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stone the bear Feb 2021
from the deep depths of hell.
she didn't belong here;
she said she accidentally fell.

She attempted to leave
but that's the decision of fate.
she continued to wade in the fire
daydreaming of the big pearly white gate.
start of something
Lil Moon Moon Feb 2021
A 9 mm handgun
In the hands of Mr. Policeman

Click click BANG BANG

Now the ground has a metallic tang
You greedy little  men in blue
Its always you who don't hold true

Click click BANG BANG
The innocent blood in your hands hang

How did it feel Mr. Policeman?
Uzo Okoli Jan 2021
The intentions of the colour speak ill.
As the designer weeps in tears
The white is a filthy colour of all
As the double green symbolises hunger.

The great groundnut pyramids stand as statutes.
Termites scavenge the remnants.
Who can stop the difficulties of the nation?
A patriot, coward, cattle rustler or an alien!

The blood of the unsung heroes
Colour the flag of the nation
Bemoaning signs of failed leadership.
Who led the actions of 10102020?
The Camouflage, Alausa, Aso Rock or the Unseen forces!

Men suffer from avarice
Crowd symbolises poverty
Likening to the extortions of palliatives
Under the framework of bureaucracy.
imehsahdehahs Jan 2021
SS SKULL AND KORAN-BLACK
Belt-belt-belt-belt-belt-belt...

Ohhh Gosh your Lips are So Dead
Add Some of Blood nose on it

I'm Born Again HARD
I'm Born Again HARD
I'm Born Again HARD

Do what been Done To You

Do Do Do Do Do Do it

Do What Been Done To Me

Do Do Do Do Do Do it


(Sharping Sound)


You are My Sin

and

I'm Lover with Sword
(Death,Death,Death)

My Phone Screen is So Red

As I'm Typing Your Death Sentence

There's whole lotta of Blood

on my Hands, on my hands

And You're aStar that's been long Dead

☆●☆●☆

My Phone Screen is So Red

As I'm Typing Your Death Sentence

There's whole lotta of Blood

on my Hands, on my hands

And You're aStar that's been long Dead

☆●☆●☆

I'm Born Again HARD
I'm Born Again HARD
I'm Born Again HARD
I'm Born Again HARD
I'm Born Again HARD
I'm Born Again HARD
I'm Born Again HARD
I'm Born Again HARD
I'm Born Again HARD
I'm Born Again HARD
I'm Born Again HARD
I'm Born Again HARD


Do what been Done To You

Do Do Do Do Do Do it

Do What Been Done To Me

Do Do Do Do Do Do it
"DO IT"
Graff1980 Jan 2021
America has been feasting
on that Billie Holiday strange fruit
for so long,
drinking that thick red wine
straight off the long thin vine
of mankind’s suffering,
profiting from people losing their sanity,
gaining from the loss of our humanity.

Black as that sweet star sparkling night,
mothers, and fathers denied the right
to stand up and fight,

bullets to the back
as they try to enter their own houses,

bullets to the side
right in front of their children and spouses,

bullets through the heart of a child
in the middle of his imagination,

bullets through her bedroom,
no space to escape
not even some safe head room:

All that agony and desolation
to be constantly facing
violence and degradation
from the so-called authority figures
who only see another dead ******.

Blue lives, white supremacist guys,
proud boys and Neo Nazis
have grown obese.
These foul ******* beasts
have eaten the heart and soul of us
right off our bones and thrown
the rest to the scavengers back home.
Unpolished Ink Jan 2021
We are all a part
of a universal whole
each living soul
is connected
unless directed
to be disconnected
war breaks the chains
until all that remains
are the crosses we sow
where flowers used to grow
A Monster with Roses

A monster with roses in his hands,
is still a monster,
and he will force-feed you thorns,
sugarcoated and chocolate dipped,
turning your window eyes
bloodstained and cracked.
Then leaves you when he chooses,
your soul sickened, body broken
and bleeding upon the floor.

James E. Roethlein copyright 2020
If you like this poem, I have two published collections of poetry available on Amazon “ Musing On The Cricket Game of Life Part 1 1/2” and “An Extravagant Way of Saying Nothing “
mxshti Jan 2021
Dipped in crimson
The sky bruised blue at the edges
Just like on her jaws etched
Didn't complain, could she?

Air of ash and smoke masked
The aura of captivity dusk to dawn,
Using white lighters to see whats infront
Says he was a poet by heart
But recited with scars
With poetry scrambled behind
Cigarette packets
Recital was rather peculiar
She was his muse, and well used
Couldn't leave, could she?

A storm reckless if left both unbound
Like Bonnie and Clyde
Begs to not fall in love
You might be shot, or left stranded
At the eye of the storm
Leaving you wondering why storms are
Named after people
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