Best Rageful Poems
A polytheist would argue
just one God
That there are endless guards
and many rods
given these wards
With many temperaments and aims
devotion for a supreme being
Compassionate gods spread
charity, clarity’s
light and goodwill
Whereas others spread hate,
blood still spills
Relates—mayhem and darkness
The God of the Old Testament
unforsaken is the nakedness
not ever to turn the other cheek
not even for the meek
He portrays Himself
Jealous and wrathful
vengeful, rageful
Numbskull—beware!
Whilst man plays by the rules
these judges will decide
The winner takes it all
The loser has to fall
No complaints, apologies
Whilst the God of New Testament
demonstrates much mercy,
forgiveness you shall see
For God and his creations
This is what’s in common
in the world religions
This is the core,
the common essence
all shared values
when in His presence
The road is long, painful and circuitous
A troubled past will plague us
dubious religious sects, false replay,
vulnerable man is their prey
Realization from my deepest self I reveal
enamored in love is how I truly feel
I felt with all things,
a strong sense of collectiveness
An emotional rapture
of the combined sacred oneness
One man showed us love
A true love He
displayed,
flogged, died
Crucified for love
of mankind
The Jewel of Jesus
Find a man like Him
and certainly not a moony (woman)
In Ganges River, I shall swim
in blessed holy water
I’ll bathe in
His wine I’ll drink
On my knees I shall sink
Bow down and pray
for Yahwe’s precious Jewel
the One, the Only
Eyes of blue?
Jesus Christ Superstar
You’re too late to apologize to me
For your foolish, senseless decision-making
Accidents happen, but you purposely
Lied to me in my face – teary-eyed, terribly shaking
Can’t deny your lack of honesty hurt me badly
You wrecked me up real good, so far from free
I can’t stand the fact you drive me insane once again
I can’t handle the truth, so I remain ignorant then
You never took me as I am, as I truly am
My true self broke free like a ruined dam
You left me with nothing but rageful regret
You stole my happiness and made me upset
If I can seek a somewhat righteous approach,
You can have my mercy, you filthy roach…
I need you though and I hate to admit it
I want you to know that I still care a bit
I conjured up emotions and large feelings towards you
Engross me with your lovely, joyous spirit you once had
I endured so many hardships that hit me out of the blue
Sick to the stomach, but I learned to fake feeling so glad
Take me as I am, as I am
And I will do the same to you, to you
You stare at me like a cam
I feel heartless in your shoes, who knew
Somehow, I lost my mind long ago and I grieve
Oh, here am I, love, so take me as I am, as I truly am
I take a quick bow before I take my sulky leave
Oh, I am here, darling, so accept me for who I am
Someday, you will see me through the lows and flaws
Oh, here am I, seeking things from above –
I am an obedient lamb, my long-lost love
I take my time to try to explain myself to you, to you
But, nothing seems to register because you’re cruel
Dear friend,
Will you accept me for who I am? Ah, man…
Reject me not and just take me for who I am!
The sly full old wigget rageful and warned
Of any child on Halloween day born
Forlorn tis told of these blackland tards
The evil eye each blackish child thus born
Beware-beware-the blackland tards
How these but look upon a child’s innocence face
Besieged to become impaled as stone-frozen in place
Yet the haggard old wigget is credence for our dismay
Thus before dark can children safely play
Beware-beware-the blackland tards
For the blackland tards are hungry you see
We who are the prey must the darkness flee
Flee the shadows of questionable clandestinity
Safe in thy bed-covers above one’s head-thou art privy
Beware-beware-the blackland tards
But at last take care-venture ye nay from thy light
For seizing the curious they will give thee deathful fright
Doth the blackland tards doth lerk in wait
A dredful death and a meal you make
Beware-beware- the blackland tards
Mark A. Goodson
written for the Halloween contest
September 28, 2012
The storm just threw and swirled
Paints of grey, black and dark blue
All over our Earthly dome
Like a rageful Pollock.
Wondrous,
The noise and the lightning
Turned us small
The waves of flood
Slamming against the feeble constructions
Carrying away cars,trees and dogs
Making me think
Of Thor, Iansã and Zeus
Neglecting all I've learned about
electrons behavior and magnetism
To think of gods from ancient times
Perhaps acknowledging
How extraordinary and dreadful a tempest is
Some people let the storm in
Pointlessly trying to run somewhere
Only to be carried away
And increase the general tension
How long could this last?
How far will it go?
How harder can this wind blow?
What if this...
And what if that?
How long can a minute last?
We look at each other eyes
A scared silent crowd
Looking for the same instinctive answers
Then as if the painter
Had changed his mind
The darkness is gone
Cleaned with a cloth wipe
The rough wind is now a soft breeze
Blowing the fragrances of earth and eucalyptus
Up my nostrils and over my face
The clouds are revolving
With light shades of grey and magnolia white
Over the most beautiful of all blues
There's a deep heavy silence
A few muffled and distant sounds
Or perhaps it's only me
Caught in a dimensional current
To share with all those humans before me
The feelings of bewilderment and impotence
In face of Nature's outbursts
And with a grateful soul
To finally understand
How the seeds of hope
Could repeatedly be sown and grown
In the human heart
Since the beginning of times.
foggy spirits unfurl from his flared nasal crypts,
with each snort and snarl and curl of his lips,
the bull stands before me, unshakably strong-
he knows who I am, and I must prove him wrong.
i’ve beaten and shoved him, though I trip as I try,
but no matter my method the beast never dies,
he’s bitten me, trampled me, bruised me and gored
and for each scar inflicted, I’ve evened the score.
I kicked at his hooves and I’ve slashed him with knives,
we’ve bitterly tousled for most of our lives-
he bellows his bluff, stares me down with daggers,
but I’ve grown unmoved by the force of his swagger.
for the ways that he’s hurt me are nothing compared,
to the time that I’ve wasted feeling rageful, and scared.
it could go on forever, or end the next moment-
in this sick stalemate, will we live to have known it?
at the brink of my gumption, I’ve no choice but to try-
picking sweet smelling flowers as small as his eyes,
a concilate crown, wide enough for his horns,
he eyes me uncertain, yet bows to be adorned.
tho we won’t be fooled into thinking he’s tamed,
for now a respite has been put to our game-
i’m no longer his hostage, his master, his whore-
while the flowers are nourished by his violent allure.
Swearing runs in the dysfunctional family,
the loud mother gets angry at her kids
and flings some items at them with animosity;
they listen and learn from her curse words.
It's a thrill to hang out with their friends,
it's easier to fit in when nasty words
are spewen out with rageful obscenity
and bullying others, they feel superiority.
If the disgusting language of rebellious teens
didn't offend or intimidate, it would fail them
in their expectations of being defiant thugs;
had they some morals, they would be a gem.
It's nighttime, the April air is very mild;
they binge and break bottles on trees,
their behavior becomes incredibly wild...
there's a fight, one of the boys bleeds.
Angie the mother of Brenda comes to his aid,
then slaps her daughter with fury in her lungs,
" It's past midnight, you should be in bed,
not hang out with a bunch of smelly drunks! "
Written on 5/19/2017
The fearless soldier with a glowing and youthful look
aims his rifle toward his enemy behind the barrack,
while thoughts are focused on practical and clever survival;
the concept of horrifying death is as distant as imminent hell!
The voluptuous gal with artful fingers massages his client's body,
to her wishes are paid in hefty sums to satisfy her corporal desires;
morality has been replaced by want, nothing will deny her pleasures:
does incurable disease make her worry and go back to a life of purity?
The peachy-cheeked girl gently picks up the fragile petals of blue lilies
dispersed by gusty blows of rageful wind swooping above and around her;
she should be outraged and find a calmer meadow amid the lively hills:
no whim smears with anger her charming smile adorned by hair so fair!
The newborn baby, pulled from his mom womb, emits a scream into light,
there's no happier mother caressing him, nurturing him with sweetness;
life offers joys and awful moments, while death offers pervasive fears:
between these two stands immortality as conceived by religion, not fact!
That day when legal slavery ended
A brief moment when justice seemed palpable
marked only the first chapter of caped cross burners
and rageful lynch mobs
marked only the beginning of white terror
against black dignity
Equal justice under law
That day when the sky opened
A brief glimmer when freedom seemed possible
stained only by the blood of generations oppressed
bruised only by the brutality of the state
against these people of color
Equal justice under law
That day when a people were proclaimed
A brief interlude when equality seemed attainable
marred only by marginalization and segregation
scarred only by white supremacy and white dominance
against these struggling people
Equal justice under law
Someday when a people get their due
An arcing rainbow when liberation is realizable
helped only by abandonment of white privilege
aided only by respect and compassion
for these people
Equal justice under law
This remorse is choking me to death,
taking away all the livable breath...
leaving guilt, anguish, and wrath:
am I another insane Macbeth?
If hours slowly pass making me restless,
and through rageful images
I despise when waking up with screams:
what's their symmetry to eternity?
Much worse are the innate dreams
never imagined having fragility!
There's a young storyteller with auburn curls
who comes from the medieval town of Arthun
narrating tragedies of inseparable lovers,
who died before their given time;
he sits on a bench of the small square
that depicts the sensuality of a nude siren
laying in the middle of a stone fountain
and spewing outflowing water, she entices sensuality!
I won't attempt to fling a silver dime
in its water showing an emotional valence,
but with prudence, I'll toss it gladly and gallantly!
Since I have no luck and an unpredictable future,
his tragedies seem sympathetic to an extent;
I won't be pierced by a blade to prove I'm faithful,
I won't lay in a tomb besides my adored lady...
the times of faithfulness have ceased to exist,
finding a true one among thousands of women who care
is such a rarety, they once were found in a monastery
and their desire was to be the bride of Christ,
and they always kept a holy image never being disgraceful!
If someone is being tormented by constant remorse
for a fault which wasn't his own attempt to contemplate revenge,
or the cruel intent of harming someone without a hint of knowledge,
then he should cleanse himself thoroughly of the false belief
and continue living without idiocy until he overcomes his grief,
not exiling himself on a deserted island and suffer the worse:
neither should I who has isolated himself and writes in pathetic rhyme
avoiding to compare himself to Othello who repented for his heinous crime!
Whom do I resemble most: Othello or Macbeth?
One had dark skin, the other had fair skin,
wasn't their vile character wrecked by sin?
They were murders stripped of moral and worth!
For every person, there can be a desire
It is to touch and hold that beautiful fire.
Rageful though it can be, it can be tamed,
Even then, for destruction, it might be blamed.
It is really our fault for the destruction it caused,
And the huge fires can not (shortly) be paused.
Some people think there are deities of fire,
And some people use it to burn dead people's pires.
When fire runs wild, it can never be good,
I would run away like sensible people would. (Lol!)
Sometimes I think fire is Satan's bite,
But other times it can bring comforting light.
How can one thing have such opposite sides?
It is beautiful but it is responsible for many that died!
Sorry it is kinda dark!!!!!!!
feirce, furious, rageful,
passive, meek and mild.
infuriated, vicious,
gentle like a child.
irrationally enraged
patient, quiet and calm.
murderously violent,
kind with open arms.
a rabid livid maniac
affectionate and sweet
desperate and demented
benevolent up beat
awful, brutal, bloodthirsty
thoughtful and generous
relentless savage wild
humane fun boisterous
Nasty evil horrid
courteous and cavalier
vile Disgusting mean
attentive debonair
insane trapped forgotten
gallant noble free
some of the words that best describe
the hypocrisy that's me
James Thomas Mahauariki
Copyright © 2010
Serenity reigned all afternoon,
no clouds blocking the face of the sun...
I napped well on a soft sand dune.
The seagulls scattered the salty and wet sand,
looking for dead fish...they ate all the shrimps
that I caught hours before the breeze turned to wind.
" *East of midnight", the silvery sky changed to gray,
I looked up and frowned, " It's time to head for the boardwalk."
Gulls picked up my blanket which floated over Mary.
The rageful gulls became much stronger, I forced my beach hat on and stood still...
fearing that it would it be torn and return to strends of straw,
while trying to withstand the force of the dusty swirlwind with a composed will.
* " East Of Midnight " is the song title
Is there such a flower as a despised blue rose...
the one I desperately chose
to sign end under a sad story,
which had neither passion or glory?
With tears so rageful, she thought it was the final goodbye;
why I didn't choose a more charming rose with a different color,
perhaps not as red as her unfaithful heart? It wouldn't have been a lie!
Ever since, I have shunned and hated blue roses despite their splendor.
They tell me that the reason for my unbearable loneliness
is the urge for touching a face slipped from my grip and will;
if I am to blame...why did I love her with intense sweetness,
and nothing was returned besides a promise so brittle?
Let me see only red and yellow roses...but no tempting, blue roses;
I couldn't relive moments rejected by a woman so deceitful and ravishing,
and she smiled as they did, but that trust was distant from the beginning...
marring the lovely appearance of that blue rose standing out from others.
It’s an optimistic opportunity, not a burden
I want to talk to you cheerfully all of the sudden
I want change
I’m just so strange
I have the strength to better myself to change all of me
If I put my bewildered mind to it in pure ecstasy and liberty
Freedom beats me down in this tranquil town
And rises me up with an upside down frown
It’s a pessimistic tragedy, not feeling a ten
I tend to isolate myself honestly once again
I have the weakness to estrange me from you
If I can have a heart, I’d be set free from rue
We have purpose and if we can achieve it,
Do it…we have the legitimate reason to be lit
In humility and love
From high up above
Sensational sympathy helps me a lot, helps me a lot
Dedication to empathy copes with my emotions of naught
Fire me up with graciousness
Inspire me down to Earthiness
Calm my palms
With biblical Psalms
Clasp my hands upon your blessed, brazen bosom
Grasp how much I understand my feelings of numb
Let go of me,
The ugliness of envy
Have the strength to change, the strength to be strange
Rearrange the adoration beyond a rageful, radiant range
Believe in me
Reflect on thee
Kingdom come, Kingdom come
That’s the change that I’ll become
This beach without shady palm trees
is the chosen playground of harsh winds,
its sand is drier than the Sarah's desert;
nobody lays on a blanket to soak up sunshine,
not even kids play handball smelling a tempest...
and be engulfed by huge waves onto the sealine.
Karl is the courageous one surfing and screaming,
no fear can batter his audacity, neither is his daring;
now, twilight approaches slowly, and makes him worry...
then, he defies his inner force advancing very rapidly.
Beaches without swimmers and sunworshippers are too dull,
there appear the sand dunes: the hideaway of an angry troll;
I rise up and go towards the rageful waves that break apart...
creating the whitest bubbling crest ever seen in Newport.
This beach without shady palm trees
is no attraction for avid beachgoers
who seek a solitary place to cool off,
to read memes to make them laugh?