Best Take No Prisoners Poems
Battered and bruised and broken before
My courageous heart, comes back for more
It soldiers on but finds no peace
Losing time and again, the battles never cease
A kindred spirit it fights to find
Shattered dreams and tears, in it's wake behind
Mending itself after each conflict
Future struggles, it can not predict
One more battle, one more hill
My enduring heart, perseveres until...
This chosen battlefield, a final stand
A fight for happiness, none left to command
With a steady beat, it marches on
My fearless heart, with it's armor gone
The battle plan remains the same
Take no prisoners, ignore the pain
Your offer submitted, surrender deterred
Relinquish my heart, death is preferred
Battered and bruised and broken before
My mercenary heart comes back for more...
Feb 2 2016 an original poem by Daniel Turner
Never a day goes by when she walks the shore alone
Grief stricken she has become now his spirits having flown
Seafaring was in his blood, ancestral like his past
For the seas take no prisoners, life very seldom lasts
Never a day goes by when she walks the shore alone
Her heart forever tormented for his seed shall never be sown
She weeps constantly for the love that grew with her soul
To grow old in their marriage, having children their only goal
Never a day goes by when she walks the shore alone
Loyalty in her remains as the past decades have always shown
The stone that now lays in remembrance, stands battered and worn
For the seas display their wrath, leaving the future of some unborn
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/loss-6.php
Sweetest child in the school
5th grade
Giant puppy
If you said the sweetest kid ever
I could name him
And I would
Cry Cry Cry
I feel horrible.
Bring him to my office
Who hurt him?
What did they say?
What did they do?
In Mama Bear mode
I am going to take no prisoners
They can lie in cages eating wallpaper
And will want to after I get finished with them
Many tears later I discover
The trickster told him that he said that they said that he said that she said.
I am horrified.
I have taught six million lessons on
Not being stirred up by he-said-she-said nonsense
We discuss my lessons
Which he forgot in the heat of the moment
I know the instigator. He is a piece of work.
Can stir faster than me even, and I am pretty good at it.
Finally change subject
What will he do tonight for fun?
He finally says play ball.
A bit of a smile
Tears start
Then tears up again.
His bat is lost.
Wait a second, I say.
In the house?
Head nod.
It has to be under
something long, a bed
or a couch right?
He is stymied
Not sure now what
emotion to feel
“Do you mean I am going to have
to come to your house tonight and find our bat?”
He gives me directions and his address.
I smile.
“And what would your mother say if an old woman
Came to your house to help you find our bat?”
He stares at me a long time.
“Thank you?” he whispers.
I love sweet supersensitive
Innocent 5th grade boys
Before they fall into
the clutches of the 21-year-old
6th grade girls.
Hurricane Hermine is coming ashore this dark night,
Descending with wind and rain and a stormy appetite.
Nature is throwing a tantrum, and we will respect its wrath.
It may take no prisoners in its tempestuous path.
People are hurriedly preparing with water and food.
Some will have a hurricane party, daring the storm to intrude.
Most will say a prayer that the damage will be light.
Mother Nature will show her fury, with a view to excite!
A hurricane reminds us only God controls the weather,
And we are all put here on this Earth together.
So we will ride out the storm and say our prayers,
Leaving the weather to command for the Man upstairs.
Oh, I am so sick and tired of Trash.....
And of all this Garbage,What more do you ask?
All this Flim, Flam,Fussings...and Crap........
Somebody get A Hot Torch, And BOOM! FLASH!
********...I Gotta Deal with Everyday......
Get Back to The Dung Heap..........Where Trash Should Stay..........
I was Raised Much Better Than This.............
But,All I Put Up with Is Jiggaboo-Ghetto-********!
Thank You GOD,FOR SAVING MY LIFE............
Back In September....'72,By "A REAL GOOD MAN......AND HIS SAINTLY WIFE!
PRAISE THE LORD,FOR HAVING ME RAISED RIGHT......
AND NOT LIKE "THE TRASH AND CRAP.....'ALWAYS LOOKING FOR A FIGHT.....'"
Thank Heaven,for Raising Up "This Poor Little Girl....."
Far Away from "UNSPEAKABLE ABUSE....'TO FACING THE REAL WORLD'"!
"A WARRIOR WOMAN...'IS WHAT I TRULY BE..'"
NOBODY EVEN TRY TO MESS WITH ME..........!
Like "BOADICEA~BOUDICCA..'of OLD ANCIENT BRITAIN...TRIBE ICENI'"!
TAKE NO PRISONERS.....UP TO NO GOOD.......
PILLAGE THE VILLAGE....BURN DOWN THE NEIGHBORHOOD.....!
REPRESENT "BIG MOMMA....JUST LIKE SHE'S 'THE QUEEN'......"
BODIES HIT THE PAVEMENT, Y'ALL KNOW WHAT I MEAN!
HELL HATH NO FURY.....WHEN I'M MAD..........
THAT'S WHAT I DO,WHEN I TAKE OUT "THE TRASH"!
REPRESENT "THE QUEEN....'JUST LIKE SHE'S YOUR MOMMA'"....
AND ALWAYS REPRESENT "YOUR BROTHERS....'LIKE HE'S PRESIDENT OBAMA'"!
BECAUSE, I DON'T ********....
LIKE IN 300 SPARTANS...PUSH THE BIG ELEPHANTS OVER THE CLIFF!
You think you’ve gone just far enough,
I could smile knowing you’ve gone far enough that you can’t go back again
You think you were careful but,
I’ve caught a glimpse of your true, wretched form
You think you can find a way into my good graces
I’ve seen what you are, monsters with a friendly costume
You can’t deceive me anymore and, I don’t consort with serpents
You think I’m a game to be played but, trust me, you could never win
Don’t underestimate me
You think I’m a joke but, trust me you won’t be laughing
You think I’m just talking myself up but, trust me, you’re the ones going down
My eyes took too long to adjust
Better late than never
It may take a monster to know one but, I promise my teeth are sharper than yours
My first reaction to the hideous revelation that was your form was to weep
Fall to my knees, maybe even wretch my heart from my chest and onto the carpet
Then I thought about the mess it would make
I decided the only blood that will spill, will be your own
I was not weak, but I had a weakness
A heart of soft gold stitched to my sleeve with care
No longer
Now my heart is a stone so heavy
I could kill at least two birds at once
Being the nice guy is a thing of the past
Thanks for freeing me of that softness
You thought I was all sunshine and delicate things
When really I had just been swallowing razor blades
Now that sun is setting and I hope you see it was you who were wrong
Can you feel my darkness coming, because it’s eager to hold you
If you thought I was the one who would just stand still or turn to run
Your gonna be the one with tired feet
I’m not sad anymore
Just sick with the plague of your lies
Contagious, and I’m looking for someone to kiss
Even angels can make themselves wicked
When we do, we take no prisoners
Still think I’m a game
This one is just beginning
Afternoon, late March, delivering promise
of downtime from errands, long lines at the post,
queues of cars at stoplights, what, if anything, is in
the pantry for supper. A glass of wine is nice, will suffice
against the mind's continuous monolog, news of unrest
in distant lands, world hunger, and men on South
Africa's wild coast who believe raping small girls
will cure them of their AIDS. For respite, I turn
to the wood storks and two world-class pines, sending
a blessing of straw and symmetrical cones into protective
lake growth, sealing its borders with a scrim
of airy viridian; birthright of sea birds seeking evening
asylum. So, what to do about an invasion of enormous
jaws that take no prisoners on a battlefield of buzz saws?
Machetes, felling pines, wild shrubs, and indigenous
palmettos with which landscapers decorate yards
of costly homes. Development, Progress, New
Construction? Words to glamorize rape of wetlands.
The storks are flying away, now, from across the lake,
where once in heart-stopping numbers they bivouacked
against the advent of night. This day, this hour,
they take wing, bird by bird in a ghostly exodus,
taking their "Reflection of nearly all light
from all visible wave links," purer than masses
of lilies on an Easter grave.
We sit
staring at the Sun
wishing you were here
wishing we were anywhere
anywhere but here
We want
for the taste of human desire
salty
sweet and creamy
with the spirit of She
We ride
like crazed urban cowboys
We take no prisoners as we clang across the ticky tacky asphalt
with the sickly sweet city air in our teeth
and in between drags from our outdated cigarettes … We cry
We cry
long and hard we cry and cry
We shed these tears
amongst close friends
The sorrow is not for the world you see
It is for us and only us
We ****
like rabid and wild animals
We roll in sweaty filthy sheets
and share a trickster form of companionship
naked and lonely
together for brief moments as we slam our swollen genitals into one another
with only lust
for we were never taught to love
We roam
from person to person
from street to street
from hapless moment to hapless moment
like a dry and aimless desert wind
We do nothing but kick up sand and dream
We dream
big and powerful and American dreams
lovely dreams
beautiful dreams
lonely and hopeless dreams
We dream of getting out
We dream of getting in
We dream with open eyes and gushing hearts
We sometimes feel deep within our beating chests
that these dreams could one day be
but they are visions of a world we will never see
We sit
staring at the Sun
wishing you were here
wishing we were anywhere
anywhere but here
Suffocation....
Under the strain of guilt and fear
Conscience fights for her last breath.
Wave after wave of violent thoughts
Come crashing against the rocks of reason.
Rocks that once proved to be a barrier and a fortress,
Now being pounded by the force of argument and rationale.
Now the castle of sanity which houses conscience
Is being eroded by the weeds of condemnation.
Weeds brought in by the waves;
Waves from distant shores,
From lands far off, and ages long past.
Lands of tyranny and might;
Lands protected by the strength of time;
Lands fuelled by rationality and justification.
When condemnation works its perfect work
The army of terror bearing weapons of depression
Enter through the cracks of double mindedness.
Take no prisoners.
Leave no remnant.
Destroy the caretaker; that woman of old;
The woman named Conscience.
Defile her! Rape her! Suffocate her!
Instil new inhabitants in the land.
Inhabitants named panic and consternation,
Trepidation and dismay,
Dread and horror.
Come eat! Come eat!
All the birds of the land, come eat your fill!
Feast on the barrenness of the land;
Barrenness which thrives on the fuels of experience.
A city on a hill.
A city to rival the Great City.
A beacon for sailors at sea.
Come all you sailors to this city and eat;
Eat the fruits of sterility
Which grow on the soil of experience.
Come see the birds of the land.
Birds of many shapes and sizes;
Birds of many colors,
Birds without number.
Come taste and see.
Take back to your land the produce of this city,
Take back with you these fruitful birds of infertility.
Never forget the beauty of this city.
And in times to come,
With waves released,
This city will be to other cities a distant land
From whence weeds arrive
To form openings in fortresses impregnable.
Here I stand
Right at the frontline
Ready to cave
Ready to fall
Surrender it all
An army of fear
Takes aim
Ready to fire
Wanting control
The white flag lies on the ground
Ready to wave
Ready to forget
Wishing to die
The memory for the fight
Slips away
Bombs around
Blasting me down
Blood soak tears
Descend into the muck
Been stuck so many years
So afraid to rise
To stare it all down
To free myself from these chains I hold dear to my broken heart
Fire and smoke surrounds me
Unable to breath
The end seems to be the dream
But the reality of these battles are mere insecurities
The war for my life stares me down
Am I going to cave
Am I going to fall
Will I let those around suffer this fate with me
Hell No
Time to maintain
Time to challenge
Time for a battle plan
Attack what I fear
Take no prisoners
Stand tall Stand Proud
Take my legacy head on
Let it show all
Become the victor
Who you calling a soupy sap? Soupy.
I like slurping soup when it turns into sloup
‘Cause I been staying up way too long
Sippin’ soup into the wee hours of night,
Sometines, I even make it to the Morning light
My head’s full of mystery and wonder
As I lap up your lyrics and huff up your haikus
I stir up the pot with a few of mine own
I’m such a soupy sap, I am
I just love getting soupy with strangers as friends
Never knowing who I just might find
Perhaps, another like mind, or not
I just like it, love it, when you’re soupy and hot
Filling my head with dreams, wit and pondering plots
Let the note that you once wrote
Catch a glimmer of fame
And add it to the soup
Let it dissolve my brain
And evolve my frame of mind
Through time
And it gives me hope
It just may be the extra added flavor -
We’ve all been waiting for. . .
So, I say it again, who you callin’ soupy? Soupy.
I like it when you’re soupy, my friend
I ‘ll like you soupy to the end
Keep it tame but take no prisoners
Nobody wants sloppy seconds
Certainly, nothing artificial
So always keep it real, from the heart
At the very least, from the Art.
Come, be a part of my world
As I enter yours.
So, go ahead. . .
Get soupy, sloppy soupy
Blazed, glazed and gone sloupy
I tale you, there's really something soupy going on here
Oh my, lots of sloupiness
Oh my goodness, too much soupiness!
As if that was even possible.
This is just how I get when I taste your poems on poetrysoup.
Soldiers!
Move!
Running to the other side
Bullet fly towards us all
I see my brothers fall dead
How the wind drips the blood dust on my face
But i gotta make it
A gun on hand
A missile ahead
All i gotta do is plant the bomb
Kill all who steps ahead
Take no prisoners
This is no game
Is life over the front line
Is what we were told to do
Is what we choose to do
Now go out there and show them real fury
The hatred in your heart use it as a riffle
The rage build up as a bomb
And the strength of all lands as a victory
Destroy the bunkers
Destroy the sand
This waters will only flow the blood of history
Lead the weapons out the other side
No love here
This is not a dream
Is all reality
Become the god you wanted
Judge with your guns the life you never created
Believe it all
Im glad you listen well
Now that you destroyed the land
I take the victory
The money you won goes for me
The land you destroyed you pay for
No pick up for you
Now perish alongside your sins!
Galleons on uncharted oceans,
paradigms of pirate greed,
hijacked by the vile and shameless,
honest merchantmen take heed!
Storied legends blaze through history,
rape and pillage mark the sway of
buccaneers hell bent on mayhem,
cannons blast in fierce array.
Without compassion for a compass,
murderously resolute,
they take no prisoners, show no mercy,
sack the sea lanes, dissolute.
Galleons, uncharted oceans,
honest merchantmen take heed,
hijacked by the vile and shameless,
paradigms of pirate greed.
Storied legends blaze through ages,
rape and pillage mark the sway
of buccaneers hell bent on mayhem,
cannons blast in fierce array.
Without compassion for a compass,
murderously resolute,
they take no prisoners, show no mercy,
sack the sea lanes, dissolute!
They are such tiny people,
slipping in your blood stream
unperceived as you, crusading,
ride the clouds and seas
exposing unseen cavities
within the noble paragraphs our children read,
or did upon the times of innocence.
Semites all, they roamed invisible
with Moorish wiles through Constitution Hall.
We are the ones who still
may fight the Saracens beyond the Alps
and take no prisoners, the enemy
is always with us, always must be killed
to save our way of life. Better there
than here.
The Asian hordes are dead,
the swastikas are torn away,
the jungles with their bloody footsteps
have decayed to grow anew
upon old screaming ghosts
now silent, yes, too silent underfoot.
The Moors are hovering—
too small that we may see them;
they dive into our brains
and steal our mushroom clouds—
they thrive on secret plans and planes
and black economies
that rise from underneath the earth;
as dark and slippery as their own skin.
What presidential grace bestows
this Lilliputian race upon us; just
as we were out of enemies,
these riders of the sands to test our will,
our sons, the peril of our peace, our love...
Now we may raise the flag again
and sing of bursting carapace above
and not of bloated bodies
in the cargo space below.
Oh no.
Unthinkable.
~