Long Murder Poems
Long Murder Poems. Below are the most popular long Murder by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Murder poems by poem length and keyword.
From ground zero, the shocking ripples reverberate!
From the heart of a nation, the cry still goes out,
And continues on with unabated tears.
The healing begins with mournful sobs and angry shouts.
Who is to blame for this heinous sin?
Who can stop the swelling pain?
Look in the mirror, then cover it black.
We are all to blame for this murderous act.
We, who spend only a fraction of our day
With those closest to our hearts,
We are to blame for their wayward paths.
We didn't see it coming...didn't see it start.
We didn't care enough to ask the hardest questions
Or force the toughest issues, to pull tightly on the reins.
We didn't once think about their future or their pain.
Now it's too late for Fifteen to ever smile again.
But it's not too late for those of us left behind in the wake,
Not too late for us to change; to ask the questions,
Or demand of ourselves a new commitment,
To give our children a new day; hope filled suggestions.
Look into the sacred eyes of your children
Look into their hearts with a new understanding.
It does take a village to raise your child.
But, it all starts with your decision to be present and demanding.
Plan to be there for them, no matter what!
Never give them up to a harsh and hopeless world.
Every day, every minute...stop thinking only of yourself.
Emerse your heart into the life of your boys and your girls.
Out from ground zero, Columbine's Fifteen
Will not have died in vain, if they have made us see
The need for total commitment in the shaping of young lives;
Young lives that are our future. It lies in our children's eyes.
Look closely, look deeply. Do not turn away.
Copyright Chula Fleming April 20, 1999
The Necktie
He woke up fully dressed, minus his tie, in the lumpy bed
of a third-rate hotel, which had a fridge beside the TV
The last semi-civilized place, one up from sleeping rough
The room reeked of depravity, and a dusty curtain
protecting the inhabitants from the cruel world outside
The news was about a woman who strngled with a tie
He sat up, and he had lost his tie
The tie was green with black dots on it, should he ring
the TV station and ask what color the tie is?
Or should he remorsefully and fearfully sober confess
to a murder he could not remember having committed
The fridge rumbled, he got up, opened it, in the hope of
finding a cold beer; there, wrapped around a bottle
whisky, a red necktie
Chaos and order;
I reside where the strings do not dare wrap around me. I am the thing that shelters comfortably under your carpet, whilst I wink at the fairy living underneath your pillow.
I am the atrocity that delves into its own existence and allows for question. Consume thy enemy, prolapse the expansion of the hereditary downfall of genetics whilst I, watch.
Growing ever more spiteful with every being I see collapse before me. I am the twine in your spine. I am the sheets you do not wash. I am the blood that spills graciously amongst generations-over nothing more than who’s feet get to fall first, on that land.
I am the thing that lies in the shadows. I am the slumber of a million cataclysms that are yet to awaken. I am the tragedy of love and betrayal.
I am the rose that dies with a million thorns wrapped around so, cutting deeper with every question you have about love being unanswered. Every cry of a friend dying on the battlefield.
I am the memory you tremble before in the murder of the night. I am the witch you smite when you cannot accept the malevolent around you. I am the creature you call upon with every legend you make of children who lurk into the woods.
I am the wolf that knows not, of what flock should be spared and which shall be consumed. I am the kindle in the flames, the spindle of a woman’s meddle to find the perfect fabric.
I am the splinter in the timber. That incessant cry out for pain. I am the relinquished magnitude you try to display before your innocent mind.
I am Chaos, I am Order. I am You.
Why, the greatest enemy of man is man
for man has subdued everything else
Fear not the tiger, fear the murderer's plan
Just hearken well to what history yells!
At times twas jingoism, at times a rancorous desire to do harm
Fear just man's malice and his ugly evil
If his dagger blow fails, he'll get you by black magic charm
His heart and mind alone well shelter the devil.
For how many fall prey to lions or snakes
one could even count them on fingers
Man invents a cure for smallpox but missiles too he makes
and he mercilessly kills without harbingers.
Man invented as many things for his destruction and harm
as he did for his benefit and good
He's inventor of bombs as well as tractors on the farm
And doesn't he detest acting as he should?
Man alone is behind the bloodiest of bloodshed
The angels too had foreseen his wars and battles
From the gory battlefield to the humble homestead
with the shrieks of murder our earth forever rattles!
Close your doors and your home secure
not to deter beasts, but to lock out the robber, the thief
For no greater danger than man lurks there for sure
Fear not the fierce bull, that you can turn into beef!
Wild beasts might be known to gobble us up
but isn't man as well found to be a cannibal?
Gosh, humans too on human flesh do sup
Man tis far more fearsome than any poor animal.
The greatest enemy of man thus is man himself
How much blood has he ruthlessly spilt of his own kind
Look out for the bottle of poison on his shelf
Till the deed is done, no knowing what goes on in his mind.
The poor young lady refrains from venturing out at night
How now, what does she so fear?
She fears nothing but assault by man's might
so rarely is she stalked by a grizzly bear!
Fortunately for us, this ain't how it always ends
man can always be the best of friends
So we can still count more on buddies and cronies
instead of focusing on foes and fiends.
For man he can be a hero and saviour
if judicious he is about right and wrong behaviour.
Besides religion as I know, infact does actually foretell
That the end of ALL killers and murderers
is that inferno of divine wrath we all know as hell!
The vampire exited the saloon doors
covered in blood her gaze enamors;
Cowboys on horses stop mid motion
to see what was causing the commotion;
Mysterious woman dealing black jack,
apparently someone had tried to attack;
Whiskey shots were barely dispensed,
outlaws came in and the energy tensed;
No intention of drawing first blood,
then he asked to play five card stud;
She said ‘I’m not part of the party;
You don’t gamble with the referee.’
He tried to hit her she broke his neck;
Then came his friends, a train wreck;
Not fond of utilizing easy murder,
off she rides from this sunset massacre.
Buna
by Primo Levi
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Mangled feet, cursed earth,
the long interminable line in the gray morning
as Buna smokes corpses through industrious chimneys...
Another gray day like every other day awaits us.
The terrible whistle shrilly announces dawn:
"Rise, wretched multitudes, with your lifeless faces,
welcome the monotonous hell of the mud...
another day’s suffering has begun!"
Weary companion, I know you well.
I see your dead eyes, my disconsolate friend.
In your breast you bear the burden of cold, deprivation, emptiness.
Life long ago broke what remained of your courage.
Colorless one, you once were a real man;
a considerable woman once accompanied you.
But now, my invisible companion, you lack even a name.
So forsaken, you are unable to weep.
So poor in spirit, you can no longer grieve.
So tired, your flesh can no longer shiver with fear...
My once-strong man, now spent,
were we to meet again
in some other world, beneath some sunnier sun,
with what unfamiliar faces would we recognize each other?
Buna was the largest Auschwitz sub-camp, with around 40, 000 foreigners “workers” who had been enslaved by the Nazis. Primo Levi called the Jews of Buna the “slaves of slaves” because the other slaves outranked them. Despite Buna’s immense size and four years of activity, according to Levi it never produced a kilo of its intended product: synthetic rubber. Levi described Buna as “desperately and essentially opaque and gray.” He said not a blade of grass grew within the compound because its soil had been impregnated with the “poisonous juices of coal and petroleum” so that nothing was alive but machines and slaves, with the former “more alive” than the latter. Levi also related hearing a Buna Kapo say that the only way Jews could leave Auschwitz was “through the Chimney” of the crematorium. It is possible that the companion being addressed in “Buna” is Primo Levi himself, recognizing what he had been reduced to. Keywords/Tags: Primo Levi, translation, Holocaust poem, Auschwitz, Buna, mud, chimney, smoke, smoking, crematorium, corpses, bodies, death, murder, starvation, gray, color, colorless, invisible, nameless, slave, slaves, slavery, slave labor, race, racist, racism, horror, hell
The children were pulverized, decapitated,
Their flesh was ripped apart.
This is the land of the free,
And the home of the brave.
Good guys with guns waited an hour.
19 students and 2 teachers were murdered.
The children were pulverized, decapitated,
Their flesh was ripped apart.
We need AR-15 rifles to kill prairie dogs.
We need AR-15 rifles because they are semi-automatic.
11-year-old Miah covered herself in her dead friend’s
Blood to stay alive.
The children were pulverized, decapitated,
Their flesh was ripped apart.
If more Americans own AR-15s, SCOTUS will
Think they’re for common use.
You can help prepare young Americans for
Military service if you are skilled with an AR-15.
The children were pulverized, decapitated,
Their flesh was ripped apart.
100 rounds were fired into 2 classrooms
Students called 911
Parents begged police to charge the school.
Good guys with guns waited an hour.
19 students and 2 teachers were murdered.
17 children and adults were injured.
In America, guns, and violence
are the answers to every problem.
In America, violence means
You never need to find a solution.
The solution is always violence.
If violence solves nothing,
It’s because more violence is required.
The children were pulverized, decapitated,
Their flesh was ripped apart.
Published: Dissident Voice, June 19, 2022
8/4/2025
They put on uniforms of courage, at every dawn.no matter, the weather,
Out, in great spiri they come out each dawn!
For this act is for honor of Messiah you,whom His children and His lands,
These young, are the real heroes and the fully sworn!
And to their country, the tiny size of the state of New Jersey.
Under seige, for centuries,by gigantic nations for many centuries!
To the Messiah~soldiers are duly obliged in body and soul sworn.
At eighteen~why, it seems like they were barely born!
They realize that another sunset, they may never see!
Prayers at dawn are said, beneath their flag, in couraged, companies!
To me, all are magnificent, shining, human thunder!
To keep all religions in their country from the ugly specter of going under!
For the Messiah’s return, they know, is most certain!
Whilst evil nations, murder the innocent in that venerable Holy Nation.
They will not allow a mass murder of adults and children ever again!
Wild killers, are most certainly, in no way…no way..their human kin!
Nor are they ours, the unethical beasts, from a murderous zoo,
The masked killers, march and scream like banshees in your country, too!
The enemies’ace card is to murder, to play world victims and to lie.
The few prisoners left, in dark tunnels, yes and starving,‘neath Messiah’s
sunny blue sky.
Whilst masked madmen, supported by the march
with hateful din, fills the streets.
Their hatred for goodness ….is their why!
Feckless news channels lie, immoral flakes!
As innocent lives they assist in the take.
And countries’ borders are no more.
With Torah pages, walked over and shredded on the blood-soaked rugs
on the vanished family home floor.
Even we, in countries, free, no, we do not
even know,
The enemy is at the gate, prepaing a big, horredous
End of our life show!
Burning our countries’ flags, with evil disgusting glee!
Death, awaits in our future! …..into a bloody history!
As for me, I will not surrender, nor to an immoral, killing
world, agree!
I was hurrying by the spooky house when the door creaked open.
Hopin' it was just my imagination, I hesitated a moment too long
for suddenly a creepy voice from inside beckoned me to enter...
I froze when a waft of cold air hit me and I heard words of a song...
Come inside, and we'll have a bit of lunch and a nice spot of tea
I shook my head in total disbelief and told my feet to move along
but they seemed to have a will of their own and didn't listen to me
What am I to do to escape the siren's call? To her I don't belong.
Just then it was I heard a murder of crows, flying low overhead
Another omen that I never should have chosen to walk this way
But then one flew close enough to me, and this is what it said,
"Leave your shoes behind and run...You'll be dead if you stay,"
I gulped and gasped and managed to get my feet to obey
I could feel the pulse of heart beating double time in my chest
The crows kept circling above while darkness was filling the day
I'll not become the victim of the house and be laid to rest!
Was his spirit destined to write
The great poet crafting his verse
Words of beauty and profound insight
That time and posterity should rehearse,
Was it the power of his imagination
Creating drama, intrigue, murder and revenge
And whatever vices lead to condemnation
In the wayward hearts of mortal men,
No, not this or anything else
But that God ordained spirit
That creates of itself
Things divine, mysterious, dark and nondescript,
Endowed with gifts from heaven above
His timeless art of life and love.
W.A CHOLT. Copyright Fergal O Reilly
12/8/22