Long Justified Poems
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Where does my conscious go, when demons raise their fiery eyes,
They steal my very soul, killing all which is sanctified,
Engulfed by instant fears, no longer hearing loved ones cries,
The beast within appears, telling me I am justified,
I have already lost, no reprieve from my mortal sin,
All reason now is blocked, as I become the beast within,
No pity can I feel, as I make my grandiose stand,
Yes the horror is real, as I destroy all that I can,
Where do my feelings go, when demons raise their snarling lips,
Bringing an all new low, into my life now torn to bits,
Certain of being right, I flail and thrash as if in fits,
I threaten and I strike, with great fury the demon spits,
Yet I still stand and shout, my ugly hate and derision,
Accusing lies said out loud, revolting words - degradation,
Just look at what I’ve done, I scream my blatant confession,
Ready to blame anyone, for my evil molestation,
Where does my true love go, when demons raise their gruesome head,
Destroying all I know, without slightest hesitation,
There is no where to hide, hideous deeds - infinite dread,
Shame crushes senseless pride, nothing left but devastation,
Recoiling in horror, reality enters the room,
Now begins the torture, judgment of my now mortal soul,
The evil that is me, my conscious has become my tomb,
I look and all I see, marks my spirit and takes its toll,
Where does salvation go, when demons raise their awful screech,
Making damnation grow, as dark shadows envelope me,
How can I persevere, and escape from this demon’s reach,
For he is always near, and may kill eventually,
Cold and chilling insight, I now realize what is at stake,
And the one path which might, protect the ones I truly love,
But how can I just leave, this world I worked so hard to make,
And cause even more grief, for family and God above.
Where does my resolve go, when demons raise their deadly claws,
Tearing at all I know, stealing my conscious care and pride,
I can’t run anymore, all is destroyed everything lost,
Now beaten tired and sore, I’ve lost my path into the light,
Who can I reach out to, when all I love recoil in fear,
Eyes beseech black and blue, where once was love - now only hate,
Yes I know - I’m the cause, the reason for each falling tear,
And while demons give pause, I must face my terrible fate.
Form:
The most awaited result got publicized, but
Internet hadn't landed the soil of my country.
Televisions were tabled in few pocketed places,
Still they worked, minute and achromatic.
With huge audience circling, signal was word alien,
Viewers would holler in unison, "It's raining!"
I now understand the fluctuation of signal,
We'd leave the jammed hall. No rain outside!
Correspondences saw only lethargic typewriters,
That sounded a poll pecking of a woodpecker.
A single wireless station would be queued
With people waiting for, "Pom, pom, Tango, Charlie."
Communication gravely sought its transmission,
Three-band radio justified on its little way,
Only richer lots bought and owned pompously
And my country had a single frequency squeezed.
The announcement was radioed in a succinct brief-
"The result of 1997 ICSE examination is out."
Nothing more or less, of the India-based examination,
I jumped on my toes only to later feel crushed.
My kiths were dejected with my abortive result,
An unofficial hearsay, they caught hold onto
Their dejection pierced my heart, agonizingly.
I'd to visit my alma mater, result matted least.
A two-day-long journey, not by a luxurious car
But on the hood of a truck on a bumpy roads,
Only the Indian highway would ease the journey
Like relieving the physical pangs of exhaustion.
The mental turmoil intensified as I neared
My school where the sheets would be displayed,
The wall would announce to a hundred lot of us,
The failure provoked sleepless nights and journeys.
My heart thudded as I entered the school premise,
Lips dried, even a pool of water wouldn't wet them.
Shivering, perplexity and numbness, crippled me,
I just wanted me alone to declare the performance.
I walked up the staircase with thundering emotion,
The entrance seemed gloomily unwelcoming,
Saw I a crowd of my mates craning and giraffing,
On the either sides of the entrance, sheets full.
No greetings, no handshaking, I just shied away,
Waited for the crowd to go thinly populated.
Just in one particular column to refer, wanted I,
PCA or PCNA - biggest summary of a year's toiling.
My comrades filed out slowly, forward I lunged,
Searching my name, throbbing took its tempo.
Spotted the name, from the wall, PCA grinned,
Pass Certificate Awarded, I became triumphant!
©?Khachab Dorji
Your vision is clear
No longer deafened
But able to hear
Child to man, you stand
Your time is now
Lashing motion of your judgmental hand
Tongue and teeth gnashing a solid command:
'As a man forged flesh and bone
Of my native mother's land
Risen from soil and stone
Formed by my father's hand
Sworn by purity, prosperity and protection
Oppositional lines were crossed
We will not fall to, but fight this infection
As we sight this spreading viral sign
We become an antibody when barrel and skull align
Unabided are the restraints of government laws
Severed for our birth-given right
As men of white
To follow a greater cause
You say I am but one
Yet I am the face of the revolution
I am the hand of your salvation
The hope of this beloved nation
And I am a bullet inside a chamber of many
Justified death and destruction beside me as any
This bloodline of the swine
Inhale it's deportation
Standing pure and solid, we shine
Exhale it's existence
Rid this worldly contamination
They have no quality to bear such arrogance
Take this hand of salvation
Join our march to everlasting victory
Walk with us these winding roads of Hell
Fly this flag of truth and know our story
So truth is exactly what you'll return to tell
So that you will see what I have seen
And come to understand what we truly mean
When along with our hoisted flag
Bleeds the head of the Z.O.G. Machine.
So the Death's Head marches
Just like the sea before the storm
The darkened depths of destructive minds churn
A single motion of haunting form
To ensure that this scum will learn
A bullet among many, indeed
Columns of each an idea
Bearing seed
A mirror image of one another
Vengeance consumed for the rape of their mother
The cities burn as the S.S. discern the corpses
From the walking dead
Still forward marches the Death's Head
The tide rises in a hailing salute of hands outstretched
High toward the crimson sky
Carving a path toward gates Heaven bound
The streets, a tranquil lullaby of no sweeter sound
Eyes cast upward
Swastika pupils dance along a hellfire grin
Certainty that this can be no sin
A chant for succession in the hour of white power
Proud, bloodstained and pale
They chant, "Sieg heil!"
With grace and glory, our men of alike blood
Hold high both head and hand
Against this threat we'll never fail to stand
They can't hide from the drowning tide
We are the Black Band.
My Friend My Pen.
Moments ago my world has gone grey my lover who for years
has governed my entire creation is walking away.
My energy failed me i felt cold when my dark mind went astray
I could not understand why? why I had to judge him hold a grudge
against him his reasons should be justified hopefully one day.
Staying home alone could not calm my storm
Wanting to talk and share my pain I searched for
Someone but it was all in vain nobody was free
Friends were passive and non receptive.
My persistence pushed me to climb up my favorite tree
And find my old friend my pen which cannot talk or walk
But knows whats in my soul will search to find a way to give
Me hope to accept & cope that my lover was walking away
And my world was turning grey.
My Pen
And I worked as a team for years forces me to dream
Lifts me up high when I start to sigh encourages me
Not to frown but to smile and comply to forget that my world
Turned grey because i was about to be given away as a prey
Due to my lover walking away.
My Pen
Stood by me when my days got cold & nights
were dead as i refused to be fed i did not want
to hear or fear that i should be ready to obey
that my lover was walking Away.
My Pen
My friend convinced me to stay as a mistress and
begged me nothing should come to an end please
defend his fate and admit to submit your love to
him before he goes away as maybe someday he'll
come back on any other day.
Leaving my friend My Pen hanging alone on the tree
I felt an uncontrollable urge to run be free to hold his
Picture take a glance just a glance but in seconds tears
Started dripping out of it. I sat on my rocking chair
Staring through the night carrying my pain in my heart.
I needed to stay speechless not even a wink of hope
Having no right at the moment to end it here i knew
what i had to be doing I needed to remain his hero
even helpless i will love my lover remembering years
ago when our path crossed each other we froze stunned
locked our eyes and uttered the unspoken It was love at
first sight.
My Pen woke me up one day to open my mail I found a
note from My lover unexpectedly my breathing stopped
the excitement to search through his soul gave me the
reason to jump and read.
Open the door I am outside.
Terry
The question is, who is to blame?
I often ask myself this question with no other thought than to torment myself. I have always concluded to admit (though it is a straight-out lie) that I am to blame. I am the cause of these insecurities…these torments…these infernal thoughts—my literal insanity. A part of me actually believes that lie! I am in awe. Can you fathom such a thing? A lie that I know is in fact a lie is so deeply strung in the recesses of my brain as to lead me to believe that is IS the truth! I am to blame. Why justify this lie into ostensible innocence and truth? Who the hell do I have to convince!?
I think I mean to torment myself to the grave…I have justified many a lie for that sole purpose. On the pedestal the lie rises and engulfs the spirits, taking with her the very pride and dignity I pretend to promote. But what is the pleasure in a lie when there is no one to lie to but yourself?
So I lie today and every day. I write hour upon hour of useless words that I, in all of my nothingness, can only appreciate to its fullest. And I laugh when somehow through the valleys of mendacity, a raw truth emerges. It has many eyes and many ears. It can be tasted that someone…someone out there has been convinced.
I remember my wife was holding our child
I had just lashed out at her,
Had beat her to the core
With the brutality of my merciless words
She was trapped in the fury of my hellish present,
Sucked up in the very heart of it
What haunts me the most…
Was how calm the baby was through it all
There she was in hysterics,
Literally out of breath in her own sobs,
Clutching my daughter’s little hand
In her feeble, sorrowful embrace
She looked into her eyes
The child was looking straight into her soul
I paused from my torturing and watched,
As that serene child never looked away
From the globes of her mother’s eyes
Straight into her pain-filled life,
Trapped in the ugly, sticky redness of her sagging cheeks
I wonder how one so young
Could even bear looking into the face of raw sorrow
That void was beyond me…
That child that day…was not my own
A crack of a smile appeared on her face and I completely lost it
She enjoyed her mother’s sorrow!
She enjoyed it…
If she could only see me now…
How happy—how happy that child would be
Pharisee went into the Temple to pray
Sure of his goodness and love for God
He prayed confidently about his deeds
Fasting, tithing, praying, He did faithfully
This man was glad when the sinner came
Into the Temple with eyes downcast.
For it gave a perfect contrast to himself.
So he thanked God he wasn't like this sinner.
Sinner was bowed so very low before God.
"God have mercy on me a sinner." he whispered.
No list of good uttered, as he could see none.
Jesus said Sinner not Pharisee was justified.
Simon the Pharisee invited Jesus over to eat.
Simon didn't have servants wash Jesus feet
He didn't kiss Jesus or draw near for fear,
Fear of what others Pharisees would think.
In came a sinful woman with unkempt hair.
She wept at Jesus feet without looking up.
Carefully she wiped these feet with her hair.
Simon was now sure Jesus was no prophet
A prophet could surely tell she was a sinner.
How could he let her touch him that way?
Reading Simon's thoughts Jesus taught.
Using this contrast in real life as a lesson.
He asked Simon if there were two debts
One greater, one lesser and both forgiven.
Who would feel greater love and gratitude?
Simon replied, "The one whose debt was greater"
"Correct" said the One who would pay all debts.
Those who know their debt to God is great.
Are filled with greater love toward the Savior.
Simon showed he had little need for the Christ.
But to the woman. Jesus said, "You sins are forgiven."
"Go and sin no more." She stood free and esteemed
Precious are those who come humbly to the Lord
He will forgive and welcome them to His Family forever.
Humility. Pride. Contrast. Mixed in all of us.
People who come to God feeling worthless, Christ lifts up.
People striding in proudly, Jesus humbles to allow entry.
For the Lord's Kingdom's door is incredibly low.
So low that we enter only through true confession
From the heart to Jesus as Savior who humbled Himself
Coming down from glory to earth's mess to make a Way.
By humbling Himself on a Cross – Universe's God tortured.
Jesus contrast makes ours seem small – so why wait?
May we take the humble road to Life, risen Christ made.
Joining God's family of forgiven, freed, joyful sinners.
New life's contrast with old will grow as we follow Him.
By a thankful sinner now saint by Jesus' grace
Truth Hurts but Sets You Free
I have no ounce for your feelings,
they misguide you so.
They throw you on a rollercoaster,
they shift your position to and fro.
One moment you are up,
and the next you are down,
you are acting like a yo-yo,
behaving like a clown.
You begin to yell and shout,
thinking you are justified.
You turn yourself into a public spectacle.
with every outrage, you die deep inside.
You have no idea the hurt you cause
when it is discipline that you need.
You hate what it is I say,
accusing me of being mean.
But truth be told, it is truth, you hate,
because it means you lose control.
Reality conflicts with the lies you believe,
and quite frankly, your gaslighting is getting old.
I understand you were led down a broken road.
And a paddle to the saddle you never had.
Truth and God are now your parents,
and that fact is making you mad.
But wake up, you spoiled brat,
see all that surrounds you die.
You live in a great hypocrisy,
because what you believe are all lies.
You cannot fight racism with racism.
You cannot hate men and call that love.
You cannot support women with feminism
when it’s a man you defend,
… parading as an imaginary female dove.
You cannot be for the environment
when you commit the same “crimes” you accuse “them all.”
You cannot be a vegetarian
unless you reject it all.
So, let’s be honest now, you are vain, spoiled, and angry.
and that is no way to truly live.
Jesus is who you reject,
because condemnation is all you give.
Jesus did not come for that;
he came to forgive every sin.
He died so you can live.
Now allow “love your brother” to begin.
Stop fighting and all your mischief.
Stop acting like a spoiled brat.
Start living like you preach.
Stop behaving like a rat.
Humble yourself, and in Him have faith.
Learn to live and how to forgive,
and follow His every command.
Only then you’ll stop your killing,
and with joy, truly live.
It is time for the people of the world, to stop pursuing the World,
start reading the Bible, and live a lawful, and faithful life.
Raise your boys to be men of great faith.
Raise your girls to be ladies of great faith.
And this world will be a better place.
by Martin Braun
August 1, 2023
The cavern breathes.
Its walls slick with time, with damp, with secrets.
It has seen centuries of footsteps,
but tonight, it watches.
Above, the sky stretches wide—
galaxies shifting, burning,
too far, too indifferent
to witness what he has done.
She is beneath him.
Was beneath him.
Her breath stolen, her body cooling,
the fight long gone from her limbs.
He had taken what he wanted.
More than that.
Everything.
Now, only the cavern knows.
His hands, trembling now, touch the stone.
His chest heaves.
Guilt? Regret?
No—something deeper, something worse.
And then, he screams.
The sound rips through the cavern,
tearing against rock,
splitting the silence open
like a wound.
The walls tremble.
The ground shifts.
The cavern awakens.
For a breath, it grieves.
For a breath, it remembers her.
Then, it judges.
The air thickens.
The trembling stops.
His voice is taken,
flung into the void,
cast to the stars
never to return.
This is his punishment.
Not death.
Not solitude.
But silence.
The last tether to her,
severed.
Once, she pressed her palm to his chest.
Felt the hum of breath.
The warmth of skin.
The pulse of something real.
Now—nothing.
The cavern swallows the last echo.
Above, the universe turns on,
uncaring.
And the stars—
they do not grieve for him.
Reflection:
This poem is about justice—true, raw justice. The kind that human hands often fail to deliver. He took everything from her, stripping her of dignity, of breath, of life itself. But the world, the universe, does not punish men like him. They walk free, justified by excuses, shielded by silence.
But the cavern does not forget. It listens. It knows what he has done. And so, in a world where men take and walk away unscathed, the cavern becomes the reckoning. It takes the only thing left to take—his voice, his ability to be heard, his existence as something that matters. It does what the world refuses to do.
His punishment is not death. That would be too simple, too kind. Instead, he is erased, left in a silence that mirrors the silence he forced upon her. A silence that echoes forever, but never back to him.
And the stars? The universe? They do not grieve. Because this was never about them.
This is about her.
Hello. My name is Nicholas, and you can call me Nick. I also must tell you about Matthew, and you can call him Mat. I once despised Mat and others like him, but now he has become my best friend. I am the Pharisee and Nick is the Publican about whom Jesus gave a parable. There was an occasion when Mat and I went to the temple to pray at the same time. I'm sure you would agree that my thanksgiving prayer left no doubt about what I was most grateful for. My prayer described a 'righteous' person who despised others unlike himself. I was thankful for that. Jesus used me as a perfect example of a person who is 'thankfully righteous' in his own eyes and with those same eyes, look down on other people.
Listen if you will to a short prayer I once prayed that I would never utter again because my life has been completely changed. "OH GOD, I THANK YOU that I am not like other people-robbers, crooks, adulterers, or, heaven forbid, like this tax man. I fast twice a week and tithe on all my income. Now, listen to Mat's prayer. He had no pride nor anything to boast about. "God, give mercy. Forgive me, a sinner." *
It was as if I had a Thanksgiving Holiday Spread filled with everything for my personal satisfaction. i.e. I had an overflowing POT of "I'm not like other people". I had a larger than normal BOWL of "I fast two times a week". I had a commercial-sized PAN of "I give tithes of all I possess". I had a big PLATTER of "I am a just man". I had a PLATE full of "I'm faithful to my wife". My dining table was overflowing with things I feasted on. I was full of it; full of myself. Yet, after feasting on all that I had, I was still hungry and empty, unjustified, abased, and unacceptable by God. On the other hand, the tax collector came hungry and empty but left filled, fulfilled, forgiven, and justified by God.
I later met Jesus and became born again. Now, I despise none and love everyone. And now, like my best friend Mat, I know how to pray, and I understand the true meaning of Thanksgiving.
11122018PoSoup *Message Bible
It started when I was a child
I was a kid with a gift
That no one understood or recognized
Instead of loved I was picked on and ostracized
However I blocked it all out
But little by Little its all coming back
Like layers of an onion
That held me tightly wrapped
Bits and pieces of my memory
That were hidden away in code
Deep within my mind a door was closed
I?ve reached in to remember because my life is now in jeopardy
All the emotional and sexual abuse that I closed off to survive
Has been staring at me sabotaging my life
This life is not what I have dreamed and I am dying inside
And if I don?t face the truth of what was done to me
Then I will surely become the monster that I despise
And as the tears bellow up
I again take another breath
Like soot in a fireplace and a hair ball in a cat
I cough up the toxic memories
As images flash through my mind
With my face in the toilet I begin to cry
My body begins to stiffen as nausea rises to the top
I then begin to wail from deep in my chest
It?s a hideous cry that sends chills down my spine
As I grit my teeth and hang on for dear life
A thought runs through my mind why.. why.. why.. why.
I?m tired of the black outs
I?m tired of the fear
I?m tired of the loneliness that have held me prisoner here
I?m tired of the pain and suffering that has come in my parents name
I?m tired of all the trauma and I?m tired of all the drama
I?m tired of the neglect that?s been perpetrated on my soul
Keep your hands off of me, keep your beliefs away from me
From all the mental abuse and all the negative remarks
And you still don?t see how you?ve damaged my sensitive heart
I?m tired of hearing all the denial
I?m tired of hearing how there is nothing wrong with you
I?m tired of you blaming everyone else but you
I?m tired of hearing how you hate this and you hate that
I?ve tried for years to heal this wound
But it seems to have spread to my nephew too
I don?t know what else to do
I even ruined my only serious relationship to get revenge
In my mind I justified their crime
From all the bad advice and all the dysfunctional decisions
And I thought I was reversing everything
When I vowed never to get married and have kids
But that sabotaging act has done me more damage