Is it the arrow while in its flight?
That determines what is in its sight?
More likely the archer, with steady aim.
Shot not to kill, but to hurt and to maim.
At last, he’ll release his final revenge.
It’s not his choice, the flight to abate,
The target chosen as if by fate.
The arrow its damage, it will do.
The deed is done, the archer is through.
Now he can stop his honor less binge.
Revenge was not the ultimate cure,
For all the pain he had to endure.
A forgiveness path should have been taken,
A better path, be not mistaken.
Love enters in to act as a hinge.
Opening the door to understanding,
Knowledge enters and is expanding.
Two people beginning to comprehend,
Like a willow tree, they too can bend.
They begin to see hope on the fringe.
In death truth is told, the final sting.
The voice of justice begins to sing.
Those not able to make the right choice,
Understand their error from the voice.
All are harmed when the choice is revenge.
I gazed into my husband’s eyes.
Eyes once borne by my daughter.
Agamemnon upon Mycenaean soil once more.
I embraced him as a figure crept out of the shadows.
Aegisthus slipped the knife’s hilt silently into my hand.
Agamemnon now forever lay beneath the land.
slammed
notebook
shut killing
a fruit fly dead
gone
Their blood was the poison that would kill them
Their presence blinding
That's why they hate them
They come too close and try to touch them
But they didn't know that we are the sun
That trying to block out the sun
Would become their biggest problem
Actions have consequences
And we were their karma
The one thing they can't have our colour
Their envy would be their downfall
The sun feeds the earth its energy
So when you take it away, you better hope it has empathy
Or maybe we should take a leaf out of your book and show no mercy
Revenge is a dish best served with a side of justice
If you haven't realised yet we are the sun
We will burn of your skin until your flesh and bone
And drown you in a pool of your blood
So that you understood
That we all bleed red and to dismantle your victimhood
And now we watch you struggle in a prison of your own blood
The trees are too busy
losing leaves
or withdrawing deeper
into their winter selves
to notice me.
Clouds pass overhead
oblivious to my presence,
the wind detours around me
and carries on its way
as if I'm not there.
I mean nothing at all
to the river much less
the ocean. Butterflies
and birds ignore me
or keep their distance.
I'm treated as only a part
of an earthly whole.
That won't do.
Little do they know
they are paying a price
for their indifference
and reluctance to bend.
I am asserting
my god given right
of dominion
by slowly
killing them.
A tale is told of a cruel man
who once cast a stone at a righteous dervish’s head.
The poor man, too meek to strike back,
picked up the stone and kept it close?—?
waiting.
Time passed.
The king, angered by that cruel man’s misdeeds,
cast him into a bottomless, dark pit.
The dervish came to the edge,
aimed?—?
and hurled the same stone down upon him.
The man cried out,
“Who are you, and why strike me now?”
The dervish replied,
“I am the one you struck that day?—?
And this is the very stone you threw.”
“But where were you all this time?”
asked the man.
The dervish smiled:
“I feared your power.
But now, seeing you in a pit instead of a palace?—?
I saw my moment and seized it.”
The most important person in his life was his daughter
He couldn't live without her
She was his whole heart
Life without her wasn't worth it
He reminisced on a life that slowly killed him
Weakened him
Mistreated him
But when he found out he was going to be a father
He felt like for him life had just started
He vowed she would have a better life than his
That he would protect her innocence
With his everything
He had hoped she would outlive him
But life could be cruel to little black kids
One moment She happily playing with her friends
The next moment She had been shot dead
A little black life taken because of hatred
This world disgusted him
He knew she wouldn't get justice
So he himself would get it instead
An eye for an eye
Was his motto
He stalked his daughters killers home
Only to realise he wasn't alone
He had a daughter of his own
He entered their home
Walking in
He raised his gun
And shot them
Theman who shot his daughter was a white man
Who died not because of being shot but because of his hatred
To black children
What once was was now red
I guess we aren't so different
Never wish death upon your enemy,
wish that they beg for death.
Drink from silver cups of silence,
haunted by ghosts of breath.
Let their triumphs rot in shadow,
gold turn to sand.
Every crown one of thorns.
every touch a reprimand.
Let mirrors show them what they buried,
let time refuse to heal,
not with fire, but with memory,
may they learn what it means to kneel.
He hones his purpose on a stone whet of spite,
Edge kissed to gleam in the dead of night.
Relentless is the echo tuned to hindsight.
Endless in the knowing his cause is right.
His grip is firm, his whetstone flat.
His purpose honed to revenge in tit-for-tat.
The axe grinder, can't ever get over that.
Old grudges are ground in, with spittle spat.
The sparks fly from grinding wheel.
Spun to remove the scars in steel.
Caught in armor on the leg and heel,
Of the foe that stood up from their kneel.
Sharper minds cut cleaner truer lines,
In wood chips, slivers, shaves and fines,
Cut deeper deeper in, to find the quick that binds,
The grinder to the hurt and pain he mines.
Steel-bound words once carved in stone, Now rust in whispers, dead and alone.
The oaths we swore in fire and ash, Lie shattered now—mere ghosts of past.
A blade was drawn, a wound was made, Yet scars still whisper, cold and frayed.
Beneath the weight of silent screams, The echoes writhe, the soul redeems.
Ink turns black beneath the skin, A tale of ruin carved within.
The hands once strong now shake in dust, Their bones betray their hollow trust.
A crimson sun, a starving tide, A love undone, a fate denied.
The night is long, the shadows call, They dance in halls where secrets fall.
A requiem hums in fractured breath, Where promises drown and love meets death.
“I like my lover's heart blackened with a deeper shade of darkness, where the ravens and I can rest in peace.” Ann Marie Eleazer
She had her potions ready, plus an arrow etched with runes.
Stygian mists swirled all around, yet she had perfect aim.
Into the dark forest she went and spotted the raven.
A deadly hit but ill-omened: it was a female black bird.
Cursing in anger, she knew it proved no good for her.
The male raven flew above her as she entered the mansion.
Dressed in black, she entered her dilapidated bedroom to change.
Below, all waited, dressed for the occasion.
They heard a muffled scream, and all ran upstairs.
A long time passed, and no one dared enter the room.
Finally, the door creaked open. Dust, soot, while a poison ivy
Grew on damp curtain wooden rails, a dilapidated screen
Hid a tattered black dress, while two black ravens flew into the night.
A dinosaur, two tons or three,
Heard tell from a mammal quite wee:
“Why, one day your tar
Shall burn in a car
That’s driven by creatures like me!”
Sam was cleared of all charges
Anita’s family was shocked
Audible gasps filled the court room
Someone began shouting and was led out by the bailiff
Mr. Tweed has been cleared of all charges,
The jury has found him not guilty.
Someone began to sob.
Anita’s family sat motionless, in horror.
They wanted to blame someone for her murder.
Sam was the likely culprit, he had beat her, hadn’t he?
They began planning their revenge. They would kill him.
They were enraged, indignant, and incorrect.
From the time that he’s awake
his little fingers start to quake
posting lies to suit his needs
planning out his dirty deeds
Wide awake in dead of night
planning out new cons for spite
making out a target list
balling-up his tiny fist
Counting up his many foes
using fingers, tiny toes
fueled by hate and bigotry
led by greed and trickery
Ariana Grande had many teenage fans
girls went to her concerts, in different lands
Then a bomb went off in Manchester killed 22
Revenge, ideology, a toxic stew
Girls liked to sing along with Taylor Swift
But in the alienated mind there was a rift
He stabbed little girls at a Swiftie themed class
Three of them died, there's a question we could ask.
What kind of hate, what kind of payback
leads to this kind of horror, indiscriminate attack
Why do they zoom in on those we should protect
What society would they build, after ours they wrecked.
Taylor was planning a concert in an Austrian venue
But religious maniacs knew what to do
With explosives and knives, they'd kill the crowd
The more thousands of dead, the more they'd be proud.
Your religion, your revenge, your deadly schemes
Let girls be girls, let teens be teens
There's no harm in a good sing along
Killing one innocent is always wrong
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