#innocents
I'm working the world and the stars
trying to comprehend, understand
pieces of my soul, don't go very far
and often, I won't follow, commands
Biting my tongue, and my cheek
blood an easy thing, to discard
I often can't find things I seek
pain that returns from old scars
Saving the best for the innocents
praying that, they'll get their say
wading thru malevolent malcontents
before they're too old....and too gray
Feb 2
Feb 2, 2026 at 9:19 AM UTC
this time in Vienna
in my little nation's capital
a young Muslim still in search of himself
believes he has a mission
to **** as many infidels as possible
to avenge insults to Mohamed
and Allah by all those secular Westerners
armed with attack rifle handgun & machete
he shoots his way through the Vienna party mile
not knowing whom he attacks
killing four wounding twenty-three
driven by his duty to defend Allah
never questioning why the Almighty would ever need
to have his infinite greatness defended
by a confused youngster's shooting of innocents
Nov 4, 2020
Nov 4, 2020 at 4:37 AM UTC
Auschwitz Rose
by Michael R. Burch
There is a Rose at Auschwitz, in the briar,
a rose like Sharon’s, lovely as her name.
The world forgot her,
and is not the same.
I still love her and enlist this sacred fire
to keep her memory exalted flame
unmolested by the thistles and the nettles.
On Auschwitz now the reddening sunset settles ...
They sleep alike—diminutive and tall,
the innocent, the “surgeons.”
Sleeping, all.
Red oxides of her blood, bright crimson petals,
if accidents of coloration, gall
my heart no less.
Amid thick weeds and muck
there lies a rose man’s crackling lightning struck:
the only Rose I ever longed to pluck.
Soon I’ll bed there and bid the world “Good Luck.”
Published by The Neovictorian/Cochlea, Black Medina, Voices Israel, Other Voices International, Verse Weekly, Poetry Renewal Magazine, Mindful of Poetry, The Eclectic Muse, Promosaik, Famous Poets & Poems, The Wandering Hermit, FreeXpression (Australia), Inspirational Stories, Poetry Life & Times, Sonnetto Poesia (Canada), Trinacria, Pennsylvania Review, Poems About, Litera (UK), Yahoo Buzz, Got Poetry, de Volksrant Blog (Holland)
Keywords/Tags: Holocaust, Auschwitz, rose, Sharon, name, forgotten, sacred, memory, flame, briar, thorns, reddening, sunset, thistles, nettles, innocent, innocents, surgeons, blood, crimson, petals, weeds, muck, lightning, blitzkrieg, strike, struck, attack, war, violence, ****** death, bed, grave, goodbye, farewell, good luck
Mar 7, 2020
Mar 7, 2020 at 5:03 AM UTC
The candles flicker and fumes
Rise from the wick
Into my room
A baby flame
Born at once
Took a breath and died
A mother with a coin
in her pocket chooses
poison as her diet
With gun pointing at innocents
The all say
Death for them is a child's play.......
Aug 8, 2019
Aug 8, 2019 at 2:10 PM UTC
two children,
rocking back and forth
on creaking wooden swings
aged with time
the sky dark, casting a blue-grey filter over the world
a little blue skirt swings with the inertia
a teddy in the small pale hand
"are you like me"
patent leather shoes scrape the wet mulch beneath the swing
"that depends, how do you play"
"i play with minds, i show them things only i can see"
"well, when i play, they feel things they dont know how to feel"
"so you are like me"
"i guess... do they take you to big people in white coats"
"yes... do they try to make you blind like them"
"yes... i tried to introduce them to my friends, but they couldn't see them"
"i can help you"
"okay"
"wanna work together, to show them"
"yes, that would be fun"
**
one thing you didnt notice
the teddy has no head
how innocent
how sweet
**
May 20, 2019
May 20, 2019 at 7:13 AM UTC
A haze of betrayal
as memories twist, crawl and scream.
We once experienced bliss, childlike innocents,
and untainted love.
We dont want to go back.
But your desire vanished.
A horrific pool of agony.
Follow the night,
follow the darkness.
Love was torn apart that day.
In a haze of betrayal.
I still love you.
Feb 11, 2019
Feb 11, 2019 at 9:02 AM UTC
LOST INNOCENTS…by Jessie
Children, the tiny seed of man; their innocents won’t last
For all the history of the fathers
Present to the past
What's sad is children never mean
Kind and pure of heart
People take that innocents and tear it all apart
The hopes and dreams of years to come
Placed within their hands
Expectations way to high
For them to understand
Pressures put on the child, from an early age
Just so fathers get the chance to stand on center stage
Weighting down the children’s will
Boot tight on their throat
Trench dug deep around their soul
A finely crafted moat
Children grow to be adults
And do as they were taught
While all along the fathers words
Sit within and rot
Feb 10, 2018
Feb 10, 2018 at 2:54 PM UTC
Blood of the innocents spilled, can’t we live in peace?
Jul 3, 2017
Jul 3, 2017 at 12:21 AM UTC
Inside the great
big global village
not everything is rosy
even a cat knows it
a leaf can sniff it.
The Moon shines
not in every night
nor God promised
always a blue sky.
Still the roses bloom
Cinderella has the lot
the reasons to groom.
The richest among the folks
turns philanthropist in the globe.
The wisest among the men
celebrate the era for it’s
the civilisation at its peak.
Hooray what now triumphs at last
is the wisdom and humanity!
Really? O please tell me?
Not very far, nor for much,
just because some differ in faith
mothers and fathers left in pain.
Not because they are to lose
Rohingyan sun nor the land
beneath their feet but in no time
their sons and daughters
can be put to death into fire
that too before their eyes
before the silent established world!
Mar 20, 2017
Mar 20, 2017 at 11:32 PM UTC
Slouched atop the bookshelf resting his fluffy head
against much loved Rudyard Kipling's finest.
He watched the day to day stories of King Anthony
'The child ruler of the world' and his beloved younger sister Anya.
Avoiding arguments downstairs in the dying segments of daylight,
the boy's reassurance to Anya showcased rare moments of humanity
not seen by Little Weissel's beaded eyes since occupied Holland.
Amongst his stuffing was still memories of his first best friend,
in which many a day was spent quietly hiding away,
listening to the sound of boots roaming around the house.
King Anthony reached his hand out in full view of the aged bear's face
and plucked him from his perch.
As warm as the bear felt to him, he felt to this plush relic, whose eyes
would dilate in the melt of such moment if only they could.
From his arms passing down to her trembling ones;
she was looking for solace in the wake of mother and father's quaking
voices in the kitchen.
For Little Weissel it seemed like 'what was old is new again'
and now after spells after neglect he was experiencing a second
lease of life.
As the war downstairs fizzled out into quiet evening, King Anthony and Anya were locked together, both tenants of sleep with
Little Weissel just as lovingly clung to as the first moment he'd been clutched.
Maybe in the new harsh terrain, the scabby mass of the little bear
could once again feel the need to be needed as any good plaything deserves to be.
Mar 2, 2017
Mar 2, 2017 at 4:44 PM UTC
You can hear the children secret cries.
You know what the adults have done,
But you don't utter a word.
The children have no clue why they run,
They just know never to disobey,
"The superior one."
They silence their words,
Allowing themselves to leave them in their throat.
While they choke on the wild thoughts,
As words are throw like daggers at them.
The superior ones,
That's what they call themselves,
But the children see them more as the monsters under their beds.
They children don't understand,
They just want to make the cruel monsters proud,
But their trying just gets throw back at them,
With insults as the bonus.
The children never utter words,
As mentally bruises are put upon their innocent minds.
They stay silent as they get bullied away by the superior ones.
Oct 27, 2016
Oct 27, 2016 at 8:40 AM UTC
learning once more
of innocent people killed in the name of whatever
some psychopath’s personal crisis
a violent protest against other cultures
or an abuse of some religious creed
the motivations may be different
yet the results are all the same
the wanton killing of women men and children
who do not know that they are ‘enemies’
of someone whom they also do not know
the murderers may have been led to think
that they are heroes for some glorious cause or god
fact is that they are simply murderers
and I believe
they will not even receive
their 72 raisins when they face their gods
because to ****
in the name of any god
is always wrong
Jul 15, 2016
Jul 15, 2016 at 3:26 PM UTC
Eighty five dead today in Iraq
Following three suicide attacks.
But why is there no worldwide outcry?
How many innocents have to die?
As the death toll continues to mount
It seems these deaths somehow do not count.
Is it because they are "over there"
That so many of us do not care?
Have we not learned from what went before,
When we could and should have done much more?
Each life should be equally precious,
If we think otherwise, shame on us
Jun 9, 2016
Jun 9, 2016 at 6:34 AM UTC
there seems to be no end
of armed cowards killing peaceful civilians
about to do their jobs or visit friends and chat
at airports in the underground or in cafés
and then acknowleding full responsibility
for that grandiose achievement
of putting electric wires into some explosives
and sending innocent people to their death
these self-styled martyrs claim
their deeds are prompted by religious ends
and not the simply joy of killing those
who have no arms for their defense
and are quite unaware they have become the targets
of delirious murderers who seriously imagine
their heinous crimes could please their god
and if they blow themselves away together with their victims
would send them straight into a paradise
with many earthly and some heavenly rewards
or so they say
watching them over all these years
I have my doubts
that any god has business with those guys
or they with him
like other groups before them they abuse religion
to justify their greed and power games
god for them is simply a façade
to mask their inhumanity
it’s time the world says a concerted NO
and makes it clear to all barbarians of our century
that our tolerance
is not for them
Mar 23, 2016
Mar 23, 2016 at 12:02 PM UTC
In vision; a small girl
She scurries
Scratches on her face
From the thickets
In a yellow dress with white front
Drips of blood fall from her cheek
They stain her beauty
Her blonde hair is free
Her eyes; as pure as the sun
She runs from the world
She runs from the hate
She runs from the war
She runs from the bullies
She runs through the stabbing briers
Despite the pain
She saves her innocents
Even if it's just for a moment
She knows
Evil dwells beyond the tree line
Dec 31, 2014
Dec 31, 2014 at 9:33 AM UTC
cloud bursts in the sky,
raindrops falling from many eyes,
one for one, for all
one four one, fall
victims
voices break and tremble,
though the Earth
might shake and rumble,
as the ground is incised,
again and again, again and again...
and raised caskets to the fill the skies,
enough to black out the sun,
but not of those children, or of their memories.
Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 9:13 PM UTC
Memories
Moans and groans of the dying and the living-dead
Last words: phrases that lingered
Still on their tongues
Bloods, boots and broken bones on cassava farms
where they fell
Crosses rotten, and this rusty brown shell
Tell stories of a past - that ****** movie
This ****** war
Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 10:59 AM UTC