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Best Violence Poems

Below are the all-time best Violence poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of violence poems written by PoetrySoup members

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See Also:

Poems are below...


New Violence Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Violence poems are below this new poems list.

My Poem Made Into A Video- Domestic Violence by Manassian, Eileen
Domestic Violence by Bavington , Bette
Violence, The Norm by Barden, Gregory R
Senseless Acts Of Violence by Project, The Brooklyn Six
Quadrilateral Wall violence by fields, verlecia
Act Of Violence by mcdaid, liam
Violence is never the answer by Duffy, Alex
violence part two by Schack, Daniel
Why Violence by johnson, edward
Stop Our Violence by osborne, keith

View all new Violence Poems

The Best Violence Poems

 
Details | Violence Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Texian Macabre Arena

The First Texian Macabre Arena Ballad (The extended free-fallen edition)
 
In another life, is where I first saw your face!
One summer afternoon, lying wounded next to the dead
Unopened gun powder, mass destruction, a land of disgrace
A blood thirst battlefield is where I first saw your face
The sound of war, hidden behind bleeding hands
Crawlers, render their lives giving grace
 
Jaws of steel, broken, embracing, warm feelings
Summer rain, lungs filled with blood, one last post
Glorious by numbers, screaming blades
Gemstone in touch with the Holy Ghost  
Soldiers come in a little close 
Crawling, missing limbs, 
Twisted nightmare with no ending

Macabre reminder, retracing the aroma of eternal life
Secrets buried like a treasure under walls of sudden death
Revolutionary tears found on a rusted Bowie knife
Lanterns, crackling against the dying wind
Dirt piles of crushed windpipes -- sudden death
Rummage like garbage, the dead Texian
A Falling Alamo Star, taking one last twinkle upon the sky

Forgotten Patriots, I can't remember the names
Written on walls, I can't remember the names
A folktale arena is where I first saw your face
Fairness of stuttered surrender slicing through iron brace
Crawling, with the hunger to live, a clean finish with grace
Exposing, scars needing mother's hands, mothers face

Across infested meadows, the aroma of burning skin
Distant, before Texas and her annexation, 
Gruesome, before I lived, Texas and her mortal sin
I pledge, my love, the honor, a legion, I'm a full blown Texian
To Every Forgotten Texian Patriot----- We Win!

By: PD


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2014

Details | Violence Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Pirate Bay

```Pirate Bay the Haiku``` 

pirates fierce and mean 
drowning fish, sea to sea 
parrots on their butt 


```Polly Wants A Cracker``` 

bloodthirst & brutal 
Quartermaster Gone Wild 
dirty wings on deck 


```Sea World Adventure``` 
ship crew goes on strike 
sailing the Caribbean 
wooden leg splashing 


~*~


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2015



Details | Violence Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Screaming at the Sky


Screaming at the Sky
Mothers screaming mournfully at a deaf sky holding their heads helplessly as they cry pitiful tears for innocent, defenseless children slaughtered in fatal cross fires, deadly drug wars drive-by shootings, and cases of mistaken identity on blood-splattered streets, senseless endless violence; but who really gives a damn, only grief-stricken mothers screaming mournfully at a deaf sky.
(Form – Enjambment posted as Verse – 8 lines with 7 words in each line. The 1st line and the 8th line are the same) 10-21-2014


Copyright © Pandita Sanchez | Year Posted 2014

Details | Violence Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Shadow to Shadow

Shadow to shadow, shade to shade
In youth the Eden where you played
was left bereft, destroyed, decayed,
by trusts malignant masquerade

Shadow to shadow, shade to shade
Sweet crops die in your fallow glade
as opportunist needs invade
and bleed the life from every blade

Shadow to shadow, shade to shade
First, victims surging song is brayed,
but dirges of the wronged soon fade
as urges pant their serenade

Shadow to shadow, shade to shade
Agendas you've arranged cascade
to keep your motives undisplayed
and cover cracks in your charade

Shadow to shadow, shade to shade
You've planted with your soiled spade
these rancid seeds in hopes that they'd
conceal the putrid plots you've laid

Shadow to shadow, shade to shade
Your blighted past will be replayed
and every bloom on whom you've preyed
must lie now in the beds you've made



Copyright © Lycia Harding | Year Posted 2015

Details | Violence Poem | Create an image from this poem.

9 11

                                    
                                                               
                             America the Free  ~             America the Brave ~
                           Freedom with price              Capitalism attacked
                            the many taken                   hearts broken still
                              one World                           try to rebuild
                            sadness and tears               fall hard with fears  
                            guilt by association             many accused still
                             souls evaporated                shattered dreams 
                            tears fall on innocence          left with anger 
                             The proud fearless             knew the inevitable
                              policeman fireman             many lives lost
                            grieving does not stop           12 years later    
                               New York city once          proud  & shameless 
                             refusing to let fears in          protecting ours 
                                left in shock still              question's unanswered                    
                               nothing learned                     nothing gained  
                                ready to attack                   many left behind
                              anger greets denial              anger meets rage 
                               unacceptable still                 refusing new love 
                            wanting days to rewind           let us go back in time 
                              acceptance  allowing           the victims leave in peace
                              the brave taken young           leaving us sadly old
                               haunting dreams                     lost spirits dwell
                               no answers to hate            never forgetting that day
                               Evil entered suddenly              unforgiving fate
                                entering our City                we stand with the fallen
                                 How to fix                            how do we Change 




           
            This can be read many different ways ~ This is a poem I am so proud to write ~









          



Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013

Details | Violence Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Reflecting on Police Brutality

It was the spring of ‘74 when my student peers and I
were on the tail end of a group excursion  
through southern Spain, across Gibraltar’s Strait
and into the exotic northern tip of Africa.
I remember lots of greenery and mountains
and the fascinating sights and sounds inside Tangier,
but one small thing that happened somewhere between
the time we viewed the landscape we traversed 
and our time inside our destination city
stands out in my mind forevermore.

Our bus had briefly stopped on the street of a town.
I was looking out the window when I glimpsed a child,
looking poor and ragged, not so old.
He ran down the block with an orange in his hand,
an older man behind him in pursuit.
Quickly I observed that the man 
was a type of law enforcement officer,
 for he wielded a long strong stick
which he proceeded to use on the unfortunate lad
once he had caught up to him.

The event was very near our bus, 
so I could watch with growing horror
as this country’s version of a cop
unleashed brutality on a fellow human being,
a boy who was no doubt simply starved for food.
I saw the heavy stick fall repeatedly
till it struck the boy’s ear and blood gushed out. . . 

I would later view ornate gold buildings in Tangier,
 see colorful hand-crafted clothes and rugs, and smell
the aromas of strange delightful foods,
but beneath all that wonder was the singular event
that stayed inside my brain.

I think of my own country - free, so very free,
with laws against “this kind of thing” that had appalled me;
a land so free that gangs of filthy evil men, 
even sometimes with the help of the police,
had in days of yore lynched the black man
for crimes as meager as the taking of that orange,
or worse, for no crime at all!
Hateful mobs had beat and hanged
men and women, even children,
In the midst of the beauty of 
fragrant magnolia trees . . .

Civil Rights has done a lot 
to eradicate these horrors, yet even now,
a remnant of the Ku Klux Klan mentality
exists inside the minds of some, and even in
 the minds of some we trust to uphold the law.
I cannot know the thoughts that enter
the minds of law enforcers who think they are confronting
a person who they’ve deemed a criminal. 
I cannot know their fear when they see, perhaps,
what they suppose to be a weapon.
We cannot know their backgrounds 
or if they harbor prejudice against another color
or against the lower class.
The court and the jury decide the fate of those
who have used what our society may see as undue force.
God alone will judge them in the end.

We, as citizens of all the world, must be aware
that violence can be used
when the threat of it against themselves
is perceived by our police.
How sad to think that some of those 
who serve to offer us protection ,
whether out of ignorance, fear, or prejudice,
are using brutality so haphazardly. 

Those in my own country who have seen 
or even experienced police brutality
must have felt the same horror I felt the day I saw
a child beaten in a foreign land.
Who am I to judge another country
when mine is also mired still in sin?
God help us all to fight against 
the inane and unjust cruelty of those
who practice police brutality.


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2014

Details | Violence Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Death Muses of ISIS

face down
shot dead- see fear
all round

speak- tell
they'll hear-hush now
death knell 

breathe light
killers are near
tonight


Poet: Debbie Guzzi
Date: 11/26/14
Contest: Whispers of a Muse


Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2014

Details | Violence Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Remembering When

I remember when . . . 
kids fought at school.
At worst, they’d end up with a bloody nose.
But kids today get bullied publicly
and ridiculed on You Tube videos.

I remember when . . .
folks’ arguments
took place and few of us were “in the know.”
Today, though, we see idiots galore
that cuss and brawl on Jerry Springer's show.

I remember when. . .  
brutality  
was televised when kids were tucked in bed.
Now your child need only type the word
and see a victim get shot in the head.

I remember when. . . 
 we had a war,
but it was “cold” and seemed to be maintained.
Today the terror is at your own mall.
We’ve lost  -  in spite of all that we have gained.


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2013

Details | Violence Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Moonless Nights over South Sudan

Moonless Nights over South Sudan
heartless Moon, don’t tell me that you weren’t looking when soulless soldiers dragged me from my mama’s terrified arms in our village in Rubkona County
I know you covered your ears so you wouldn’t hear my screams piercing the fetid air as those butchers dropped their pants repeatedly ripping my body and soul apart
and I saw you cover your eyes so blinded that you wouldn’t see the stark horror reflected in my own eyes the hot tears scorching my cheeks sobbing for childhood forever lost
oh Mother Moon, Mother Moon please cover your face behind billowy black clouds so that you can’t see your daughter’s dejected, dead eyes
cowardly Moon, I forgive you even after you turned your back on me filling my days only with your dark side as I sink deeper into a black hole with no hope to guide me safely home
but helpless Moon, how can I blame you? for you’re only a mere observer powerless to defend me feeling guilty for abandoning your innocent children
Moon, you’ve witnessed it all before the torn and bleeding the tortured and maimed all tied tightly to weeping trees reeking of despair and pain
Moon, will you soon forget my body dripping with bloody shame? will anyone even remember me? am I no one…with no name? will you, Moon, mourn for me?
like you Moon, I am already ancient over a hundred years it seems yearning for freedom… waiting for death… and I’m only twelve years old
Note: This piece is dedicated to all the women and young girls who have been abducted, raped, and/or killed in the secret rape camps in South Sudan over the past two years. According to a human rights investigator, many of them are held indefinitely, tied up with hundreds of other women in these camps and used as sex slaves. Those women who escape from the sex camps are the lucky ones.


Copyright © Pandita Sanchez | Year Posted 2015

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KISS MY CLOUD

So you say you want to sit on MY cloud.
The view, you say, is rainbows and bluebirds.
I understand you hate your polyester,
Dishwasher safe, blue light special cloud.
It is weak, sagging under the weight of your expectations.
It is no longer fluffy, no longer billowy, no longer white.
It is empty and dingy and flat. Like your soul.

You can't see the best part of my cloud because it is on the inside,
Where it is built from the sweat of a hundred strong women like me.
Where the walls glisten from the tears shed as others like yourself tried to steal our cloud's glory.
But like this cloud, though we look soft and billowy, we are steel, cursing forth our thunder and glaring bolts of lightning to protect ourselves and our own.

My cloud is high now, but it has had its lows.
Where were you when others avoided and mocked us as nothing more than valley fog?
When the view consisted of puddles of want and winds of despair?
Did you once offer me a seat on your cloud?
Did you give me a hand up? Or were you too busy looking down on me?

So excuse me if I block your sun, ruin your picnic, cancel your flight.
But I will never ignore you.
Come closer and I will whisper a message in your ear:
HEY, YOU, GET OFF OF MY CLOUD!!!!


Copyright © Cindi Rockwell | Year Posted 2015

Details | Violence Poem | Create an image from this poem.

IN SEARCH OF WISDOM'S TRAIL



Among,
The towering mountains of menacing fanaticism and
in the midst of the shadows of constant fear,
Agonizing humanity,               
Desperately, is crawling in search of  
The trail of understanding,

Praying

That it would lead her onto the valley of God-loving
Peace
Where the peoples of the world, respecting the beliefs of
Others, in harmony would live,
Glorifying God’s wisdom which saved them, from falling
Into the ravines of voracious hate where Man's 
Annihilation awaits!



© Demetrios Trifiatis
  10 JANUARY 2015




Copyright © Demetrios Trifiatis | Year Posted 2015

Details | Violence Poem | Create an image from this poem.

FGM

*
Female sexuality
Fanatically robbed
Fraught with violation
Forever left in shame.
Folds of indignity
Forceful invasiveness 
Fulfilling love denied.


-------------------------------------------
*I feel very strongly about this topic.
  Have been meaning to bring it up.
  This Pleiades is short but meaningful.
--------------------------------------------

Contest: Any Poem#29
Sponsor: Poet Destroyer A.
Placing: 2nd


Copyright © Paul Callus | Year Posted 2014

Details | Violence Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Twixt Blaze and Claw

Abuses hurled and Alcohol gurgled,
In the vortex of confusion
And blurred vision.
Intoxicated pleasure from surreal leisure.
Fooled senses and numbed conscience.
Wiped existence of love and kindness cuffed.

Lashed at the one he once loved.
Cringed and clung to her faint faith.
She and her cursed fate.
Exploding paroxysm of hate.

Her whipped ivory skin and bleeding lips,
Eyes with teary tinge,
Has the harvest moon singed.
Stillness of the night, pierced
By memories of bitterness-sodden years.

"Hurt me not", she trembled with fear,
"let me live for my girl, dear".

The cries colored skies crimson.
Just one reason--Her little girl.
 
As her daughter stared
With flaming locks and eyes that flared.

By Angom Amy (15)


Copyright © Amy Angom | Year Posted 2014

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Slouching Toward Ferguson

His life was gentle, and the elements
so mixed in him that Nature might stand up and
smolder

bodies in unregistered cars idling softly toward oblivion

some quick to anger
some quick to profit
some quick for justice
some tigers lapping blood
some mothers still at 3AM

hands on shoulders with coos commanding
that in a tear and turned cheek there be 'integration'

parody: an orphan annie reboot
parody: 'little black sambo 'round the tiger pit he go!'

we have rioted the last of our colors
bleated them with flexed toes to the wall at the edge of the universe to reverberate starless between
eternity
nothing
and madness

we have bleated the last of our colors
with centuries gone by without tongue, sockets or lobes

we will bleed the last of our colors
some quick to die
some quick to steal
some quick to burn
some quick to 

lend me your car keys

in a night of full of Alarics
I will bury you

in a night full of piccaninnies
I will melt you to butter

in a night where flames are fishhooks
Sir I need you to step back please

O, pardon me, thou bleeding piece of earth,
that
we have cried Havoc
let slip
and with purple'd prose stamped this hollowed earth

We who have lived so long
Sir?
shall with our breath turned mist
I need you to
stain only under stones
step
that pave with slippery breath
back
a headline for last weeks massacre
step
and tomorrow's graves
I need you to
I drew a line in the sand and you crossed it They are not breathing
Look! Look there!
No. I will not.
He dies


Copyright © Brooks Lindberg | Year Posted 2014

Details | Violence Poem | Create an image from this poem.

BEHIND CLOSED DOORS - EMOTIVE WRITE

Nobody knows what goes on behind this hotel door ‘Mr Smith’ isn’t with his wife of that I’m pretty sure! He’s with his mistress Sue, they are having an affair But he is a cheating love rat and he doesn’t really care A barrage of fists is flying at number twenty-two Sally covers her bruises, what else can she do Her man is a bully and hits where nobody can see She’s got no one to turn too otherwise she would flee Harry is all alone since his dear wife has died He’s desperately lonely but filled with such pride His family only live on the other side of the city But are so busy with their lives, isn’t that a pity Post builds up in his letter box, there’s milk left at his door Neighbours think they’ve seen him but they aren’t really sure The police arrive; break down his door and Harry’s lying dead He’d fallen down the stairs; dried blood lay round his head Peter is an alcoholic and he suffers from depression He has bouts of violence, he’s known for his aggression Since his wife walked out on him he’s attempted suicide His life has gone downhill since he lost his lovely bride Little Sally wants to hide when she sees Phil the baby sitter He makes her do ‘things’ with him, if she won’t he says he’ll hit her She’s subjected to sexual abuse that no child should endure But her parent’s are oblivious when they walk out that door Nobody really knows what goes on behind closed doors I wonder would you divulge what happens behind yours? Doors Contest Sponsored by Richard Lamoureux 03~23~17


Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2017

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A sad remembrance

I kiss her red honeyed lips
She allows the milk 
of my iniquity 
to wash over her
The pain of her sadness
washes away my cruelty
I leave my rifle at her feet


November 11, 2016



Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2016

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THE VICTIM - THROUGH THEIR EYES 2

You stood in the dock when the guilty verdict was read out … Just a spotty youth with a cocky look in your eyes Now sentenced to five years in prison, I hope you rot in hell! The defence team tried to make out that YOU were the victim You had drug and alcohol issues, which catapulted you into a life of crime I had to sit there and hear about your past Was I supposed to feel sorry for you? What about me, the real victim… You’d entered my house, hell bent on stealing what little I had I handed over my widow's pension but you weren’t satisfied Demanding more, you began shouting obscenities at me You started trashing my house trying to find my jewellery High on drugs - you were like a wild animal Your fists rained down like bullets … you beat me senseless My daughter found me unconscious, lying in a pool of blood I spent weeks in hospital Now I’m terrified of being on my own and have moved in with my daughter I couldn’t go back into the house I so loved You will be out of prison in a few years… I have a life sentence Through their eyes 2 – Sponsored by Shadow Hamilton 08~12~16


Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2016

Details | Violence Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Jerusalem

Jerusalem, in the white of night,  
  with all the ages steeped upon your shoulders, 
  and the tombs of fading kings; 
  history has been unkind to thee, 
  and the desert sea laden with endless enemies ----
  thou shooting star who shawn too bright! ----
  how wan the dying rose with Mecca roaring in the wind! 
  how it whispers a new witchcraft.... 

A new shackle the zealots bring, on hallowed ground.... 
  where angels fear to tread, lest they spill blood,
  like the lot of man, the rockets shall bring peace, they say!
  and from the east the Palestian, crushed like grapes in a winepress,
  betwixt Hebrew and madmen; 

'O Jerusalem, how the Lillie's lilt in thy wan shadow, 
  how the purge of men shudders to hear your final breath....
  no sun shines on thee like a risen Christ; 
  no banner he bears but love, 
  no weapon formed but wisdom to silence paranoia;
  lay down your swords, and he shall rebuild thee in three days

'O Jerusalem,
  you old arrid hero,
  who needs but the nectar of peace to heal thy ancient bones,
  an old name whispers on the wind.....


Copyright © Keith O.J. Hunt | Year Posted 2016

Details | Violence Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Humanity Melts

Looking at you, they feel lust;
lust for the curves they say you flaunt.
The silver lining visible through your deep neck.
The perfect waist they say,
you show in those tightly fitting kurtis.
Those slender legs they stare at,
during the numb hours;
their humanity melts with each moment a bit more.

Looking at you, they show greed;
greed for the thighs they say you flaunt.
The belly button showing through your crop top.
The toned hips they say,
you show in those cotton leggings.
Those naked backs they search for,
with their lustful glances;
their humanity melts with each moment a bit more.

Looking at you, they trickle saliva;
saliva on your pure spots they say you flaunt.
The strap of your bra peeking out through your shoulder.
Those luscious lips they say,
you call for with those lip balms on.
The dropping dupatta they hope for,
with those greedy glares;
their humanity melts with each moment a bit more.

Looking at you, they fall over;
over the corpse of the shattered soul they say you hide.
The life of the dead emotions oozing through your eyes.
Those clichéd tears they say,
you drip out for sympathy.
The lonely longings they wish for,
in those silent deserted lanes;
their humanity melts with each moment a bit more.


Copyright © Sourabh Acharya | Year Posted 2017

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All Lives Matter

Fear is what they clothe them in.
Fear of losing their life because of one mistake.
Fear of losing their life because an officer is having 
a bad day.

Some say it's not racism;
"It's police brutality."
Whatever you call it, I can't 
help but ask "where is humanity?"

Mothers weeping because they're losing their sons.
Teaching them to fight back with silence
but that is no weapon compared to a gun.

Six feet under, leaving families to fight for justice
over their lives.
Societies getting tired of it all-
starting riots and constructing strikes.

How many more time will history repeat itself?
Or are we still writing [his]tory , using coverups
as help?

All lives matter despite of their race.
All lives matter despite their mistakes.

In times such as these justice will demand to be served.
No matter how chaotic, crazy, or obscured.

Life is a gift, one that we should all treasure.
Because all lives matter and we need to protect them;
no matter the measure.


Copyright © Amber Binford | Year Posted 2014

Details | Violence Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier

The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier - Canada

We all know you now
You have fallen at our feet
You have guarded them all with life and limb
Noble and brave
Only to fall at a cowards last call
You have stirred the souls of the unknown heroes
Their appall shall seek the just dues of our defamers and saboteurs
Young lads who now welcome you in the hereafter
Shall haunt our enemies from near or afar
The drum rolls sound, as the rifles salute
The Unknown Soldier
You are unknown no more


Notes: In memory of Nathan Cirillo and Patrice Vincent both killed in cold blood on the week of Oct 26, 2014 by cowards in the name of Islam. Nathin Cirillo was standing guard at the tomb of the Unknown Soldier.

Also in memory to the 1000’s of unknown soldiers, young men, who fought so that we may be free.


Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2014

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Water Wall


As he slept in tranquil dream, 
Suddenly he flew, it seemed. 
Thrown and landing on the floor, 
Shaking walls and splintered doors. 

Just as quick, the room grew still. 
Distant tremors he could feel. 
Out the door, and up the rock, 
There he stood in sleepy shock. 

How could oceans disappear. 
Then a hissing he could hear 
And a trembling, heavy roar 
Headed for an empty shore. 

Sunrise turned a greenish hue, 
As he climbed, a better view. 
Seeming far too large, he saw 
What must be a water wall. 

Thought of ancient stories told 
Of a wrath that could unfold; 
Sucking oceans with a breath, 
Spewing endless waves of death. 

Instinct quickly cleared his mind. 
Panic now, he clawed and climbed. 
Up, despite the screams he hears, 
As a village disappears. 

Once an evil came to call, 
Scooped them up and took them all. 
Now he's old, his stories wane, 
Of the morning Satan came.


Gene Bourne 
08-18-14


.

.

 


Copyright © Gene Bourne | Year Posted 2014

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Before and After

Bust to the extreme 
And collide with your foes 
Be ruthless and heartless
When smash on them hoes 
Leave no stone unturned 
When your searching for a "snatch"
Always be ready 
To smash that ass 
Cause they sneaky as **** 
Waiting patiently for you to slip 
Or get down on your luck 
Then you looked surprised 
When your ass gets stuck
Like how could this happen 
How could this be 
They said they would have my back
Always 
Always and tomorrow
Are two in the same 
Cause when you wake up tomorrow 
Its today 
And always is cool 
Till it comes time for change 
And that's all I'm gonna say 
You seek fortune 
And you seek fame 
Then your a prime target
For them bogus lames 
And trifling dames 
That try to get at you in the beginning
So they can snatch your change 
When you do make a name 
Its all the same 
Every mother****ing day 
But u *****es ain't slick 
Cause you all look fake 
Like a ***** with teary eyes 
You know she got raped 
And took against her will 
Just cause some ***** ass punk 
Needed a thrill 
Well meet your maker 
I got a deal 
Cause sent down in my presence 
And your soul will get drilled 
Chilled and chopped up 
And diced up into a meal 
For the dogs to eat
Now am I keeping it real 
Or just real ill 
My fates already been sealed 
You silly bastard 
I'm on the chopping block 
And all you hear is my laughter 
Before and after 
The rapture
*****!


Copyright © Justin Waddle | Year Posted 2013

Details | Violence Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Broken friendship

In a whirlwind two friends started to quarrel over nothing
By the end of a long day it became something.
Fists, kicks, bricks and insults were in the heat,
The two friends were reluctant to accept defeat.

In the storm the fight came from nowhere,
But it was surely heading somewhere.
The two couldn’t see eye to eye for a resolution
And failed to reach for a solution.

Like lightning the dispute came in a flash
Their ship called friend went into a crash
They encountered a hardship in a fume
 Saw no need to keep their friendship that was in a flame.

Within the flood the argument flowed to separate
Their much needed means to tolerate.
Their feelings were broken into shattered piece
That they could not assemble into one peace.


Copyright © Mpho Kgaswane | Year Posted 2016

Details | Violence Poem | Create an image from this poem.

The Malkavian part 1 perfect version

His mind has all the meaning of a madman that is screaming
Tortured and tormented, a life lived to be lamented
Drained and defeated, his family finally retreated 
Leaving him believing that he was beyond redeeming 
The doctors sent in spoke of hope and healing 
The drugs they administered only made him more demented 
Cemented is the feeling that his life is just an echo 
Of an endless, timeless, all-consuming screaming 

His best friend is a disproportioned bird, appropriately named buddy 
Whose monotonous motion in drinking is somewhat soothing to his being 
Though not potent enough to stop, the persistent pounding of the screaming
Often he stares into the emptiness of nothingness, contemplating the beauty 
of its existence 
Only to find his mind is drowning in a confounding conundrum he can’t quite 
define
It’s hard to be philosophical when your mental testicles have fallen to the proper 
level
So sometimes he whispers tongue twisters until his brain blisters
Madmen mask madness in the meticulous mastery of mindless tasks

Buddy was telling a troubling tale, of a dragon drunk off of some dwarven ale 
Who through two days, threw up flames and burnt down the tavern and town 
When the door to his room opened with a plume of plum perfume 
In stepped an inept and unkempt nurse named Nancy
Her green eyes and fiery red hair caused his heart to flutter and flair with fancy
She had quite the quiet voice and was quick to trip over her own two feet 
A bit naïve, she would easily believe anything she had heard or seen
He knew he would make her his, no matter the time nor energy 

It was easy for him to pretend to be prim and proper 
Just a mask to don in order to dupe his doctor
Circumventing the system that couldn’t save him 
He was as he always had been and would be
In constant pain and agony with no desire for sympathy
Just in need of some freedom from his prison and medication
Meditation and mantras had given him the sentiment of a design
On how to inhibit the screaming, and maybe even end it

Four years plotting and planning the perfect moment of promise
A fire formed from a single flamed fueled from an accelerant 
It raced through the halls, up the walls, over the ceiling, killing all the residents
Eighty-eight inmates and staff burned alive in what felt like an instant 
Such little time to search through the bodies, looking for a single person
He found her on the fourth clinging to the bathroom faucet 
He lost his virginity to the burnt corpse of Nurse Nancy 
To his amazed mind, he was astonished to find, the screaming was silenced



just a note I cannot reduce the font so the lines fit without overlapping as they 
do in stanza two


Copyright © Nathan D. | Year Posted 2014