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Destiny Fleming Sep 2015
He turned and kissed her,
He put his hand on her stomach to greet the new life, his voice a purr.
Off to work he goes,
But no one knows.
Until this day,
When our nation was turned into a useless fray,
Where everything will soon be a monotonous gray.
He forgot his keys,
So he doesn’t leave.
Maybe if he would of stayed a little longer,
His life wouldn’t of been stolen,
From terrorist mongers.
He pulls away,
Not knowing about this day.
“Goodbye, my dear. You have nothing to fear.”
A silver car,
She thinks, “He won’t travel too far.”
Little does she know,
He will soon go.
Go to a place with angels and things,
Where he will gain his wings.
When the news announces the attack,
Her heart has been snatched, never to be given back.
Going to the towers,
Her heart plucked, like a balding flower.
The towers falling,
The children calling,
A fatherless baby brought into the world,
Never to be known as “Daddy’s Little Girl”.
That was the day her walls fell down,
That was the day, her emotions were in a bound.
Clutching the Hopeless,
The world in a mess.
Our nation too soon to be broken,
Before anyone could have spoken.
Our people will climb back to their knees,
Open your eyes, please.
We can tolerate pain for so long,
Before we proceed to right the wrong.
(We will never forget)
Francie Lynch Aug 2015
Too bad
We can't
Rid ouselves
Of the excrement
Called
ISIS,
As easily
As the astronauts
Expel it
On the
ISS.
Francie Lynch Jul 2015
I'm looking for terrorists
In jeans, clean-shaven,
But with a bulging mid-riff.
Will he have a back-pack,
Carry a brown paper lunch
With a portmanteau.
I just gave the valet my keys,
And I didn't check his shoes
And certainly not his under-armour.
I live ten thousand miles away,
Just down the street;
So why hurt me.
We cheer for the Bo-Sox
Side by side,
He's familiar to my eyes.
I believe he was changing my oil
When I saw the sideways glance,
But I can't be sure,
When I don't know
What to look for.
Edit, repost.
Francie Lynch Mar 2015
In cities, flushed.
In landfills, buried.
In the Middle-East:
ISIS
And all other fecking terrorists at home, abroad, on our streets and in our schools.
Silence Screamz Jan 2015
Draw an illustration
Cast out all delusions
Radical and insane
Crazy by any name

Rise against the fears
Stand up with your peers
Martyrs, you are not
Away in the ground and rot

Charlie, we stand with you
Remembering those we knew
Thousands to hear your voice
Louder you have a choice

Terror will not prevail
Your acts will all but fail
Cowards we see you there
Crushed and no one cares

Remembering Charlie
Artists and all
Freedom will win
Salute, we stand tall
Remembering the victims in Paris
Àŧùl Dec 2014
When I tried taming a snake,
I used it for harming others,
And I got addicted to snakes.
So I got myself more snakes,
Day came when I lost count,
Innumerable they grew,
Filling up my home.

Intending to use them for no good,
I set them up on my half-brother,
The brother cried and I rejoiced,
He lost his countless children,
I lost the count of my snakes,
There was no stopping me,
I enjoyed my half-brother's loss.

A really dark day came forth,
They turned hostile on the host,
They stung my own children,
I now repent & seek to blame,
As I feel embarrassed to confess,
So I blame it on my half-brother.
Etched out of India after post-independence partition by the Britishers, Pakistan is now known to train terrorists that it uses for carnage against India.

Peshawar was the place where the militants shamelessly attacked the Army school in broad day light and massacred near about 150 students.

But now the parallel government in Pakistan run unofficially by Hafiz Saeed is shamelessly blaming its own sins on India.

This poem marks the starting of a new era of my poems.

My HP Poem #701
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Oct 2014
The border at Jammu & Kashmir,
One of the highest battlegrounds.
Though that scenery is beautiful,
The soil there is stained in blood.

The blood of terrorists & soldiers,
Sadly defiles the heaven in there.
White peaks often don a red hue,
Those serene valleys face hellfire.

They do not realize that it is vain,
They war in the name of religion.
Disrupting peace and calm there,
They often desecrate the paradise.

Christ is said to have gone there,
After his resurrection of course.
Hindu deities are also fabled so,
The land of Gods and their messengers has been desecrated time and again.
I fear some weirdos might bombard this work with their negativity.
But I am unfazed.
My HP Poem #675
©Atul Kaushal
Dolores L Day Oct 2014
Jack Gerving
Jack Gerving
You are all too deserving
Of a slap in the face.

Jack Gerving
Jack Gerving
Not a slight bit discerning
And easy to hate.

Jack Gerving
Jack Gerving
You'd better start learning
Before it's too late.

Jack Gerving
Jack Gerving
Dreams of terrorists burning
Don't let them procreate.

Jack Gerving
Jack Gerving

Jack Gerving the Great.
"All I wanna do is **** terrorists."
-Jack Gerving
paper boats Aug 2014
Feathers dipped in red
To paint clouds,
Voices tied
Like fences with barbed wire
Eyes tainted black
To shun morning light
Camouflage night
Hands on throats, broken wings
Hollow bones under beaten skin
Angry tears, and hushed beats
Trembling hearts lie dead on streets
Cracked, and bruised
Words and beliefs
Another day
Our defeat.
Fred Schrott Jul 2014
Scrapers will no longer scrape.
Fighters soon to lose the short fight.
Pilots are forced to surrender control.
Snakes on a plane will bank into a roll,
a scene that really no longer is scenic.
Leaders still read while getting a scare.
Huge landmarks that I swear were once there,
bridges in shortage are counting the tolls.
Dust that eventually will never be settled,
liquid support that used to be metal,
big bad crude that never was good—
things impossible suddenly could.
Answers quickly try to be drummed.
Future conflicts guaranteed to be won,
particles blocking our UV death sun,
days become decades and turkey is done.
Brave individuals are no longer bold.
Families’ histories are quite often told,
a baby’s bottle empty with no one to hold.
Government figures tilted but somehow sold
parades in protest with a circus in town.
A tiger got out, but why can’t he growl?
Seems that the cat’s got somebody’s tongue.
Another channel covers son after son,
numbers mounting, but not the right ones.
Cabbies still nose their thumb after thumb,
training centers destroyed one after one.
We should’ve just played “Drop the **** bomb!”
Fear is good, and of course good is feared;
it’s the only thing that drives us way over here.
Just like the Bible, it’s mostly made up.
The supersonic jet has just hit a rut.
The dirtiest of bombs versus our Smith and Wesson.
“Come on gang, why would you even question?”
Like death and taxes—there’s none that’s more sure,
but then there’s the free upcoming history lesson.
“Ain’t gonna do it” acting just like his pop.
This rancher really means it when tossing the slop.
“Still can’t find him—he’s with boys in Brazil.”
What’ve they done lately to lighten the till?
It’s time for the Allies to storm up this hill.
From, The Transitive Nightfall Of Diamonds, due out 8/14 from iUniverse books
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