Short Executions Poems

Cold, abbreviated February,
host to nobel, famous politicians.
Day commemorating dignitary,
valentines addressed on loving missions;
Cupid's bow delivers executions.
Leap year makes your stay a little longer,
winter's freeze and ice a wee bit stronger....

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d-rump just delivered a punish'em speech
how 'brilliantly' stupid can a person be
avoiding gun control
but equating hate crime with mental illness
so more police and executions are needed
is this guy for real
he's a friggin con man
there to put money in certain pockets


stan sand...

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Where's the smog
   And the pollution
Only noise, the frogs
   No gangland executions

Millions of stars in the sky
   Nights crisp, fresh and cool
I can feel the wind sigh
   Nature -- not man -- rules

Lack of excitement or buzz?
   -- Doesn't bother me
I've fled Los Angeles
   For God's country...

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From Lenin to Stalin
Khrushchev to Gorbachev
The USSR tried to
choke the West off

Now with Vladimir Putin
Russia's back and shootin'
Masters of duplicity
Executions through toxicity




________________________
Note: The last syllable of each
name in the second line can  
be pronounced like the English
word 'off.'...

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How long does it take
For the Old Sin to wash away
Will there be a time when
Forgiveness becomes the cry
For those who have transgressed
And crossed the line in the sand

Do we start again at this time
Or have they been punished enough
Even when executions occur
The opinion is that they have
Paid the price for their deeds
And allowed to rest in peace.

© Paul Warren Poetry...

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What can match the sheer perfection 
of executions by injection? 
Every oath that`s ever been 
obliges men but no machine. 
There's nothing personal in a bleep 
uniting brothers Death and Sleep. 
From vacant eyes I seem to heed 
words inaudible that plead: 
"Burn me, hang me from a tree, 
take everything save dignity." 
No valediction can they log 
when they  put you down like a suffering dog...

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How timeless 
you were, 
O, violence; 
after summary executions.

A climactric battle 
rages on, with self.
Inside you, seeking devastatingly-
the brown earth. 
   
After the black night, 
I will wait for a bright 
sun. it is there, feel 
of sharp landing, through the eye of a needle.

Freedom from the legacy 
of legends. Where you were,
there was no traffic
of crawling truths.


Satish Verma...

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Unlike tricoleuse knitting room – 
I hadn’t much fun by light of moon.
The crows at dawn abated soon.
I fairly swoon – I fairly swoon.



*tricoleuse: One of a number of women who sat knitting while attending public executions during the French Revolution.  (3 syllables per Howmanysyllables, but no stressed syllable identified)

Famously referred to in A Tale of Two Cities, by Charles Dickens...

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The smiling god, 	
sitting on the throne 
wants the invisible sacrifice.

The sounds of executions 
which should not have happened, 
to please the sovereignty.

The night vision was perfect.
You can see the roof caved in.
An old man was collecting the spent shells.

The anguish was writ large 
on the walls of kitchen.
Smoke still rising from an oven.

What are you going to do today ?
Stargazing ? Going after the lust ?
Or feeding the pigeons ?


Satish Verma...

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