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Jo Fo  Apr 2013
The Conquerer
Jo Fo Apr 2013
Yes I conquered these woods in the fall

Me wounded

Comrades falling by my side-Dying in my arms

Again and again we ****** ourselves against them like a wave against sand

Weaving through the trees

We ran out of bullets and had to use knives

Out numbered by a margin legends are made of

Being stabbed or shot always somewhere non-vital

Gasping but never crying at the pain

The dead leaves under us with their own sharp gasp

Then I was called to dinner

Throwing Pellet gun and Beer can grenades aside

I ran home

Yes

As a child I conquered these woods in the fall
Emeka Mokeme Aug 2018
On chain they did put me,
******* to the burglary protector,
handcuffed and battered.
Tortured and meant to be broken.
Poisoned but survived.
Marked for assassination,
and shot twice,
bullets flying around,
resilient and unflinching,
was ready to confront them.
Dead or alive I must choose one.
Must find a way out of this mess,
to escape was on my mind,
but how do I get out of here without
jeopardizing the lives of my family.
Courage summoned I revert to plan B,
the art of fighting without fighting.
Intelligence and wisdom must come into play.
Must outwit them to survive.
Cunning and craftiness must be used,
the uncanny ways of the spirit is amazing.
Become like water,
be flexible,
Yielding but still immovable.
Stealth in action but remain like the firefly.
Understanding their intent
and misdirected anger,
their aggression towards me was contained.
Tranquilized and overpowered,
their capture became imminent for
i am more than a conquerer,
for the greater one lives in me.
Today I stand here to testify of that victory against
the intruders and assassins with a grateful heart.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
How I escaped from the Kidnappers and assassins. Wounded but I survived.
S Bharat  Feb 2020
The Conquerer
S Bharat Feb 2020
The Conquerer

Plunged the sword
Into my heart,
And
"Conquered the world" he said,
"I left no part."

S. Bharat
I was always unafraid
To show my love
To admit it to the world
But I was always afraid of love
Of getting hurt
Not being loved in return
Afraid I'd always be searching
But I've settled now
And while I'm still fearless
About showing my love
I'm also unafraid to love
For I've found the one
And now I know
That love, while it may be scary
Is worth all that life
May try to harm me with
For love always conquers.
Addison René Jul 2014
you and me -
we were like a train wreck waiting to happen
like watching animal planet by yourself late at night
about a lion stalking young gazelle in the sahara
and trying to turn your head
when he goes in for the ****
but you can't
you always told me,
"hey, love is pain"
but this kind of pain hurt so bad
it felt good
i liked it when you ripped my heart out
so swiftly and remorselessly
i was your conquest,
and you,
my conquerer
the lines you  told me
the last day we spoke
i now have so religiously memorized
and i play on repeat
over,
and over,
and over again
and ever since
i haven't wanted to wait for another train wreck to happen again
I have produced tons of intimate letters; none of them are real. They are true in just an uncertain sense; they don't lie in the hands of any liberty. The whole of them; the utter, entire thoroughness! Sad, I know. Most of them are of no interest to anyone but my heart. My only heart. That sings in horrid uncertainty and unloved freedom. My love, my darling, the second half of my being - is lost, and will forever lay out there, astray. The very own flower of my being. My sin, my soul. The dearest letter of my sacrifice, inner thoughts, depth, and pleasure. It is my mistake, I know; my fault as it has always been, to be unable to desist from my loving feelings. I can't resist the eagerness I feel whenever I am close to him; when I can hear his thoughts, when I listen to his distant heartbeat. How I am addicted to, and obsessed with the sensation - the ****** warmth, and vibration when I catch his agile sight in my vicinity, in the polished blandness of my greedy solitude. O, how I feverishly long for more, as always! I who can't hinder myself from moving about in peculiarity - just to cast a glance at him, as bizarre a loving curiosity as it might possibly be! I who but feel forlorn when he is not around, when his pulses are unseen, hideously invisible, encroached by silence and chaos of the day - vicious but all of these to my sight! How undear! How I am unbelievably hungry for which, so ravenous as I am, it becomes no longer a singular desire to me. I am afraid I shall be accustomed to this singularity; what a simultaneous treachery that shall be trampled upon, and grossly abashed - with acute meticulousness and strands of powerful lamentation. I am so greedy about my destiny - for I believe utterly that he is the sole bird, and butterfly of my life! My butterfly, o guileless butterfly, who is as frail as a stem of lavender, scented as it was by nature's comely quietness, sickly it may be, in facing the relapse of its wrong and evil doings. He is my swan, his beautiful wings never relent although deeply wounded; he flies away from tragedy and blends swiftly into harmony. Tragic but true! As I may never be worthy of his love, he is the manifestation of my princely dream; he lives in the dreamland, the haven in which his stately princess resides; he belongs to her, and only her that is deserving of his affection. Like a desiccated lake, from its long sleep now awake, I will be the thirsty snow when spring comes to life, and greets the bashful moon aloft! I am the weeping window to all this solitude, I care for no life beneath; I dwell on the tedious edges of my prince's marriage. Frames of beauty, paints of greenness, and all those gracious perks of womanliness; all belong to his wife, and carved under her name. Not my name; awfully not, and shan't ever be. The stars sneer at it; the skies none but spurn it for its undesired but designated misfortune. Hurtful as it is but I pray that Heaven watch my steps! As to this I am but cursed and shied away from his love, o, in this drear I am like a lifeless tree when the roots are old and severed. My branches are tired and longing to embrace death; call for it so that it can come to lull them soon, from amongst the hills! I am one of its deadly shadows that makes fate even more haunting to myself! My remains afterwards are not missed by the angry earth - they are sullied so it despises my leaves, thorns, and bushes; thus my fruits will wither without proper notice; I am praising myself, with these words, to no avail! Defying my fate is indeed of no advantage! I will yell but at nothingness, I am dull and unspoken, my unfortunate thoughts are boldly sounded in the murky state of no astonishment. I am a haunting melody to a giddy song! I am not for anyone's possession, pathetic as I am; my soul can't help falling in someone's grace, in this wondrous breaths of hesitation! O but I detest it! This desire, this flame, and all their demonic flutes - those soulless songs! I can't help passionately and tenderly loving him; and his ecstatic features that nature has been so proud of! I who love him with all the might of my joy, as awkward as it might be, I long but for the rainbow in his eyes - the rainbow that duly reminds me, of how warm the sun used to be! O I love thee, I dearly love thee, my sweet, the prince of my soul! I love thee so gently, I love thee bluntly, frankly, and unconditionally. My love for thee is vivid, mortal, and pretty; I love thee graciously, I love thee gratefully, and so childishly! I love thee selfishly, but it is just because of my faith in thee, my generous, loyal faith! As I have professed utterly - I love a man but only thee, thee who rules my soul, whom I so awfully adore, needst, and care about. My kingst is thee, this I admit with all the power of constitution; strengths and weaknesses; and sincerity of my comeliest gratitude. Thou art the sole lad, master, and conquerer of my soul! The solidity of my being, poems of my tongue, and joyful veins of my blood; thou feedst my life, mind, and sanity! I love thee as how a woman loves a man; I love thee not as my guidance, no more! Therefore I shall choose thee, only thee, and as irrevocable as this love is to be, no matter how strong I restrain; I'd only love thee once again.
Sharina Saad May 2013
Romeo fought in a battlefield..
Won himself titles and golds
A standing ovation, applause and praises to Romeo ,
People bowed with great respect...
Walking proudly with his head held high...
ROMEO... Known to the world as a fighting HERO.

With one strong hand holding a sword..
And another arm hugging his trophy..
ROMEO was proudly declared as the conquerer of the world..

Countless of wars he won...
Thousands pieces of lands he conquered
Houses were burnt down
Women were captured, ***** and murdered..
Hundreds of children were made orphans
Families were torn apart...
Despite the talked about bravery and persona
Indeed ROMEO was a murderer ..
a blood thirsty serial killer....
So Romeo must die....

Once upon a time in history..
A great fierce man called ROMEO
Of all the battles he fought, he won..

One last battle he did lose
A piece of heart he failed to win
The heart of a woman he desired..
Imagine a disgrace of The world toughest man
Succumbed to His greatest weakness ,
Melted his cruel evil heart..
Begging for The love of his life...
A woman he truly loved ...
ROMEO ... A man she truly despised...
.. a total rejection what a shame..
Depressed... ROMEO lost the thirst to try...
SO ROMEO MUST DIE......
Anderson Ritchie Jan 2012
A general and statesman,
reformer and conquerer,
summoned to the senate,
and hastily issued a petition
of which to bring back a senators
banished brother.

The Dictator Waves him off,
and Cimber grasps his shoulder,
“Ista quidem vis est!”1
Cascas dagger is drawn,
swiftly toward the neck it darts,
yet caesar nimbly catches such
attack,
“Casca you villain! What is this you do!?”
Casca fearing, cries “Adelphe, Boethei!”
2

Then like the wolves descending on
a lonely foe, they lunge and leap,
Brutus too…
Caesar at the sight of him,
averts his eyes and makes for the door,
unable to escape he falls upon the floor,
“Kai su, Teknon?”*3
The man who was harried,
crawled to the steps, and
saying nothing,
Caesar dies…

The Lower steps submerged in the
Emperors crimson blood,
the body cold, limp,
lifeless,
had at by the vultures,
armed with knives, and
stabbed times twenty-three.

The conspirators proud,
marched through the streets,
and announced to fear-struck
citizens,
“People of Rome! We are once again free!”
Yet, no one came out…
for now.
until, Three hours passed,
and only then,
was the fallen mans lifeless,
corpse drenched in blood,
collected and cremated.
*1: Ista quidem… (latin) Meaning: Why, Violence this is!

*2 Adelphe Boethei…. (greek)  Meaning: Help, Brother!

*3 Kai su, Teknon….(greek) Meaning: You too, child?
It was raw
And I knew it
Had to be true
You said you loved me
And I believed
Despite
The pain
The agony
Our battle
The victory is always
Rewarded to Love.
Emeka Mokeme Oct 2018
Because of you,
I can say what's
on my mind,
laugh at myself
and put a smile
on a sad face.
I do the
impossible things
with the
right mind set.
Because of you,
I became better.
Your inspiration
motivates and propels
me beyond the limits.
Because of you
I became a superman
doing all kinds of
amazing and supernatural
tremendously incredible
great things with
giant strides.  
Because of you
i can climb
all the hills
and mountains like
the Spiderman.
Because you are
by my side I
became more than
a conquerer.
Positivity became
my ally and
generates me to
a spiritual high.
Because of you,
I know everything
is working the
way they should.
And for that
my heart is so grateful.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
Hector Lemainski Feb 2017
When randomly hit with wind gusts
I unsuccessfully try to see my path
And no shadow of lucidity ignites in my mind;

What I might do besides shut them eyes
And budge? Therefore, there I am:
In a trice, all strayed.

'Twas only in the absence of light
That the Universe could conquer itself.
Whether the flame conducting thee perishes;
Don't abide there; 'Tis when to get farest.
glass can Jan 2014
I forget that my brain does not do __ when it should do __ and I slip under the coat of choking mustard gas that ***** the moisture from my lungs and eyes. A mustard seed of effort, small and yellow, cracked with no seeming dreaming thing of an eye has fallen like Hansel's crumbs from my hand and is buried with all my ambitions and dead dogs in the cold ground.

I hope it grows a kingdom of heaven, but prayers are wasted when they come from the wonton--and wayward kin of sinners who lead false farces and bring gluttony to dinner. I waste and want and cannot speak the language of those around me while we all whine and dine and **** and cackle

oh god
trite *******
*******
******* ******* ******* *******

I am not tired, I am bored, I am bored of lying and trying. Trying is the worst, and there is little reward for the cost of my dismemberment of ego.

Where is a pre-made empire for me when I need it? I should be handed down something, I cannot earn it on my own. I am a ruler, not a conquerer. I am a spectator, not an athlete. My narcissism cannot take the trying effort of building something of my own with feeble rewards and now I will die alone. Maybe. Maybe it's all hyperbolic.

I'm gonna say it. *******, I'll say it.
"**** it, how will I ever get out of this labyrinth?"

— The End —