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ᴊᴰᴍ Apr 2013
Repulsive is the vile that trickles down the liars forked tongue
In this terrible time of perplexing desperation I struggle to be humble

I am engulfed inside this devastation
Wicked are those who hurt the innocent one
I am tormented by the voices that mock each tear
The turmoil they unleashed overshadows the sun
I sit and stare at a loaded gun be warned evil enemies
No matter the time or day we all shall be judged
for the tormented executioner longs for a cataclysm

Thy kingdom come but I will not fall
Thy kingdom falls but I will not succumb
To the assault brought forth by the deceitful opposition

But time is breaking my will my momentum and my motivation
We all shall be judged but those with forked tongues
shall cower under the wake of my
glorious retribution
© JDMaraccini 2013
Rescel Aug 2020
You searched the world for a lullaby
and found it in their screams and cry.
Your greatest art was death itself
and your melody was their beg for help.

But let's go back to your story's start,
when you still didn't have a monster's heart.
Let us go back to your innocence,
when your world was confined behind your backyard fence.

You once had been a young good boy
but with a family like those broken toys.
Your parents' fights were your fairytales
and your bedtime story was your mother's wails.

You'll go to school with hidden cuts--
black-blue bruises from your father's bat.
And though they tried to be friends with you,
their happiness was your source of blue.

Until one day, you found a cure;
her name's Emily, a bliss so pure.
Her smile, your happiness; her eyes, your stars;
her hugs, your haven; her tears your scars.

You learned to find the sweet from the bitter,
hoped that maybe there's a happy ever after.
You've buried your heart in darkness' grave,
not knowing that soon enough, you will be saved.

Yet fate won't let you get away;
peace and joy will never stay.
Your precious one, they took and ****--
Emily's dead, lying cold and still.

The pain you've buried for many years,
the darkest past, your endless tears
the rage you've buried brave
came crawling back out of its grave.

"Evil is good, retribution is fair!"
Goodness became something you don't want to care
Justice you'll bring with bloods on your hands
Farewell to the angels, by the devil you stand.
Killer's Tale
IntoTheGale Jul 2020
“Poets never ****.”
            -V. Nabakov

Oh, but don’t we?
Our methodology might
Differ, our craft more subtle-
And yet the end result,
Escorting some poor soul
To the gates of whatever end
Awaits them beyond this frame,
Is abhorrently familiar,
Our motives no more pure-

We move in different mediums
Some artists in oils,
Others in brute force-
Working in time signatures
Of days and weeks, years-
not Mere seconds-
This is not impulse-
But words weaponized?
That is artistry refined.
We work in palettes of grays.

We need to know them
For the poison to take hold.
To work it’s way through
The bloodstream, through
Every muscle until it is absorbed
Into who they believe themselves
To be, something they can never
Change about themselves
That they are sure is visible
To every passerby,
Some fracture in the facade.

The planting of a seed,
A word, a phrase-
Insidious in its design
A dark spot on the mind
So small, seemingly
Insignificant, but the foundation
Upon which we build our
Scaffold, buried in some
Line of text, in some metaphor
That draws an indelible line
Between some worldly beauty
And a deep buried flaw
They try to hide from the eyes of the world.
It’s delicate business after all,
Planting self doubt and loathing
So ingrained that one is unsure
Whether they ever existed before
The thought that now destroys them.
As  John put it
The incarnated word,
Saint Mary was entitled
To feed Her *******
And Hold, but whom
Juda the culprit
For 30 birr sold
Is almighty God.(John 1:1John 1:12.John 8:58)

Here it should pop up
To your attention
"God is with you!"
Saint Gabriel's to
The Immaculate felicitation.

So God,
Christ is a presiding judge
An inch do not budge
Hearing shallow teachings
Quite strange
Christ killers-turned
-Christ-peddlers on many
A religious forum stage.
As Canaan, awaits
Them a curse
For trying to belittle Christ
Intent to line up their purse.

On the cross
It was the incarnated word
That allowed the repentant
Shieftan on his right
The first greenlight
To heaven of course.

His sons'
Polar opposite deeds
Noah better felt
The visitation of  God
In Shem's tent.(Genesis 9:18-27)

Hence God's incarnation
That still reflect
Are entitled
Membership to the tent,
Which personifies
Saint Mary
The immaculate.

Thus, as the
Chosen generation
True to
Saint Mary's prophesy
Let us echo "The Graceful
And the immaculate!"
Evading Satan's
Yet another bait.
For one who reads the unabridged bible from A to Z Jesus is the presiding judge not a semi God
Michael R Burch Apr 2020
911 Carousel
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
Catherine Bailey Mar 2020

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


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 2020
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 2020
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.

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
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!
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