Kill Off Poems

The Mile Long Tree

Kill off the Mile Long Tree
For anyone who cares only cares about everyone
Revelation in mind, we don't feel the same
You should sort through your thick skull, my friend.
Each twig, a secret forever held
Each leaf, a statement never expelled.
My dear dreamcatcher, though my dearest is radical,
You're being ripped out by your roots, big buddy.
You're calling for unhelpful help.

So "Relational Warming" makes headline news
It consecrates our separate views.
They must've gathered some leaves,
And ever too many twigs.
You'll just grow another tree or two
To make up for the 'loss'
You'll just grow some extra foliage,
Replace the grass with moss
You'll just keep on making excuses
And dwell on your own exhaust.
But you're playing vampire in this romance, my darling.
To blame, you have only yourself.
You're dancing a dangerous dance, my dear
You're calling for unhelpful help.

Itchy Fingers

Itchy Fingers?

I don’t mind dying in a nuclear war.
As long as it’s quick, not a lingering bore.
It’ll give the elite a chance to see the cloud.
Kill off the plebs in a crimson shroud.

I know their fingers are itching.
To press the oblivion button.
See what happens, 
from Moscow to Sutton.
and all the places in between,
They’ll watch it from their bunkers.
All the beautiful people I mean.
The psychopaths who own us
And control our pointless lives.
We the workers who feather their hives.

So, press it Musk, Trump, Putin and all else
Hidden in your bunkers focusing on self.

Obliterate the world. 
And the useless kind
You can do it to me.
I really don’t mind.

David Cox 27/02/24

War

You cherish violence
Is it your way to settle scores?
You hate peace
Wreaking havoc is all you think about
Though your secrets are held close to your heart
An aspect of individuality promoting secrecy
With every act you inflict unbearable pain
Like a fire, 
You consume anything on your path
To sate your insatiable hunger
Many hapless people you kill off
Property you destroy
Anyone standing on your path, 
You mercilessly crush
Like a river,
You make blood to flow
You are an agent of pollution
The atmosphere is filled with the smell of death
You are heartless
For you love to besiege the weak 
And turn their compound into a battlefield
Under your watch,
Many have been made homeless 
Others have become orphans
Some are either widow
Or widowers
You are unperturbed
But your anger has to be sate 
Is your heart made of rock? 
You appear unremorseful
But proud of your actions
We have to speak
Since you are likely to knock on our doors
And infringe on our spaces
Squeezing every breath from our lungs
Our hate for you is so immense
Your strength has made you ignorant
An act likely to lead to your downfall!

Club Q Shooter

Ravenous dream, cluttered and unclean.
Aberrant darkness, hideous and unseen.
Raging killer, seething; hardly breathing.
Raving butcher, leaving death and bleeding.

What demons lurk for a murderer in a gay enclave?
Name the repressed desires by which the slayer is enslaved.
How many kills kill off latent amorous specters in his heart?
Craven homophobe assassinates his shadow from the start.  

What torrent of torment molds a gay executioner?
What self-loathing this child of incendiary invectives?
What self-shaming open wounds forever fester?
What ambiguous mask to hide the emotive? 
 
What type of culture is so threatened by how we love?
What perversion of fear breeds within so many thereof?
What sinister civilization spreads this hate potion?
What dogma of night terrors releases this poison?

Ravenous phantoms, virulent apparitions,
The shooter never lacking in ammunition.
Delicate petals hold ethereal love and kindness.
The rifleman can never kill them in his blindness.

Why Read the Bible

This may sound like an odd question
when so many reject its message
but its been with us for so long
keeps prodding no matter our age

God is its original divine author
with His supernatural pen, He did write
all these 66 books within are holy scripture
everyone that's read it felt its bite

So many say they don't believe it
but have they actually seriously read
this book penned from God's spirit
tells all that God has said

For this Bible brings transformation
to all who believe its promises within
all who are touched are not the same
it tells how to kill off their sin

History one day will reveal
the purpose God planned before time
that His own word is sufficient
to meet everyone with perfect rhyme

7 Billion Super Kill

7 billion super kill 
i wonder too about all this
my idle mind goes into overdrive
i think of the 7 billion humans 
the ruling elite may or may not kill off 
leaving just 500 million left alive
they don’t need our taxes
i was thinking 'sensibly' how they would do this? 
a virus is too iffy
nukes too destructive/radioactive 
how about sending unmanned space probes 
to asteroids with spare engines
put the engines on the rocks and fly them to earth 
all gps guided
either say the rocks are for mining for recourses 
or just use them as a weapon to kill 7 billion
my idle mind lol...

Soul

the soul

Why should I write about my soul? I don´t know?
If a soul thinks if the entity that vanishes when the body dies
into the air, we breathe like autumnal leaves on trees?
Was Stalin a good soul with a dark mind or a smart mind
He good rid of (killed) the obstreperous officers
In the red army to kill off any dissent, he succeeded.
Or was he simply a dark soul?
My mother thought he looked charming, but she failed.
To see his snake eyes.
I can´t make up my mind about Hitler´s soul, his clownish
The body got in the way.
I don´t think, and there is such thing as a soul it is not
Tangible but we can´t call it an aura, Hitler had an aura.
He liked dogs and sweet cakes when not murdering 
Jews and other miserable, like gay people.
In other words, a soul is a Christian idea that promises 
A life ever hereafter how else could heaven have 
a place to so many people

Potty Mouth Potus

I’m appalled at Trumpty the Potus
His Dettol cure just doesn’t float us
Best to keep his gob shut
(Think his brain is kaput)
He’s trying to kill off ‘dem’ voters

04/26/20

You Cannot Hide

Always Lamentable!
You can run but you cannot hide! 
For the face of God watches all your fiddlings. 
And is furious over baby killings. 
You can write all the most moving poetry you choose. 
But you won't escape supporting these pre-birth shreddings.
You really think you aren't killing God's creations?
How diabolical to think human life is but a plastic doll,
created by the Wal-Mart nation! 

I urge all humans with a heart, to allow these tiny ones, 
the chances you and I have had~
To not be murdered, to live and to be loved, instead. 

Perhaps one day, be a fine poet just like you. 
To love the sun, moon, sea and stars. 
Insanity to save animals and trees.
But kill off babies with such joyous ease!!

              



                  June 9, 2019 
                   8:45am PST

Propitiation the Heart of the Gospel - John 4: 10, Hebrews 2: 17

This is truly the heart of the gospel
the work of Christ on Calvary's cross
where He paid the ultimate sacrifice
died for His own for their cause

God hates sin with a holy hatred
for knowing He must kill off sin
in His creation, there was no impurity
but sin entered and so it stayed within

Father God had a master plan
sending His son Jesus to redeem
lost mankind He loved eternally
this was shown with the gospel dream

Propitiation, what does it mean?
Jesus turning away God's wrath
on those sins, He came to redeem
this Jesus followed in the father's path

So blessed be Jesus our substitute
taking the father's wrath for our own
so now covered in the saviour's blood
we receive Christ for He did atone

('In this is love, not that we have loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins.' 
John 4: 10 (ESV)

'Therefore he had to be made like his brothers in every respect, so that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in the service of God, to make propitiation for the sins of the people.' )  
Hebrews 2: 17 (ESV)

Fragile Memories

Fragile Memories

I unfriended you
On facebook today
Drawing two lines 
Under something that
Ended eight years ago
I haven’t been suffering
All those years
Simply didn’t bother
To cut the final cord
Until today
The first couple of years
I found my lessons
Culled the story clean
To the bone and
Discovered my guilt
For not standing up to you
I had let you strip me
Of any value, any form
And I just took it
Like a fool on the rocks
Allowing your black widow
Spider’s nature and venom
To kill off my ego so
It could be reborn
Healthy and wise
I can still cherish the
Good times and see
The ending clearly 
Now, nothing remains but
Fragile memories written
In pale ink...

A Horse, a Horse, of Course, of Course

A Horse, A Horse, Of Course, Of Course

For horses, horse flies,
For humans, shame,
But horses don't kill off
The halt and the lame.
It's apples and oranges.
My, what a surprise.
Horses don't deal in
Deception ... and lies.
Just stop and think.
A no-brainer ... of course.
To have a clear conscience,
One needs be a horse.



 from a poem by Jane Hirshfield


I have permission to use the phrase from her poem, and she signed the original of this poem, which I still have.

You Cannot Hide

Always Lamentable

You can run but you cannot hide!
For the face of God watches all
your fiddlings.
And is furious over baby killings.

You can write all the most
moving poetry you choose.
But you won't escape supporting
these pre-birth shreddings?

You really think you aren't 
killing God's creations?
How diabolical to think human life
is but a doll, created by the Wal-Mart nation!

I urge all humans with a heart,
To allow these tiny ones, the chances you and I have.
To not be murdered, to live and
Be loved, instead.

Perhaps one day, be a poet
just like you.
To see the sun, moon and stars.
Insanity to save animals and trees.
But kill off humanity with such
joyous ease.


June 9, 2019
8:45am PST

Poetry

Poetry Is Earned
fill their costumer with glue
lifer matters their most
Villager queen between its means
there breath of fresh air
through there Mexican sod

another fixture was found to be dead
kill off there motion reflect
blow off spots can't even hear
there is a ladder that leads outsider
framer there discomfort can't even swell

a message to blow
there portrait of gain saying
agree with that compulsive

my aim for the grocer
stick to the native tongue 
whisper in the air
a breath of fresh air
haunted to fare fetch

The tiger mast
poetry is earned

flag their ball simpler but slow
pardon there reaction shed like home,
Poetry is earned

False Reflection

Stop trying to be a poet,
  and say what you feel

Kill off the dilettante,
  both hands on the wheel

In front of the mirror,
  we all wear a crown

Will your verses be written
  —by a sage or a clown

(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2016)

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