Mark Ball
Mark Ball
Jan 16

Die for your applause;
Collect your cause.
Just keep your flaws,
Away from my claws.

You're a martyr and it's of your own divine making.

You've done it this time haven't you–
You've scared off all the ghosts.
You've wasted all the men down on the splendid Western coast.

You've got your pair of eyes fixed
to the top of the Northern gate,
and you've made known your plight
to all the desperate herald saints.

You claim to be the furthest lost cause but
as far as I can see
you've done nothing
but follow the law.

You're ready now, you're ready now,
You're a martyr and it's of your own divine making.

You're a myth,
and not the kind that was intended to be kind.
You're a fiction babe,
time burns away while you tighten your soft eyes.
You were born
at the end of everything. Though,
you've seemed to take a special trip back to slyly embrace me.

But I'm taking you down with me,
O–when I go.



You claimed to be that single one sent to please
the brokenhearted, did you single out me?

You're a myth you made yourself up to be.
But like I said I'm taking you down with me.

O–here I go.

#martyr  

10W

the argument ends
he won
i am martyred
in silence.



soulsurvivor
(c) 5/19/2015

It takes more guts and integrity
to be silent when you know
that you're in the right.

I'm not conceding out of cowardace
I give up for the sake of peace.

---
to a martyr,
Patrick Schiefen
Patrick Schiefen
Jan 22      Jan 23

A libertine
to a martyr,
impose your injustice
and cast a lingering shadow
on my freedom
to be.

Witnesses,
an audience,
inaudible with
eyes wide shut.
Puppets tuned in
to the same frequency,
damning.

Death lifts
a mistaken hero
above the crowd,
valuable
only after the rocks were thrown;
they now mark
the grave.

But I
am unworthy
of such titles,
too selfish and too proud
to endure the exposure
to judgment and
praise.
I am the one
who silences himself.

#poem   #poetry   #life   #reflection   #martyr  
Martyr to avoidance
Nathalie Anna
Jun 10, 2014

Like a captive, I capture rapture wrapping around stakes that matter
Joan of Arc battered
Also tattered but, easily dismissive
Refracted from fractured prominent phrases people play with
Distinctly persuasive and evasive, dressed boyishly attractive, lax stature, dawning armor crafted by absence as if asked about it-
I’m drifted
Protection is principle prerequisite, when fire is lit
I sort of implore your aorta before it’s incinerated to ashes
Dethatched as a habit, with swords or hatchets crafted to singe heartstrings that attached it
While I slash slick Rick as a quick fix,
To fend for pretend pretenses or presumed tricks,
I can’t quit
Cause I hit lips against hash spliffs fashioned with dashes of passion all while rationing fireball cinnamon sips
Martyr to avoidance
I gaze at fabled dazed gossipers galvanizing grips on gritty grapevines while licking warning labels through smoke haze on blurred lines
Capably unstable
Other eyes attending scandal circles able to shout lies and rekindle handed arguments on tables with locked smiles stay boxed in
Avidly amiable
Searching for counterparts when combusted or branded
Toying with matches loses meaning when rules reseed
Those vagabonds claim love is some all end hard bent to mend what the same above can’t comprehend.
Breaking boredom, I pillage pillows with night terrors
And ardent arsonists yearn for flames that churn, turn, liquefy and learn learned thoughts and smoldered feelings
Completely complacent
Melting in one another they are completing each other like two candles tryst true at a wedding day
However later the blaze is severed, smoke sears, and charred black wick stands alone for them.
Aggressive and progressive.
As for me never pleading, fire forever fleets to streets between iron bars I built that cage in deep heat and seep dire dreams once desired
Suppose I’m a skeptic
Roasted or disconnected
Just jaded, just met you
Always over it too soon
Burnt but I’m amused.
I’m useful.

#love   #poem   #sad   #life   #death   #martyr   #joanofarc   #antilovepoem  
a normal person. She was the rebellious martyr filled with centuries upon centuries of
Rafael Melendez

She did not keep the peace, was not the conformist in silence, was not a normal person. She was the rebellious martyr filled with centuries upon centuries of the world's anger and trash. She did not yield for a rule, never  stormed for the greater good of currency, and was born to die. But of course, not before she recieved what she thrived for.

Martyr
is terrorist-doubletalk for
assclowns who've died for their misbeliefs.

Terrorism
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Terrorism

Martyr
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Martyr
.
 
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