Misery Poems - Poems about Misery

My pen is mourning the agonies and the sufferings Of my people, who are drowning in the sea of misery. My keyboard' strokes are shadowing the slow rhythms Of the wandering beggar, who's lost in the sanctuary. My voice denounces the filthy cholera and the injustices, Which are punishing the weakest souls of the valley. A tiny oligarchy is meagerly being...

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Haven't I loved you enough? Then why do you have to be tough All the time and hide Your vulnerabilities that reside Like a happy family inside Of your heart, oh, heart, alas! your heart! Why did you become such a cold bard? Your heart's nothing but a broken shard. So, tell me, why wasn't love sufficient And why it...

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With bloody hands, rusty hair and a dammed soul I walked out ,stepping on the rotten meat As my lungs struggled to breathe down the fragrance of the crime that I had committed Blue and white lights flashed my eyes And a bullet pierced through my cranium Punishing me for the crimes I had not committed, My lips...

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Along this misery coil Dust drifting on currents ebbing in Approaching storms, lightning flickering is sheets along thunderheads That builds on a hot summer evening Along this misery coil The humidity drips from the flesh like oil A hot engines scream with steam Billowing into the twilight sky Vacant windows with odd old yellow lights wink on In the hot evening Burning...

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Poor people of our countries Poor people everywhere Poor people of Haiti People who are poor, disoriented, and crazy I will no longer say ‘poor Haiti’ Haiti is a country full of wealth Haiti, a country full of resources For others Haiti is a paradise and rich in resources For others Haiti is a country full of hypocrisy Of destitute, miserable and suffering peoples Haiti is...

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Surrounded by strangers who love me. [Un]strangers made strange by pain. Words the same as always, the same as nothing, when nothing is the same. Lost and last to know; lost and last to love. I am the last one lost. For you cannot see even a bubble; once it is popped. Falling not flying. One lost, bloody word, like the lost...

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Life is but a song of sorrows, Days can feel like miserable melodies. Our heartstrings plucked, Chords that resonate with tragedy. The beating drum, a dark percussion, Can serve as rhythm to the chorus of our love and joy. That which is memorized by heart, In every generation, the song is sung. In every life, a note is played— Lows...

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Migrants on the move from violence their only possession breath-space on a smuggler’s boat secured with back-bent harvests in pretzel-bent systems weight of crates of strawberries hoisted on hell-bent backs just trying to reach Spanish-shores’-east from Moroccan beach with a camel-mystique —the seaway west of Africa a rags-wearing-flotsam grave migrants on the move from Cameroon die —or survive a militia-cocktail blend of...

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Is a chance either against fate or destiny, It often looks like a planned movie that might end in everyone's favor, The words are beginning to be buried in our heads, The pledges ain't really made, they are just structures build on maybe, What if the dreams had, falls on an unfertile soil, What if all the efforts turns...

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A petition has intiaton.' On border soverigenity.' Midst angst And supposition ? In one dimention flow of people..Has Been a staple, before Noah sailed over the silenced; and hidden Creations.' Yet subject to conditions i e ( travellers funding Available craft? the (prevailing tides and seasons ) allowing Integration, of benefit to any nation.' Any artifice; or abberation Type's Cannot justify,...

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The human creatures dancing ...

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I have inked my verses All day for so long Poured my soul in pages But got nothing in return For being a full time poet Poverty has ruined my life Crippled my very spirit Humiliation and neglect follows me everywhere My wrinkles and weary eyes Speak of misery and destitution So I have decided To forsake my pen...

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Mr Misery Mr Misery wants to give himself over wholly to wild and uninhibited pine cones. ...

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I bleed my pens ink I stab my paper until I wound it with my pens I break my diary's back I torture my art my writing kills me with all emotions I let my grief , despair and regrets all at once while a giant rock moves inside my throat my breath buried 6...

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Misery : intro: afta all di wealth and fame im accrued, afta all di wild parties im threw, afta all di promiscuous and gypsy women im chewed, afta all di aba made friends im drew, and afta all di recreational places im knew, dis na anderson walkingshoes. chorus: afta all di wealth and fame im accrued, afta all di wild parties im...

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