Best Ransacked Poems
"When humanity becomes louder than love, stay out of its way. At times, it's better to be the lion in the distance, rather than the sheep losing their way...again."
This was the 1st time
I felt out of place.
Its impact mimicked abused parallelograms
Unto emptiness’ solution
I witness sliced wrists shedding bohemian smiles.
Testament verses
Latching onto anchors of invalid mo(u)rning
There was no sunrise to be found,
Because humanity kept making love to silhouetted blinders
I was surrounded by shovels
Ransacked
For the sake of digging louder messages’ trench
While I
Caress incipient wings
And half-full Windex bottles
Just to keep perception from clouding my lyrics
Because nobody wants to see eye to eye…
…
…cataract-laced speeches permeate tainted whispers
Of an innocent breath
Simply
Searching
For B-rated serendipity
Oh, this was the 1st time
I felt out of place.
Turning away from windowed afflictions
Ready
To step towards gratitude’s breath
Outside,
No longer looking in
How good it feels.
Yet, I still miss my friends.
©Drake J. Eszes
Categories:
ransacked, friendship, life, people, sad,
Form:
Free verse
I rummaged through
the ancient ruins
and scoured
the carnage of our times;
I searched the scorching
expanse of the arid deserts,
I peeked into the crevices
of the broken hearts,
and probed the dark realm
of the deranged minds;
I looked in the dead ashes
of the funeral pyre,
I ransacked every nook and
cranny of the cemeteries
And forayed into the desolate
womb of the barren woman --
But did not find death!
I then looked at
the first flush of spring--
The blossoming flowers,
The fluttering butterflies
The humming bees,
The rising robust sun;
And found the hand of death.
I found death in the unyielding
faith of the trusting hearts,
In the ardent prayers
of the desperate souls,
And in the unbridled
passion of the heart;
Even in birth and
in the sprouting seed
I found the omnipresence of death.
yeah, I found death in life!
~'Death Shadow' contest by Justin Bordner
Categories:
ransacked, death,
Form:
Free verse
My soul
is in purgatory,
settling in fading tunes
of suppressed silence,
swerving perpetually
amongst
smoky quartz silhouettes;
swiveling through
the
dimmed dungeon
to unraveling shadows
of yesterday’s destruction,
moving in s l o w motion~
rejoicing invisible
rainbow glows
in limitless devotion,
fugitively
resenting the shifting
season of faith~
I question the
treacherous torrents,
through
unorchestrated symphonies…
where do the tides of jealousy
crash and hide to grieve,
over untouched waves,
when it has washed
away compelling
wishes
lost in perfect storms?
For, sometimes,
when trembling
skies bleed black pearls,
upon these aching lungs,
I think of every
nameless ghost
that emanates
familiar fragrances:
convincing
my naive mind,
there’s no evil
even in darkness.
Although I’ve
seen tints of
turning leaves conversing
with tantalizing tears,
whilst this volcanic
heart is ransacked
and ruined,
d a n c i n g away from fears,
forging meaningless scribes,
in fragmented fortunes,
left as debris along the
forgotten fields of
rambling roses drenched
in remorseful rain.
And I stand in the
eye of cataclysmic cyclones~
exhaling the exhaustion,
as the wolf moon calls me,
above million
mourning mountains
in musical misery.
Yet, when cosmic curtains
sequinned with
scarlet sapphires
of midnight skies
drizzle drops
of hibiscus heaven onto the
pages of my poetic haven,
I sketch stars in the shape
of magical w i n g s..
across cursed horizons,
to soothe my
troubled thoughts:
as it’s all in my head,
the
demonic devils dressed
in dragonfly
dust to deceive me,
unaware of how
I’ve been
blindfolded by
the brutal lies
I’ve told myself
in alienated expressions,
that the normal
can never neutralize.
Categories:
ransacked, deep,
Form:
Free verse
The artwork shows a
female gymnast balancing on a pile of rubble
on the side of a building damaged by Russian strikes
The graffiti artist posted three images
the piece Friday on social media,
with a simple caption reading "Borodyanka, Ukraine,"
using an alternative spelling for the town's name
Speculation had been mounting that
Banksy was in the war-torn country after a series of murals
appeared in Borodianka, located about 35 miles northwest of the capital, Kyiv
The town came back into Ukrainian control on April 1
returning residents found their houses ransacked and shops pillaged with windows broken and contents stolen
The letter "V" a symbol used by Russia's Eastern Military district in concert with the letter "Z" an emblem for Moscow's so-called "special military operation" was found painted on buildings, vehicles and checkpoints
Who's Banksy? Clues about the mysterious artist!
Slippery, provocative, mysterious Banksy, the British artist
whose identity is still unknown,
is considered one of the main contemporary street art icons
His art, many times satirical,
address universal issues such as politics,
culture or ethics
In the center of Los Angeles, an "unauthorized" Banksy’s exhibition,
dedicated to the enigmatic artist,
lets visitors dive into the controversial artistic universe
of the most influential creator of present time
Categories:
ransacked, art,
Form:
Free verse
Apparently Soup finds the Latin word for ‘Human’ offensive;
about as ‘P.C. gone wrong’ as it’s possible to get. I have had to
include completely superfluous hyphens in order to get the word
accepted.
__________________________________
Our home in the stars so often ransacked
Homo-destructus had forced us to act
So quick to breed
Killed - not to feed
Our ancient ancestors counter-attacked
All rounded up for a new rebirth
Transported far to a fertile Earth
A gauntlet they ran -
- Neanderthal man
Homo-destructus; victor or serf?
That was a million Earth years ago
Call us inquisitive, we need to know
A long stellar trek
In order to check
What occurs when you let primitives go
Five light years travelled to view their progress
Earth is an angry and war tangled mess
Our crew now lay savaged
Our ship also ravaged
Homo-destructus sees no welcome guest
That primeval race that we once left to swarm
With clubs and flint axes their weaponry norm
Strangely ironic
They’re now atomic
And Homo-destructus remains true to form
Categories:
ransacked, humanity, war,
Form:
Limerick
I followed milky and mouldy scents,
down cobbled and narrow paths,
only to see it riddled with rats,
feasting on Feta and Camembert,
whilst the wine sipping Uppers prepared to
clash against the cider swigging downers!
The Fromage Frenzy and Curd Craze deli.
across from the Dizzy Duck and the Boastful Bard taverns
had been ransacked with only cracker crumbs on the floor.
All the cheesemongers were hiding in their basements.
All the landlords locked away in their cellars!
Bar stools dripping with Chardonnay and Merlot,
carpets soaked in 'Scrumpy Jack' and 'Strongbow.'
It was utter chaos as the 'cheese shed' raged on...
The goats and the cows watched,
as the town folk gathered on either side.
Anger in their eyes, yelling insults like;
'Cheap cheddar gobblers' and 'stinky Stilton munchers.'
This was not cultural tensions,
nor issues with tariffs, quotas or labelling practises-
this was a war of the social classes!
They were not fighting with fists or weapons,
oh no, no no..
The Downers started squirting stinky cheese sauce,
drenching the Uppers with its reeking stench.
However, when the Uppers started hurling
Storico and Caciocavallo Podolico,
back at the Downers, they simply,
started consuming it with their cider!
Both fractions kept pelting and sprinkling,
until little Joey from the farm,
reminded them the football had started,
so off they plodded to watch the game,
singing and laughing together,
arm in arm, munching on cheese
they had salvaged from their skirmish.
Categories:
ransacked, allusion, conflict, society,
Form:
Free verse
As time shortens
The aisles fill
Hollow-eyed scavengers
Prowling ransacked shelves
The challenge
Of the “tic-toc” clock
Santa will get the credit
They will get the debit
As they sit deluded
Batteries not included
Categories:
ransacked, christmas, humor,
Form:
Free verse
Lightning and thunder did clash
In ventricles within my heart
Vying whether to lash
At every part
That feels emotions
In hearts of dames
Whose love motions and portions
Laid claims
To the indifference my heart felt
When Hazel Fidelia ended our engagement
In July nineteen seventy seven to melt
The betrothal arrangement
I thought made in Heaven
Until my polychrome
World came undone
In a moment of total madness and sadness whose home
I ransacked painting all women black
Cos their kind acted irrationally in spirit
As Fidelia in a rubbish pack
Dumped the love writ
We’d so carefully crafted over several years spanning back to college
Days where I first spied the svelte gazelle
I desired in marriage
But of course a spell
Cast by an invisible hand
Made sure I ate humble pie
Of the most humiliating brand
Giving my heart no space to sigh as though I was condemned alive to die
Humiliated
Empty handed
Denunciated
Loveless landed
Fearing for the heart torn into
Whose emotional system though frail
Determined to go on without breaking into two
Or going off the love rail
Or separating body from mind
In a scenario thrown into disarray
Wondering if as legend has it love truly blind couldn’t find
Room in my aching heart to shine a beam of limpid light without further delay.
Categories:
ransacked, poems,
Form:
Free verse
I am a Wandering bird
with broken wings
looking for true love again
I have flaws
my eyes are weary
sleepless
dreamless
visionless
my tears are lost
drained
dried
my words are ransacked
speechless
empty
my body is battered
bruised
wounded
and mutilated
my soul is shattered
scarred
and broken
I am a walking pain
shapeless
odorless
non-infectious
unfelt
unseen
untouchable
cause soul and pain are my guardians
I am a wandering bird
with half body
but whole soul
will you accept me?
the way I am.
Categories:
ransacked, abuse, child abuse,
Form:
Free verse
Seems as a country full of saints and carriers of purity
as all crimes are interestingly attributed to outsiders
tagging them the influential teachers of immorality
yet such crime lovers show the capability of posing a threat
through the embarrassment caused on locals due to their industrious nature
Understanding the half-hearted privileges such a partial acceptance offers,
settlers become more creative, hardworking and productive
with limbs running on entrepreneurship, trade and commerce
while citizens comfort themselves
in the exaggerated pride of their home soil
which results in a war without cause or reason
The government ought to be a job creator
but how ironic, internationals are paying dearly for it.
It is claimed that foreigners are the thrombus in the channel of employment.
Yet these hated people
are self employed with shops, businesses and service centers
which are destroyed as a form of remittance of some sin
Every nation has her share of international mixture
yet a lot do not debase them as foreigners or aliens
the one down south of the dark island of all countries should be the least,
considering the continent’s role in its history,
irrespective of what her excuse may be
Look inwards if strangers are preferred in the national work force,
to find some answers- you angry mob
Examine your home, if passers-by enjoy more of the milk it produces.
Why target and shoot at the tree
when the bird is left alone to dine and sing?
Policemen catch fun while a soul converts to black coal,
humans lynched like a left over meal from vultures,
businesses ransacked and turned into forceful philanthropy,
these are evidences of character built on a very low budget.
If those responsible do nothing about social development,
With or without these ‘aliens’, the economic problems will still prevail
Categories:
ransacked, africa, anger, anti bullying,
Form:
Epic
LIFE AFTER SUICIDE
In our barrenness, mourning reigned in our bosom
Our wait conquered years, filled our bucket with tears.
My wife taught me to give up,
But Chidi’s arrival widened our joy-horizon.
His birth birthed our real lives,
Reflected his mothers image in my likeness,
My pretty-smart son made us a home.
Twelve months later started the civil war,
Dodging bullets, we forgot our greatest asset
In running for our lives, we ran from our life
Risked it back to the battlefield, my boy was gone.
My heart wept from his mother’s eye, another covenant with pain.
His birthday was our only sweet memory,
Hoping to celebrate his heroic return someday, but
It wasn’t enough consolation for our undeserving loss.
Years later, poverty and vengeance introduced us to a life of crime,
We built a mud house by the village entrance,
Entertaining strangers with death to possess their substance.
One day, the lot fell on a certain man in clergy regalia,
He acted like a lost son of the soil tracing his origin
Such patriotism kills my zeal to send souls beyond,
But my wife insisted I do the usual, again I gave up.
Did the usual; he kicked that bucket of tears.
But unusual was, his death interfering with my peace,
Reluctantly I ransacked his luggage, found a photo
An image of a smiling-innocent infant boy,
I remembered snapping Chidi in that pose, just like him.
As I observed and pondered, I heard my wife from behind
‘How much is in the bag’, my confusion responded with silence.
When her curiosity sighted the cause of my dreary mood,
It loosed a scream from her tongue, she ran to the cadaver,
Stripped its panties, the butt birthmark was not faded.
Confirming my suspicion, she fell dead after another scream.
Still staring at the photo, I saw the image lying lifeless before me,
Only then was I convinced that I killed my reason-for-living.
At that point I didn’t wish for death, I wished I wasn’t born
Wished we remained barren, wished the war ate him up.
My son Chidi was my life, his death was my suicide
That day turned my world to a morgue, I am a walking corpse.
Categories:
ransacked, death, father son,
Form:
Elegy
My Monster
Every week on Good Friday I get restless
Palpitations rise for my week end disasters
A monster boldly barges into my silent abode
Depriving me of my peaceful slumber
Crash! Now which crockery has ended its life?
The moment I reach the dreaded site
Littered remnants of mugs and glasses
Sprayed on the kitchen floor
Having an afternoon nap is a crime indeed
The dining tablecloths are scrooped down
And I curse my heavy eyelids for drugging me
I wake up to run and my shoes are not there
The good Lord save me! My kitchen cabins
Are invaded, explored and ransacked
The bright packages are crushed and ripped
Salty and sweety snacks carpet the freshly scrubbed floor
I pads, mobile phones, remote controls vanish
I magically recover my drowning hopes
When their batteries are over
My heart beats louder than the speakers
Strumming the beats of nursery rhymes
Till tiny flakes start peeling off the quaky roof
The iridescent walls showcase
The world's finest art repertoire
Nothing short of an international gallery of art
The monster is finally trapped on the garden swing
Smiling gleefully with an outstretched arm
All frowns erase when the two year old
Bob cut tomboy dramatically wails
Granny! Granny! Granny! Granny!
Contest: My Monster
Sponsor: Anthony Slausen
Categories:
ransacked, art, child, color, nursery
Form:
Light Verse
-
James Foley a rebelious man within his clan
Lends a hand to his neighbour's eviction and land
Decided in a church yard chat of alarm
A process served on a man is evil and darned
Evicted from thatch is fearful in that there is no where to go
They band in the mist on a boheen grass strip await the post man's right hand
The process appears the postman he nears he waits then bowls near the crowd
He fronts the large gang of vagabond brand his letter is blocked y their stand
The post bag is ripped from shoulder and quiped you go and leave this place now
The contents ransacked and process burnt black not delivered for court or for hand
Constables came one hour remains a battering ram then deployed
All scurry on out in fear from a shout leave tears in their door way a jammed
Jail of six months in Limerick they shunt assizes demand of their mane
Their women folk fear the crops needed dear the neighbours gather around in a feat
A cheer and a fire admired by a shire propaganda and telegraph sent
Fair play to those wives revolution aside that church yard endeavoured to dream
My G/Grandfather's act i 1908
Categories:
ransacked, family, fear,
Form:
Johnny Thunders… Room 37.
John Anthony Genzale JR, a man that did the drugs and booze,
Not only born to live but ultimately born to lose.
Born in fifty two he loved the game of baseball,
But would never cut his hair that was his little league downfall….
That and his bad dad, but Johnny Volume would soon rule..
Along with the Jaywalkers at Quintano High School.
Then in sixty eight he would go to Fillmore East,
At a bar called "Nobody"'"s"on Bleeker Street
He would learn to drink his Bourbon ice so neat.
Then he was a sales clerk at the Da Nazz Leather Shop,
He would meet some future Dolls, then they were the "Actress"'"s."
But it was just a whistle stop..
Renamed Johnny Thunders after a comic book of the same name,
The New York Dolls were formed
His life would never be the same…
Two critically acclaimed Albums
"The New York Dolls" "Too much too soon"
But both commercially void,
Not enough to buy a Coke spoon..
In seventy five the Dolls broke up
Those trash glams all with attitude ,
Even bands today look back
With nothing but hard rock gratitude.
Johnny then formed The Heartbreakers ,released one brilliant LP
Los Angeles Mother F@kers
Know as L.A.M.F.
What an album I do decree…
Though I still love "So Alone"
A solo of such class..
He drifted here and there,
Then it was alas…
He lasted till nineteen ninety one,
His heroin a complete addiction..
But his death it was a mystery
There should have been a murder conviction!
Many rumours surround his death, I do suspect foul play.
St Peters House Hotel, New Orleans, such a great cliché.
Gangster dealers gave him LSD
Ripped off his Methadone supply..
Pretty sure they killed him,
Such a sad goodbye.
His room number was thirty seven,
It was ransacked of all his possessions,
What is known for certain,
Is there has never been no confessions..
"You can"t put your arms around a memory,
Don"t try don"t try..
You"'re just a bastard kid
And you got no name
Cause you"re living with me
We"re one and the same."
Nice one Johnny..
Sadly missed.
Categories:
ransacked, deathnew york, drug,
Form:
Part 1 - Denial set the tone for my transgressions . It all began on this day , the day she decided to help with what I’ve come to know as temporary heartbreak . She told me it was going to to be okay , but in that brief moment of reassurance I looked into her eyes , trying to find something i had lost ; ”comfort” but She however , was void of this fact. Days went by and within these days I took it upon myself to dedicate a specific period of my day to continually intoxicate myself with her presence as it provided me with the emotionally healing drug which I had found with her that day and like all drug dealers, She provided this bountifully . After a while, addiction became the new name for what I was doing . To those around us , it was condemned not only because of its dangers but for the important fact that presented itself as her lover . Of course I denied this fact . But unfortunately , they had planted the seed of question in my heart and like every other seed , it took its roots and grew into a tree . I found myself constantly being tormented with thoughts of whether or not I had feelings for this girl , my supposed helper , had I stupidly fallen in love with her ? .These were the questions that ransacked my mind , when suddenly , I was brought back to reality by the sound of her voice, asking me if I was alright . I looked at her , I looked into her eyes , and at that very moment , I felt it . The ultimate surge of a thousand memories , rushing in and playing themselves scene after scene before my very eyes and then I knew . Then I knew ,what I had stepped into and my feet sank , it sank and kept pulling me along with it ; and to my amusement , I did not resist . I had let myself fall into this endless abyss , that is called love .”I’m in love with you” , I said , and as she turned to reply …
Categories:
ransacked, addiction, depression, loneliness, love,
Form:
Limerick