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by Michael R. Burch

“And what rough beast ... slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?”—W. B. Yeats

They laugh and do not comprehend, nor ask
which way the wind is blowing, no, nor why
the reeling azure fixture of the sky
grows pale with ash, and whispers “Holocaust.”

They think to seize the ring, life’s tinfoil prize,
and, breathless with endeavor, shriek aloud.
The voice of terror thunders from a cloud
that darkens over children adult-wise,

far less inclined to error, when a step
in any wrong direction is to fall
a JDAM short of heaven. Decoys call,
their voices plangent, honking to be shot ...

Here, childish dreams and nightmares whirl, collide,
as East and West, on slouching beasts, they ride.

Published by The Neovictorian/Cochlea, Mindful of Poetry, Gostinaya and Scholasticus/Fullosia Press. Keywords/Tags: 911, war, violence, retribution, twin towers, terror, terrorism, east, west, dreams, nightmares, error
Torture
(ˈtôrCHər)

Torture, the infliction of severe physical or mental pain
or suffering for a purpose, such as
coercing a confession, or inflicting punishment.

Torture
(ˈtôrCHər)

Making me pay everyday,
By loving someone else that treats you well
For hurting you and breaking you
The way I did
Paul OConnor Mar 10
Shivering in a cold car
Hours crawling by
What an effing miserable day it is
No whisky in the jar

Yeah tmes were hard back home
Sure we never had an easy ride
Yet laugh we did for we were one
But for me it was time to roam.

Three months back I reached South London
Squatting in rooms on borrowed time
Not good enough to work for uber
Just an unlicensed dodgy one

Burner on lap, awaiting a ring
Maybe it will, but probably not
Hours go by, but it is what it is
I kinda don't care what the day will bring

Ring, I jolt and say "It's Joe"
A collection awaits a few miles away
Foot on the gas, I can't be late
A hard looking man and his young looking **

An address shouted without a greeting
A terrified face in the mirror
Far to young to be doing tricks
Those eyes drill with their pleading

I remember Mary and what's right
Sneaky call to the 999
Give them the details including the scar
Can't sit back and watch this *****

One  week past and no change in life
Sitting in my old coat in a cold car
Pick up two lads to Quinlan's bar
"Grass" the last word before I feel the knife.
C F Feb 3
It's funny.
I was born
Within a loving family

Only child
Learned to be alone.
But, there was nothing wrong.
I had a guardian dog and doting parents
Despite their unavailability.

I hit high school
First boyfriend.
He took something that I can't regain.
So, I learned to carry on.

I just wish I'd met you first.

From the age of 14
I learned to bury my hurt
To bury my anger
To bury my shrinking heart.

I just wish I'd met you first.

I hit college
Things are looking up
I'm 20 something now and my past
Is far behind me

But, wouldn't you know it
Some self-indulgent prepubesent boy
Has made me his home.

I buried it too.

I just wish I'd met you first.

I buried my indignation
I buried my rage
I buried my hatred of the human race.

I just wish I'd met you first.

But then I met you,
You were funny,
And sweet,
And you could keep up with me.

Then we got closer.
And closer.
I realised that not all men are evil pigs.
I wished I met you first.

You brought out my best,
You gave me smiles and laughter,
You taught me to be free.

But.
My freedom comes with a cost.
I should have known.
14 years of shoving my feelings and abuse,
It left me angry.

Angry enough that I could scream
Scream so loud that all who could hear me
Their ear drums would burst

So they could feel my pain
My violations
My innocence ripped away

So they could feel how I feel
I can't be silent anymore
And I know I'm prone to bouts of violence.

I do apologise,
I know it's scary.
To go from soft and patient

To deadly and searing.
With the glint of something
Sharp and metal
In my peripheral.

I know in my heart that
You're good and kind.
That you'd die before you hurt me.
So I apologise for troubling you.

But, at the same time I don't.
Hear my war-cry,
Understand I will take your blood
Before someone else takes mine.
Creator Sun Sep 2019
Sounds of thunder and war,
A chant for freedom or gore,
The chance for a revolution,
A time for retribution.

But when the smoke clears,
And trust me it will,
The chance to breathe will be stilled.
For who are we fighting, but those before us?

Ones that protected us,
Ones that restricted us,
Ones that love us yet never seemed to let go of us.

Ones that we call our family.
Our countrymen.
Our people.
Yet still, we rebel.

Against our teachers.
Against the higher ups.
Against the system.

For freedom. For justice.
For the right to make a choice.
For democracy. For our lives.
For a social renaissance.

With our friends. With their help.
With the ones who feel oppressed.
With foreign aid, with combined power.

We overthrow the government.
The head of family.
The bosses, CEOs and stakeholders.
Waving flags that carry our hope.

And when dawn rises upon this darken wasteland,
We shall begin to realise
That the next generation
Will follow in our footsteps.

So be the flag that rises,
It'd be the flag that falls.
For what comes up must always come down.
And rebellions rises and falls.
This was prompted by a suggestion of one of my good friend and classmate in RGS. She gave me the word 'rebellion' when I had asked her for other words. Please do comment a word so that I'll be able to continue writing such poems every other day. :) Also, if you haven't noticed, I have no distinct poetic style, so I must wonder which poem do you all prefer?
Michael H May 2019
Cry
From feeling music
The world is so beautiful
Your karma is an incredible
Supreme machine of good
And you judge it this way
It is complex

Others wonder
What haunts you
They see you look broken
They wonder why
Why you aren't alone
With yourself
Like most are

You are empathetic
You stagger across heaven and hell
There is unbearable turbulence
Or traumatic exhaustion
...retribution will come...
Do us good
Comfort will come.
19th :) Hi guys!
Scarlett Apr 2019
greedy fingers
pulling
prodding
taking
throbbing
stolen flesh
beneath fingernails
wounds still fresh
missing entrails
I know you took it
bloodied hands and all
I'll take your limbs
you better learn to crawl


give back my heart.
he who consumes excessive amounts of female flesh, what a sinner indeed.
S Bharat Apr 2019
On Impertinence

Today I smile by myself
When you long for
Speaking with me.
I remember you turned
Your back on me.
Tossing your keys
In the air you stalked out.

S. Bharat
Sara Kellie Mar 2019
In my mind I have a hive
where a million bees live and thrive.
The killer bees have left, they've gone
I have no need, what's done is done.

The honey bees, that now I keep
so sickly sweet, they let me sleep.
The bees and I now live as one,
they'll follow me when I am gone.

Each one of them and from above
a little sting, from me with love.
So sickly sweet into your mind,
memories of me are all you'll find.

So every day that you live on,
equal days that I am gone.
See, suddenly it all made sense,
A life of pain,
your recompense.

Poetry by Kaydee
Often writ in retrospect of memories, a cloudy recollect.
Vexren4000 Mar 2019
From on high,
Some retribution did shine,
Upon the flower wilting,
Blessing it with rain.
Upon the stray dog wandering,
A Benevolent creatures shows mercy.
Retribution shines rarely,
Yet when it does,
It makes it seem as if
A god could exist.

©BAS
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