Long Massacre Poems
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The people of this world are like the three butterflies in front of a candle's flame.
The first one went closer and said:I know about love.
The second one touched the flame lightly with his wings and said:
I know how love's fire can burn.
The third one threw himself into the heart of the flame and was consumed.
The alone knows what true love is.
Rumi
I sit alone in a silent field of fairness,
under saffron rays kissing sunflower serenity,
among dawn's daisies and dusk's dandelions -
watching buds floating away with whisking winds.
Fate does not favour my quest to soar freely.
In a meadow of humanity's betraying breaths,
our buttercup souls become ambushed by a suffocation of sighs.
When there is no justice in spiteful judgement,
visions of Basilisk slither with a deadly gaze.
Envious eyes poisoned by potions of venom,
abuse the selfless mistress of my garden's muse -
but without Eve there would be no Adam nor Eden.
Weeping on the grave of her past self,
her fatigued spirit struggles to fight and rise.
I watch darkness ascend in springtime,
when her mind portrays a veil in the misery of mist.
I feel like a helpless flame burning in ivory wax.
Untreated wounds with time festering
into an ebony existence of self deprecation.
I can see butterfly hunters with their narcissistic nets,
chasing my imperfectly perfect empress of empathy.
Her heart hungers for a plethora of petals,
to hover from a ruby rose to lotuses of liberty,
but predatory birds like harlots and hussies,
have lured her into a withering winter colony of thorns.
Sorrow stitched her eyes closed with merlot thread,
as her sanity sits upon the edge of heaven and hell.
The Devil wears a hat with an emblem of her sins.
The bewitching conspiracy of his crimson eyes,
tempting to massacre the magnificence
of her invisible crystal wings of bronze and gold.
In a martyrdom of self-sacrifice,
love reminds her that kindness glows softly like fireflies,
as she tries to find light in a tunnel of lost thoughts.
The universe echoes her cosmic whispers of life,
as psychedelic ink shimmers like starlight in her veins,
pouring compassion into a selfish blank canvas of hearts.
Cherry blossoms tint the air pink
and she's looking at the world through their gaze,
but knows like everything,
their fragile beauty is only momentary.
Deep within the world so modern,
Lies a hidden road not trodden,
That states the obvious truth be told,
Printed in ink black and bold,
That lost in worlds of ecstasy,
Trapped in snares of misery,
That wars the rumors be told they sneered,
Now not alive a bray a’bird,
Gone are thoughts that thinketh straight,
And now to turn back it's O’so late,
Truth is gone, and truths be’come,
Lies run wild thru’ Urb and slum,
Prove me wrong this not happen,
But wrong they are yet shamelessly clappin’,
All so jolly good way they are,
From the Truth they stay afar,
Given in to the delusions be,
These strange worlds move so surreally,
That eats place a first a crown,
And Wannabe’s laze and fuss arroun’,
Talks about this and that and all that’s good,
Ney earn their money and cry for food,
When not given they stage a protest,
What they think is unjust!
But truth be told they sloth all day,
Sit around and laze away,
Their youths burnt dry, so willfully done,
When the brave reproaches them, they rant and away they run,
Sad to see, this is our reality,
Where all but’s none have time for thee,
Where life’s no respect and death appraise,
No wonder! They fit in with Artemis’ ways,
Tis’ are days of Noah’s time,
Filled with false hate and unwanted slime,
The hot is cold and the cold is hot,
They should be left to these ways to rot,
For no amount of reproach or preaching change they,
They want to remain that way,
So, let it be and move on in life,
Find a place to settle, build a home with your wife,
But when they come, O’Brave men of life,
To scandal your family and toss the knife,
Don’t debate them in anyway by words,
Take up your weapon and massacre they featherless birds,
Let them cry foul, whine and weep,
For they are into misery so deep, even the good that they do is evil so steep,
Let it be, let it be and protect your families,
From these so called ‘Justice Warriors of all the Sissies.’
What is well, when men of old just a teen,
Went to war for freedom’s freeing,
No scandal was found heard, no loose talk in the winds,
They wives waited for them, rather than sinned!
But if now one were off, to fight for justice cause,
In their absence does much spend, party’s all that splend.
Not all I say that way be done but are true, true indeed to none,
Tis’ a tragedy with my pen and ink I write and run.
Music and romance are camarilla comrades,
just like poems are my shield and arrows.
But not all lullabies of lovers,
harmonise like a street choir of angels.
If love resembles the weather,
then poetry is like a snowflake.
Its fragile abstract nature
can betray the innocence of a poetic heart -
serenading in slaughtered symphonies of silence.
When lust burns in assailable impurity,
love suffers in small doses,
performing a masquerade concealing truthful tones.
So what is the purpose of poetry if it offers no remedy?
Whispering winds form hailstorms in my mind,
wondering if there is a sanctuary
for lonely spirits suffering as seasonally sad souls.
In the midst of melancholic misfortune,
I wish to drown in tepid tides of holy water,
because fate is frozen in winter wanderlust.
Heartache taught me how to be a poet,
each scar inflicted from profound lies and cries.
But what is the purpose of poetry if there is no muse?
In the perception of imagination,
I search for the one
who left frozen tears on my pillowcase.
But her eyes see celestite waves kissing
ecru shorelines under blue pearlescent skies,
blessed with the radiance of saffron sunshine,
in the heavenly harmony of relaxing music.
So, I wonder why she resides in ebony emotions,
refusing to dance, lost in lyrical lament.
Some spirits evolve into envious entities,
but mine just misses the rose window to her soul.
When wine dark skies glare in misery and gloom,
composing ashen clouds to pour in plentiful rain,
I feel the chills of an Antarctic iced leaf on an ice covered lake,
but maintain an evergreen glow,
hoping to forever illuminate like cathartic moonlight -
reflecting upon her bronze fibers.
Opposites attract like fireflies in the night.
I am the bridge and you are the chorus.
so I follow footprints in the snow,
under the guidance of devotary sincere stars.
In the hope we will make melodies at midnight -
merging into rivers of unassailable purity
And If I can't be a poet, then I'll become a poem.
I cannot predict how my ink will spill,
so will you guide each verse to give it a purpose,
breathing my words into life?
Will you love me more than poetry?
Kissing all those diamond promises
into my rhinestone heart -
or will you massacre the music,
abandoning me like an unfinished symphony.
the world watches Holmes
sit “dazed” in the courtroom,
with each mainstream media
monolith
churning out the sound bites
referencing his eyes & his
red hair---
the picture that goes viral is
of course the one that can
be likened most to something
out of Heath-Ledger-as-The-
Joker-101,
visually answering questions
for the people at home,
because we all know that
individuals who dye their hair
red are megalomaniacs who
will more than likely, eventually,
inevitably, order bullet proof
clothing, a gas mask & 6, 000
rounds of ammo, with the
“calculated & deliberate”
intent to walk into a movie
theater & blast everyone into
oblivion.
and when every talking head
from Oates to Obama, comments
on the massacre, we watch them
stumble over the responsibility
that this culture has to own up to
when something like this happens---
rather, they weigh it all on the
shoulders of one red haired
young person, whilst hugging
the loved ones, the family of those
whose members were killed.
subtly inactive in regards to the
actual problem at hand,
mumbling things about finding
better ways to “take every step
possible to ensure the safety of
all of our people,” all the words
that flow from mr. hope & change’s
mouth add up to no actual veering from
the status quo in the future & the mum
mum hush hush gun industry knows
this, giving the big man a nod.
instead, we look with inspiring eyes at
Obama, when he tries to gain a
collective sense of sympathy from the
crowd, when remarking that “we may
never understand what leads anybody
to terrorize their fellow human beings
like this”…
and as we shake our heads &
hug ourselves, just hoping that such
violence never affects us directly,
or harms our own families/friends in such
a manner,
we all turn a blind eye to the people
that our military has massacred throughout
the more than 200 years that our country has
existed &
we turn a blind eye to the violence enacted
upon the citizen’s here at home, who have
suffered & continue to suffer
at the hands of the police & state
officials,
whilst the paranoid & terrified hicks
out in the middle of bumble****
no man’s land,
clench their rifles & their pistols,
never having been threatened by anyone,
anywhere, for any reason at all,
thinking that the whole world is out to
get them,
swearing that they will never move a
muscle in the direction of progress.
“Oh, not in my town,” you doth so loudly protest.
But I tell you, they are even in your governments!
The first sign is~ suppression of your free speech.
We let them, outlaw words, while leaders sun at the beach?
You will find that your country,is really no longer your own,
All your taxes go to others from other countries, unknown.
Your country’s flag is burnt in the streets with livid hate and glee?
By masked protestors, filling the streets with grand superiority.
The USA policemen and women are killed with joy and glee?
And people run for President, supporting this inhumane tragedy?
When, in your country, your rights are out the patriotic window.
Be afraid, be very afraid……of this Communistic horror show.
You will be jailed for words that you wrote a friend online?
In free countiries, you write as you choose, and all is fine…
I watch, news from international servers and stations.
Powerful nations are stealing your rights, its citizens,given a ration.
The Nazis march in your streets, to destroy another nation.
Their hate so obvious and ill, that it is a cause for celebration?
These same people, would have gladly cheered on…the Holocaust?
Today, wear masks and scream for death~indeed their souls are lost!
Their heroes killed babies, youngsters, parents in their own homes.
And butchered the young at a dance..as the daybreak’s sun has shown.
A butcher shop of dead, young people unidentifiable, they were in parts.
These monsters then killed their families, and destroyed homes and farms.
So the friends of this bloody mayhem, do march in your “free”streets.
Supported by the UN and all of them, Satan’s souls, a most delicious treats.
Most nations want this nation,wiped off the face of this now maliciciuos earth.
Satan will welcome them, that Fallen Angel, with his evil smile of dirth.
God bless the thousands of innocents murdered a year ago today..
I have grieved for them all, each day nonstop without allay.
The media has largely ignored this most tragic event of my life.
I hope I awaken some souls to this horror and world strife.
Bless and release the starving, lonely, abused and dead hostages!
The 10/7/2024
In Honor of the fallen during the Nova Massacre.
November 7th, 2023! I will never forget!
You know that new Halloween movie coming out in October, well this is the soundtrack
The only difference is I have the audacity to kill Poetry without masks
My pen is sharper than Michael Myers knife and I've also put my surgical gloves on
Pieces of paper from my pad laying on the floor to put your blood on
I'm not even the violent type
But my pen will cause so much destruction that it can't be a silent night
My mind games will drive you Insane, but you'll secretly enjoy being the passenger
The torturing will be so much that you'll wish I was a kind hearted soul like Dracula
The poetical Michael Myers is here to cause a Halloween massacre
You think I'm lying and that I'm bluffing?
Well I used Freddy Krueger's fingers to cut the pumpkin
You can't kill me, I won't vanish
You can try, but you won't manage
I can survive any amount of damage
What are you going to do to a Monster who uses Jason Voorhees machete to make a sandwich?
If you don't like Horror movies then you best leave
Freddy Krueger made you want to have less sleep
This isn't your typical Horror movie, where there's a flickering light and someone dies during a sex scene
It's worse, because everytime I write a rhyme on paper it will make your flesh bleed
So I literally make sure everything I write on the page is felt
It'll cause Freddy to die in his own dream while he's dreaming about being as great as myself
I birthed a generation of copycats in other movies
But none of those mattered because they couldn't reproduce me
You can hide to try and last longer
I may disappear from time to time, but it's only to come back stronger
And I'll stay in your mind forever so you can't lose me
I know it hurts, and reading this will cause blood to come from your eyes
Because you just realised that Michael Myers won't die
And there's nothing that can be done about it
Everyone loses their minds and becomes dumb about it
You won't escape Michael's clutches once he has a hold of you
Nice people don't last, it won't matter if you have the warmest heart in the coldest room
I know everything about you, without anyone sharing out your info
You can lock your door, just to find me staring through your window
I just killed poetry without a mask
Michael Myers is back, and this poem is the New Halloween movie soundtrack
CAN ONE BE ARRESTED FOR YELLING LIAR IN A CHURCH?
You pious people in your pews
All you reading about the arrival of some wondrously good news
A new horizon can’t you see?
Well imagine you were with my wife, infant child and me
We three had left together but suddenly there were four
And I’m not certain about much more
Four in the quietude of dripping rain
No one letting go of the pinching pain
because only the rain deserves such disdain
We picked up a hitchhiker as into rough waters we’d wade
And the gentleman told us to please call him ‘Suade’
And called this a “storm by madness made”
And then he made us walk blindly through the wood
Until he told us to stay precisely where we stood
in the wilderness it is a mean and uncertain gamble
As you amble through the briars and the brambles
You need to possess a lot of fortitude
Because the icy winds are oftentimes too rude
Suddenly Suede swung and that’s when my hope and strength were to fade
He rose up like an oak in a forest of fear and I opposing Suade
A madman, a maniac, a massacre made
And in that infinitesimal and infinite second, although I am a pacifist, I could have killed Suede
Then suddenly the fighting was done
As Suede screamed orders I just wanted us all to run
And doth did both men huddle close to his opponent
While adding Suede’s scent akin to camel dung to the troubles of his component
There were three of us and he was only one
But the one who wields the power is the one who wields a gun
His mind was set on our flower of a daughter whom he decided to pluck
Now let’s all go out and find her,yeah, lots of luck
Suddenly he just stole our baby away
I begged him to let our baby stay
Away I say, and gone perhaps for ever and good
Hidden n a new area, in a brand new neighborhood
All we wanted to do was give a ride and fill a need to help the needy
But some men are seedy and too many of them are greedy
His scowl was darkness, his blackish eyes seemed way too dim
And that’s virtually all we can remember of him
While the police find not the culprit in a world of the gross and the grim
While most of us believed us finding her were slim
My wife and I were defenseless and both our hearts were horrendously hurt
Oh, and we were only the second parents to use what we now named an “Amber Alert”
© 2011.….
...A jolt ran though the broken men,
like wraiths they rose, streamed for the door,
Gobayth waved them on until
nobody remained anymore.
They raced on towards the small hut
where all of the pick-aces lay,
some guards were starting to notice,
running about every which way.
Gobayth wished the poor men luck,
but he did not follow their path,
and instead ran to the side gate
the guards used to go out and back.
It was little more than a door,
and Gobayth figured these keys
might just be what could open it,
one of them did, and he was free!
He heard the fight behind him race,
but raced toward the stables dark,
ducked low as two guards raced by,
the sight nearly stopping his heart.
He slipped in and grabbed a lean horse,
didn’t bother with a saddle,
rode it out and cantered northwards,
by the stars, through night, he travelled.
Come day he hid in deep forest,
usually laying low by a stream,
he’d eat whatever he could find,
then make ground under the moon’s beams.
Several days brought him to the moors,
the great, rolling plains of his youth,
he wanted to cry out in joy,
but came to see a brutal truth.
The grass was blackened, turned to ash,
only some young seedlings poked through,
fire had consumed everything,
at least everything in his view.
He saw no horses, cattle, goats,
no herds ambling through their home,
but as he pushed on he soon saw
scattered heaps on animal bones,
And further still, charred, half-burn tools,
seared rawhide, skeletal ten frames,
whole families were set ablaze,
very little of them remained.
He rode to where his family
usually grazed this time of year,
the landscape didn’t change that much,
his stomach was a knot of fear.
Then he found a burnt-up lodgepole,
a falcon totem on the top,
the metal bird, his family’s crest…
Gobayth’s heart and reason stopped.
Around the site were scattered bones,
picked over by the scavengers,
what remained of the ones he loved,
Which were his sisters? His mother’s?
On the bones he saw deep sword-cuts,
this hadn’t just been the fire,
people had killed them where they stood,
a massacre had transpired.
He searched the grass around the site,
trying to find some sort of trace,
he found a broken, steel spearpoint,
the kind the Black Flint people made…
CONCLUDES IN PART VI.
CAN ONE BE ARRESTED FOR YELLING LIAR IN A CHURCH?
You pious people in your pews
All you reading about the arrival of some wondrously good news
A new horizon can’t you see?
Well imagine you were with my wife, infant child and me
We three had left together but suddenly were four
And I’m not certain about much more
Four in the quietude of dripping rain
No one letting go of the pinching pain
because only the rain deserves such disdain
We picked up a hitchhiker as into rough waters we’d wade
And the gentleman told us to please call him ‘Suade’
A human storm by madness made
And then he made us walk blindly through the wood
Until he told us to stay precisely where we stood
in the wilderness it is a mean and uncertain gamble
As you amble through the briars and the brambles
You need to possess a lot of fortitude
Because the icy winds are oftentimes too rude
Suddenly Suede swung with a swipe and that’s when my hope and strength were to fade
He rose up like an oak in a forest of fear and I opposing Suade
A madman, a maniac, a massacre made
And in that infinitesimal and infinite second, although I am a pacifist, I could have killed Suede
Then suddenly I thought the battle was done
Yet and still Suede arose and I just wanted us to run
And doth did both men huddle close to his opponent
While adding Suede’s scent akin to camel dung as a component
There were three of us and he was only one
But the one who wields the power is he who wields a gun
His mind was set on our flower of a daughter whom he decided to pluck
The police assure us that they will find her, yeah, lots of luck
Suddenly he just stole our baby away
Away I say, and gone perhaps for ever and good
Hidden In a new area, in a brand new neighborhood
All we wanted to do was give a ride and fill a need to help the needy
But some men are seedy and too many of them are greedy
His scowl was darkness, his blackish eyes seemed way too dim
And that’s virtually all we can remember of him
While the police find not the culprit in a world of the gross and the grim
My wife and I were broken souls and both our hearts were horrendously hurt
Because there are too many inhabitants on this paltry planet who gave birth to the “Amber
Alert”
© 2011.….Poefree
CAN ONE BE ARRESTED FOR YELLING LIAR IN A CHURCH?
You pious people in your pews
All you reading about the arrival of some wondrously good news
A new horizon can’t you see?
Well imagine you were with my wife, infant child and me
We three had left together but suddenly there were four
And I’m not certain about much more
Four in the quietude of dripping rain
No one letting go of the pinching pain
because only the rain deserves such disdain
We picked up a hitchhiker as into rough waters we’d wade
And the gentleman told us to please call him ‘Suade’
And called this a “storm by madness made”
And then he made us walk blindly through the wood
Until he told us to stay precisely where we stood
in the wilderness it is a mean and uncertain gamble
As you amble through the briars and the brambles
You need to possess a lot of fortitude
Because the icy winds are oftentimes too rude
Suddenly Suede swung and that’s when my hope and strength were to fade
He rose up like an oak in a forest of fear and I opposing Suade
A madman, a maniac, a massacre made
And in that infinitesimal and infinite second, although I am a pacifist, I could have
killed Suede
Then suddenly the fighting was done
As Suede screamed orders I just wanted us all to run
And doth did both men huddle close to his opponent
While adding Suede’s scent akin to camel dung to the troubles of his component
There were three of us and he was only one
But the one who wields the power is the one who wields a gun
His mind was set on our flower of a daughter whom he decided to pluck
Now let’s all go out and find her,yeah, lots of luck
Suddenly he just stole our baby away
Away I say, and gone perhaps for ever and good
Hidden n a new area, in a brand new neighborhood
All we wanted to do was give a ride and fill a need to help the needy
But some men are seedy and too many of them are greedy
His scowl was darkness, his blackish eyes seemed way too dim
And that’s virtually all we can remember of him
While the police find not the culprit in a world of the gross and the grim
My wife and I were defenseless and both our hearts were horrendousl hurt
Oh, and we were only the second parents to use what we call an “Amber Alert”
© 2011.….