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#hangman
Hangman is a great game. It teaches us that saying the wrong things could end someone's life.
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Sep 22, 2022
Sep 22, 2022 at 3:43 PM UTC
Hangman
I decided to run on this grassy plain Spreading my arms and hoping to stay sane I imagined myself as a bird, at home in the sky I thought maybe his words wouldn't reach me if I went real high Oh how I would like to fly I buried myself so his darkness couldn't seek I thought maybe his madness had finally reached its peak The hangman is so articulate when it comes to games such as this He checked every grave and I only had a short lived bliss Oh how I wish I never gave him my kiss I needed to overcome this man I searched desperately for a new plan I hiked for miles up a mountainous path I felt inner peace and sunlight at last Oh how nice, but the sun was soon consumed by the blackness of his wrath Beautful innocent man, don't come to close to me But I want him closer so I can see He has so much inner brightness While I'm clouded by the hangman who deprives me of lightness Still I want the sunny man and all his kindness
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Dec 17, 2021
Dec 17, 2021 at 8:42 AM UTC
I seek comfort
Holocaust Poem: "On The Slaughter" by Chaim Nachman Bialik loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Merciful heavens, have pity on me! If there is a God approachable by men as yet I have not found him— Pray for me! For my heart is dead, prayers languish upon my tongue; my right hand has lost its strength and my hope has wilted, undone. How long? Oh, when will this nightmare end? How long? Hangman, traitor, here’s my neck— rise up now, rise and slaughter! Behead me like a dog—your arm controls the axe and the whole world is a scaffold to me although we—the chosen few— were once recipients of the Pacts. Executioner, my blood’s a paltry prize— strike my skull and the blood of innocents will rain drenching your pristine uniform again and again, staining your raiment forever. If there is Justice—quick, let her appear! But after I’ve been blotted out, should she reveal her face, let her false scales be overturned forever and the heavens reek with the stench of her disgrace. You too arrogant men, with your brutal injustice, suckled on blood, unweaned of violence: cursed be the warrior who cries "Vengeance!" on a maiden; such cruelty was never contemplated, even by Satan. Let innocents’ blood drench the abyss! Let innocents’ blood seep down into the congealing darkness, eat it away and undermine earth's rotting foundations. Al Hashechita ("On the Slaughter") was written by Chaim Nachman Bialik in response to the ****** Kishniev pogrom of 1903, which was instigated by agents of the Czar who wanted to divert social unrest and political anger from the Czar to the Jewish minority. The Hebrew word schechita (also transliterated shechita, shechitah, shekhitah, shehita) denotes the ritual kosher slaughtering of animals for food. The juxtapositioning of kosher slaughter with the slaughter of Jews makes the poem all the more powerful and ghastly. Such anti-Semitic incidents prompted a massive wave of Eastern European emigration that brought millions of Jews to the West. Unfortunately, there have been many similar slaughters in human history and the poem remains chillingly relevant to the more recent ones in Israel/Palestine, Rwanda, Bosnia and Kosovo. Keywords/Tags: Holocaust, poem, Bialik, translation, slaughter, massacre, God, prayer, executioner, hangman, blood, innocents, justice, false, scales, injustice
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Mar 12, 2020
Mar 12, 2020 at 4:00 AM UTC
Chaim Nachman Bialik "On The Slaughter" translation
Holocaust Poem: "On The Slaughter" by Chaim Nachman Bialik loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Merciful heavens, have pity on me! If there is a God approachable by men as yet I have not found him— Pray for me! For my heart is dead, prayers languish upon my tongue; my right hand has lost its strength and my hope has wilted, undone. How long? Oh, when will this nightmare end? How long? Hangman, traitor, here’s my neck— rise up now, rise and slaughter! Behead me like a dog—your arm controls the axe and the whole world is a scaffold to me although we—the chosen few— were once recipients of the Pacts. Executioner, my blood’s a paltry prize— strike my skull and the blood of innocents will rain drenching your pristine uniform again and again, staining your raiment forever. If there is Justice—quick, let her appear! But after I’ve been blotted out, should she reveal her face, let her false scales be overturned forever and the heavens reek with the stench of her disgrace. You too arrogant men, with your brutal injustice, suckled on blood, unweaned of violence: cursed be the warrior who cries "Vengeance!" on a maiden; such cruelty was never contemplated, even by Satan. Let innocents’ blood drench the abyss! Let innocents’ blood seep down into the congealing darkness, eat it away and undermine earth's rotting foundations. Al Hashechita ("On the Slaughter") was written by Chaim Nachman Bialik in response to the ****** Kishniev pogrom of 1903, which was instigated by agents of the Czar who wanted to divert social unrest and political anger from the Czar to the Jewish minority. The Hebrew word schechita (also transliterated shechita, shechitah, shekhitah, shehita) denotes the ritual kosher slaughtering of animals for food. The juxtapositioning of kosher slaughter with the slaughter of Jews makes the poem all the more powerful and ghastly. Such anti-Semitic incidents prompted a massive wave of Eastern European emigration that brought millions of Jews to the West. Unfortunately, there have been many similar slaughters in human history and the poem remains chillingly relevant to the more recent ones in Israel/Palestine, Rwanda, Bosnia and Kosovo. Keywords/Tags: Holocaust, poem, Bialik, translation, slaughter, massacre, God, prayer, executioner, hangman, blood, innocents, justice, false, scales, injustice
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36
Promise me, my flesh you'll place 'neath a fledgling willow tree. And as it grows toward blue sky, It's in its grace you'll hear me cry. Laden with the heaviest fears, resembling, reflecting my darkest years. A fragile bone was once my arm, so likened to the willows charm. It's branches delicate, could ne'er do harm. It's soft and fluffy hand like bud, encased in skin, the willow's wood. Hold its hand at branches end. My message, a vibration, to you I'll send. Until the death of said willow tree, reminding you . . . . . . . . . . . always of me. Poetry by Kaydee.
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Jul 24, 2018
Jul 24, 2018 at 11:33 AM UTC
Why Willows Weep.
Dark thoughts lingering around me Starting to hate my surrounding If only I can get out of this I would My mind is spitting words I should've said But I didn't I hated it That the fact is true The line from the song "Somebody save me" I screamt it Too bad nobody listened An oddball of society Rejected by many The escape is only Through a noose Can I get out of here Alive and well? Thank you
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Dec 17, 2017
Dec 17, 2017 at 9:54 PM UTC
Untitled
Little birds often fly to me here whisper in my ear and tell me about the sapphire skies, endless fields, and flowing rivers out there. Out there, the wind kisses your cheeks Out there, the music from the trees sings loudly, with harmony, along with the bees Out there, there are no walls no fences no shackles nothing from keeping you free But I wouldn't know any of that sitting here, with only a little piece of heaven mocking me. unobtainable. Believe me, I've tried. Bruised feet, ****** hands, bleeding back, all gifts I received And when you are like me, you know when to stop trying They have strong whips Yet day after day my little friends make the impossible trip, flying higher and higher until they can bite the celestial morsel with their beaks In my dreams I fly with them, the wind kissing my cheeks But when I wake up I am greeted by the familiar smell of dirt and concrete So when they forced me up this morning clanking with ease I was relieved I could feel a gentle breeze as I floated onto the scaffold I smiled looked up to the same piece of hope I hear voices but I can't understand them my head is already half-way up in the clouds When the necklace is placed I see my friends circling above The next second the ground is far beneath my feet And I'm flying with them, the wind kissing my cheeks.
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Dec 14, 2016
Dec 14, 2016 at 12:44 AM UTC
The Hangman
We were once tangled But all the ties that bind us Have become a noose
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Nov 17, 2016
Nov 17, 2016 at 8:53 PM UTC
Hangman (Haiku #36)
Walking the line, sleeping for two, dreaming of better days. Eyes for you, a hangman's last sight.
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Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 4:36 AM UTC
Hangman
I made a loop with a running knot around my neck A snare, a lasso A hangman's hassle I tightened it up I pushed the chair Only to blame the only person who actually cared
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May 21, 2016
May 21, 2016 at 2:29 PM UTC
Knot
I wanted to fill the cracks of his mind, and breathe his very breath. Need consumed by deep desire, leaving me scared to death. I hung a rope on that tree, where I used to kneel and pray. Struggling to keep my head up, waiting for something he refused to say. I wanted to slip and fall into arms, eager to break my fall. Scattered hopes cast about, that are just shadow puppets on the wall. I cupped my hands to catch his tears, but the favor was never repaid. Slip the rope around my neck, in hopes to repair this mess I made. I wasted all my saved up wishes, just in the end to tie the knot. I finally took that step and hang myself, with all the promises he forgot.
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Nov 18, 2015
Nov 18, 2015 at 4:04 PM UTC
Hangman
The noose is brittle but strong, warmed by the heat of the day, ready to be hoisted upon your neck, and hail all those troubles away. Yet speak a few words and that won't be done, but be careful as you talk, for the hangman arrives to take your words the moment you utter the one that’s wrong.
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Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 2:22 PM UTC
hangman II
I wanted to fill the cracks of his mind, and breathe his very breath. Need consumed by deep desire, leaving me scared to death. I hung a rope on that tree, where I used to kneel and pray. Struggling to keep my head up, waiting for something he refused to say. I wanted to slip and fall into arms, eager to break my fall. Scattered hopes cast about, that are just shadow puppets on the wall. I cupped my hands to catch his tears, but the favor was never repaid. Slip the rope around my neck, in hopes to repair the mess I made. I wasted all my saved up wishes, just in the end to tie the knot. I finally took that step and hang myself, with all the promises he forgot.
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Apr 5, 2015
Apr 5, 2015 at 5:05 AM UTC
Hangman
fragile heart she lay ruptured in my lounge chair grey faced i mumble a few parting words over her before i lay out the finest bone china all the makings of tea and biscuits all the fixings of ****** with the sounds of the snapping of necks sharp wet sound fresh on the air she was here to mourn her lover-boy gone astray i was here to see the deed done i was the grey faced hangman come to get his pennys in my song you can hear the rope snap in my heart you can feel the fall from the gallows and my hangman's noose swinging in breeze has its own peculiar creaking sound that sounds like love to me i was the grey faced hangman that knows no sympathy come now you wicked ones sing my song with me grey faced i lead the procession up the graveyard road the overgrown and thick summer feel to it claws at the senses but i keep walking stiffly with the sound of snapping necks ringing in my ears its my song he had cried like a child as they carried him to the gallows he had begged and wailed but my hangman's noose had claimed him cold comfort awaits to the tomb they cried out with joy to the tomb with the scoundrel while she lay weeping her lost lover-boy and while grey faced i cleansed the world of scoundrels like him while grey faced i silently mourned for i had run out of rope
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Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 5:06 PM UTC
up the graveyard road