Tyrants Poems - Poems about Tyrants

I punched you out for what it was That small space we call real estate Beyond the Island of doom the cock doodled at noon Then I saw that time for you Became more urgent More urgent than purchase I saw haunting silhouettes of the people you drove crazy I punched the clock that took advantage of time But you blowed...

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When you are lost, look for the stars. They share a mission, lost in time, lost in graves, lost in feelings. Become what you sought out to become. There is more than one of you. But they reside in the same body. Choose wisely who you befriend. The world is only cold, when lost in someone's hands. Never abide by regret. Shade the feeling of hatred. Look away from stems...

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In seasons of great tyrants, love is slain. Despotic virus rules throughout the lands. Destruction of the millions brings no gain. Atomic power rests in godless hands, who have the means to shelter from black rain. Perhaps the precipice of World War Three. Once more self-centered masters preach in rage. Sick people deemed controllers by decree, power acts of cruelty on life’s stage, their...

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An abnormal desire to scathe and to kill. If we all let them they can and they will....

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Tyrants, Despots and Dictators remember it never ends well for tyrants, despots and dictators 4-13-22 Contest: Bite Size Poem No. 42 Sponsor: Line Gauthier...

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Timendi causa est nescire (Ignorance is the cause of fear). – Seneca About two thousand years ago, when Quintilianus said it (at least, that’s who gets the credit), his paradigm was apropos: the words “Vestis Virum Reddit.” Garbed in leather, silks, and cotton, emperors took his words to heart (at least, they tried to look the part). While rags for the misbegotten kept wealth and hoi...

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Tyrants Walk What shall I feed my children? The garden is empty, the plants have been pulled up. The dog, we ate already. There are no rats in the traps. Instead, they live in the palace, where the fence is live wire, and the guns shoot the chickens, begging for scraps or seed. People that...

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In tribute to Lt. Col. John W. Bell, B24 pilot during WWII. He was an ace in his flying machine, Could spiral downward at full speed, Then pull out and level off just in time, To touch down safely on the landing field. Well taught and ready for hostile combat, Sent off to fight, our freedom...

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Reporters swarmed, the rabid jackals, around my house they made a big crowd, even harassed my poor old mother to the point she could barely go out. I growled loud at more than a few, got one locked up for trespassing, thankfully they found other nonsense and the frenzy wasn’t long-lasting. But the damage had truly been done, the internet will never forget, I was...

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I was born in far Morsania, a small, backwater Eurasian state, known to most folk in this wide world for my grandfather’s prodigious hate. My given name is Jocefeus, but I mostly go by Joe these days, because that tyrant grandpa and I unfortunately share a name. I have no real memory of him, I was a baby when my mom left, only learned later...

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Some serious religious sophomores claim Christ ('Witness' Bluff) Almost like Columbus: to hit the Other, take their STUFF Nothing Doing here; I am a Minister of Jesus' Gospel For the same Reason they fled HERE to Native Indian lands Catholics to Lord Baltimore's Maryland, Puritans to Massachusetts; Persecuted Quakers to Penn's America - for debts Kings owed the Admiral (Indentured white...

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Tyrants of the Ruling Sun Let the universe swallow my slaving soul As the sorrows surround the sinking shoal The light lingers before it falls on my face Edacious echoes engulfed will embrace Sisyphean stars of sadness will defuse The barbarians of Babylon will bemuse Silent screams slumber in nomadic night As the dogmas of deceit deluge in delight Wandering waves of woe thru...

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Bright sons and daughters of war Rejoice for you are now the bringers of light Vanishing the darkness Now take life by the hand Tie the threads of a new upbringing To be in cold, desolated in the nature of evile Now we can scream from are vocals of joy We have escaped the void The chosen few stood against many Escaping the deepest...

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(Victor Hugo fought against the dictator, first on the barricades, then in scathing poetry like this - "Souvenir de la nuit du 4".) She took him to the hearth to warm him up, not noticing his legs, already stiff. Alas! Our mortal fires can't give back breath to those who've felt the icy hand of Death. She bent...

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(In December 1851, Napoleon III, nephew of the great Bonaparte, staged a coup d'etat in Paris.) The child was dead. Two bullets in the head. The room was decent, humble, honest, clean. An Easter palm was pinned to some old print. A grandmother wept quietly in one corner. In silence, we took off the little boy's...

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