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Tichozpytec Oct 2021
I thought I'm out
But that's not what life's about

To fight or to get walked over
A question for tomorrow
He's punching and punching, will it blow over?
Anger, fear, and sorrow
Moomin Jun 2021
The peace of this small neighbourhood, is shattered as the door caves in
As masked marauders seek with guns, the criminals that hide within
But they find no deadly drug baron, Nor killer, or ****** animal
But a grey-haired lady, small and frail, in terror as she beholds them all

At gunpoint then her hands are tied, and her walking stick cast to the floor
As she is marched by mighty men, to the waiting van outside her door
Her heart skips wildly and her breath is tight, as she is bundled roughly inside
Her dignity and rights of law, are swept away and cruelly denied

And across the town there sits a girl, with kindly, smiling joyful eyes
A teen who spends her youthful zest, bringing hope and joy to other lives
But little does she know this day, that her future days are to dwell
Not in delight and dancing halls, but in a dark and lonely prison cell
And elsewhere stands a local hero, a man so honoured by decree
Acclaimed by peers and politicians, as a citizen of kindly deeds
Yet on this day, he is torn away, from his family who are left in tears
As this father and devoted husband, is imprisoned now for seven years
Who are these ones snatched by the state, and treated so unjustly
Held without cause or consideration, and despised so bitterly?
They obey all laws and pay their dues, and love their neighbours when they can
And share a hope of a future bright, even though their hope is banned    

They are young and old, black and white, and gathered from diversity
They wage no wars, won't steal or lie, but treat all people with dignity
For their crime is not of violence, nor abuse, or fraud or robbery    
But of being Christians and trying to show, Christ-like love to you and me

And what of those who terrorize them, the land where this grim drama is set
That mighty nation, so paranoid, that it considers them a threat
This pretender to the throne, bedecked in red and white and blue
Is a jealous king who hates the ones, who, to Christ their King are ever true

But as they languish in prison cells, awaiting justice from the King
The one whose commandments they obey, is smiling down and proud of them
For their hope is not in men of law, nor international decree
But their just and loving King, Christ Jesus, and in God- Jehovah's sovereignty    

Dedicated to Jehovah's Witnesses imprisoned in Russia
Jason Apr 2021

Your Honor,

The persecution rests.

I think it's all too easy to let your old opinions help decide new judgments, especially when you've devoted a great deal of time to developing those opinions.
Remember to take some time to see the other side of the story.
It usually makes a big difference, for some reason.
Maria Mitea Sep 2020
Eyes lost
in waiting,
looking in vain,
Despite it,
He kept them
widely opened,
He put it away
on the old
wood table.

his courage
lifting up
ferrous arms
a tinny piece,
rolling himself
in still noise
a cigarette of
a variety of
great purge
good reason,
one pack a day

It helped survive
the cold,
and everyday
toil when
soldiers and ants
of freedom.

looking in vain,
Despite it,
He kept them
widely opened,
Moth Apr 2020
Spit from your mouth like an insult
like the very word doesn't bloom
and fill me with the pride of it
witch, pagan, devil
Spit hate and misinformation
like your ancestors before you
keep your cycle and see where it goes
Jason Adriel Feb 2020
tell me:
how are beliefs helping
when they cause persecution
screaming injustice while performing acts of hate?

tell me:
how does one differ
folly for a questionable book
or the innermost desire to rule others?

tell me:
how can one say
religions are the foundations of earth
when morality is at a point of contempt?

tell me:
how could one say
one believes in a god
when one ignores humanity?

where is the decency?
what is peace in a tyranny of hate?
some day we'll realize a little too late...
many face persecution in areas all over the world, not excluding my own country. This is a simple question for all the hatred...
Nikolai Dec 2019
Dull is the day.
A new thrill in the night.
A shrill scream in her flight.
Blood is dripping, the ax is lifting
Last of his kind,
a creature of night,
life in perpetual darkness,
neverending, the madness.

The spirits are raising,
pursuers are racing,
with a goal of ending his splendid ambition.

The endless ordeal has come to an end,
his final salvation eluded again.
The blood is no longer dripping,
his hands, no longer ripping the flesh.
Rapture is gone, once again he's alone.
He's come to oblivion, forgotten again,
ignored, but prison can bind him only so long.
Not too sure about the title. Not too sure if the story is in any way coherent or inferable from the text.
JΛM Dec 2019
Righteous anger is intoxicating;
Brain cells sold to the fiction of the mind.
It funds peddlers too loudly debating:
Oh, what to do with words spent on designs
Of machines combating contradictions?
Their motherboards are hardwired for the ****.
Any thoughts or beliefs on opinions?
Just wait for their hunger to get its fill.
Nothing like teeth flushed with red and venom.
***, death, and chocolate cannot compare
To the moral high ground's cheap decorum
Of beliefs held in contempt and despair.
      Because paying attention to the wit
      Of my getting hard done by is the ****.
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