Long Knifes Poems
Long Knifes Poems. Below are the most popular long Knifes by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Knifes poems by poem length and keyword.
The Trail Of Tears.
.
The snow fell when the long knifes came
Savages who robbed the sacred homelands
And buffalo slaughtered bloody plains
Men woman and children the old and lame
Frog marched against their will
Never to see they’re homeland again
They’re hearts so full of pain
.
And the big chief in Washington
In his big tall ivory tower
Declared the native American
Should live how he pleased
Even though it took the native Americans
Dignity away and fall to the ground
Like chopped down falling trees
.
Thousands upon thousands
Wounded souls resigned to they’re defeat
Walked the long trail of tears
With their little belongings and sore feet
Many sick and old
Succumbed to hunger illness and the cold
Countless frozen bodies lay like ice blocks
Littering the snow
The big chief in Washington
Won the days and the demon sold his soul
.
From the prosperous green Caroline's
To Oklahoma and apathy
By a mad cruel man’s greed
And decree
.
Forced to become farmers
When just a dust bowl is all they found
And nothing would grow from the ground
A once proud mighty nation
Did an ancestral dance
Hopeful it would return them
To they’re scared homelands
As hunters and the buffalo
Would again return given half a chance
.
They’re dreams were fruitless
And lost forever in the river of dreams
The depths of they’re sorrow so deep
That haunted they’re waking hours
And the one’s they’d sleep
.
They sent the young ones to schools in New York
To be educated in the white man’s ways
While those left behind
In the reserve concentration camps
Wandered like ghosts in limbo
And rotted in their graves
.
The wheel of history rotates
But the same things always come around
The person with the biggest stick
Lays the law down
.
The black man kidnapped from his home
And shipped to be sold as slaves
When will all this end
And when will man love everyone
No matter who they be
But the truth is many don’t care
And all they are concerned about
Is themselves power and greed
.
Thousands upon millions of stories
Never to be told
Lost forever
Since days of old
Man cannot even
Direct his own footstep
So the good book says
There is no real justice and we are living in
The last days.
.
Peter Dome©2021.
So a cold winters chill steadies across the baron plains of the earth , ice and snow cover it like a patch blanket , with the narry a sign of life , echoing is the sound of old man winter howling and crackling as what seems the day never breaks .
A silence so Erie as to be deafening, the moon shines that shadows this desolate place of great vastness , call it the wild or call it the true test of life , it has an awesome scene of nature to be reckoned with , thus is meant for a challenge , dare to project yourself into this ominous reality.
This place of a harden atmosphere can test the bravest and strongest of any persons iron will , a question of survival tattoos the mind , to be apart of such fierce and dramatic endurance, a setting not unlike a nightmare, what is the just means , pontificating a plan that does not come to a sound conclusion.
The paradox of night and day are like twins looking into a mirror , ice and snow pelting the grass , the trees and the rocks , musically it knifes through the air so freezing as to look alive it is alive .
The wind howling , the wind burning , the wind a formidable foe , to realize its raw power can strike a blow to a once courageous will , it does not let up it never sleeps searing the soul , will it break an already tired spirit, never , never , never .
This force of nature is like a double edge sword , it plays a game of being calm and serine , even has slight repore of peacefulness, but on the it’s razor sides edge can pierce trough anything in which protects you and pushes one to the brink , trapped in its snare trapped in its ravenous plight .
Man in its vanity and narcissistic ego will not abandon this fight , it’s a such a challenge like no other , it does not quit , it will not falter , belief is what one makes of any obstacle, the strength of the mind is the one enigma the piece of a never ending puzzle , it’s vulnerablity is its valour, it’s immaculate design choose to believe choose to endure play your own game this is a virtue to be a calculated strength , peace with in , peace.
There was a day when I was a man
going in the world doing manly things
I realized my fingers just wouldn't do
in this world doing manly things
I did look so long and hard
at displays in many stores
and read reviews and magazines
looking for what would be just the thing
got the money so very much
for so little it did seem
for something that in my pocket would fit
go on my belt within a sheath
my first pair was shiny bright
would deploy with just a flick
opened up all the tools to show
have be unfolded do the task
there were knifes and there were saws
screwdrivers to turn and scissors to cut
and I did very quickly learn
they did not lock and they would fold
but I really did like that brand
and I thought it was almost the thing
so I did get money even more
a got another not quite the same
still was shiny bright stainless steel
but black locks did it have
the sharp knifes still hold in place
so they did not on fingers fold
I did use it for many years
and I did learn so many things
the screwdrivers were quite small
and the scissors quite a joke
I did learn that I did need
some multi-plier that more serious were
with many tools I could really use
and so I began to search again
another pair I did find
that were quite black not shiny at all
had many things that I did like
and other things that I did not
there were gadgets I'd never seen
a couldn't figure out what were their thing
I did try to use them all
some of them I could not
of screwdrivers I had a need
and of pliers mighty and strong
scissors with a longer snip
and no use at all for saws
I have learned of open frames
grips that hurt when squeezing hard
and of files much too coarse
have not yet found the perfect thing
but there are so ever many brands
some are shiny and some are black
and more tools than I can count
designed to do most everything
I do think I'll never find
the perfect pair just for me
with all the tools that I might use
and none of all those other things
How selfish you are, when you're the reason I live and the reason I die...
How selfish you are, when you compel me to laugh and when you compel me to cry...
How selfish you are, when you have my heart and when you have my soul...
How selfish you are, when you take nothing and when you take it all...
How selfish you are, when you steal lives...
How selfish you are, when you leave knifes...
How selfish you are, when you're real and when you are fake...
How selfish you are, when you raise my heart up and when you make it breaks...
How selfish you are, when you're here and when you are there...
How selfish you are, when you care and when you don't care...
How selfish you are, when you bring me the light and when you bring me the dark...
How selfish you are, when you're night holds my star's, when it holds my spark...
How selfish you are, when you make me sad and when you make me smile...
How selfish you are, when you control my life with every little while...
How selfish you are, to be my angel and to be my demon...
How selfish you are, to be my jail and to be my freedom...
How selfish you are, when you are my saviour and when you're my fear...
How selfish you are, when you're so far but still in the same time so dear...
How selfish you are, when you make me feel cold and when you make me feel warm...
How selfish you are, to carry me inside your heart and then to get me out of my home...
How selfish you are, to be in my reality and to be in my dreams...
How selfish you are, when you hate me and when you love me more than what it seems...
How selfish you are, to make me love you so damn much...
How selfish you are, when you're only in my dreams to touch...
How selfish you are, to never show me your face...
How selfish you are, to be my one and only grace...
How selfish you are, to never let me know you...
How selfish you are, to make me contain a huge love that I can't show you...
If selfishness shows your love then always be like this...
But would I be selfish if I asked you for a kiss...
I awaken; the darkened skies my alarm clock
I reek of whiskey, scotch and pastis
Tumbling out of bed, I reach for a cigarette
The dusk harkens as I rise to ply my trade
I am embodied inside a one room flat
The nightlife and the ladies both coming to life
Out the window I see the windmill so famous in red
Ladies with offers, men with drinks, the recipe for lust
I am the mime of the Moulin Rouge
I ready myself with my white painted face
Tonight another performance or so it seems
I shall juggle my knifes, with my many sad faces
Up up up in the air, one, two, three
Knifes in a whirlwind of iconic display
Around and around like the Moulin Rouge
I perform, toss and catch to applause
My sad face bows in graceful acknowledgement
As they toss their lose coins my way
If they see fit to fill my container of misery
I make for them my spectacular encore
I take a knife, a long black sharp blade
Tossed 12 feet in the air, dancing its way back down
As it slices the stem of a red rose in my hand
I now hand a pretty girl a cut rose
The ladies of the evening smile
They see I too traded romance for coin
How sad it is, this Moulin Rouge of dreams
Eleven more roses, and I shall earn my keep
Or so the ladies in red believe
I, on the other hand, will be changing the last act
I am tired of rent and being rented and rented cloth
I shall perform the ultimate act finale ce soir
Selecting the sharpest set of long fine knifes
Lighting them with orange flame, the juggling act begins
My audience enthralled, once again
Wondering maybe does he ever miss?
I never miss, I never shall, this is a certainty
The knifes a glow in fire, lighting the nighttime sky,
Tossed high, I lie down fast, tossed a rose in the air
A Knife as usual cut the rose stem
One, two, three, the knifes enter my heart
The blood will warm the falling rose
As it gently falls upon my silent chest
I die with a smile, yes my final act a success
The rose so tender upon my breast
Breathless all, Gay Paris has died once more
I never miss
Yet, I miss you
Crazy kids go around giving in for free, not feeling passion towards reality and lying to
their parents, thinking they are so right on their thought’s knowing deep inside they are
wrong, there's no turning back after that, then they choose abortion, (Murder) The
innocent who didn't has an idea of what happened, who came by free for a better tomorrow,
I know is none of my business, but is hard to stare at those sluts who are standing there
killing what messiah gave for better chances, those girls are reckless, careless towards
what they are doing, knowing they are exposing to the dark light of Olympus the child's of
dead less sands, what if im the one who want her to abort it, im sure im gonna be the bad
guy who don’t care at all about life, what if im the one who picks up an axe and start to
dismember her myself kept alive in a state of disorder, im sure im gonna pay the prize, im
not sure if im right or wrong, im just sure of who I am, no one have ever stood a chance
for when I know truth, now I know murder, I guess is all I see, my friends and family,
such a tradition on killing child's away for fun, too bad I survive now, if I was aborted
back then maybe they didn’t had the problem now of having to hear and read my screaming
truth, imp sure they will perish, soon enough before I die, I know is incomplete, I know
is a string broken to the god everyone worship’s, but how does a child dies in vane,
because the one who was suppose to bring it to live decided to go to hell and sell it away
by murder, what are they thinking when the knifes are cutting in, what are they feeling
when piece by piece the corpse of the new born is been ripped out of their heaven, funny
when mom is lied and dad is deceived by the act of murder, I wonder, if they were in that
position, how would they feel? I guess nobody cares anymore about how they kill tomorrow
slowly with murder, dismembered before meeting the world, agonize today to die tomorrow,
it’ll then, we are left in state of questioning.
Form:
you’d whisper into my ear
but it was my heart
absorbed your words
when you loved me
way back than
you wrote your words and they made me cry
you wrote those words and you know i died
when you did your round about
when you turned on the heat
turned over every single leaf
left me out alone
in the dead of spring
or
was it winter,
it must of been
'cause i thought I’d freeze
thinking back
you never shied away
you’d whip back your thick black mane
(shined like the sun hid there at nights)
exposed your china white skin
never said hush always ready to play
still remember your dice
the ones in gold
with embedded gems in blue
you loved to roll them
the snake eyes bit
i'd swallow the poison like lemonade
handcuffed and whipped
your ceramic nails
tearing into my back
wore my white shirt
'till someone screamed
from behind it was blood red
i dripped on the floor like a lit candle
melted
you clicked your ruby heels
and you were gone
climbed the ladder
briefcase
Armani suit
never shed a tear
i would yell like a cowboy
riding a bucking bronco
not once did i ever fall
again
but i knew who i was
make no mistake
every rodeo has its clown
and I spoke fluent bull
the only knifes i carried
were still in my back
i lived with the pain
when i saw you yesterday
i held my breath for longer than i ever had
i thought the room would flip like a double sided coin
we spoke
i saw it in yours eyes
regret
you’d heard of my success
how fine i looked in my silk woven garb
you said
drinks
but i looked at my watch
and i think your teeth fell out
when i walked away
i could hear your tears
you threw it all away
when you decided
to look the other way
it broke me inside
i'd never be the same
i never turned to look
yesterday
the message i sent was clear
we’d never be we again
how did i feel
me
me
i'd give my right arm
for one pass of your breath
against my lips
Take my hand victims of hate don’t be afraid
I’ll pull you up and away from this place
Come with me into the night
We will walk down lanes of soft moon light
Come to me lonely souls
Fight for your right to be heard
Open your eyes sunshine
Day light has casted a hazy glow
Were not alone
Others walk this hidden path as well
Put down the knifes that carve your flesh
Sew up the wounds that bleed and fester with loves string
Take their hands
Hold them tight
Reassure the need to stay
For we all fear the fall back into abandonment
Cradle the young left on the streets
Fill their hunger by staying with in arms reach
Let us walk as one
A line that reaches shore to shore
For we are strong and loved
When we remember are hand are linked as one
Let your feet stomp down hate
Your hart sing songs of strength
Don’t let genocide harts think their forgotten
Let them find sanctuary in are rebel arms
For hatred has wounded and scared us all
Take them up and sooth their fears
Listen to their stories of war in time when it seems so unfair
Do not weep alone my loves
Let your tears falls on the shoulders of use that have healed some
Rubbing your back to sooth cocking sobs
We all must weep when things have become too much to bear
For you are not alone nor week
Even when others pass over you as if you’re unseen
So to all my passer bys
Bullies
Racist
And you that pray upon the “week”
I can not hate that what you are
But I will rebel agents that what you do
For us who you hate and torment out number you
One day you will feel the wrath of what hate can do
And when you do…………..
Even you may join are line
For even you will cry
Even you will feel alone
Even you will one day want to die
Perhaps you all ready do
Perhaps now you see
We all need love
Love from and for each other
We are all human
Even you
Form:
I’m dancing on the boardline.
Forgotten distances leaving dust behind.
A sudden movement turned over the weel
a lifetime’s search remains dark and incomplete.
Joined lights shining over the sea whole.
Hidden slaves, warriors of blood still sole,
nailing knifes to open aspects of the skin,
creating melodies with a used and broken string.
And then, the winter comes. Uninvited and heavy,
carrying on a coat of snow and two steps of envy.
Just a quiet flash of light, all that I have to say,
The truth that overtook me once and then sailed away.
And still, that crying of the world scares me a lot!
Dream road that I walked across to meet the look I sought.
Dreams that I created and through the deadend I cheated,
only to be deceived by decisions which melted and then sleeted.
I cut in two the words with arrows falling to the center.
Exactly. I divided my worlds, yet I was only a renter.
The absurd, still approaching. It will be here until I open my eyes.
Illusion of darkness, a void in the day I rise.
Stood in the middle of the ocean and discovered red.
Proceeding from fire and pain, still moving, where I can’t get.
Stood in the middle of the road. Dance steps that I can’t hear anymore.
The melody to which I can’t let go, left somewhere in the seashore.
Countless stars, you look and wait for my eyes!
Nature of the earth and of human, we loved you sharing our lies.
Until the notice of the dawn, together we tirelessly fought
Trying to spin up a circle that we all burned and forgot .
You ask me if I’m strong and if I can stand the rest.
Without redemption, I am dancing letting the soul off my chest.
Subordinated to the submission of a life’s trade
Eternally fascinated by you, untouchable escape!
Form:
Unmeant meanings
Words keep watch
their eyes in the empty spaces
fingers feel their unformed faces
Can words mean what they were not meant for all by
theirnonselves
even if they come clothed in nonentity
cuneiforms hieroglyphics ideophonograms
strokes signs signals sounds shapes silences squiggles squares squirms suctions squirts scuds screams squelches screeches screams or sickening sobs
words sum up fix errant thoughts
speak for all
though in tongues without jousting knights
errancy will not lead to errantry
Only the blind conceive their shape form posture
the staid but rumbunctious music of stilled hieroglyphs
the pliability of ideograms caressed down rice paper
their squiggly strands
the self-effacing hand-and-foot maidens
of matronly phrases
some leaning awry
the calligrapher’s trembling hand
all all straining upright
the custodians of invested stock
foot-stools of pouting poets
the sum-total of coveted currencies
exchanged stock variables
Who would be hurt knifes himself
with meaningless words
who would laugh
breaks out into song
the sing-song stress and accent of vowels round and strong
learns wayward steadfastness
with his words
with words
with the word
with the world of wonder in
always willing and wilful words
April 23, 1997
From the privately-pub. coll. (re-worked 2016): longhand notes (a binding of poems), Paris: 1999, 115p.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016