Long Murdered Poems

Long Murdered Poems. Below are the most popular long Murdered by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Murdered poems by poem length and keyword.


Immunity To a Death Sentence

Now the public library in our town contains the knowledge for mankind, 
and there’s not much happening ‘round the world, that I cannot find.
I can think of any subject that I like and tell Jenny what I’m after,
and she can find a stack of books that darn near touch the rafter. 

The library’s helped me countless times from days when I’m at school,
and I’ve become a handy man with books my back up tool,
but aside from books on lifestyle needs, on fiction some are geared,
and some authors write for little kids, and some write on the weird.

I’ve hired books about our history and read about some shocking wars.
Our garden is designed from books, and I’m obsessed with reading ‘Jaws’.
But crime became my new desire with cases filed from years gone by,
where Capital Punishment was handed down and why some had to die.

Description of the victims sent a chill right through my bones,
right to the guilty on death row with all their over-tones.
I read about their last few weeks, with how and why and where,
before they took their final walk to the electric chair.

One story written by a Warder based in a Southern US gaol,
is penned about a chilling case that for you I will unveil …
Leroy murdered seven folk; the warder wrote down in this book.
For twenty years appeals were held then Leroy’s goose was cooked.

When you’re with someone for twenty years, no matter what they’ve done,
you can form a slight attachment even if a fragile one.
So one week before that final stroll Leroy was asked by Warder Black,
if there’s something special that he’d like, and Leroy answered back.

“There is something I do desire - but it must involve me faithful wife.
“My wish is” Leroy grinned. “Is to eat her meatloaf now for life”. 
Well Leroy’s wish was granted and for three meals every day,
he ate the meatloaf that he begged for while the hours ticked away.

On the eve of Leroy’s execution there was tension being shown.
The corridors were creepy now with a ghostly eerie tone.
Forgotten were the seven victims - in the morning there’s one more.
Leroy must face ‘old sparky’ waiting down that corridor.

His final meal of meatloaf was brought before him on a plate.
Said Warder Black with teary eyes “You don’t look worried mate!”
Leroy laughed “I’m not my friend, that chair won’t kill me man.
If this meatloaf couldn’t do me in - I know that nothing can!”
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Of An Ebony Hued Mid-Summer Night Dream: Apropos of We Kings, Queens, and the Fiery Furnace

OF AN EBONY HUED MID-SUMMER NIGHT DREAM
(Apropos of We Kings, Queens, and The Fiery Furnace)

Indeed, this is a day the Lord has made:-
Considering last night’s revelation dreaming,
Waking up into this day the Lord has made,
I must enjoy and be glad for being still vertical.

Although “The Great Dream” may have been deferred,
Indeed, it has not been forgotten and deterred.
Oh, they may have murdered its dreamer, but
His and our liberation dream is immortal:-

Looking out over the horizon of our challenged life,
It is realized that we Exodus people have come a long way;
Survivors of the blood-stained shadows of horrific death:-
And we have come this far on the sojourn by faith.

Yes, we have come this far by an inherent faith—continuing 
To maintain and sustain us in the present perils of our lives:-
And as African-Americans, surviving in this deemed “promise land”,
We’ve had and continue to have a special kind of relationship with God.

During our living experiences here during and after debilitating slavery,
We’ve seen, heard, felt, and responded to the Word of God in ways that
Are unique to us as an African people of God; for indeed, as chosen ones,
We’ve always been able to sing and praise God in truth and in holy spirits.

Reflecting on the truth of ourstory, it is realized that we are of a people
Whom many would have expected to have stopped singing and praying 
A long time ago; yet, from generation to generation, we’ve just kept on
Singing and praising and trusting in the love of God and His redemption.

Indeed, sacred revelations continue to bring us from extermination
To exaltation, from degradation of dignity, from nobody to somebody;
With wide wondering eyes on the prize, we continue to sojourn onward
For our eyes have seen His glory as we have continued marching in His truth.

Indeed, we not only believe but know that in the savior’s favor
Life is and while our perils may endure here a little while longer,
We know that a liberating joyful stay here on earth is on the horizon
Promised by that very present help to those who live in good trouble;

Thus, let us not be exhausted nor deterred by the ghost tyranny
But with undying faith and spiritual strength, let us victoriously
Demonstrate that we are not of the children of Sisyphus’ fate;
But living reflections of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego:-
Form: Prose

Still Knocking On Heaven Door

Still knocking on the heaven door
I saw a soldier man crying 
At an after victory 
Oh man why you cry
Asked I with a confusion 
He said 
Tell God I asked why it 
Must be me 
Ask God why it has to be 
Like this 
For right now am
Still knocking at the heaven 
Door

Still knocking on the heavens door
Once I saw a brave man cry 
That a lot it tells 
A word is enough for the wise 
So this words so deep he said 
Tells us a lot 
Once he was young 
With an innocent mind like 
An empty glass
Time goes so he got educated
With an identification 
Of some enemies 
The empty mind now corrupt
So with time he became brave with 
This knowledge to war 
Time goes till he was a soldier man
Ready to defend his country 
Off to kill the enemy he goes
Like a scam of war 
He saw a deferent face from 
The enemy he knows 
As he realise the war was false
The real enemy was his gangs
Back home 
Who sent him off to war 
So betrayed he felt as already 
So many innocent he already 
Sent to lay in peace 
On the ground he bleeds 
So brave now he cry 
As first he asked why it must
To be me 
Ask God why it must to be me 
For right now am
Still knocking on the heaven door 

Still knocking on the heaven door
Once I saw the brave grief
Wonder why so I ask
Soldier man why you cry after 
A war victory 
You will never understand
First he said 
The war is not over 
Not until I feel peace inside me 
With this hands I slain
So I worth not to live 
War are not what you perceive 
Is better love than war 
With the gun I murdered 
So I worth not a love 
In me the war is not over till 
I know why it has to be this way 
For right now am 
Still knocking at the heaven door
I know God lies behind this close door

Still knocking on the heaven door
Have you ever seen the brave cry 
Is like to see an eagle without wings
Life is like a zero 
As wars is to vanity 
So on this Quest 
Only on this note 
You see the brave cry as the 
Soldier man now 
Still knocking on the heaven door

Still knocking on heaven door
Hope he found his peace
Hope he finally meet God
Behind the close door
For so wars will never be over
Until we feel love and peace 
Inside of us!
That only can come 
Only when the close door 
Of our ignorance is open
To love (God)
Until then all we can now do 
Is only but 
Still knocking on the heaven door
Form: Epic

Premium Member I M Alone But Not Alone-Part 1

I’M ALONE BUT NOT ALONE;
oH am I 
I’M ALONE BUT NOT ALONE;
oH am I 
great uncle died but I still have God;
Great grandmother died but I still have God;
Great auntie died, yes I still have God;

All my people dead and gone, yet I still have God;
I’M ALONE BUT NOT ALONE;
oH am I 
I’M ALONE BUT NOT ALONE;
oH am I 

Second cousin died but I still have God;
Another Great uncle dies yes I still have God;
All these physical persons have left my side;
As I breathe and receive as I believe I still have God

My Dad’s mother died my grandma, but I still have God;
Mother die my mom at 39 years I was only 17, left with just dad 
Was mad at God felt alone, betrayed and shun…guess what I still had
I still had God;
Father died ten years later, never sung to my father I cried yet I still…
I still had God (He’s by my side)
He’s my heart, the air that I breathe He’s in and outside of me;
Of the 5 children my mother’s mother had all dead;
Except my uncle left alone, yet not alone I still have God;
My best friend and his entire family murdered, made National News
Went to the funeral felt hurt again yet alone, but guess what I still had God;
Cousin died, two close friend died still I cried
Yeah! Yeah! I know I still got God
Death hurts, but what’s worse is to lose your soul and spin eternity in Hell
Wife died three years ago, Yeah! I know I’m alone but guess what..
I still have God 
Come to me all of you who are weary and carry heavy burdens I’ll give you rest;
I will not cause pain without allowing something new to be birth in you say’s the Lord;
He heals the brokenhearted and bind up the wounds
When you go through deep waters I will be with you;
Whenever you feel unloved, unimportant or insecure remember to whom you belong;
I’M ALONE BUT, NOW ALONE;
oH am I 
I’M ALONE BUT NOT ALONE;
oH am I 
You can be sure that I will be with you always to the very end of the age 
Even if my father and mother abandon me the Lord will take care of me – 
God said: I will in no way leave you, neither will I in any way forsake you. Therefore we can say: The Lord is my helper. I will not fear. What can man do to me? –
“let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith.”

I am alone yet not alone…






4/4/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.

The Attraction For Innocence

THERE IS THIS MAN

THE MAN THAT CLAIMED TO BE A FRIEND

THE SAME MAN WHO STOLE MY INNOCENCE

HE TOOK MY CHILDHOOD FROM ME

AND NOW THE ONLY WAY I FEEL LIKE A KID AGAIN IS TO CRY AND ROCK, CRY AND 
ROCK, CRY AND ROCK MYSELF TO SLEEP

THE WAY HE LOOKED AT ME WAS LIKE A “MAN” IS SUPPOSE TO BE IN A “WOMAN”

 BUT I WAS ONLY A GIRL

A GIRL TRAPPED BETWEEN THIS MAN AND THAT BED

I STILL SLEEP IN THAT BED

AND EVERY NIGHT THINKING BACK ON WHAT SHOULDN’VE HAPPENED

TWO YEARS LATER STILL IN FEAR BECAUSE OF THAT MISHAP

THIS MAN HAD NO RESPECT FOR ME

LYING INTO THE FACES WHILE STARING INTO THE EYES OF THE FAMILY

THIS MAN STILL HAUNTS ME

NOW EVERY GROWN MAN THAT LOOKS AT ME I FEEL IS DIGUSTING

WHEN EVERY MAN WITH BIG THICK HANDS, LOW CUT HAIR, CHARMING PERSONALITY 
SMILES AT ME

I REMEMBER THIS MAN’S HANDS CARESSING AWAY MY INNOCENCE

THE MAKERS PROTECT THIS MAN

CHILD OR NOT, THE PROTECTION SHOULD BE FOR THE INNOCENT

FOR SPEAKING UP THE LADY MAKER TOLD ME I LOOKED STUPID

BUT IN MY HEART I FELT BRAVE

FOR TRYING TO PROTECT GIRLS WHO WERE UNDERAGE

SEE THIS MAN, (AND I USE THAT WORD LOOSELY)

IS NOT A FRIEND, NOT A GOOD KID, NOT INTELLIGENT, NOT HEAVEN SENT

BUT THIS MAN MURDERED MY SELF-ESTEEM

A THEIF!

AND HIS MAKERS…ACCESSORIES

CONDONING THINGS THIS MAN DOES TO YOUNG GIRLS

AS IF HIS ACTIONS DIDN’T ALREADY HURT ENOUGH, THE MAKERS ADD ON PAINFUL 
WORDS

IM NOT SORRY THAT I TOLD THE TRUTH

IM SORRY THAT YOUR MAKINGS ARE DECIEVING YOU!

HOW DARE YOU TELL ME THAT WHAT HE DID DIDN’T MATTER?!

TWO YEARS AGO OR TEN, THIS MAN SHOULDN’VE NEVER DID WHAT HE DID

AND YOU ‘RE STILL IN DENIAL WHILE HE’S STILL DOING IT

THIS MAN KISSES HIS MOTHER WITH THOSE LYING LIPS

THE SAME LIPS HE USED TO KISS MY INNOCENCE AWAY WITH

THIS MAN CHANGED MY TRUSTING HEART

I CAN NOT TRUST ANY MAN

BECAUSE THIS MAN…

THE ONE WHO PORTRAYED A FRIEND

DECIDED TO STEAL MY INNOCENCE!

I DON’T WANT A MAN TO SMILE AT ME

BECAUSE I’LL THINK HE’S SMILING AT MY BODY

AND MY BODY STILL CARRIES THE SCARS FROM THIS MAN

FINGERPRINTS STILL VISIBLE FROM THE UNWANTED TOUCHES OF HIS HANDS

AS FOR THAT BED, EVEN WHEN I LOOK AT IT FOR A SECOND OR WHEN I LAY IN THAT 
BED

I LET THE TEARS FALL DOWN THE CORNERS OF MY EYES BECAUSE IM SCARED AGAIN

ALL BECAUSE OF THIS MAN’S ATTRACTION FOR MY INNOCENCE
Form:


the assassination

Seven Mossad Agents came to Norway a winter day 
when a snow drowns the needs of the homeless
asleep in a shop's doorway absorbing the sarcastic smell
of coffee and the aroma of a Napoleon cream cake.
Their mission was to assassinate a man called a terrorist 
by them, but freedom fighters by others.
The target had been located, a man of 47 bearded, with
prematurely gray hair, Semitic features, and a nose somewhat bigger than what is the norm in a Nordic land 
He works as a waiter at a cafe, and take the bus home 
a quarter past ten in the evening, to his bed-sit, about ten minutes ride from the town.
The group needed two taxis to take them to a hotel called, “Larsen's ski lodge” a pleasant little place with
modern IKEA furniture, giving rooms an airy ambiance
the group went to work at once, the leader carrying a 
heavy mobile phone, trying to make contact to base, one presumes an embassy, but failed.
One of the women donned a blond wig, walked to the cafe to be sure their target was there
a quarter past ten two men entered the bus, one of them 
who spoke a few word in Swedish, asked for two ticket to Husly which was the lat stop before the bur turned around and back to town
when the “terrorist” alighted the bus the two assassins followed. 
No point going into details here, but they got their man
and hid his body in a snow drift.
Cooley, they stood by the stop to catch the bus on its return trip, smoking cigarettes of a foreign brand oblivious eyes saw them at the bus stop 
The assassins had overlooked one thing, the man had a girlfriend and when he didn't appeared as usual she went out looking for him with the help of neighbors
Her boyfriend was found in the snowdrift
the police quickly knew what they were dealing with
but since they, the local police were not armed, they waited for reinforcement, when in the morning the assassin group came out to go to the railways station 
the group were arrested.
Then the bomb dropped, they had murdered the wrong man, another Arab, they quickly insinuated was a terrorist too, what else was he doing in Norway 
The court case took a long time, one of the prosecutors
fell in love with the woman with a fake wig, tried to 
say she was an innocent bystander, it didn't wash 
the case dragged on, in the end, and since the holocaust 
was invoked, the guilty only got a few years.
© Jan Hansen  Create an image from this poem.

Tales of the Lone Wanderer 2

Found the G.E.C.K and a genius super mutant named Fawkes
It's the lone wanderer, were their truly any doubts
On his way back, the enclave stun him cold
It's the lone wanderer, they must truly be bold
He wakes up to the face of the man that murdered his father and his dream
The lone wanders promises to severe the head from this fiend
They made a mistake and set him free
He lets off some steam and goes on a killing spree

Hoping to find the fiend, instead he finds a computer
It claimed to be president Eden, the leader of the future
The lone wanderer couldn't believe the stupidity
It gave him the F.E.V virus and claimed it was the best for humanity
The lone wanderer then remembers he found a self-destruct code
He told president Eden he was a whole
Laughing while he activates It's self-destruct mode

Running and gunning to his P.I.P boy radio
Listening to 'Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy' to fit the scenario
Turning Enclave soldiers into mashed potatoes 
By the time he escaped the count down hit zero,
The lone wanderer stood in the background looking like a hero
Reunited with the genius super mutant Fawkes
They now have matching toys to take back to the house

Deciding to stick together for a noble cause,
They return to the Citadel after unloading a few hundred shots
The Brother Hood Of Steel commended them and gave them a round of applause
Time now to suit up and release a giant robot
'Now we take back the purifier!', Cried Sarah Lyons
'Take everything you can because only Enclave shall be dying'
The lone wanderer refuses their power armor and instead pulls out his Gatling gun
Him and Fawkes bump guns and are already for some fun
They rush through the gate behind the giant robot shooting a vertibird out of the sky
Running through the carnage seeing Talon mercs pass by

Barging through the front door of Jefferson's memorial
Spraying Enclave soldiers in a effortless tutorial
Beams from vengeance making clean incisions
Rapid is its fire with precise precision
Even if the lone wanderer had no vision
Fawkes and him could easily wipe out colonel Autumn's entire division
Now approaches colonel Autumn's final hour,
Without hesitation the lone wanderer  draws his sword with power
Striking colonel Autumn dead and sour
Before his head rolls into the water,
The lone wanderer convinces Fawkes to play a little soccer
Form: Rhyme

Child From the Christmas Star

An eight-pointed star 
Shone in the night in summer 
He came from above 
Not belonging to the stars 
Stranger to them all 
Is above the zodiac 
Plundering its fate 
He is from the pure greatness 
A door to the heavens 
Sophia prepared the flesh 
For she had regret 
Sabaoth sent his great light 
For he was wrathful 
Barbelo sent her power 
For she had wisdom 
Jesus the man sent himself  
For he had mercy 
He was laid in a manger 
No room in the inn 
The world hated him so much  
For it was darkness 
And he blinded it with light 
News reached the dead king  
His hair was a lion’s mare  
His body a snake 
His eyes were bright lightning bolts 
Ruler of darkness 
His mother rejected him 
As a bad disgrace 
He summoned all the magi 
The wise foreigners  
Followers of the fire 
To find this small child 
As the Magi were dispatched 
He thought to himself 
“What is the power of him 
Who was born this night 
Who is higher than we are? 
A drop from heaven? 
Whom dragons brought to a cave? 
Where a child was born?” 
Those magi sailed the bright sand 
Ignoring the cold 
The star became a lighthouse 
Which led to the child 
And to shepherds in pure white 
They gave three blessed gifts 
Gold and frankincense and myrrh 
As the king waited 
In silence and solitude 
He realized something 
Filled with jealousy and wrath 
He ordered his slaves 
“Extinguish this divine light 
Do what is needed!” 
An angel from the great star 
Told the glad Joseph 
“Flee to the land of Egypt 
With your wife and son 
To escape the flood of death 
To escape the plague 
The hot fire and sulphur 
That killed the mature 
And now will murder the young” 
And so the parents 
Carrying the eternal 
Fled to the bare land  
All the little were murdered 
Rivers of blood flowed 
Loud cries of pain and mourning 
Flowed out their mouths 
With the king in vain glory 
Saying “I am God 
There is no other but me!” 
The sands of time fell 
And so, Mary and Joseph 
Returned with Jesus 
The baby pronounced three words 
Whom none can utter 
Lest they be killed by cold stones 
With knowledge we say 
“Out of a pure foreign air 
The light bringer came 
Those ones he chose for himself 
He turned them to stars 
To shine in the pleroma 
The kingdom of light 
Which the only door to it  
Being the eight-pointed star.”
Form: Choka

The Result of Cruel Fate

The crone can hear the children's laughter, cold as ice
And they exclaim out "witch", not thinking she can hear
Their parents then admonish, "Try to be quite nice."
Upon her thin, emaciated form they leer
Of love forbidden she has paid the awful price
Malicious magic powers all the children fear
She only wears black, mourning each and ev'ry day
Her world is full of dismal, somber shades of grey


She loved a wealthy cultured handsome gentleman
But she had not the clothes nor proper pedigree
And never would be issued any wedding bann
For poverty did not amuse his family
When finding herself great with child of his, she ran
She felt displaced, just like a dead uprooted tree
In bleak back alley child unwanted disappeared
No chance immoral tainted peccant child be reared


Although she lost her core, her heart, her soul, her mind, 
She wandered dazed and crazy back to town she knew
Her fam'ly said, "We never have produced your kind."
There was no place to go and nothing left to do
But after mournful agony she came to find
Satanic powers very evil she would rue
She met the incubi in wooded forest glen
Although she knew it was an awful, grievous sin


Her soul and body raped by evil forces bold
Instilled in her the seeds of their foul awful pow'r
That grew more potent as she grew extremely old
Demolished, shattered self continued still to sour
Her sterile body, now quite barren, grew ice cold
A vile vexatious tongue lashed out at all each hour
Thus she became a bitter venomous old hag
While dressed in filthy clothes; on head, a dirty rag


She met a fine genteel young man, so good and kind
A person reaching out to all in charity
Attempted making better lives where he could find
He wanted human folk achieving parity
However, he had never met an evil mind
The succubus seduced his soul with clarity
 She crippled psyche; took his cash, his bonds and stocks
 Her languid lips convinced him caged; no keys for locks


Then when the moon was full one night, she murdered him
Around his vile demise all sorts of tales arose
She had dismembered rigid corpse each limb by limb
Disposed so very well of ugly bloody clothes
The whole ordeal had been a gratifying whim
Upon his naked body set a blood red rose
His corpse was never found; base tales do not abate
Today she suffers vile result of cruel fate

Chance

We kept our silence in the room as we waited for the verdict to be read an innocent man sitting there with a murder hanging over his head, the image of the blood stained sheet is all over the screen and his only alibi is the woman of his dream.

You cannot be in two places before the horse races, there are four rooms in the house and an exit next to the kitchen, there is a basement two layers below and that is where you prepare for the show. You have a studio and a small study and a rack filled with oldies and goodies; sensational music of the past ring loudly in his ears and a library with an experiment table and newly designed module of a gadget sitting on top.

He cannot imagine himself killing anyone and he cannot believe that he have blood stain on his hand, “I don’t even know how to use a gun and if I did I would probably be on the run”, he shouted as he speaks his thoughts aloud. It is the form of confession you hear when death reason with death and passion run through veins spilling anxiety in the air. 

We kept our silence in the room as he recalls the story of what happen that day at noon. He said that he was with the woman of his dreams walking on the beach, talking about the future and how they would spend their lives together; they booked a cheap hotel room and had lunch at noon, then made love the entire day.

He went on and on describing the woman of his dreams and never   talked about the murdered man on the screen; his story of love was so convincing he mesmerized everyone in the room, and when he said, “my eyes met with hers and when the golden stature flashed across his eyes the interlude began, and they both became one.”

Their eyes and mouths open wide and raw nerves crashing with nerves and for more than five minutes no one spoke; it wasn’t a joke they were caught up in a romantic rapture and silence broke when the judge read the verdict. 
“Not guilty “go in peace the Judge said, forcing himself to overcome the love spell. He brought out the entire old document on the case and throws them in the furnace and watched it burnt to ash.

The accused left the courtroom with his woman holding together their mesmerizing passion burning in the stomach. “I am a free man,” he shouted, I am going to travel the whole wide world and make some money telling stories. Not guilty is the title of his first book.
Form: Narrative

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