WHEN AND WHERE IS HATRED BORN
CERTAINLY NOT IN THE WOMB
IN LIFE AMASSED AND FOREVER CAST
TILL IT DIES ONCE IN THE TOMB
The sheriff had a visitor who growled like thunder,
a rabid dog, teeth bared trying to tear him asunder.
She howled that he'd attacked a member of her pack
Saying Mark was the aggressor and giving him flack.
She told him he'd listened to those who are wrong
then called him a troll, singing that same old song.
He replied to her comments, showing no disrespect
but her defense of that yobbo is hogwash that I reject.
She accused the sheriff of robbing PS of a great poet.
But all the real troll offered was trouble. We know it.
The doggie's heckling prickled me like a thorn or a spur
I won't miss that cowardly 'deleter,' that cocky old cur.
She can defend her crud bud any way she chooses,
but he will always be the one many of us accuses
of bullying, for each time he returns he reeks of ill will.
Hope we've seen the last of him and his snippety quill.
I mean the groundhog
from Punxsutawney
no ill will
But of winter
this year
I've had my Phil
Palpitating breath of Greed
Masks the Voice of Conscience
When one seeks to be redeemed
Unveils what was tucked away
Hidden until required
Unmasked something different
Once neglected hastily
Loses conscience itself
Loathes being Provoked
Returns at a great price
Tragedy of what it was masked over
Feeds on the ill-will of lies
31 May 2021
Voice of Conscience Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Unseeking Seeker
Too ponderous of a weight
To carry on one's shoulders
Slowly metastasizing
Cancer on one's soul
Submitted for May Premier 8 Any 4 Or 5 Line Form,On Any Theme Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Brian Strand
04/18/2019
My will is ill, sick, sick, sick
with gut-full of menace and bile.
Tongue-tied, anger locked-up inside
I stayed on the high-side.
and let my vicious stinging reply slide.
My rehearsals all played-out internal.
Oh what doozies I had in store,
pre-recorded for live slap down.
But the tempest taunt stayed indoors
shadow-boxing, shouting out insults
to mirrored walls and glass ceilings
It was good to lance the boil, pus expelled.
The hallowed high ground can be a lonely place
where restraint quells the struggle locked-in.
The squirm and fraught fight fades to frustration
by doggedly accepting that I made the right decision.
On another day, things stored away
will surface in a considered way.
Be calmer, let Karma's retribution gel
Bring it on!
New ambient light taking hold of that which was once darkened by time.
New thoughts eluding desires and all answers to the questions at hand.
Laminated emotions taking the places of the empty spaces inside the mind.
Feel the love from behind the reinforced glass? Didn’t think it was possible.
Now the age of reasoning comes into play, now is the time for deep thought.
The devil calls for pain, in waves that crash on this body like water on rock.
No visible damage but over time it wears it down to nothing, little by little.
Plunging into the deep end surrounding the mind and clouding the vision.
Breathing is impossible, gasping for air only brings water into the lungs.
This feels like dying. This feels like numbing. This feels better than living.
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