Violence Poems | Examples of Violence Poetry

Beneath Up

A broken Branch beneath, laid in lies then repeats.
Skipped on lakes of tears deepened by defeat.

A broken Branch beneath, connection and silence,
between resigned or violence,
between being conscious... or dying.

Footprint stalking all this way, following.

Enough water to drown, 
enough water to cover-up,
enough water if all alone in the middle with you in it.

Stare until no bubbles,

Quanti Ori Spesi?

…

Quanti ori spesi
per ricevere bastoni?

…

A riot born of flames and rage

A burned up system of control
A revolt spoken with flames 
Silence was no longer an option
Peace had been exhausted 
The only language they communicate 
Violence 
The police man specialises in brutality when it comes to the black man

'Stop and search'
An excuse they use
To abuse 
The 'blacks"
Used as a slur
By the oppressor
As if it's poison, as

The white woman's tears

Their tears drown out truth
In a thick coating of white lies 
Used to prepare our demise
Each tear, a loss, a death, a wound 
That seals our communities doom
A cry for war without any real cause 
Our flesh the only thing it burns
A pain that continues into the next generations 

Fragility they use for power
Without it

The missing posters that go missing

Streets littered with white paper sheets
Printed with the ink of black missing kids
Floating through the air desperate to find somebody who cares
Empty are the streets, just like their parents home
Awaiting the day they'll be reunited with their beloved children 

Authorities won't listen
Not one eye lid batted
They look the black parents in the eye feeling joy

Luce Riflessa

…

Luce riflessa.

…

Non dà calore.

…

Io, la Luna.

…

Tu, un Girasole.

Brown Paper Packages

I love this unravelling!
Tearing loose paper,
cutting sticky tape and string -
what’s this dark vapour?
Package comes from a
“Kaczynski” – wasn’t he the
dreaded Unabomber?

Meadow Butterfly

The butterfly, its crimson mottled wings
flitting in the delicate Autumn breeze;
uncurled proboscis taking sweet nectar
from early dawns, newly opened daisies
does not regard the corpses of the men
whose dead eyes ever stare the grass below
fresh attention-seeking meadow flowers.
Men's bodies yet unclaimed, save for ravens
who do outpace the sunshine-seeking flies
and vacillating mothers, sisters, wives
to take an early

Lambda, 13-01-14

…

Giuseppe Luigi Lagrangia.

Invidia!
Invidia! Invidia!
Invidia!	Invidia!
Invidia!	Invidia!
Invidia!		Invidia!
Invidia!			Invidia!
Invidia!			Invidia!
Invidia!				Invidia!
Invidia!					Invidia!
Invidia!					Invidia!
Invidia!						Invidia! 
Invidia! 							Invidia!
Invidia! 							Invidia!
Invidia! 								Invidia!
Invidia! 									Invidia!
Invidia! 									Invidia!
Invidia! 										Invidia!
Invidia! Invidia!								Invidia! Invidia!

Io.

…

They Want That Control

This is something every human wants to score
And never satisfied with a little but want more
To have control over your emotions and tears 
Remote controlling your deepest inner fears
It excites them to know that they run your life
People pleasing will cause you to pay the price
Showering you with gifts so you're well pleased
Then telling you

Nella Morsa Della Tagliola

…

Se solo potessi
liberarmi dal dubbio,
che serra il mio cervello
nella morsa d’una tagliola.
e m’impedisce di dormire.

Se solo potessi
entrare nella tua testa,
avere una certezza,
anche la più misera,
affinché i denti smettano di incidere.

…

Chains for the Weak

If you hold a gun and I hold a gun,
we can talk about law.
If you hold a knife and I hold a knife,
we can talk about rules.
If you come empty-handed and I come empty-handed,
we can talk about reason.
But if you have a gun and I only have a knife,
then the truth lies in your hands.
If

It's Alright

I thought it's alright when he skips the talking;
Getting hot, and then boiling over promptly.

And it's alright; he won't put me in a coffin; 
I'm not dead, I was just unconscious. 

I thought it's alright that he never tried to understand; 
I'm just confusing and shouldn't think someone could give a damn. 

I thought it's

The wound that never heals but continues to grow

Skin broken cannot be repaired 
Healing is possible but trauma stays their
Invisible to those with a privileged eye
Visible to those who still ache and cry
Skin will cover what the heart won't show
A pain felt by those who know
What it was like to be named ghetto

Time can heal but what if it don't 
When the glue

The policing of voice

It's not about tone
Its about policing of voice
It's not about the sound we make
It's the words echoing through them
They don't fear us being seen
They fear us being heard
That we will hypnotise the masses with our words

They know their biggest threat is the power of our voice
It's why they wield silence as a weapon 
It's why

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Poems Related to Violence

rampage, disturbance, brutality, clash, confusion, assault, fighting, cruelty, attack, struggle, disorder, bloodshed, fury, onslaught, ruckus, sharpness, bestiality, coercion, fuss, severity, flap, roughness, fierceness, vehemence, passion