Long Hunt down Poems
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Seventy thousand years and we are still fighting over religion.... Not the best
image to hold anything up to and then praise
I can only tell u pieces of this mystery my soul tells me again and again
Of why the world is like this
Revolving around the truth of four sentences
Three planes of existence
One prophet here to become a god and be come like a conductor of an intricate
train set
I have witnessed beauty turn ugly in time
And summers go cold in the winter
And as my godmother creatively throws me away to remind me I'm truly not
human
I look toward the telepathic dreams I have of giants
to rediscover the driving force
As to why we are trying to hunt down men overseas working to revolutionize their
backyards
That they have spent living centuries of terror in
Backed into a corner of horror and mental anguish and pain
Where all they could do out of survival was rise against
Even if it meant with equal force of carrying a gun
Jesus spent 3 days in hell
struck a deal with the devil
I spent centuries there to crawl from that nightmare to be born into this one
To find the footsteps and pieces of the shattered veil of ignorance being bliss
I believe I am more of a hero for being more of a man for taking my punishment
I didn’t deserve
For a test he failed
That turned my joke into hell and blackmailed a favorite angel
to come to this earth to try to understand man's plan to fix whatever the prophet
that is there between the lines of destiny
predicted pulling strings wove and his vengeance struck down
70 thousand years of betray al and punishment
Living in a dark place amongst all of this god’s pain of paranoia and mental
anguish I thought was mine
To realize the prophet full well knew this destiny was coming
and all he could do was cry
Now living in this s earth of oxymoron’s and questions and hunting shadows and
footsteps asking questions myself and finding answers I’m learning to read
between the lines
3 days is easy of a punishment you don’t deserve for a test of betrayal where as
a favorite angel punished for an eternity for god's will to become an actor is an
enlightenment only the prophet with his four demons can fully comprehend how
to mend
Space Rock Climber was born to the void
On an asteroid named for its ores and metals
Orbiting the sun one year after another
Morning never comes
Day never breaks
Silence goes on forever dead
A 10 year old son abandoned by parents
Who moved back to their home planet, Earth
The boy climbs rocks for a living on a rock
Food ran out two years ago
The climber turned to stones and minerals
Surviving on dirt sustenance alone
Rocks stay in place forever with their flavor
Easy to hunt down in craters
Black skies scream at the stars
Lack of atmosphere, depleted air
Low oxygen, no spare tanks, parental lies
Laid out on the platform of dark horizons
No one lives for long in outer space
Parents should not leave their children all alone
Like so much liter waste and weightlessness
He forgot their names
Embraced the great beyond as his domain
They had no room on board the ship they said
If only he were a little lighter
Perhaps he would fit between the gold and silver
Shipments of such commodities are revered
Rock climber has no name
It is not needed in this environment
Temperatures run from the sun
From hot to cold as is expected
Climate fluctuates that way in space
The young man stays the same
Stands on solid ground
Time sets no limits on the day
As the asteroid tumbles on
No doubt it has directions figured out
A barren rock is not a proper home
If he could remember, he would forget
It's for the best
Abandonment is not healthy for the mind
Mom and dad left him minors tools
Smiled and gave advice
They told him to climb high ridges
And wave good-bye
It is a trial out in space
Cry’s go unheard and serve no purpose
The vacuum of the void defines survival
This is the only world he knows
Rock Climber goes up the granite inclines
To find minerals for his soul
He grows too old to work
Then something happened
As luck would have it a collision just occurred
An asteroid hit his little world
Hurled him and his rock back home
Finally he would see the Earth
Enter the atmosphere in a hurry
Just in time to tell his mom and dad
Don't worry! Don't burn alone!
I'm here so we can have a blast together
There was an old cowboy named Claude LaFeet,
the scourge of the western plain.
A Frenchman by birth and a man of some girth,
he limped and carried a cane.
He had been to the 'Pen,' had put in his time,
was now ready to settle the score.
To hunt down a Man, a coward named Stan,
this time it would be war.
But Claude was flat broke, he needed a stake
and was in a great deal of pain.
He had sold his boots and needed more loot,
he'd have to rob a train.
He went to a bar where the liquor flowed cheap,
'Fellas, I'm in a bind.'
Claude was hoping for more but he got only four,
they were the worst men he could find.
They set their trap for the 'Tombstone Special.'
he was told it carried a vault.
They began the attack by blocking the track,
the train came to a screeching halt.
They found the safe and blew open the door,
and there in the morning light.
He had been told... there might be gold,
it looks like they were right.
They divided their booty, he thanked them all,
they asked what were his plans?
'To scour the plains hopefully not in vain
for a coward by the name of Stan.'
One slowly piped up,' I know that man,
he lives in a nearby town.
He's dating a girl by the name of Pearl
with hair colored chestnut brown.'
Claude hopped on his horse and found the place
but remembered years ago.
When in a street one night they intended to fight
but Stan had failed to show.
Tired of waiting, Claude returned to the bar
and was walking through the door.
He heard a loud crack, he had been shot in the back,
he lay bleeding on the floor.
Years had passed with the bullet still there,
he was thinking Stan might flee.
When on the walk he heard Stan talk,
'I hear you're looking for me.'
They went for their guns in a blinding flash,
it had all come down to this.
But Claude was beguiled when he saw Stan smile,
the coward hadn't missed.
An old cowboy dies remembered by none,
a man extremely flawed.
But it was his gain now no longer in pain,
he would answer to his God.
Legends die and stories are told
of men who can't be beat.
How that hero Stan... shot his Man
...the coward Claude Lafeet.
In twilight's reach where shadows creep,
Death stirs awake from a slumber deep.
Shuffling the folds of it’s cloak
For the courage to kill, choking life till smoke.
Bits of maroon shattered mirror fell,
And with it came down the magic of life’s spell.
The search for guts led to revisiting death’s long-sealed heart.
The film of love by life-giving life to death, a haunting bequeath.
In a movie of worship, where shadows kneel,
Life poured tainted tea, helpless with fate waiting to seal.
Each sip, a scene played, betrayal's cruel art,
Death’s heart, a prop in his tragic part.
The dance of the life now shrouded in dread,
As Death plots and schemes, where love once had tread.
With every heartbeat, a promise, a vow,
To hunt down the spark that abandoned him now.
Would agony be his slave if life hadn’t killed him?
He wondered as he hunted for valor to make it even.
Would satisfaction touch his heart if it was not already lifeless?
At this moment, finding himself at his door would be justice.
In an old almirah, it lay, the dagger and maybe enough bravery
He picks it up and marches forward to slash the chains of slavery.
With every step, the air grew thick with dread,
Seven minutes morphed into torment’s thread.
He found her in the eyes of two heartstrings,
Weaving beads of what he was once fed, it stings.
Their love, a cruel mockery of what once was his,
Each laugh a sharp echo of the warmth he'd miss.
Their eyes meet, his mirrors revenge, hers mirrors eternal rest.
A collision of fates, hesitation confessed.
Death and Life brush against each other,
A void where existence was blur.
Two finite entities create infinity- no truths, no lies
As death finally meets himself, steals herself from life.
A supposed moment of torment turns into divine contentment
Mistakes in vengeance are often incandescent.
Life meets Death, and he faces himself,
Revenge wins at last, casting light on their hidden shelf.
One fades to eclipse, the other revives,
Beyond the definition of romantics, only vengeance survives.
A little sparrow flew down to a bush and said, "Please, can you give me a little swing on thee, and the bush angrily said no!
So the sparrow went to a goat, to nibble the bush, but the goat said no!
So the sparrow went to a wolf, to eat the goat, but the wolf said no!
So the sparrow went to the people, to kill the wolf, but the people said no!
So the sparrow went to the Mongols, to slay the people, but the Mongols said no!
So the sparrow went to the fire, to burn the Mongols, but the fire said no!
So the sparrow went to the water, to quench the fire, but the water said no!
So the sparrow went to the ox, to drink up the water, but the ox said no!
So the sparrow went to the poled ax, to chop up the ox, but the poled ax said no!
So the sparrow went to the worm, to eat up the poled ax, but the worm said no!
So the sparrow went to the hen, to peck up the worm, but the hen said no!
But then the hen dared the little sparrow, to go to that bird over there to do what you asked, the little sparrow didn't know that that bird was a sparrow hawk.
So the sparrow went to the sparrow hawk, to peck up the worm, but the sparrow hawk was surprised by this tender morsel and said, you are quite brass and brave, but I do not peck at worms, but I'll have a go at that hen.
The hen saw the sparrow hawk and quickly pecked at the worms.
The worms saw the hen and quickly devoured the poled ax.
The poled ax felt the worms and quickly went to chop up the ox.
The ox saw the poled ax and quickly lapped up the water.
The water felt the licks and quickly went to put out the fire.
The fire saw what the water planned to do and started to burn the Mongols.
The mongols was badly scorched that they began to slay the people.
The people began to hunt down the wolf to kill it.
The wolf who was been hunted went after the goat.
The goat feared the wolf attack and began to nibble the bush.
The bush felt the nibbling and cried out to the sparrow.
The sparrow flew down to the bush and was given swings to its heart content.
Date: 06/16/2019
I loathe the feeling of resentment
Loneliness reigns over me and I need to repent
It reigns over my once high spirits and my heart’s bent!
Stop bringing me down to toil and lament!
It swallows me whole like a troubled tidal wave, descending with heartless revilement
I need a roof on my head or a tent!
Abruptly making me feel atrocious anguish right this instant
I’m sick of being on rent
Avarice pushes it way inside of me and I feel as defenseless and feeble as an infant
What is it like to be in someone else’s skin? I hate myself for everything that went
Through my mind in the past…the adversaries of the past seem to haunt me and I’m trying to prevent
Myself from losing control again…life’s like a cycle that keeps spinning on and I’m sponging in resentment
I never meant to hurt you like I always do – I will apologize to you and I didn’t mean to torment
All the times I’ve spent with each other makes me adore your savoring scent
All of the sudden, you snicker at me insidiously like a hyena, about to hunt down its target, laughing with content
You corner me with your fury and I shutter in vain by the sight of you, you're too close to me and your breath stinks - do you need a mint?
Don't take it to heart, you crying infant
I can't stop shaking like a timid deer, body-quaking with fear and you find this entertainment?
Stop approaching me with your creepy ways, sinister monsters from hell - your screams of vile is perturbing and hell-bent
Why do you regret making mistakes – we all make them…just acknowledge it and move on with life and don’t let it step on you like dirty cement
Burn out this revolting rage that crowns us with disdain and be set free from bondage by simply doing the act of repentance and your time will be well-spent
When I feel resent, I feel this monstrous malcontent…
As if someone has beat me up and broke my nose as my birthday present
Who invited this unwanted guest – Resentment?
A white mope of peace,
The dove flew to the East of Greece.
To meet the only one that mattered,
To reconcile whatever had shattered.
She had seen a shadow howl under the full moon,
The voice so deep that she wanted to see the creature soon.
The sight turned her into a puddle of goo,
And she decided- it was the wolf that she wanted to woo.
She introduced herself with a heart melting chirp
He had just nodded, but that didn't shatter her hope.
She'd stay up till midnight
Only to witness the jaw-dropping sight.
One day he finally gave in
And told her he was an alpha, with a proud grin.
They started to go out and know each other better,
When they were away, they's lovingly post a letter.
But one night the wolf lost his mind
And hunted down a dove without rewind.
Only then did he realise where he stood
And planned to keep his dove away from him. It hurt him to do it, but he knew it would.
The wolf knew he wasn't good for her
He'd lose himself in his hunger
He thought she won't be safe in the beast's cave
But the dove wasn't as naive.
She just wouldn't take the hint
Her eyes never lost their innocent petite glint.
She wasn't ready to let him go just yet,
She didn't want to be proved just another pet.
So the wolf gave her a little show
Called her over three days in a row.
He'd hunt down birds and bring out the beast
But the dove being her, wasn't bothered in the least.
He now decided to go for the only way he could, to keep her safe
With his head held high, sauntered out of the cave.
He grabbed her friend and dove in with a roar, his eyes darkening in colour
As the dove stood spellbound, watching in horror.
The two hearts never met again
They lost their soils 'cause they used their brain
They had their chance but they threw it away
Only to conclude at the end of every day
That he was a wolf and she was a dove
And some people are just not made for love...
The power to name is a trait of God.
After making man, He named him Adam.
The power to name, God shared it with man.
God made the woman; Adam named her Eve.
God made the creatures; Adam gave them names.
The power to name, God’s image reveals.
The names Adam chose, were pleasing to God,
For Adam and God, were of the same mind.
The entrance of sin, corrupted man’s mind,
Sin put man at odds, with the will of God.
The power to name was soon used to shame,
And in short order, to play the blame game.
The power to name can be used for good,
But the same power could be used for bad.
The names we give things aid conversation.
They do not just name but also describe.
Children learn to use their power early,
naming some mates friends, and some enemies.
They know the names to use to hurt and harm,
and the ones to use when they want to charm.
Many parents use their power to name,
in ways that cause their children pain and shame.
The names they call them cause deep wounds and hurt,
that for many an adult never heal.
The power to name can humiliate,
when the goals are, to control and dominate.
By calling men slaves and naming them brutes,
some take the liberty to treat them like boots.
The power to name can incriminate
when the purpose is to exterminate.
Call a race a disease or name them fleas,
then fumigate them as one would do bees.
Some men described their foes as cockroaches,
then ordered their tribe to hunt down and kill.
This led to genocide on a grand scale,
to brutal murders and violence wholesale.
The power to name is as potent as wind,
Given by God to men who have since sinned.
Give names that lift those who are palsied by pain,
Your power to name, don’t ever profane.
Signed a contract, the devil is a liar
Just to save a loved one,
Now I'm baptized in fire
Alone i trail blaze the night
Hair of fire,
Skull burning bright
Cruising a few hundred miles per hour,
Mounted on my hell cycle
I am the vengeful rider
Don't you dare look into my eyes!
If you do
I will see through your lies
I hunt down the wicked
Into the dead of night
Armed with a flaming chain,
Do you really want to fight?
I am the HELL biker
Just try and fight the fire
Johnny Blaze is the name
Vengeance unquenchable,
This fire
Forever remains untamed
So don't you dare look into my eyes .....Go ahead, Just try to give me the evil eye, If you dare to DIE!
Comic book characters- poetry contest, sponsor-shadow Hamilton
05-29-2015
Dog Master
By
Kevin L Fairbrother
Fifty dogs all different in size and shape
Impossible to tell the type of breed, mate
All the dogs have a discriptive and unique name
Irene, knows them all, for none are the same
…
Only Irene can handle and work this team of dogs
They trust and respect her in the paddock, bush and bogs
Their home in the bush a stone throw from the house
Made of tin, steel and hollow logs free of louse
…
Heading, gathering or pushing in the paddocks
In the yard, on the sheep's back, the dogs are no hicks
Commands yelled out amid the noisy barking
The dog master Irene gets the job done, she is king
…
The hounds on the hill get excited and start baying
The rousers stretch their leads in the air they spring
The horse all saddled, the men go forth with guns
Time for a Kangaroo hunt down by the creek run
…
The dogs search for sheep on the plains and hills
They gather, they drive never fearing the terrain or spills
In weather of heat, snow, cold winds or driving rain
They push the mob towards their master, Irene
…
The sheep yard-ed the dogs job is done
Head for home, horse, rider and dogs as one
All the dogs patted when the chains done up
Given a feed of kangaroo and water to warm-up
…
Snug in their kennels, worn out and asleep
Oblivious to the howling wind, cold and sleet
The dogs resting for their work is never done
As their master, Irene heads home on the run