I'm an analyst
a strategist
an execution machine
in a singular mind seen
with memories of being keen
I give something my whole heart
then get it back torn apart
repeat the cycle again
till I'm left with shattered remains
trying my hardest to stay sane
Shouldn’t a vehicle move straight ahead,
unless it makes a U-turn instead?
Why in mine I’m blindly led,
leaving me to burn,
no brakes to halt or learn?
In this moment, I’m a fern
trapped in a sunlit meadow—no return
Even a robot needs to reset
so it can preset.
When I try to slow and reset,
I get haunted by regret,
as if I’m drowning in debt.
Giorgio, I remembered that man
Ran from the gallows like a criminal
How come he was on death row with the worst?
Rumors say he robbed a leader
Of his priceless jewels and pearls
But I can't believe those broken whispers
Guards sliced and bruised his fragile skin
And our city expected the worse
But once he slipped out of the noose
We all let out sighs of relief
While plenty say he was merely a myth
I like to think they're wrong
Because innocent men will forever
Win back their freedom one way or another
Why do I make resolutions?
Will I ever change?
Every year a new solution,
yet I am still the same.
I inhale sweet pollution,
a different flavor every year —
but now with retribution
after ball-drop cheer.
My diet is a constitution,
guilty pleasures await.
My body, my institution —
I don’t care the date.
The ritual of absolution
of a commitment I must make
feels like personal destitution,
an action I’d rather fake.
Would you like my allocution?
Well, I have no remorse.
There is no attribution,
because I won’t stay the course.
Here’s a substitution —
my offering to midnight.
My only contribution
is nothing, out of spite.
Pray for redemption, will you?
Cry, cry your blackened tears.
Knee bends and splits in stony
supplication.
Pray for deliverance, will you?
Sculpt your catalogue of sin.
A history of misery that has twisted
hearts and corrupted innocence.
Pray for sanctity, will you?
Hands intertwine between prison bars.
Iron cuffs link wrist to cold confinement
and solid perpetuity.
Pray for salvation, will you?
Inhale fuel baptism.
Eye, ear and mouth sear as devoted
regrets ripple from blistered lips.
Pray for purification, will you?
Swallow burning match.
Life explodes into cleansing flame.
Melt down to fiber, layer by layer.
Pray for resurrection, will you?
Angels will not weep, scream or mourn.
Even God will turn away as he understands
that where the slain are, there is me.
They're selling tickets
to the execution
front row ringside seats
for an electrocution
there for the thrill of the kill
ghouls who want to watch him fry
who knows why they're compelled
to view condemned die
God forgive the man
who throws the switch
which pulls the plug
makes criminals twitch
he and Old Sparky
are best of friends
lighting up felons
to the bitter ends
but what kind of everyday
man in the street
for hire volunteers to pyre
people in the hot seat
I felt as small as a winter’s flower
yet as tall as an old oak tree
the seconds dragged on for what seemed like hours
when my world turned in on me
the cloak I wore was of little comfort
just to bridge between present and past
I held onto this and other secrets
no more a peasant but a king at last
by the time I had finished speaking
the crowd erupted with applause
then towards me they were reaching
as the judgment came into force
the mask was meant to protect me
from what no one should have seen
a noose was placed just oh so gently
I thought it was a bit extreme
I sank into the grain that supported
absorbed deep in the fibres below
my legs gave way it was reported
I wriggled until they let me go.
The women fell upon the bodies of the dead,
clearing blindfolds for one last look upon their face.
Shot, against a carmine wall, no matter how they pled.
So now they mourn them through a veil of blackened lace.
A mother presses lips upon a virgin son;
a bride, in bloodstained white, whispers; she is to be;
a sister screams, at smoking guns, what have you done?
A Captain brushes some cigar ash from his knee.
Dead heart spirit to the wind was cast
splintered in black spirit's grasp
Soul forever dissolved at last
Breath the beat of the only force left
Still pumping life and all else unsaid
In blood so cold
With all hates strife
For 'tis hate that is the gallows life
Silently filled,
Loops of rope for hope
sold for vengefull stares
Their anger stilled.
Only thing left to be done
Was burning the corpse just for fun.
Trump openly calls for termination of the Constitution
~ Can he now be elected to uphold its execution
A well written poem
about nothing much at all
says itself
Critics lean forward
ready to pounce
The muse stands forth
the muse pronounced
Someone was clowning around
someone heckled
someone got bounced
the dissenting
were openly venting
After the word-play
a well-written poem
was framed and hung
and not in a good way
You and Police and execution Plan
Aren't you belong to the same Clan
Target killing and fake encounters
Ransom and extortion money
This is not funny..
blindfolded and bound
open fire ~ or sex appeal
sparks burst from the hearth
By
David Kavanagh
let new stack = new "happy face cheese burger cat"
add args 'cheese' and 'burger' and "cat'
to ''annoyed nursery''
also add ''break'' where ''necessary''
love Lani and insert smiley
insert Lani signature
check for syntactic errors
end stack
The execution
The basement, where cars are parked
in neat little boxes in a row, is cold and creepy.
It looks like a place where the fascists can
execute dissenters those who go on about
liberty for the masses.
There are bloodstains on the wall and cars
are silent witnesses to the massacre.
From the roof of the garage, blood drips of
the tortured on the first floor.
A black and white western on another wall
drown the screams of those who finally realize
there is no escape.
I sit in my car; it is ten years old and is not
forgotten in this horrid time. I sleep a little.
Wake up, start, the vehicle and take it out for a spin.
I am ready
The time is drawing near
My body pulsing with fear
I've ordered my meal, I know it's my last
Suddenly the years in that box, have gone so fast
I am ready
It's cold in here, as they peer through the glass
My cold heart for show
Lived my life behind a mask
I am ready
It is now time, poison entering my veins
My crimes and victims
Are all of me that remains
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