Best Slashes Poems
Stranded in this place
I cannot recognize
Abandoned and lonely
No one hears my cries
AS i walk through this wasteland
Of wilderness and desolation
I am consumed with anguish
I walk this road with hesitation
On every turn that i come upon
The is more pain than at the last turn
Agony and torment spews from my pores
With every step i take more pain i earn
Until i am enveloped with grief
Buried alive on my feet
Dirt in my eyes,nose,mouth,and lungs
I throw up my flag of defeat
Each painful blow leaves behind a deep gash
That is constantly reopened never able to heal
Infection has now set into my heart
Slashes and scars on my body reveals the detail
Of the despair embedded deep in my soul
That tells a tale of a soul so lost
A soul wandering through this wilderness
A tale of what being born black cost
Cain killed Abel on a Monday night
Abel didn’t get a chance to put up much of a fight
Cain said, “am I my brother’s keeper?” God said, “yeah,” but Cain said, “nah”
Adam just shook his head and rubbed his jaw
And Adam said,
"Good grief, my oh my
We’ve got a Tom o’ Bedlam, get a load of this guy
Well this is not ideal, but what ya gonna do?
It’s the world we’re living in," well Abel lived in it too
Orestes killed his mama on a Friday night,
‘Cause his mama killed his daddy, not the world’s best wife
Orestes pleaded his case that what he did was really good
The Fates said, “what the heck is wrong with this dude?”
But Athena said,
"Good grief, my oh my
We’ve got a Tom o’ Bedlam, get a load of this guy
Well this is not ideal, but what ya gonna do?
It’s the world we’re living in," his mama lived in it too
Genghis Khan burned a village on a Wednesday night
The villagers begged him to put out that light
But Genghis was busy fighting and conquering the land
He had a vision for the world that they just couldn't understand
And his army said,
"Good grief, my oh my
We’ve got a Tom o’ Bedlam, get a load of this guy
Well this is not ideal, but what ya gonna do?
It’s the world we’re living in," those people lived in it too
Jack the Ripper killed some women on a Saturday night
With a couple of slashes from his handy knife
The world got around through the city of London
But everyone said, “didn’t those women kinda, have it coming?”
And the people said,
"Good grief, my oh my
We’ve got a Tom o’ Bedlam, get a load of this guy
Well this is not ideal, but what ya gonna do?
It’s the world we’re living in," well those women lived in it too
Mark David Chapman killed John Lennon on a Sunday night
After reading the book Catcher in the Rye
He saw what was wrong with the world, too many phonies parading around
And someone oughta put 'em all into the ground
And the papers said,
"Good grief, my oh my
We’ve got a Tom o’ Bedlam, get a load of this guy
Well this is not ideal, but what ya gonna do?
It’s the world we’re living in," well John Lennon lived in it too
Falling silent against naked cheek…
When an emotion stuns or stings
Cutting through the composure
To free the heart of liquid poison
Toxic feelings of pain and sorrow
Grief that slashes through self-control
Leaving the heart in deep discouragement
Touching thoughts with negativity
That comes from a lack of sensitivity
Lighting the way to eventual joy
That comes when one finally lets go
Of sorrow, sadness, anguish
All the feelings that bring heartache
To the one who listens to the beating
The throbbing and pounding, the breath
Of a silent tear, reflecting the soul
Who knows only angst and pain
Beliefs colored in hues of ebony
Dark thoughts, black coats of sorrow
That change dreams to nightmares
Hopes to desperateness and misery
A sting that eventually lacerates
The faith that sustains and remains
Even after the sorrow and pain
Brings a teardrop to cling to the face
Who floods the spirit with shame
From allowing the heart to hold onto
A flow of disdain, grief and woe
That is engrained in the one who knows
A silent tear is sometimes the answer
To a prayer for relief to this agony!
If you are so proud
of your sensibilities and tastes,
so convinced that your arbitrary judgements
are infallible as heartbeats of angels,
if you are the sole instrument of God's grace and evaluations
then why don't you allow them to stand next to that which you condemn
for your peers and the world to judge,
why deny those immaculate tenets the glory
of intellectual and moral combat
to prove their legitimacy, their spiritual superiority
and not to become what they claim to understand and abhor,
who and what do you believe you are protecting,
its critics like you that retard the development of the Youth,
attempt to shame love and passion,
encourage the madness of tyrannies,
and succor the demons of oppressive cults,
does a rose hide itself in the shade,
does a beautiful sword dignify itself with wild slashes,
does the truth honor itself with silence,
does justice inspire with opinion,
Banish the bullies,
trip the trolls,
excise the malevolent,
leave passionate love alone...
I declare,
let there be contrast,
let there be Art -
J.A.B.
Locked in her tower our heroine sleeps alone
This beautiful flower has been kidnapped from her throne
She stares at the moonlight then drifts off to sleep
To dream of a brave knight scaling the castles keep.
Her flaxen hair frames her delicate ivory skin
Vivid dreams of her hero reveal her beauty within
Steadfast and strong and ready to fight to the death
To rescue this beauty he will forgo his last breath.
Her chivalrous knight enters the abductors domain
Soon she'll taste the sweetness of freedom again.
His shield raised high and broadsword drawn
With every step he takes, for her hope is reborn
Caught off guard with a blow he is swept of his feet
He fights blindly on until his quest is complete
To vanquish the captors is his goal and last wish
Sweep the princess off her feet with a tender kiss
He slashes the ropes that bind her to the bed
Making passionate love for hours now they are happily wed
19th May 2014
Written By Jan Allison & Darren Watson
~submitted to Dave Wood's Imagination Contest~
Awarded 1st place - am so delighted to have won this with Darren he
is my inspiration
Smooth as ebony silk, black aquatic waves the melting
Essence of liquid evil, stirring this lake placid of our
Eternal nightmares, deadened space in the fathoms
Deep, beneath the dreaming realm for which we sleep.
Translucent tears, left dripping in our unconscious mind,
Trick, trickling, encroaching, drowning us within the
Fear factor, heaving, and tugging at the reality of
Humanities thin realism.
Raw is this blackened well, of emotional plunging,
A pit bottomless, in suctions raw force of power.
Thy soul trying to cling against the porcelain sides,
Yet sliced by the roughed edge of illusions delirium.
Sheer glasses elliptical memorization, hypnotizing
The lucid mind, smacking hands blister at the panes,
Begging for this bad dream to end.
But your voices scream remain nothing except
Echoes refrains, that are lost amongst the complete
Darkness surrounding thee, in this murky abysses
Tidal surge.
Wake up, wake up, this is not real or is it,
The torn spiritualist grasps at faiths buoy, but
Instead sinks farther below the currents swift
Under currents, then light slits through the dark,
As lightening slashes at the blackest night, and
The dreamer shivers beneath his covers warmth.
Laying within his twisted sheets of sweat,
He wonders if any of it was real at all!
But whom can tell what lucks under the black
Waters of our nightmares, dare you to go swimming,
Into the rivers of the unconscious to find out, and survive.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Monsters Fear Me
The evil hand of Darkland stayed my play
punishing innocence in a most cruel way
Deep were the slashes cut into my back
No charm did I have to stop this attack
when unearthly monster crossed my track
Midnight Sun lit its fierce green eyes
flames belched forth from darkened skies
Roars so deep trees trembled in dismay
This creature came to kill not to play
would I live to see another sunny day
Tall as the mighty oak trees it stood
nothing about it nice, nothing good
Slime laden scales oozing out foul odor
Chills sent up my spine so much colder
would have ran had I been much older
Nothing to do but chant my power song
pray my courage lasted out that long
A bold cry to Skylord to quickly smite
This massive monster on this dark night
then hope for a searing hot beam of light
Seconds ticked on like hours dripping by
where was the Skylord's life saving reply
As my last desperate hope started to fail
Lightning bolt blasted that monster to hell
now live I to rejoice and so happily tell
Thanks given out for my song being heard
faith in goodness, faith in his mighty word
No evil dared again to attack God's child
My heart so strong, my spirit still so wild
Monsters fear me even when I am this mild
10-09-2014
Three pummels to the chest
abusive words wound the heart
slashes though sutured, never heal
daggers thrown without a second thought
Arrows fly to their target
three aimed to pierce the heart
a struggle that is far beyond measure
what pain do you feel; what tears you apart
What weapons do you use
when you strike a fragile heart
life lies in danger at the hands of men
three strokes of a brush, death is a work of art
Choosing a favorite President is quite an arduous task
Given that most politicians usually wear a spurious mask,
but as a student of History, there was one that I admired;
" the scrappy kid from Kansas."* So many he has inspired.
In his biography there's a plethora of interesting information.
'Ike" was a 5 star general, besides leading this great nation.
A war hero, selected to be America's Commander and Chief.
A man of great integrity, who did not cause his country grief.
In his honor, a Washington Memorial was dedicated.
His bravery in war, and acts as President are celebrated.
After the war, he commanded European NATO forces
and overthrew communism from it's evil courses.
Voted U. S. President in 1952, with the slogan, "I Like Ike,"
Richard Nixon was his running mate; they were nothing alike.
In two terms served, he created a grand legacy for his name.
A President for the people, to him the office was not a game.
There are many valuable quotes that Eisenhower left behind
and I'll end with a few that I feel worthy for us to keep in mind;
none more appropriate than this one, I was happy to find...
"Some day there is going to be a man sitting in my present chair who has not been raised in the military services and who will have little understanding of where slashes in their estimates can be made with little or no damage. If that should happen while we still have the state of tension that now exists in the world, I shudder to think of what could happen in this country."
"The middle of the road is all of the usable surface. The extremes, right and left, are in the gutters."
"Leadership consists of nothing but taking responsibility for everything that goes wrong and giving your subordinates credit for everything that goes well."
"If a political party does not have its foundation in the determination to advance a cause that is right and that is moral, then it is not a political party; it is merely a conspiracy to seize power."
February 11, 2021
Your Favorite President Contest
Sponsored by: L Milton Hankins
*Inscribed on the Eisenhower Memorial
Dreams herein, our progeny, still birth sometimes inside,
blind and rigor twisted, formless foetuses upon
the terrace steps where innocence bled and occasionally died
screeching for salvation when every shred of hope was gone.
Yet also soared in glorious flight, monstrous span
of righteous flapping wings in the stadium sky,
drummed thunderclaps, exultant fear insurgently began
inflaming souls and lifting living spirits heaven high.
Externalised, the primal chants and streaming scarves,
the goading, cheering, praising adrenaline infusion,
the fluid rush of gameplay, of two dovetailed halves
painted on an emerald canvas with fleet of foot profusion.
In a cloud of air horn banshees and muddied leather vapour
where studded feet slap pigskin like a hated face
spins a salt and vinegar smudged result newspaper
telling tales of holy triumph or damnation and disgrace.
Abused patriotism, the easy asylum of the scoundrel cur
whose omnipresent wield of slick wet Stanley blade slashes
carves desired resurgence of the way that things once were,
for Nazi flags, stiff arm salutes and pencil black moustaches.
Yet overriding all, the team and the game, the beautiful game
and the chasm rift between each side as deep and wide as forever,
the team is all, all is the team and will always be the same
and whatever divides team from team let no man draw together.
Stubbing my toeses and whiskers on women
Stepping on nettles and by a swarm of bees bitten
Bounded like hostages tied up with strings
These are a few of my suckiest things
White collared phonies and bills piled in oodles
Bad smells and poop felled from schnauzers and poodles
Old geezers who cry when the old swooner sings
These are a few of my suckiest things
News from the presses with more stock value slashes
Cornflakes that grow soggy when in the milk splashes
Little wood splinters that felt like a sting
These are a few of my suckiest things
When the moon lights
When the glee sings
When I’m feeling glad
I stumble upon one of my suckiest things
And everything turns bad
>
Here's a story of a man
Who fought many battles of the mind
He made one mistake
And started to fall behind
Wounds of the soul took physical form
Unusual wounds not of the norm
Slashes on his arm, his shirt is torn
Blood on his face, his jeans are worn
He walks alone and looks to the sky
He falls to his knees, and cries out why
A voice calls out "Remember Me" it said
Next thing he knows he's up in his bed
His wounds scarred over, his shirt still torn
Blood on his face dried, his jeans still worn
A scar of a cross has formed on his arm
A divine intervention has saved him from harm
This man in the story is me
My heart and soul for all to see
If you feel your life's in a bind
Here are some words to keep in mind
"Substisto Fidelous Utlilitas Terminous"
No matter how much your life will break and bind
"Remain Faithful Until the Very End!"
Signed Warrior Angel
So many possibilities parade up and down the perimeter of the page.
Some wiggle their petootsies at me; one sticks out her tongue.
Being super confident, adorable, and quietly intrusive is the rage.
The word LUCKY gives me an Eskimo kiss, making me feel young.
Lucky what? My muse asks, as she lies on the edge polishing a nail.
She does not care if this poem works or flatly bombs, a total fail.
I pretend we are friends and suggest a few things to go with lucky.
She laughs her head off with a donkey kick, making me feel suckly.
I start making a list of what we could do with this pristine page.
The elves, gnomes, faeries, and brownies take over, they are all sage.
I write lucky penguin, sweet crocodile, happy peacock and tiny giraffe.
I know I am still being made fun of when I hear Trixie’s evil laugh.
So, what is your idea? I ask her, and she grabs the pen from me.
She makes whirls and twirls, dots, slashes, dashes, D’s, F’s and a B.
I study what she has done, and I have to be sort of kind.
Because after I read it I see that Trixie has a super brilliant mind.
Dark side warning darling...
Only sum go to the world so cold
& old the song, then along came
a girl bolder then older and she
roooolled, mother lucker.eYes.
She did.
Tart darts in hearts so smart it
tore the flesh to death & the stench
drenches you, it sent a message
in tune and I saw that ... fame.
On fire and in flames.
Flat notes on the dark side keys
ride on the sharp knifes blade
but I swayed. Played in the sky
with the dead from inside and
we rolled.eYes, we did sucker...
cum'hear and give us a kiss.
I'm up at 3am.two.SO...pucker up.
Duck.
Aunti came said a dude was near
Christ the name and boy did I
hear. That note. Vote don't joke
and play sphear for a better day,
cheer dear it's me, Sue.per duper
slant in the pants and I Pen.Too.
Dashes slashes spikes and pikes
in peaks and streaks on a grid,
lines in chime and colored rhymes
and Yeah, she's a reap.er too kid.
in black. Kitty Cat.Qi.***** is back.
Dark Energy And Ready.
are you read;ng...
MEOW.M&M. I met the Kool.Aid man.
On the HiCs
~an experiment with a new 'form'
for me, kinda. INspired by a fave
artist, Eminem. YES, I like him.
You want to romance me
Love me deeply
But down below
You rule you crawl
From the bosom of hell
You infinite powers over me
Keep me clawed to you
Depth a space for me
I beg I plead
Empty words
No sound no verb
Fists clenched
Jaws ripped
Bloody lipped
Take a soothing sip
Symphony winds of ecstasy
Bow down on my knees
Beg and plead
Scream no not me
He opens his jaws and squeezes my heart
Blacken thee
Says your free
Eyes drip with infinity
The realm is my home for me to bleed
He's what I need
Moaning and groaning
He's unsatisfied
Takes my spirit ties me
Taking deaths knife and slashes my being
Born again in hells ashes
Infinitively taking lashes
I'm in Hell's Kitchen now