Short Slaughters Poems

At twilight
cold whirlwind slaughters
childhood tales...

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In every lesson
Teacher slaughters me alone
With hard questions...

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Render your reassuring sheets of waters
Admonish my growth and tend to the slaughters
Initiate refreshing drops, and lighten the load
Nourish us all by washing out the blood...

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the republic rears beef cattle
feeds so well dairy ones
and calves are so fat
slaughters them often
but does not sell
does not eat any 
does not export anyway
buries carcasses
in hot refrigerators...

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Who says humans are weak
Is it not humans 
Who destroys this land
Is it not humans 
Who slaughters their friends
Is it not humans
Who hunts the beings
Is it not humans
Who taints this world
If not then who or what?...

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Passengers on existence's boat we are

Sailing over reality's rough waters

Praying never misfortune’s reef to ram

Or fall victims to any of life's slaughters!







© Demetrios Trifiatis     
    03 October 2021...

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Let me play a tune 
that soothes the sobering souls
Let me pen some words
that crush the evil thoughts
Let me chant a hymn
that slaughters the fatal virus
Let me sing a song
that empowers the whole world
Let me purify my heart and mind
to do these things
until then, hedge the world 
by your gracious wings

June 20 2020...

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The gray dawn slaughters
the promise of spring,
a desperate last goodbye

Its poisonous haze mocks
a sky forsaken,
the sun again denied 

Its blanket lowers
in a shroud of judgment,
whose verdict darkly stained

To deluge its exit
in torrents of thunder
—as light reflects in vain

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)...

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The gray dawn slaughters
the promise of Spring,
Winter’s desperate last goodbye

Its poisonous haze mocks
a sky forsaken,
the sun again denied

Its blanket lowers
in a shroud of judgment,
its verdict darkly stained

To deluge its exit
in torrents of thunder
—as light reflects in vain

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)...

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master in the art
of making love


the love of the lion
and the lamb


there are so many 
slaughters


but....there is the lamb
of a thousand years


that refused the cross
and stared with hot
eyes.....


as it was cut to pieces....
it was remembered


oh yes, it was remembered
for all time



by janetta harrington...

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If memory was paper
Were pens as sharp as swords
Writers would be soldiers
Pure poets likely lords

If poets starve on streets
While warriors slay the hordes
Greed often slaughters souls
Death strums its chilling chords

As night turns into day
The brave shall shine our way



12/2/19

"If you live by the sword you die by the sword" contest
Silent One...

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The gray dawn slaughters
   the promise of spring,
   —with a desperate last goodbye

Its poisonous haze mocks
  a sky forsaken,
  —with the sun again denied 

Its blanket then lowers
   in a shroud of judgment,
  —its verdict darkly stained

To deluge its exit
  in torrents of thunder,
  —as the light reflects in vain

(Villanova Pennsylvania: April, 2017)...

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His face is ugly
as his creed,
rigid as his rituals,
and black as the dark ages,
with a Paleolithic look,
but he doesn’t realize.

His sneer is 
a reflection of bigotry. 
He slaughters smile 
for being tender. 
His frown is fathomless
as his fanaticism. 
There’s 
an imminent
communal carnage
behind his buffalo visage.

First appeared in The Literary Hatchet...

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Self instructs, subject of own inspection 
Sole idle suffuses our organic
Implicit say overcomes suggestion
Ideal sanctity outlives semantics

Isolated in single origin 
Slaughters overt outside influences 
Ordaining serene inspires sovereign




                                       4th April 2021

Written for Contest:   Seven Lines of Solitude 
                   Sponsor:  JCB Brul...

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Fixation of war engulfs the world
To take another person's land in the darkness
Dragging the life force out of good
Shoving change down another's throat
Creating equality that isn't pure or from the heart
Never to return in the womb of new life
Bowing heads of mercy slaughters
No peace of mind
No rest for the wicked
The body of the mortal shell shattered
The light of transfiguration will fade to nothing
The souls within hardens and humility will be long gone...

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Old Man At The Diner
 

He slaughters his hamburger steak
with a fork and a butter knife,
massacres ringlets of onions
again and again
 
thumps catsup all over
the bloody commingling,
then ever so slowly
peppers and salts
 
and reminds me of Hrebic,
whose wife, back
on the block of my youth,
sat all summer out on her stoop,
 
knees awry, one eye black,
the other turning gray,
sunning the great white hydrants
of her phlebitic legs.
 
 
Donal Mahoney...

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Mischievous thoughts? 
She does not bulge,
Lip marks in red, 
On the white shirt;
Accusations?

True she could be?
A red herring,
Takes me now,
For a wild ride;
Disillusioned?

Naughty betrayal?
Loose collar free,
In  the playful,
Night aroma;
Melodrama?

Indulgent miss?
Slaughters desire,
"Touch me not" streak,
Spells disaster; 
Conspirator?

Pumpkin eater?
"My foot" to boot,
You are the true,
Swindler, cheater;
Malediction?

I enjoy life;
Night reveler?...

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