World Hate Poems | Examples

These World Hate poems are examples of Hate poems about World. These are the best examples of Hate World poems written by international poets.


Premium MemberOne Star Man

("Rainbow Body" detail, 2018, original encaustic)

Today I noticed on a website I use for book reviews
All eight of my poetry books
Suddenly have a fresh new one star review.
Sadly though there is no content to these reviews
Nothing to sink my teeth into and learn from
Just a single star
Which simply means, “I hate it.”
But these are the first reviews or ratings
I have ever received in ten years now
Of publishing poems
So I will take it
Mostly because I have no choice.
It is a free world after all
And so if we engage with it
We shouldn’t be surprised
When it engages back.
The beauty of getting only one star reviews
Of course is it doesn’t get my hopes up
Hopes of becoming rich and famous
Influential and significant
Because I know, especially now,
None of that would be true.

(9/15/25)


Premium MemberSeptember 11th

9/11

America is a place we would all love to go,
But on September 11th is was bombed by people we didn't know.
It may have been an ordinary Tuesday
People walking here and there
But on that dreadful day
People's lives were blown away.
Firemen, police and paramedics lost their lives
Just trying to do their job to survive.
People didn't know if their loved ones
We're alive or dead
Is this how the world should be?
Is this how the world will end?
People were still searching for survivors 
Searching the whole town through
But many of us already know
Survivors were just a few.
The few who survived the bombing
The few who can tell the trauma to the end.
The dead were close family
Family as well as friends.
So let's put our hands together
And together we will pray
That nothing like this
Will never happen again.
So let us bless those who lost their lives
And give peace to those who survived.

What More Must Love Do

What more must love do

To make this world a better place
                              To find the hate we must erase
To light the way, a path to know
                              A garden to let goodness grow

What more must love do

To somehow make us understand
                   That with it, peace goes hand in hand
It’s more than what we’ll ever need
                         To render helpless war and greed

It seems yet all but gone  

When compromise has lost its gain
                                      In favor of eternal pain
And chaos strikes a mighty blow
                        And somehow we forgot to know

Because of its armor, because of its strength
          To conquer the darkness and at any length  
Because of its passion to fill every heart  
           And transfer what’s ugly into works of art

It exists  

What more must love do

Premium MemberThe Progress

They hate us, and we hate them
We can’t learn and they can’t teach
We disdain and they condemn
The most real deal we reach
Is the postponement of war
That would crush this world to dust
It’s the only way we know
And they know it quite like us
Both sides sometimes come to terms
Both pretend that its ok
But we always make u turns 
And they know we are to blame
So we bark at them and they
Give it back well amplified 
And it goes like everyday
That’s the progress of mankind.

I hate chores

Taking hours to clean a pile of dishes
Sweeping up crumbs I didn’t even drop
I hate chores
Pushing a vacuum over and over
Forcing sheets to fit a bed
I hate chores
Wiping a toilet until it glistens
Struggling to carry a heavy mop bucket around
I hate chores
Waking up in the morning
Inhaling and exhaling every second of the day
I hate chores.
Socializing and masking
Seeing the world get darker as time passes by
These chores consume me
Trying to be different
Trying to be the person people expect me to be
I hate chores.
I’ve been given a gift
I try to be grateful
But it feels like a chore to carry this gift
For the love of god, I hate chores.


Premium MemberTDS

America is divided between lovers and haters;
Those that love her and those that hate Trump.
But the thing about both love and hate
Is it often says more about the one doing it
Than the one receiving it.

Trump gets called a racist, sexist, anti-Semite
While having a long history of close and supportive
Personal and profession relationships
With people who are minorities, women and Jews,
Which is more than many of his detractors can claim.

It’s a classic example of projection
And when you call it out
Then you see exactly what gaslighting is
The flaming gases
Just pouring from the mouths of hell.

But hell is always only half the equation.
What the world needs now
To counter the fear that spawns the hate
Is love sweet love
No, not just for some, but for everyone…

(8/16/25)

The Journey Within

"For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, 
plans to prosper you and not to harm you, 
plans to give you hope and a future."
Jeremiah 29:11
As Christian believers
we may suffer tribulation and trouble	
     but does that mean the Lord leaves us alone?
We may become destitute, hungry and naked,
    but does the Lord turn his back on His children?
        NEVER will he leave us to demon attack.
	
We are on a mission, a journey t'wards home...
home to the Father.  Our path may grow hazy;
    but counsel, direction, encouragement from
God's Spirit brings joy to those who seek Him.
        NEVER will the powers of hell win.

        There's NOTHING that can separate us from God;
death, itself, is a welcome homecoming.
  Life on earth may involve persecution
I guess that's what our Savior, Jesus meant -
		
Oppression in the midst of righteousness 
drives you closer toward heaven's goalpost.
      As a Christian believer, 
      if  you discover the world is hating you
            Remember: “it hated and rejected me first .”

Premium MemberAshes To Resilience

I was born in the smoke of silence,  
where names were weapons,  
and love came laced with barbed wire.  

They said I was too much,  
too loud, too raw,  
a wildfire in a world of trimmed hedges.  

But I learned to speak in embers,  
to write with the heat of survival,  
to stitch my wounds with verses  
that refused to bleed quietly.  

From the ashes of hate,  
I rose—not polished,  
but blazing.  

Resilience isn’t soft.  
It’s the roar beneath the whisper,  
the spine forged in fire,  
the poem that dares to exist  
when the world says “don’t.”

Modern day slavery

The world drowns us in problems 
Then expects us to breathe solutions 
In a society that demands whispers of lullabies rocking them to sleep 
Whilst we deal with the havoc they wreak

Safe in the silence of their homes
Black women have to deal with the chaos outside alone
The white man's mess becomes the black persons job
Our pay - racism
Seems familiar, reminds you of anything
Maybe, a modern day version of slavery 

No rest for the wicked they say
So why are the oppressors still sleeping 
The good are punished 
The evil rewarded 
I guess we just live in a one-sided system 
Where being a victim, makes you a villain 
Our worth determined by how much blood we pour
The more we bleed, the more we are adored
Our pain is entertainment, they'll never get bored
For them it's like a cure for the common cold
Like an answer to all the world's problems 

For them we are a sacrificial lamb
Something to feed off of, then be rid of the scraps
The story of our lives
Used then are blamed for our cries
Then are denied of our rights 
To be humans not slaves

I hate you

I hate the way you looked into my eyes. 

I hate the way you rubbed my feet when we made love. 

I hate how you smelled. 

I hate that you were married. 

I hate that you have children. 

I hate that you held me in your arms like i was the only woman in the world. 

I hate how you took me to fancy restaurants.

I hate how you opened my doors. 

I hate how you watched me play the piano. 

I hate how you touched me. 

I hate how you kissed me. 

I hate your secrets.

I hate your alter-ego. 

I hate that you raped me. 

I hate how you gaslight. 

I hate how you told me you loved me. 

I hate your wife. 

I hate your status. 

I hate the car you drive. 

I hate how beautiful you were. 

I hate your taste in music. 

I hate your mind games. 

I hate our connection. 

I hate that you left me. 

I hate myself. 

I hate that we were soul mates. 

I hate how I loved you. 

I hate what you took from me. 

I hate the world. 

I hate the people in it. 

I hate you reading this.

Speech on Memorial day

Value people when they have life
Strangely, people understand lately
Everything is loud and clear, yet blinds
Still, people find it challenging, but why? honestly 

Wait, let’s unpack the fact.
Dead people do not speak
Neither response is to pick a fight
They are calm and quiet
Due to which they candlelight
Celebrate the opponent's flight
Words flow with compassion disguised
The love poured out seamlessly
Memorial services filled with sighs
If he wakes up again endlessly?
All the love talks bag up sky’s
Life goes on as usual

Two kinds live in the world.
Loving people keep loving
Evil people keep hating.
Living in a broken world

Ota Benga

They took him—
not for war,
not for crime,
but for curiosity.
A boy from Congo,
where rivers hum with memory,
and the trees know your name.

Ota Benga—
smile full of sun,
soul full of sky—
was stolen,
placed in a cage
beside an ape
while the world laughed.

And they called it science.
They called it education.
But it was cruelty—
plain and piercing.

He was not a beast.
He was a man.
A son.
A story.

His wife murdered.
His village burned.
His dignity erased
by Western hands
that claimed to know God.

They broke his heart
until he broke his body—
1916,
a bullet to the chest.
Not to die,
but to escape
a world that refused him humanity.

We did not lose a man.
We lost a mirror.
And it still hurts to look.

Say his name—
not in pity,
but in pain.
Let tears fall
for what was done
and what was denied.

Ota Benga—
you were never the savage.
We were.

The Truth Of Society

Cover your mouth and laugh it out.
The world blinks,
Clink, clink.
Every bottle comes with a label.
Every child comes with a mother.
Every person comes with an identity.
Every murderer comes with a motive. 
They explain,
They birth,
They express,
And they kill.
But someday will they become the meal?
What if it was reversed? 
Would they try to become more diverse?
Or become mentally cursed.
They flex during fitness.
They perplex during interconnectedness.
I am not just a witness. 
My life is not just about my midriff.
You read every title.
You drink every bottle.
You nurse every drink,
You curse at the sink.
The dolphin winks.
The president thinks.
Down goes Pink.
Famous people blink.
But someday they'll be nothing but a link.

The heroic villain

We are the villains in a story they spun
We get the villain arc without being a villain
The storyline of a traumatic childhood
Living under a shadow 
Constantly being misunderstood
Having to sacrifice ourselves for the greater good
Without being given credit of saving the world 

What they don't tell you is how the hero is the coward 
How the real villain was the 'hero' who lied about the villains worth
How they are the scum of the earth
How they are the devil's curse
How no matter how hard they try they will always be seen by the hero's words

Plot twist 
This happens in the real world 
This is a story well known
Where the villains were always good 
And the heroes were egotistical jerks 
Through their spiteful words
Masked by an image of fraudulent perfection
The 'villains' were the innocent black people 
The 'heroes' were the vindictive oppressors 
Who dictated the world through their racism
Their empire built of hatred
Their status crafted through their strategic lies 

The propaganda of their campaign for superiority 
Is everywhere can't you see 
Stop being blinded by your ignorance and open up your eyes

The autopsy of a black body

An autopsy of a black body
One who suffered greatly
The body pushed past its limits
To the point it had enough and quit

A scalpel to their chest
Slowly peeling the layers of flesh
Noticing the rot 
Hit by the stench of trauma

The body dissected 
The organs removed 
Leaving the body an empty shell 
Of a broken person
Beaten by an unjust system
There was no hope for the body to be saved 
It was always going to give away

The person that had owned the body stood no chance
From the trauma to the head 
Consumed by the complexities of PTSD
To the bruises on the legs
From a lifetime full of abuse 
Carrying a body hated by society

It was like a troubled home 
A place that was out of control
Where the quiet screams of abuse
Are trapped within the cracked walls
Bearing the weight of secrets untold

It was damaged beyond repair 
No amount of glue could fix the damage of what was done 
The body could heal 
But the trauma couldn't be undone 
The cause of death: racism
This is what happens when you live a life on the run from discrimination 
Beaten by the harsh reality of hatred 
Isolated by a world full of prejudice 
Living in an abyss of hopelessness

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