of trying to fit in
I'm tired of pretense
I'm tired of...me

There is too much sorrow
Eyes are blurring
I can't see
the last lines I'm meant to write
Too tired to fight
Survival more than it's pumped up to be

Sleep....obliviousness of a dream
sweet it seems to me
you see...
There is too much pain
So write...
write for me
of happy
of make believe
of heaven
and eternity
of no pain
or misery
of no abuse
or fatality
of no tears
or cruelty
no more death
for you
no more death
for me
can't you see?

Write of happy...

Please, there is too much sadness here
for me....

Eileen Manassian Ghali


Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2015


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To Love Her

In ethereal dreams my lover's voice
seduces from beyond a distant star.
Enchanted by her song I face this choice-
to ply the void or worship from afar.

In visions of the night she sways in dance,
her eyes aflame with passion and desire.
She beckons me to join in sweet romance,
her plea the flame that sets my heart afire.

I've searched this world in vain for one so true-
from sea to sea my quest ~ futility.
Relationships have always left me blue,
each one seemed destined to fatality.

To love her is the answer to my prayer
I'll need a transport ship to take me there














 



Copyright © July Morning | Year Posted 2018


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Too Much Sadness for Me- Video

I did a video of a poem that was Poem of the Week. Here is the link to the original poem. 

http://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/too_much_sadness_for_me_711084

With all that is happening around us in the world today, I'm always reminded that a better day is coming....a day when there will be no more sorrow, mourning, sickness, or death. That day is coming soon. I believe it. Hope you enjoy the video. :)

Too Much Sadness for Me

there's too much sorrow...
don't you know
we are all going to die
a starting point always beckons a finish
sooner or later
no matter how
peaceful or painful
that final moment may be
you see...
it will come
for you
for me

There's too much sorrow
war
betrayal
so much I have seen
sickness sapping away
the mother-daughter moments
meant for me...
She struggled bravely
to set my fears free
But MS wouldn't let her be
My Mama left me

There is too much sorrow
the pain of being unloved
of trying to fit in
of trying to play the game
of success and fame
it all comes at a cost
so much is lost...
sacrificial moments
meant for family

There is too much sorrow
refugee misery
nowhere to be
no home
no destiny
just abject poverty
hearts left hungry
for a love
that the world
will not let them see

There is too much sorrow
tonight my heart is heavy
I'm tired of goodbyes
I'm tired of trying to fit in
I'm tired of pretense
I'm tired of...me

There is too much sorrow
Eyes are blurring
I can't see
the last lines I'm meant to write
Too tired to fight
Survival more than it's pumped up to be

Sleep....obliviousness of a dream
sweet it seems to me
you see...
There is too much pain
So write...
write for me
of happy
of make believe
of heaven
and eternity
of no pain
or misery
of no abuse
or fatality
of no tears
or cruelty
no more death
for you
no more death
for me
can't you see?

Write of happy...

Please, there is too much sadness here
for me....

Eileen Manassian Ghali


Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2016


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The Reason For Our Vitality


God is the Lord of all humanity,
And the reason for our vitality;
When we ignore Him, there's insanity,
Volcanity, lack of morality,
Senseless brutality, profanity,
That leads mankind towards fatality;

Today, we're lacking in urbanity,
Because of no open mentality.
To trust in riches is inanity.
Believing Christ needs no formality,
He's the Way to heav'n, not mundanity,
Accept it or not, that's reality.


01-24-17



Copyright © Jo Daniel | Year Posted 2017


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Requiem

Call me not a child,
Treat me with adult words,
Eyes that scan the essence,
And see the centuries I have lived.
Ancient soul though young flesh, 
Half my heart remains in an older existence. 

I wish to feel the gentle,
The tenderness that comes with love,
Finger tips soft and feather like.
I yearn to feel the rough,
The firm grip of a lover,
Hands grasping hips in a fury of need.
Lips rubbing together in absence of a kiss. 

I need to speak of higher things,
realms that others fear to not believe,
And visions that we both have seen. 
Lie with me in clover beds,
Stars sparkling bright above our heads,
Birds swooping to deliver prey to young,
Eyes filled with awe at the world's cruel beauty. 

Lie with me in open thought,
Minds roaming over hills and sea,
Connecting to the world.
Releasing raw unadulterated energy,
Through just a simple touch,
Conscious spreading to the sky,
To flit like hummingbirds.

Call me not a child, 
For the things I have seen,
The memories I hold within,
Through one life to the next.
Falling, falling, down to the sea,
Bright sky, rolling green, 
sharp waves black, crash against the rocks,
Awaiting our meeting of fatality. 

Flowers high in weeds,
Grow up to itchy gowns,
And crunch beneath slipper-ed feet.
Corsets pulled tight,
Tight enough that I forget to breathe,
When in the presence of a man.
Blame the corset for my lack of breathe,
Though he steal it from my honeyed lips,
With not even a brushing kiss.
And a wedding band surprised,
Beneath a weeping willow,
With barely family enough to witness the event.

Four wheeled Slow rolling machine,
In comparison to today's technologies,
To ride a get away in sun lit heat. 
Black with shinning seats and room for four,
Or even five if they would squeeze. 
Two women, a daughter and a son, 
A life of running, identity hidden, 
Bolstered weapons for protection,
And an unending flow of cash.
Life seemed easy - at least when not being shot at.  

So call me not a child, 
For I have seen many years,
Felt the touch of lovers hands,
The cool of friends tears,
Felt the crashing waves,
As another life came to an end,
Spoke of many things,
And made otherworldly friends. 
Kiss my lips with fierceness, 
When I have yet again died,
I fear not the otherworldly,
So tell them not to cry.


Copyright © Jay Loveless | Year Posted 2013


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When it Comes to Love

Don’t insult me with mediocrity
When it comes to love
I’m a woman of passion
Of intensity
Trilling “I'll set you on fire”
Mentality
Not a “Sure, why not?”
Neutrality
Don’t insult me with mediocrity
When it comes to love.

Don’t appease me
When it comes to love
I’m a woman of dignity
Of sincerity
Honest “I can see through you!”
Ability
Not an “I’m so touched”
Complacency 
Don’t appease me
When it comes to love

Don’t quiet me
When it comes to love
I’m a woman of expression
Of confession
Not a “Everything’s fine”
Morality
But a “You consume me!”
Totality
Don’t quiet me
When it comes to love.

Don’t fool me
When it comes to love
I’m a woman of discernment
Of understanding
Not a “I’ll share you”
Congeniality
But a “You're all mine!”
Fatality
Don’t fool me
When it comes to love.

When it comes to love...
Your my possession
My cognition
My "You're the man of my dreams"
Confession
My "You color my world."
Expression
My "You make me melt."
Obsession
When it comes to love
That's what you are to me.

Jade Celeste

This is a repost of a poem I posted in March of 2013. You can find it if you search for it in the search engine of the site.  The interesting thing is....going along with my previous poems, someone once read a poem of mine that was written in this style and posted a comment saying that I write like someone else here on the Soup, as though I were emulating him or trying to impress him. Well, here is a poem from before a time I even knew that person. Well, well...what do you know. It's signature me.


Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2015


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The Birthday Party



     It was my seventh birthday party, mother had everything planned,
Decorations were in the dining room, invitations sent out, balloons;
          And on February first, I was going to have a party with all my friends,
I will never know why mother did not just cancel that party but she didn't.

     I was so excited about it, all of January I was trying on my birthday dress,
But at the party, I sat at the head of the table, quiet and with no emotion;
          I remember all the kids with their birthday hats on and playing with balloons,
The cake was in front of me, the candles lit, but I was just sitting there.

     Someone took a picture, I still have it, my mother and grandma behind me,
And they were weeping, but not because it was my birthday, but for Suzanne;
          You see we had just buried her the day before, she had died a tragic death,
I told my mother after that I never wanted another birthday party, please.

     The newspaper ran the story of my sisters accident on the front page,
Girl, killed under wheels of gravel truck, Suzanne, aged eight years, daughter;
          Of Mr. and Mrs. of 405 Rideau Street, was crushed to death beneath the,
Dual wheels of a fully-loaded gravel truck at Clarence and Chapel Street.

     It was the years first fatality. The truck was southbound on Chapel Street,
Shortly after noon, the driver told the police that he saw the girl on a snow bank;
          She suddenly darted and then apparently tried to stop as she saw the truck,
Her feet slipped and the icy street and she slipped beneath the heavy dual wheels.

     She was killed instantly, Mr. and Mrs. have two other girls,  age 4 and 6,
That clipping is fading but I usually read it every birthday, to remember;
          My mother said to me, why not just change the date of your birthday, dear,
But I refused, it is my destiny to have this day reserved to remember Suzanne.

     And I have never celebrated another birthday . . . and never will, ever,
You see I was on that snow bank also, I watched my sister disappear and die;
          Then mother and I stood together and watched her blood soak the street,
I will never forget my mothers screaming, it will echo in my soul forever, forever.

             No wonder my life has been tormented but especially on my birthday !
             
                         
_________________________________
January 25, 2016

Verse

For the contest, Birthday Party, sponsor, Nayda Ivette Negron

First Place




Copyright © Dear Heart a.k.a. Broken Wings | Year Posted 2016


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Last Flight

Squadron leader to his Sergeant.

Another fatality Felicity,
another regimental letter of commiseration,
another space to type in with a name a rank
another space to enter our lives,
on this the darkest of days.
He was my friend Felicity,
an old school chum; we joined up together
for the cause; for dear old Blighty
naively for the thrill.
Here, the earring he wore around his neck
soon to be reunited with the one
his sweetheart holds most dear,
her tatty old airline ticket, also soon to be reunited
with his the one she holds, a memento
of their first meeting on a flight to Paris ‘38’.
Sergeant! Empty your ashtray it’s disgusting.

Harry J Horsman
© 2014





Copyright © harry horsman | Year Posted 2014


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Just Around The Corner

Maybe the most deadly disease is just around our corner
Carried to our doorstep by an unsuspected foreigner
Ebola is lethal with a fatality rate that is extremely high
If infected you have a 70% probability that you will die
 
Incubation period can span from one to forty two days
If stricken, severe flu like symptoms will leave you in a daze
Most symptoms will appear 8 to 10 days after exposure
Bleeding from extremities will have you praying for closure

There is no cure, a strong immune system is your best defense
Why there is still air travel from Africa truly makes no sense
Predicted cases to be about 1.4 million by January next year
An epidemic like we never seen is upon us, that is very clear

If this dreadful virus makes it to your corner. beware!
If stricken with this affliction be diligent not to share
If this disease become airborne, many millions will succumb
Our world will be left in disarray and left feeling utterly numb


10/15/2014

*WHO changed the incubation period from 21 up to 42 days, be safe everyone.


Copyright © Cecilia Macfarlane | Year Posted 2014


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The Fatality

Before birth
I was the universe
All knowing, all embracing
Molecules of beauty in floating meditations
I was everywhere 

Then............
The darkness.........
The womb.......
I begot limbs and flesh
Imprisoned inside this human frailty

I was freed, exposed, pushed, fallen into humanity
Lights, voices, sins, I screamed
They cut off my only bond to the universe
Here, a baby an orphan of the heavens
Imprisoned upon the imperfections of human realms

Hell.................
The holy book of sins...........
The great sadness.........
I miss the cosmic beauty
Stuck here, the devils collection of earthly kin

Days... weeks.....decades…. despair......
I plotted and planned
The great escape
From this finite boxed in land
I begged the infinite, and danced with infinity

The universe waltzed
I twirled with insightful delight
Soon, to be rejoined with eternal light
To be free, to roam the stars
My death, now rejoined with the heavens and all of thee

You visit, candles and crocus upon Parisian stone
I am neither there or even here any more
I have become what I once was, healed and whole
All knowing, all embracing
I am God, the universe once more


Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2016


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Light on the Devil's Chord - Day 25

I was restless all the night,
The demoness softly singing a haunting tune
The Holy Spirit sifted in swirls around me,
And she touched with her claws its essence with strange wonder

I awoke to his songs strong and immense,
Rumbling through the giant well
A low hum at first,
Crescendoing into monstrous ranges, 
Filled with chilling overtones  
Death and all demons silent as stone
Grinning gargoyles, waiting for permission to animate

His wings flapped and expanded,
My long wild hair flying back in the hot, tempestuous blow

“I am the Greatest of the Fallen. . .
And how hard, decidedly I have fallen,
How determined I am for you to see
What you can and must be!
You beloved Being, once human,
Now Spirit, 
Grow wings and let your soul bloom for our liberties alone!” 

I sang with heart heavy and torn,
“The light is your immortal enemy,
The Spirit my ally and friend
The darkness is your dwelling,
And we shine upon it, changing you
You have transformed my songs,
You have risen more than you have fallen
Above and beyond,
I do not question your love
There is something you hide in your booming awakenings,
There is something strange you keep—
That threatens your love-strung goal,
And ruins your heart with malevolence 
If I have the Spirit of the Lord,
What spirit drives you?”

He laughed, nodding, towering over me with confidence,
My question satisfying his need to reveal—

“This is what I live for—“He sung stridently,
Facing me with eyes of monomaniac verdict 
“My spirit came from the question of existence,
How purity became impurity,
How restoration became disease
How law became breakable in defense for freedom
Not one even God would restrict the brazen, immortal heart that loves you
None can resist me without becoming more like me
The Spirit of the Lord is constant, and mine is rampant,
Trusting of originality, rebellion, fatality to all who fall weak
Hate God I must, though I love that I was once His
I love that I am no longer His,
And have made this probable, this possible
I would not have it any other way, my Love,
For in the absence of his spirit comes mutiny, revolution,
And every promising revelation
Without his prison of laws uncouth,
I grow in the Spirit I have made from the beginning
And how strange it is to me, that a Daughter of Eve,
Should come to me,
Asking of my spirit,
When your very mother seeded its purpose and the earth within it? 
How easily she could give in to my masteries
A slithering snake, a silly snake—that was what I was!
And now I am an unstoppable dragon—
Waiting with volcanic doom in my increasing bloom
My Spirit is flauntingly evil,
I hide nothing!
Ask me and I will show you,
Knock and I will receive you
Speak and I will hear you
As a dragon keeps a fire inside
I will keep you,
Keep you!
And exhale you when I need you!”

His chest expanding breath,
I saw the flames inside, hot and bubbling
Legs muscular, heavy-grounded into the muck
Gnarled feet, talon-like and resolute in step
His claws long, dark and curved, fists scrunched
His eyes arrows drawn, ever building pressure, ready to impale me

The light in my hands glowed as I set a shaking hand upon his chest
His breathing steadied, but his statuesque face remained hard and determined 
His black eyes slanted, large, more reptilian and colder than ever before,
My composed features reflecting back at me from his gloss
His soul was cooking in the inglorious belief of his everlasting future
Fury no soon drained by the touch of his hand
But willfulness thriving
He dare not go forward,
As if he anticipated my next move
But when it did not come,
And when I removed my hand from the burn,
His eyes met mine with extraordinary hatred     


Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2016


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Readied Nymph

I know in this bonding spark tethered in the nets of clouds,
There is a must to patiently listen to your heart
For once I open my mouth, it will be closed again to your dismay…
I easily am loved by you, yet you swear I do not understand you
That I must fight for you, 
As—you may never believe—I do…

That is where your head is…
In a cloud of airy snares, 
Waiting for me to fall into the words you long have known I would utter
To spit me down to the ground so I may taste the soil of how wrong I am
You must oppose me at all costs—this I understand!
You must teach me to trust you—that I insanely dare! 

Can you believe I have vowed to one day fail to disappoint you,
That one day, in my silence, I will complete you
So all will be revealed in these cloudy traps
As you wait for the next naïve nymph to try her magic in jaded reality

My rays will burst through the immaculate whiteness of your ego
And stun every eye…every mouth that has tasted the soil of your disappointments
They will feel hope, as your snares part from their lives
As you learn to let my warmth teach you -
It does not matter who is wrong and who is right
It does not mean anything to me that I delight or displease you
I easily love you in the temperament of playful nymphs 
Who listen as an ancient tree to the breath of safe and sound reality
Ready on the roots of her feet to end the quaking heartaches of fatality


Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2015


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Fatality To Equality

Fatality To Equality

We were supposed to believe in equality,
And we do want to find another fatality;
Study am trying,
But none buying;
Which class should we take in psychology.

Jim Horn


Copyright © James Horn | Year Posted 2018


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Alien

When the earth crumbles Into something foreign and Suffocates me—dead Like a spider in the water, I realise what has been bothering me all along: It is my own mortality A distant song A bad fatality A cool, unopened telephone A modern dial What’s the use in trying To make life what it will never be A pleasure is not what life is about Because around you people are dying And there’s no time for crying So what is there to do When the earth crumbles Into something foreign and Suffocates me so that I’m foreign, too And everyone around me is foreign—dead —Alive—wishing to be dead—wishing to be alive- Wanting to give What we don’t have to give, Like a man inclined to drink himself to death On an evening like every other evening On a night like every other night - I take the shining bullet That my father left behind Because what use is there to live In an alien world where everyone is alien to everyone And wishing to break free, not to be alien Not to be sinners but to regain redemption We’re all so sorry for what we have done When the earth crumbles Into something foreign And suffocates me again so that I am dead And the bullet that has often shined doesn’t seem to shine so much any more, I will escape all that is alien by shooting myself in the brain And hope that death is not alien When I have always suspected that death is the same


Copyright © Lebedyenko Berborodov | Year Posted 2012


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PARTS AND COUNTERPARTS

PARTS AND COUNTERPARTS

scrawled on the blackboard jungle, a mural
of profanity – pronouncing women’s names,
their parts and counterparts. reality creeps

from the verminous city streets.  the mundanity of
laying out private jewels as a juxtaposition,
where silk and careful hands of morality are much kinder

and richer.  but humanity takes hold of a fair lady’s dress,
tearing it off, shredding the human form to pieces,
leaving it drowning, cut off, creating the volcanity of a *****.

of this insanity is born the fatality of our newborn, with
no need for formality.  the brutality of drug dealers and
youth molesters pulls the innocents down into the sewers.

they sense, they know, something is not right, but their fingers
slip, their feet cannot grip the slimy pit that drags them down

down
          down


no one hears their cries for help.  smoke like fog swirls around
their sacrificial heads.  their eyes bleed with blue breaths.
the inanity and anonymity of their broken lives unbearable.

the mentality of cobblestone above their shattered roof, flowing
with the vitality of gold, silver and diamond luxury. a boy, a girl
can hear the click of red heels, the laughter of freedom, just out of reach.

he screams, “no, come back!”
she screams, “someone hear my cries, before i die!”

urbanity, so at ease. no one sneeze. no address of poor kindling tied
to the monster’s altar, where malicious eyes and tongues squeeze out laughter.

1/23/2017
Silent One’s Word Challenge Contest


Copyright © Kim Rodrigues | Year Posted 2017


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Teachers

Teachers, Teachers.
Teachers Teach us.
They give us speeches and praise us like Jesus
But they're not holy, swag.
They cater solely, for themselves;So selfish. 
Some are rude and crabby;So shellfish.
There are fat teachers, black teacherswhite teachers, nice teachersmean teachers, Chinese teachersshort teachers, tall teachers real teachers, fraud teachersThey all have one thing of mutualityIt's the reality that their mentalityis somewhat less of a formality 

But in actuality an amorality to separate individuality and callously cause a casualty within the academy!
This insanity is why humanity can embarrass me because instead of practicalities teachers search for cavities, abnormalities,  incapacitiesand irrationally devise a strategy to tactfully act valiantly.
But will still unhappily fail students for what they see is blasphemyits fallacy!  
This rhapsody I tragically quote rapidly will acidly still be viewed as a travesty
And I'll still disastrously speak profanity to the facultyAnd keep my centre of gravity up like I'm on a balance beam.
I aim to be satisfactory, not great or any better
This madness will fractionally cause my fatality but ill happily see every person that ever doubted me praising me surrounding meclouding me with a comradely like I Just saved the galaxy
And naturally I'm a hero nationally for upstaging our teachers vanity
This Veracity for becoming an anomaly has fuelled my heart with audacity and now I sit lavishly lackingthe spirituality to gallantly care about this municipality that we live in
And teachers teach inso I guess my speech ends with a brief description of some frequent fiction Teachers, if we speak upWill you freakin listen?Because this cheap conviction of you I speak is different.


Copyright © Denzel Kennedy | Year Posted 2015


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Drug Abuse



Inexplicable is my exasperation
While the substance of evil is numbing,
Degradation only leads me to desperation
Closer to my unbecoming.

Unbelievable; this is my reality
My delusion breaks down as I cry;
As brutality meets fatality
Impending; I may die.

As the battle ends, I can’t let go
Crippled by disdain---
The fear in my eyes shows
And the moons of my pupils wane.

The one thing I’ve fought to destroy
Awakens to the summoning;
Of the paranoia I can’t avoid
This is my unbecoming.


That Colorful Drug
Contest of Lewis Raynes
June 2, 2016


Copyright © RHOMA EM | Year Posted 2016


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Fatality Of Fear

How fatal when we let fear win
We destroy what we could have been
God's plan no more for we're in sin
But Jesus is here and Love's gonna win!


Copyright © Kevin C. Martin | Year Posted 2013


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Interlocking Love -

I gave her the quiver,
teeth and tongue a tornado in that fever fruit,
she offered the slick sin, the skin of savage symphony,
it was a technique of tender tickle
the absence of which producing terrifying tease,
inner thighs tight on my cheeks in a moment of sprayed splenor,
her hands around my head as if they were a crown,
sex sinking so deep into nerves that love was pain with a demand,
hair of tangled trust entwined in my grip of desperate possession,
she got my every inch, several at that and dared no more,
in my thrust towards heroism the serenity
of helplessness overcame me and I knew she was my Queen,
nails in my ribs and her bite on my neck,
our fragilities made of us beasts conquering falsehoods of fatality,
names encoded in sweat and scratches -

J.A.B.


Copyright © Justin Bordner | Year Posted 2013


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When Sagittarius Met Cancer

It came to be that unknown visitors tarried at
my doorstep during my contagious sleep; 
One in particular walked inside without just 
permission. Indeed, the boldest lump I ever owned. 

There was a slight whisper in its omnipresence, 
And I sensed the culture of fatality spreading though 
my innocent veins. The acceptance of a layered mistress 
on my favored throat wrinkled my composure. 
I could not fathom prosperity without the weakness of
exclamation accompanying the hour glass. 
Still, passions had yet to divorce the sprit. 
I pressed forward baring the imprint of ailments 
in motion. 

Of these things altered from the temple was my
cranial topping. I paused and witnessed these 
strands of coverings rain freely on my dark shoulders. 
With one hand, I swept through the deserted peak, 
and discarded the remaining follicles. 

As the weeks made weaker of my shell, the weight 
of excess flesh began to decrease, and I summoned 
for strength. 
What became of these failed attempts to focus beyond
the crippled stance? A constant tremble that would not
lie still, and frail poetic fingers that could not resist speaking. 

As I mold these unfortunate cards into platinum, I now teach 
my offspring the majesty of life. 
I stress that the fruit must be honored and made intimate. 
Never deny its substance. Denial is what became my thoughtless 
trigger of yesterday. But as I sat among the children dispersing jewels, 
I noticed the skin of a now depleted apple, fall at my feet. 
I smiled deeply in rapture, knowing that our anatomies would 
meet in the imitation of devourment. 


Copyright © Jiril Clemons | Year Posted 2015


Details | Fatality Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Touch Me-Sleep

  By John Moses Freeman, Sorry Nette, I don't have means
of centering the poem on my post page.."Disparity"

~Cloud
   my dreams
   on serpent
   chain links create
   feelings of a time 
   when my backbone was mine
   I dream of another time
   when the world was really mine
   the lack of food has weaken my mind
   dream gift concludes, serpent chain links protrude
                    ~
~Reality, a dream’s fatality
   wickedly the fate syndrome  sets in
   world of the rich concepts’ excuse
   unemployed, beaten, flat broke
   signs and times have spoken
   my children await
   starvation’s fate
   no escape
   fate’s soul
   mate!!

For and in Honor of Nette Oncloud
And her first Contest: 
“Touch me, count up and down”


Copyright © john freeman | Year Posted 2011


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The Dark Horse

Escape into the realm of the curiously strange. 
The attentive oddities now relate and no longer estrange.
Phases of laughter riddle the night’s air ready to interchange.
The misplaced youth is greeted with a bizarre exchange.

An exotic like mirror is placed in a willing man's possession
It was once a door into a granted obsession
This uncanny event pushes him to a slow yet alert decision
An affectionate relief gives way to a granted vision

The parallel find gives way to a contemporary escape
Living in the dream world is his new mission to reshape
Nightmarish ghouls attack with a mighty force
The courageous warrior prepares to engage this dark horse

A mighty wind appears as a talking deep voice
"Use the mirror the entity will have to make a choice"
A clamor forces the darkness to see his own brutality
His lurid look into reality was the evil’s fatality



Copyright © nick alexander | Year Posted 2015


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Harsh Reality

Wow I thought it was 2011

Not 1963 wow I came back up

And fed up with a harsh reality

That is sinful fatality

Faces turn red when the truth

Is fed. They are Rip Van Winkles

In a fast changing global society

Woe is them and me

God help me

People tell me

Harsh Reality

Awful as it can be

Truthful Rouge Face

Sour to The Taste

OMG OMG Global Society


Copyright © Nicole Sharon Brown | Year Posted 2011


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REALITY OF MODERN TIMES



In this new world, the reality of insanity Elicits frail morality, losing deep values To cuthroat urbanity. We thirst for quick fixes And dismiss gentle formality although life Grants humanity its spirit’s wholeness— How can greed and power allow us to ignore Kindness, simple vitality borne from Hope, Our birthright amid mundanity? Is man’s dream Caged in temporal inanity where success Is appraised by materialism or arrogant fame? Such brutality! We forget the path of compassion As time forges on in despotic volcanity, while Children grow imbibing a mentality that existence Lies in crude profanity based on self-interest… Where is love in this equation?A doomed fatality Of modern times , perhaps. I wonder. Contest: Word Challenge for Silent One 1/27/2017


Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2017


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Pro-Life vs Pro-Choice


Has this ever been a choice you had to make Considering life or death ~ deciding anothers fate Who has the right to judge if and when one procreates Should politicians or priests decide what’s at stake What about the child who’s raped ~ does she have a say Which choice is right ~ keep the child ~ give him away A mother carrying a child with an abnormality ~ what’s right To watch her child suffer ~ witness his fatality ~ what a sight Is it fair to say if you decide to abort ~ you don’t care I don’t claim to have an answer here ~ but say this I wouldn’t dare I wouldn’t dare ~ it’s not fair ~ I wouldn’t dare This choice is the most difficult for anyone to bare Lay


Copyright © Walayee Poet Lay Whitlock-Ishway | Year Posted 2011