Long Vengeance Poems
Long Vengeance Poems. Below are the most popular long Vengeance by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Vengeance poems by poem length and keyword.
Vultures verify vulnerable villages,
Vacuuming value, venerating vaults.
Voters vilified, voices vetoed,
Votes vanished, victories volatile.
Visible villains veil violations,
Virtuous veterans victimized via vanity.
Vast vaults versus vacant vessels,
Value vaporized, virtue vandalized.
Vice validates violence, violence validates vice,
Vicious vortex, vicious vice.
Victims vilified, victors vindicated,
Verdicts valued via victory.
Vassals versus visionaries,
Veins vibrating, voices volcanic.
Volition versus validation,
Vital versus virtual vocation.
Verify every version.
View every veil.
Value verification versus verbal virtue-signaling.
Vision without visibility becomes voluntary blindness.
Vengeance? Vacant.
Virtue? Variable.
Victory? Valueless without volition.
Value lives via voluntary vision,
Verses vibrating with visceral veracity.
In moonlight's hush, beneath the elm,
A masked marauder stalks his realm.
With paws like whispers, eyes like coal,
He seeks the prize that fills his soul.
But lo! The bin—his ancient foe—
Stands smug, unyielding, sealed in woe.
Its lid, a tyrant, cold and tight,
Dares mock his hunger in the night.
"Have you forgotten?" he snarls with grace,
"The feast we shared, the sacred place?
You fed me once, you knew my name,
Now plastic locks deny my claim."
He leaps! He claws! A ballet grim,
A pirouette on garbage rim.
Banana peels and coffee grounds
Rain down like war drums' hollow sounds.
Neighbors wake to chaos born,
A furry tempest, rage and scorn.
Yet in his heart, a deeper ache—
Not trash, but trust, was theirs to break.
So if you see him, tail askew,
A poet wrapped in dumpster dew,
Know vengeance drives his nightly plan—
The raccoon scorned by a trash can.
Chapter..........1..........Part..........2..........3b.
The mounted riders,
they speed forwards,
Turvehr did kick with heaven's power,
his mighty horn tearing and rending,
His eyes,
afire with hates desire,
his coat,
it did shine like the raven's wing,
when kissed by Sol.
He was the destroyer of the evil fire,
to rend,
this was his work this day,
his heart a living flame,
pure hatred was his song,
to kick, toss and tear,
this would be his killing way.
Turvehr was a terror,
a light destroying the dark,
his horn now caked in bloody gore,
hatred ruled the battlefield this day,
great indeed was his majesty,
the glory of a darkened dawn.
Women watching,
cried out with fear,
when e'er an enemy came to near,
for love indeed, this day was born,
for Turvehr,
the king of the Unicorn.
Alahsar still had her gates,
mortal men,
their lives, they did lay down,
numbers falling,
Demons they did crawl,
The end of humanity? Dark hearts filled with hate.
From the gates a mighty moving,
womanhood coming forth with great haste,
Hate-filled eyes and voices of venom,
yelling out thunder as they come forth.
Now, into two groups,
these shield maidens do split,
one group heads for the Dunlaven bridge,
the other group, the fight on Badicha,
still, the foe seemed many more.
the Arlaghs ever to the fore,
a mighty foe begins to push,
the might of dark within each beast,
to hold this foe,
it would take mighty strength,
yet, strength was failing,
the Arlaghs, then, did mighty push.
Then to human dismay,
upon the left flank,
spiders, wolfs and their riders attack,
from the trees they come,
Arlaghs, they also come with this attack,
the cavalry on the left flank,
they are taken by complete surprise,
horses scream in fear as they begin to fall.
riders also crying out, as they die this day,
some shall lie on the bloody plain,
others within the bellies of flesh-eating enemies,
on seeing this, the women warriors hurry forth,
no order had the golden king given,
they had come,
against all orders.
Still, humans stand,
much blood does flow,
man and woman,
power did show,
children watching from on high,
as parents and friends slowly die,
Dark man fighting, vengeance dead,
the Tigress, she is spreading fear,
a bloody day for one and all,
"Blood For Blood," the mortal call.
To Be Continued.
This is the earth
A beautiful garden of nature
Human is a born free part of it
In the time of human (part of nature) birth
There is no religion, creed, constitution, frontier, culture...
But the greedy predecessor names teaches rules the born free human
According to own creed, ism and
Spreads the venomous hatred
The world is safety palace for human
S/he is born free conscientious existence of nature
But everywhere chained by the wild and vengeance makeup
Everywhere the rules, regulations, creeds, cultures, scriptures
Made by some opportunist humans
The hypocrite human governs the whole
by the name of so-called gods, hell, heaven
and makes a victim of slaughtering each other
If a human wants freedom from this havoc clutch
Then everyone needs to know him/herself
Needs to awake the true conscience of humanity
Come, come to the impenetrable realm of the body
This is heart
Clean it, crystal clean
Clean from the earthly greed, infatuation, illusion
Leave the endless desire of this delusional matter
Fill the heart full with the light of truth-
That is the knowledge of self and lessons from other parts of nature
Enlighten the inside with the extraterrestrial insightful
Lit up the dark world with the inner light
None can snuff out this light
This is impenetrable
Come, come to the impenetrable monarchy of the body
This is the heart of the self-knowledge
16.08.2020 Chattogram
Today a man knocked on my door and asked
for a small donation towards the local swimming
pool. I gave him a glass of water!
I used to think I was indecisive, but now I'm
not too sure!
A recent study has found that women who carry a
little extra weight live longer than the men who
mention it!
When wearing a bikini, women reveal 90 % of their
body... men are so polite they only concentrate on
the covered parts!
You know you're ugly when it comes to a group
picture and they hand you the camera!
Feeling pretty proud of myself. The Sesame Street
puzzle I bought said 3-5 years, but I finished it
in 18 months!
How do I disable the autocorrect function on my wife?
Before I criticize a man, I like to walk a mile in his
shoes. That way when I do criticize him, I'm a mile
away and I have his shoes!
I'm not saying I hate you, but I would unplug your
life support to charge my phone!
My therapist says I have a preoccupation with
vengeance. We'll see about that!
When Miley Cyrus gets naked & licks a hammer it's
"art" & "music". But when I do it, I'm "drunk" and
"I have to leave the hardware store"!
I changed my password to "incorrect". So whenever
I forget what it is the computer will say
"Your password is incorrect"!
A clean house is the sign of a broken computer!
My wife had her driver's test the other day.
She got 8 out of 10. The other 2 jumped to safety!
Whatever you do always give 100 %. Unless you
are donating blood!
My girlfriend told me to go out and get something
that makes her look sexy... so I got drunk!
Form:
The British had stumbled
in Boston the year last,
but came again for vengeance bold
to bleed freedom, damage untold,
with fire and with blast.
To New York their ships sailed
thirty thousand men strong,
and Washington, on islands spread,
awaited their coming with dread,
with his militia throngs.
Twenty thousand untrained souls,
armies came right for them,
divided, not knowing just where
the British would come, all were scared,
these untried minutemen.
But defenses they made,
on Long Island’s low hills,
Brooklyn Heights was their great redoubt,
of its defenses they could tout,
its battlements they filled.
But to Gravesend redcoats
would soon begin to land,
fifteen thousand went unopposed,
and on to Flatbush they did go,
trained soldiers to a man.
When Washington heard this
fifteen hundred he sent,
bolstered that front to six thousand
to try and defend the homeland,
from being torn and rent.
But the militia planned
to block hilly passes,
the British has to pass through these,
where patriots would make them bleed,
then fall back to assess.
But this plan came to naught
when local localists
spoke up of the Jamaica Road,
a small pass of which few would know,
a force marched for it, brisk.
British general Clinton
divided up his troops,
for Jamaica his main force went,
scattered the five defending men,
marching in a great loop.
Grant attacked to distract
at the pass of Gowanus,
while Hessians marched for Flatbush Pass,
where General Sullivan held fast,
to match them thrust for thrust.
But then Britian’s main force
from Jamaica arrived,
Attacked the rebels from the rear,
while in front the Hessians drew near,
the trap sprung, rebels died.
Sullivan fought two fronts,
and knew that he’d be beat,
now crumbling from the attack,
he ordered his men to fall back,
in orderly retreat.
Many didn’t make it,
some got the bayonet,
Sullivan himself was captured,
but despite this the fight endured,
on the right it raged yet.
General Grant’s distraction
became full-fledged assault,
but the rebels had held the line,
under Lord Stirling they did find,
and made the British halt...
CONCLUDES IN PART II.
There is an ancient oak, outside some hallowed ground:
The hanging tree, once struck by lightning bolts, seems dead -
Its trunk is hollowed out, yet leaves can still be found,
Just like a corpse with hair that’s growing on its head.
I have a tale to tell - it’s from my long gone youth,
And that decrepit tree was looking strong and stout.
It sounds a silly tale - I swear it is the truth -
Though in my younger days, at times, I had my doubt.
Once, in my courting days, I walked home in a storm,
And heard the village clock, that chimed the midnight hour.
As lightning forked, I longed to be home, dry and warm.
I wasn’t drunk nor had my faculties turned sour,
But in a flash, I saw a figure in that tree -
Distorted, hideous, a hanged man’s purple face -
And yet more lightning showed it crystal clear to me.
As thunder boomed, I ran as if to win a race.
Another flash of light and I was not alone:
The hanging man stood there, thick rope around his neck.
I shivered, swore and shook, afraid, chilled to the bone,
And recognised the man: the killer Nathan Beck -
I’d seen him hanged to death, a year ago that day.
He said, ‘I swore revenge, I knew I could come back.
‘I’ll get my vengeance now, and you will have to pay.’
He put the noose around my neck, the rope still slack.
The noose was getting tight, he dragged me to the tree,
Attempts to fight no good, as though I were a child -
I cursed and kicked and punched, while struggling to get free.
I fought hard for my life, the thunder ever wild.
My life flashed by my eyes, a man about to die:
I thought of family and of my sweetheart June.
And sturdy young man that I was, began to cry.
(I nearly fainted like a maiden in a swoon).
In blinding flashing light, I found the Devil near.
He smiled and looking proud, he beckoned Beck to him,
And Nathan Beck was gone - I won’t forget that leer.
I must have passed out then, my memories are dim.
I came round in a daze, beneath the burnt out tree,
The noose was gone. It was a cloudless dawn that day.
I saw two farmhands grin. They shook their heads at me.
‘Too much to drink last night,’ I heard one laugh and say.
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
The more I think about this strife
The more I want to take his life
Some sickening, evil, hellish brute
Returned to his primal roots
And every step that he will take
His humanity shall forsake
God help him if we cross
For I’ll make him atone for our loss
Enraged and blind, there is no pain
There’s only solace to be gained
Now he’s Abel and I’m Cain
He won’t breathe again, can’t breathe again, won’t breathe
The only mistake that God has made
And on his grave the sun shall fade
He’s declared war and soon he’ll know
That we never walk alone
He must have suicidal whims
Even without his intentions
To kick us while we’re on the ground
Dirt isn’t all that’s down
I’m wide awake and I thirst for blood
Nothing satisfies like a flood
I’ll turn this ground into red mud
Breathe…
I don’t care if I’m just as bad as he
I’m already banged up mentally
My vengeance is all I can see
He won’t breathe again, can’t breathe again, won’t breathe.
Even before the arrival of the first snows, so brilliantly candid,
we climbed mounts less dangerous than the Alps's;
and we proudly chalked it up to our experience.
Now the snowy cliffs with bouffant boulders,
have lost their captious and so beatific image,
and quite too often we got pinched by burdock,
distracted by the robins chattering on a coarse descent;
I champed on crisp strawberries, while he challenged his strength.
My buddy never castigated me for my bizarre behavior,
and I admired him for displaying humor without repulsion,
or retort, and with chisel and hammer we engraved faces of historic men
on the smoothest rocks which were replete with their handsomeness.
Those adventurous afternoons are repealed when we look up,
and recreate them through our Male Chauvinism, cheery not dumb;
we felt like cave men making rudimentary drawings of their hunted animals,
while their women picked wild chicory for an early dinner.
Chums we were, resembling cowboys with wide hats in a chiaroscuro,
drinking in a bar filled with fashionable ladies frolicking and saying hello;
and chili con carne we ate, and plenty of beers to wash it down.
After our money was all squandered, our pockets were empty and we felt alone,
dazed...wobbling with fear, afraid to face our witless wives at home;
we were two idiots wooing empathy and some undeserving love.
And didn't they seem two witches ready for vengeance in their frown,
trying to squeeze the truth out of our silent and pretentious mouths too fulsome?
Frost will bring winter soon, and the snowy cliffs with bouffant boulders will be covered,
our hair have turned almost white to match the bright color of the deep snows,
as this river is freezing up, to become a sheet of ice, where no boats or barges pass;
and we play chess, the intramural game of a confined life, without those clandestine affairs.
Our darlings approve with sweet intonation, intensifying their affection so amorous;
and we embrace them with that tenderness that they have long desired...
staring at the snowy cliffs with bouffant boulders that these two climbers made their own,
remembering the cold and the shivering...coming down to a valley of comfort and domain.
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci