Best Martyrdom Poems
Dark and mysterious
-- You are my greatest fear
Rapt and enshrouded
-- There's nothing I can hear
Penetrating intersection exuding me dry
Excruciating pain.. Oh! How I beg for peace..
Can you see my tears? They dried as I cry
My clock is fading so, can I at last be at ease?
Dovey Annie
It’s an antichristian theory and method
The way I give myself this plague
Sickening solitary sustenance of my own sins
An urchin warm within my spirit like a fetus in a womb
It’s Godless; I’m Godless
To glorify a madman
It’s habitual
To let the madman in
My name is Judas
betrayer of God
everyone hates me
yet thats not as much
as I hate myself
and everything else
until its just a word
that cannot be felt
I can't be accountable
to a single action
thats unchangeable
I wish you would cast off
into a river of ashes
and cover your body
until the sorrow passes
thats what I did
to slowly admit
I'm no longer the devil
you wish to possess
I buried my burdens
deep in demons of past
My sin seems to leave me
quick as I forget it
for you I've become
a dead doll submissive
I sold the jew king
for a mere thirty silver
he then became a martyr
who would have figured
I guess I delivered
the greatest good ever
so you may understand why
my guilt is light as a feather
Judas, you coward
backstabber. you dog
I acknowledge it all now
with a wink and a nod
people mean little
more than they care for themselves
you wouldn't take coin
if your family were starved?
you won't hear my reason
then I won't give you no sense
I've already given you more
than I ever truly meant
more than I'm worth
or have had to give
Judas, the sinner
the liar, the pig
Judas the desperate
for his family to live
Judas, the hero
for without him
dies his religion
MARTYRDOM?
Another martyr created unintentionally
By the foolish
Blinded authorities
A hallow champion for social wrongs
A life Grabbed from the present
And forced into the past
The other side's new occupant
A mascot for many seething wrongs
A notorious black brother
In a socially depraved environ
Invades the nations psyche
His already socially low value heavily
Discounted by a bullet
Issued by agents of the state
A brother with a complex occupation
Surviving by means
Not much approved
The necessity of his plight
The seed of his infamy
Anwar Sadat
Died a martyr
For the peace agreement
He courageously bartered
Intrepid damsel,
a heroine unsung.
A willing martyr
with courage
unrivalled.
Unransomed captive
with a ransom
infinite.
She gladly faces
death with eternity
in view.
Like her lover before her,
she chooses to be
a sacrificial lamb
to the slaughter.
Leah Sharibu,
the heroine unsung.
She that chooses to mortify
her passions
for timeless paradise.
Hardly daunted by
Kalashnikovs and
thunderous explosives,
she inherits a world
deemed abstract by
unfaithful adherents.
I walked out
I walked towards a house of horror
And ate at its gates for many years
They gouged out my eyes
And made me bleed rivers of blood from my mouth
They drove six large spikes into my skull
So as to affect my mind with horror
They dragged me listless and faint through a dark street
And crucified me on a steel beam
By welding my risks and my ankles to its scaffolding
I hung there while I was alive
And when they discovered that my body could not stop producing blood like a river from my eye sockets
And from my gaping mouth
They electrocuted me
And I disappeared from my steel crucifix
To wander the universe with God
I still wander the world to this day
And when I ascended like my Lord
From out of my invisible tomb
I did not smell of smoke from a furnace
Therefore my oil is as clear as water
And it flows like gentle wind
Singing in a tempest
The martyrdom of Hineni
Amen
A scream of martyrdom, could be a collision,
I've felt my colony and called them to die.
Never I've seen on death so delightful breathing,
when in heaven I said, what do you want to know?
A blonde nymph spread legs, I gagged and climax,
these holy wars lied down and still search for others.
Roger roger roger, please go home now and sleep,
your family is first, don’t let them follow it.
The best martyrdom is, don’t attack the privacy,
let's respect each other and don’t treat each other.
Copy that copy that, I filed down the sin,
so blonde nymph vomits and forever virgin.
Note: Expanded version of Mayfly Martyrs
Such an ethereal beauty.
Petite in size but large on life.
One would not expect its duty
is solely for procreation.
Yes, just this one, and nothing more,
certainty is its life’s station.
Each stage is mostly aquatic,
feeding on plants and detritus.
Its life cycle quite dramatic.
Swarming thick as oozing slurries,
males hover above clear water.
Intrigued, the young female hurries
through the misty mass, emerging
to oviposit fertile eggs.
She ends her watery purging,
laying eggs beneath the surface.
She flails, crumpled and moribund,
or served as a fish’s room service.
Males sail to land where they perish,
having served their one prime purpose.
The process nearly nightmarish.
But beauty – the perfect cycle –
perfect in the frantic frenzy,
sinless, sacrificial spiral.
Beauty is the unforgiving
two-year metamorphosis for
one day of long, lusty living.
All I have left is survivor's guilt.
And the knowledge that everyone thinks I gave up.
There was so much temptation to destroy what is left of my non-functioning mind.
So that I would cross that finish line as a pile of metal bones.
Six children alive and sired
Fathering three and tired
The other three reject me
A traitor in me, they see
Married once; now again
My sanity to regain
At what cost to the kingdom
My rejection of martyrdom
The natural man waxes and wanes
The spiritual man rises to higher planes
I asked for as many as the stars
To assuage my emotional scars
When you're full of sad
Just open up a vein
And empty it all into the toilet.
There is bliss in lightheadedness
Fading into perpetual
Slumbering ease.
A
Bad Decision
to get stupid drunk
grab a ninety-proof wheel
pass out at a fast-food restaurant
grapple with and assault a couple of cops
steal a taser gun-and fire at them just for fun
pop* pop* pop*
welcome to martyrdom
Where there is injustice
There is corruption
Where there is justice
There is liberation.
Where there are rights
There is freedom
Where there are fights
There is martyrdom.
Where there are lies
There are thefts
Where there are cries
There are deaths.
Where there are smiles
There is happiness
Where there are styles
There is progress.
Where there is peace
There is love
Where there are feasts
There are doves above.
Copyright © January 2019, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
Mahatma! Thou shall be living this hour
So do you understand the need of the hour.
We beckon a fiercest battle every year
So, come the troubles near
Divide the minds so dear.
Mahatma! Thou shall come alive with flesh and blood
Thou shall see the world much democratized!
A century of countries freed
A new nation is born every half a decade.
Not only of struggle and deed
From the clutches of the colonial throbbing
Exploitation of the reform Maneuvering
But of the creed that we swallowed
This was the time's demand.
And the freedom that has come has come
With all the elements that are troublesome.
Freedom was possible, if not achieved fully
Equality and equity are alluring, elusive.
Thine India forged ahead
Amidst a billion problems facing ahead.
While we salute Thee on 2nd October* and 30th January**.
We never forget the Last, who you loved unto the last,
Who in realism lost the very gene of life.
We never forget him.
We strive to keep him till the last.
So, the need would arise to serve him.
As we 'celebrate' Martyr's Day
Amidst us are there your killers.
What a realization paying homage to Thee
As their ideology changed along with time
Now for them, you are a son, not the father of the land.
As you came late to their land
Thousands of years after Buddha.
You are fortunate to die a blissful death.
Not to witness your land
In the hands of the 'modern builders' of the nation
And the new ideologues
Like the camouflaged foxes among the goats.
"You would not have died a more glorious death than this"
Said a philosopher of philosophers.
While you glorified Death and sanctified the Leveller
We glorified ourselves to power.
Mahatma! Thou shall be living this hour
Or we shall be dying!
Had you not taught us the means to fight
We would have got our freedom from the colonial power
But not from bloodshed, hatred, bias
Where fathers bury their sons
Mother witness their daughter’s modesty robbed.
Mahatma! Thou shall be living this hour
Or, we shall be dying!
* Gandhi’s Birth Date
** Gandhi’s Martyrdom day