Best Torturing Poems
Stillborn
a mood of aberrant colour
a stain on the Artist’s worlds
a heart pulsating with pain
a wide range of intense ardour
mixed on a fine palette
and a paintbrush adorning the world
with colours of imagination, Faith and Art
real canvases of human nature flesh
and the lifeblood of Nature
Portraits blooming in light
transcending the language of words
A language of infinite shades
shed in the heart of the Artist
a grand soul learnt to board a world
of no fences.. of no walls
In a silent dark night
he played on the hues of life
a unique music was composed
“The Starry Night”
a music that reached sombre states
unrevealed imagination.. untraveled meditation
a powerful vision and feelings
rising above what minds can ever decrypt
for a beholder
to see the depths
to feel the colours
to taste the pain
to read the music
A flow that never stops
the tone and texture of his passion
in motion..
miles away from a still life
an Artist turning his back
on the world of commas and full stops
How can a colour succumb to hindrance?
how can a hand hamper a paintbrush dance?
how can an Artist turn a dead heart to Nature canvas?
how can we fathom an ocean of many branches?
A “madman” in the mind of the mundane
Solitude, the Artist’s glorious moments in time
and boon..
A divine enchantment
a Self and Soul harmony
melting wholly in his Nature and whole
riding high in the wealth of lore
a meager body left behind
and the hand of the Artist entranced
drew a tortured portrait
his body was the canvas
his paintbrush bleeding in a crimson shade
a lost spirit in the monde of the mundane
the Artist.
*****
* Vincent Van Gogh, an inspiring Artist!
"The Artist", humble impressions on a human nature born just to create what is true from what is real..
To every Artist whose feel and language transcend the known.. whose heart and mind on a ride to attain the finest of beauty..
To every Artist who finds solace in an imposed solitude as the world of the mundane fails to decode his very unique language..
To every Artist who refuses to compromise and walks paths of wonder and beauty with a feel of torturing loneliness..
Categories:
torturing, art, dedication, depression, emotions,
Form:
Free verse
If 2012 prophesies prove true
And Earth’s life cycles again renew
Mysteries of man will be more than a few
Challenges may await future life forms
With intellects far surpassing our norm
Created to live without doing harm
For if they decipher man’s history
What will they make of our great mystery
The one we refer to as bigotry
Black labs, gold retrievers live side by side
Wild stallions and mustangs on prairies ride
Both red ants and black, free to colonize
Man’s refusal to accept differences
To wiser beings may make no sense
What in man’s makeup can give it credence?
Earth’s subsequent creatures may reproduce
Not needing two sexes to call a truce
So mating rituals may be pursued
A single-sex species might not comprehend
Why women workers were paid less than men
And why “free speech” was not just a given
Questions would most certainly arise
How a believer in God denies
Rights to free worship without compromise
And how could so many wars be waged
Evoking God’s name in death-march crusades
With killing, torturing in every age
Indeed such mysteries in man’s history
Would leave a perplexing legacy
Sure to confound any new species
New cultures may thrive on diversity
Of religion and genealogy
And speak of our inferiority
Note: This is dedicated to Christopher Higgins whose poems about prejudice inspire readers
to do more than just think about one of the greatest ills in our society.
Categories:
torturing, dedication, inspirational, mysterylife, may,
Form:
Rhyme
It was deep dark, silence roaming outside
if I couldn't see and hear, it is myself to chide
the urge within pushed my fright aside
time to open the gates of my soul wide.
My journeys I used to have on my own
seeking sheer thrill in my serene zone
for what I painfully miss, I strive to atone
thriving when every ounce in me is full and grown.
The lure of a wonder seized my powers
breaking through my walls and towers
an ocean unearthing my grain and flowers
weeding out what is in my soil ugly and sour.
What reached my soul was so profound, so austere
it is beyond my feel, something I awe and fear
the mysteries in books were to me so clear
and in life, through deep darkness unable to steer.
To raw Nature I carried my tribulation
along with a torturing silence and lamentation
seeking spiritual guidance and revelation
Almighty God, help me not to succumb to temptation!
And here I am, with my words touching my solid earth
carving a clear voice of woe and mirth
aspiring to feed an inner sense of worth
as an avid reader accords my poetry a rebirth.
Categories:
torturing, beauty, deep, destiny, friendship
Form:
Rhyme
"LADY DEATH" ------Chaos!!!
Craving life was all of 'HOPE' desire.
Torturing her into the odyssey of Hells fire.
Ending her in heartbreak by her own insane,
cruel father Matthias.
A demon so obsessed with dark power.
Head demon to all hells devour.
Matthias allowing his beloved 'HOPE' to be burned.
In a hellish death as a witch.
Pleading for her life.
All 'HOPE' is lost,
in a pit of endless broken bones.
The supernatural appeared in front of 'HOPE'.
'HOPE' complied and renounce to give up humanity.
Tricked by demons who lied.
Manipulated that this would save her sanity.
A power bestowed with a creation so rare.
A Demi Goddess of destruction.
Chaos soon will inflict every hour.
With death in her place, she turns into,
a cold blooded Diva of Death.
Reliving in the plague of dark ages.
Angels and Demons flow through her blood.
With contradiction of many stages.
Many evil forces out to end her existence.
Betrayed by all she knew.
Now she is locked in a demonic resistance.
Defeating Lucifer herself.
Blading the neck of the prince
Death lusting for power in an epic battle.
Lost forever in the era of judgment.
Revenge she claims on her throne.
Making Lucifer's power her own.
A forever endless graveyard.
Restoring into the blood of her new home.
Making hell tremble, many slay to death's assault.
Death arising to all her faults.
Declaring the lost of 'HOPE'
A man's worst nightmare in the sweetest form.
Overthrowing her one time dream.
Obsessed with his Lady'''
Evil Earnie.
Rides by her side.
A domino of all killers.
In a blood bath stream.
Killing everyone in his & her path.
Killing for her love, his Lady Death love.
Pondering about her lifeless soul.
"All HOPE is gone!"
all that is left is death.
"Lady Death"
Lord of hell
On a mission of Mega Death.
To conquer all of earth.
Men killing for her demonic way.
Evil Earnie matching to the depth of her Odyssey.
With the belief.
That behind every good man, (EVIL EARNIE)
is a good women.. (LADY DEATH)
((Lady Death is a character in her own CHAOS ))
Categories:
torturing, dark, death, evil, fantasy,
Form:
Epic
This day I grow tired
and so incredibly weary.
My heart holds only dreams
of a Life unfullfilled
A Life not nurtured,
yet barely a glimmer
of the spirit that once was.
I do have memories of some things good
-not all bad,
But the fear that I am alone
is Like a fingerprint on my Life.
Shadowing, waiting to pounce,
always there, unshakeable.
It's the mirrors that hold me accountable
to my actions.
Proof positive that where ever I go
there I am,
Naked, vulnerable, and yes
still alone.
As I try to allay this fear,
one Lonely and painful pluck at a time,
It becomes crystal clear, that I alone
am damaging my soul to the very core
with each stroke of my hand.
I steal one Last Look in the mirror
and know that I alone
have self inflicted these blues
Leaves me to ponder one question:
Will I ever allow myself the strength and grace
it will surely take to heal my scarred soul?
This poem was written in hopes of begining the healing process for my self. I
have a disease called trichiotillamania. It is an obsessive and manic urge to pull
one's own hair until baldness occurs. I'm a 48 year old woman, married(with kids
& grand kids)and have been doing this since the age of 5. It coincided with the
begining of my stepfather raping and torturing me which lasted until the age of
thirteen. This disease has me trapped and is NEVER letting me go. There are
two inflictions in regards to my hair pulling in this poem, one must know about
my disease in order to understand this poem.
Categories:
torturing, hope, life, me, age,
Form:
Free verse
Inhale: You touch me softly, then kisses me with delight.
Exhale: It feels so good to me the spots you touch are just right.
Inhale: Should I tell you how I feel, or how you make me feel.
Exhale: Just to think you wouldn't understand me completely.
Inhale: When I spoke to you, I tried covering my reak thoughts.
Exhale: Not knowing how you would react to them! to ME!
Inhale: My anxious words jumping on the end of my tongue waiting to be
realeased.
Exhale: Speak your mind? But I don't love with my mind.
Inhale: I love with my heart therefore I speak from my heart......... my soul.
Exhale: It's about time I started saying what I feel, what's in my heart.
Inhale: Somehow I let the words slowly fall back down my throat.
Exhale: They sit and wait.......Wait to be spoken, wait to be felt.
Inhale: I can't go on like this I need to tell you but how?
Exhale: WHEN? WHERE?
Why am I torturing myself by holding these feelings in. I should tell you but only
when the time is right.When you think the time is right. I don't care about no one
else. It's US only US!
Exhale: ( Ooops....... I forgot to BREATHE)
Categories:
torturing, life, loss, lost love,
Form:
You, unfeeling creatures
Who call yourselves human,
You, fleeting bubbles of reason,
Accidental parasites of time,
You, filthy microbes of cancer,
Ephemera of invincible eternity,
You, who try to fill your vanity
With abominable crimes,
You, insensible butchers of animals,
Notorious destroyers of pastures,
You, contaminators of oceans,
Deleterious polluters of rivers,
You, menacing beings of harmony,
Transgressors of universal laws,
You,
Who deliberately have put me through
The tormenting agony of dying
By
Strewing your treacherous dark web of
Your unworthy ambitions, all over my face,
Shadowing my generous fertility and
Rendering me sterile,
Behold,
For the time has come for you
To feel my wrath and my fury
Boiling lava over you
To flow every day,
Kneel,
Your tiny mortal beings
In front of the immortal cosmos,
For the shiny heavy sword of
Universal justice,
Punisher of transgressions, guardians of
The eternal laws,
Over your thoughtless heads to fall
With vengeance and rage
Decapitating the most of you and
Those who would survive
Shall feel the torturing pain in
Their hearts
For
Uncountable years!*
© Demetrios Trifiatis
20 March 2020
* This poem I wrote in 1985 in Montreal, Canada when, as a co-founder of a peace movement, was making efforts to raise conscientiousness for to save mother earth. It was posted here on the 28th of November 2012 with the title:"The Rage of Mother Earth". Now, with minor editing, is re-posted with its original title of 1985: "THE MOURNING OF MOTHER EARTH." THIS IS A STERN WARNING TO ALL OF US WHO DESTROY HER: REMEMBER NOT MUCH TIME IS LEFT TO SAVE OUR PLANET AND OURSELVES!
Categories:
torturing, earth, humanity, life, pollution,
Form:
Free verse
Dear mama,
I apologize for the aches,
And all the pain,
I apologize for struggle in your
heart,
Torturing your veins,
I apologize for the stressful tears,
On account of non-listening ears,
I hear your melancholy weeps,
From a mind that never sleeps,
I know the fake smile you keep,
Will break you suddenly,
I am sorry for the things making you
sick,
I am sorry you had to grow up
quick,
Even when you shout hate,
I see love in your eyes,
Out of your heart you apologize,
But, this is my apology to you,
For all the things I put you through,
I apologize for the things you never
had,
Just to make us glad,
I apologize for the unpaid bills,
that has you taking headache pills,
I thank you for your vigilance,
But, I can't sit and watch,
The other half is gone,
And you're fighting alone,
Somebody got to be the MAN of the
house,
We can't always sit on the couch,
Mama I appreciate the things you
do,
I thank God for you,
I apologize if my actions never
show,
I Love You,
You bring peace and healing to my
soul.
Categories:
torturing, caregiving, childhood, dedication, depression,
Form:
Rhyme
From a distance she looks at peace, having fun doing her thing. But objects don't
always appear the same from afar, if you take a deep look into someone's eyes it
tells the story.
Her eyes once filled with hopes and dreams for the future full of happiness and
joy. Her eyes now sit only filled with the tears and sorrows of her life fading, like
the now dim twinkle that once shone so bright in her eyes.
If you look deep into her eyes, you notice the pain and torture she tries so hard to
cover up. If you ever have the chance to see pass that shield that tries to cover up
the pain in her eyes, you will see that her eyes are now empty.
Her eyes seem lifeless but in her mind she is being held a prisoner. Not
knowing if things will get better. For every time she thinks she is at her lowest
she finds out it is bottomless, like her cold, dark, empty, lifeless eyes.
She often wondered if it was really worth sticking it out, for if it wasn't to get better
what was the point.
She stands in front of the mirror. Tears running from her eyes down her cheek to
end at her heart. Her heart which is cold and frosted over.
She misses the happiness and joy she once felt, now she is numb and her heart
beats no more. She looks deep into her own cold eyes with anger, knowing it is
all her own fault why her sorry excuse of a life is this way.
She is tired of it all, she just wants it all to stop. She feels like her brain is about
to explode. She just wants silence and to be free of this pain and torture.
She takes one last look into that mirror, deep into those empty eyes. She closes
her eyes, her last tear rolls down her cheek. Her body trembles with anger.
She opens her eyes to notice them filled with anger and hate. She hated that
person in the mirror more than anyone could imagine. Her fist clenched with
furry, she smashed the mirror.
She looked at herself in the mirror on the floor. She was broken in a million
pieces and knew she could never be put back together. She picked up the piece
of glass that her eyes were upon. She then fell to the floor and lied in the
shattered glass that was her life.
Her eyes are open. The pain and suffering is gone. She is released from the
torturing hell that was her life. She is free now and the twinkle now forever back in
her eyes.
Categories:
torturing, death, loss, sad, heart,
Form:
sitting and pondering
drifting into a
silent reverie
but sometimes
solitude is a fragile shield
against ignorant perceptions
leading to somber conclusions
demonic voices act
like harbingers
predicting doom
innocent eyes
plagued into a trance
become emotionally numb
watching the world go by
invisible tears
suppress pain
with time
struggling to eliminate
predictable outcomes
suffering signs of sorrow
go unnoticed like
undelivered messages
spirit screams
STOP TORTURING THE SOUL
but sanity crumbles
like Autumn leaves
and
subtle yet
insincere gusts
blow each one
towards distant
shores
Silent One
Simple Musings
3 October 2017
Categories:
torturing, dark, deep, depression,
Form:
Free verse
The raging beast of fear in darkness was
Conceived
Its father: Terror
Its mother: Ignorance,
With the black milk of hate was it
Breastfed,
By wrath was it, nurtured
By fanaticism its character was forged
And
Its soul saturated was with repugnance
Thus
The deformed prince of gloom, once matured,
A menace to humanity grew up to be,
Threatening the beacon of civilization to
Extinguish by:
Terrorizing
Torturing
Burning
Raping
Enslaving
Decapitating
Executing,
All this, in the name of a God that the brute doesn’t
Even understand,
So
It demanded the whole world to kneel in dread
BUT
Humanity didn’t succumb
United, in its finest hour, marched on,
Unyielding
Unafraid
Uncompromising
Proud and
Free,
Sending thus the message to the kingdom of gloom that
Its days are numbered
For
One ray of light, mightier it is than any amount of darkness
And easily could obliterate beast’s obscure empire at a blink
Of the eye
Because
GOD is not HATE and DARKNESS
But
LIGHT and LOVE!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
16 JANUARY 2015
*In memory of those who were slaughtered by the evil children
of the beast, be they Christians, Muslims or Jews!
**Dedicated to all those who marched in Paris and elsewhere
and all those who felt In their heart, the solidarity with those who marched!
The whole world shouts: Je suis Charlie!
Categories:
torturing, fear, freedom, god, love,
Form:
Personification
A mystery for us mere human being to unravel;
B elief and logic fight over our world, all in confusion.
C ome stealthily, it does, while as busy beavers we wander.
D riven to sudden halt; surprise, shock and suffering grip tight.
E ssentials prop up from some dormant sector of the mind to
F ace strain and stress, in some old robotic approach once instilled.
G ot to hold upon, got to stand, got to function, as needed.
H earing and understanding are postponed until opportune.
I rony of life or mockery of fate; its own will to
J eer at our needs, feelings, state of being and expectation.
K indness, generosity and support shower from around
L ike lightness filtering in very long dark and gloomy night.
M esmerised we are of a display of crowding humane touch
N ever anticipated and evaluated in our
O rganisation selfish, to conquer,to build and to rise.
P artly wrecked, partly saved, we wade hard to breathe and to sustain.
Q uestions are many and answers less; in our everyday, they
R ecur, growing in number and torturing us with chagrin.
S omebody, luckily has to be here to listen, to share,
T o give some answers; family or friends, for us to pick up.
U nderstanding and accepting, all we are left with, to fill
V oid that keeps growing larger and larger while self confidence
W avers often; diversion from normal path of ours, repeats.
X enacious we are with willpower strong to rebuild upon.
Y ears of engineering; alas, some habits have to be dropped.
Z eal to live God's given life has to be gathered to move on!
25/06/2017
15 syllables per line.
Categories:
torturing, bereavement, change, death, emotions,
Form:
ABC
Torturing me with touches
I feel the sting of hardened and lasting lust
Touches not of mortal fingers,
But Halloween-haloed strings composed by musicians of mystery
Pressing upon my back--yes! A searing, yet melodi-errotic strike
All upon me, yet far from me...
Leave me not in the judgement of my own scrambling feelings
Rest not away as I hold my hands out in the dark
Deathly dances are visions heaven-bound for the duo--
Yet for the solo- a blank, useless measure...
The pulsing silence of amateur-stitched love rattles me
Making rhythms giggle in my mind
Intervals of idiocy tormenting all reason
Truly an agonizing, but for others--minor--prison
Is the smile that helped design those strings
Those strings that pluck upon my spine
Controlling me in a dark place stuck between tunes and time
Why are your hands so cold when you play those piano keys?
Why are your lungs so eroded with the pride that taints the songs you sing?
Why have the rhythms gone awry, and why does your apathetic dissonance thrive?
And tell me… through it all…
As you compose the rise and fall…
Why is all this destruction you created so vibrantly alive?
Categories:
torturing, abuse, analogy, angst, image,
Form:
Free verse
This evening I listen to a Rock 'n' Roll band
Their track is Civil War, as our world now expands
To us it's the same size but to others they despise
For the want of greed exists in their killer hungry eyes
Where do I start, to say of their evil spread
A different starvation leaving the world in evil dread
It's not our today's but our yesterdays years
That our history tells us, of our everlasting torn tears
Cambodia, the Lebannon, and Sri Lanka's Indian sun
Rebels who demand better at the end of a gun
Guaetamala and Peru with their Shining Path
Villagers in terror decrying it's ever last
Democracy is our power in it's controllable exist
Like the Shining above, how long will our future paths persist
Recent news in the Arabic World, has taken tyrants by surprise
For decades they have stolen with their torturing infidel lies
I could go deeper and deeper to describe these evils acts
In wanton blood spillage, to increase civil war torn facts
For this is the world we live in, it appears we determine to live
Maybe in our lifetime it will be on our doorstep, we open, our lives will sieve
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/war-8.php
Categories:
torturing, history, life, loss, people,
Form:
Couplet
There are certain people
who appear to be normal on the outside
like the have it all together.
To me, these people remind me of walking statues,
that walk around wearing these big genuine
ridiculous phony smiles.
Once you go beneath the surface,
its a whole different world,
where silence is mostly spoken.
And when you're in their presence
which,you'll never know when,
or,where that will be.
So you must always stay on guard
because,they're very observant,
and,very crafty in choosing their words wisely,
in order not to be detected.
And whatever you say,
or do,might come back
and haunt you.
But,this'll all depend
on how conduct yourself.
At the same time
while you're desperately walk on eggshells
trying not to slip up.
Insanity slowly begins its journey
into your mind,
torturing you with every passing second,
causing extreme sweating and
making your heart beat out of control.
And as long as you let them see your weakness,
they will continue to torture you with their fakness .
Categories:
torturing, imagery,
Form:
Narrative