"assassins" poems
Words are hollow.
Eyes are deceiving.
Thoughts are far fetched.
Illusions are broken.
Looks mean nothing.
Expressions can be fake.
Emotions are assassins.
Senses don't work.
Heart stops beating.
Light turns into darkness.
Does this mean I am dead?
Feb 16, 2012
Feb 16, 2012 at 5:06 PM UTC
Unbiased at least he was when he arrived on his mission,
Having never set eyes on the land he was called to partition
Between two peoples fanatically at odds,
With their different diets and incompatible gods.
"Time," they had briefed him in London, "is short. It's too late
For mutual reconciliation or rational debate:
The only solution now lies in separation.
The Viceroy thinks, as you will see from his letter,
That the less you are seen in his company the better,
So we've arranged to provide you with other accommodation.
We can give you four judges, two Moslem and two Hindu,
To consult with, but the final decision must rest with you."
Shut up in a lonely mansion, with police night and day
Patrolling the gardens to keep the assassins away,
He got down to work, to the task of settling the fate
Of millions. The maps at his disposal were out of date
And the Census Returns almost certainly incorrect,
But there was no time to check them, no time to inspect
Contested areas. The weather was frightfully hot,
And a bout of dysentery kept him constantly on the trot,
But in seven weeks it was done, the frontiers decided,
A continent for better or worse divided.
The next day he sailed for England, where he could quickly forget
The case, as a good lawyer must. Return he would not,
Afraid, as he told his Club, that he might get shot.
31.6k
A penny sits in the middle of my hand.
Vaguely warm and slightly worn
But still shining brightly.
On one side you see the current residence of
The late Abraham Lincoln.
On the other you see the man himself
Facing to the right
As if watching for assassins.
I roll it around in my palm,
The rough edges scraping past my
Calloused hands.
I can almost hear it sigh
With relief as I put it back
Down again.
Nov 14, 2012
Nov 14, 2012 at 7:14 PM UTC
The beauty of comatose can only be seen through
the eyes of a wizard in a blizzard
strutting in garlic slippers,
or Christ with knees bent at the tabernacle
peeling bananas and kicking prayers
farther than eternity with each gapping second,
or like Basquiat slumped back to the wall,
with ounces of speedball dancing through his veins,
eating 80’s free-based fried chicken *******
as his eyelids paints beautiful nightmares of lemon flowers
and Bacchus bacon over a glycopyrrolate desert
of flagrant cuckold buffoonery.
Or like leprechauns burning chocolate ******* candles
on the mantle of Zion, sipping oatmeal sprinkled
with Staten Island malt liquor bacon.
or like Tupac reading the thoughts of Mother Shipton
through the daze of California cannabis
and hearing the ominous voice of Plutarch sing death assignments
from heaven to Assassins on horsebacks goggling ***** water
to wet the dry bones of their throats as they prepare to fulfill
the gospel of self-fulfilling prophecies of being fell by ***** bullets.
Or like sophisticated wallets of spice and kitchen characters in a bald head
cooking chemical kisses and 18 February nights under Moloch’s skin,
where constitutions are written in charcoal diaries with Egyptian ciphers and razors.
“I had rain sowed into the pockets of my sneakers and composed 1310 eulogies
at the basement of king David’s tower,” said the Kraftwerkian caricature,
as he dangles cigarettes in remembrance of Klaus Nomi and philosophizes on the proliferation
of poetic vandalism at urinals where modernism failed under the phosphorescence of coloration at the avenue of no trees where Picasso's "Guernica" **** Lies All.
Jul 17, 2012
Jul 17, 2012 at 6:01 PM UTC
The day is bright and blue,
While the night hails the universe's true view.
The sun, hailed as the giver of all life and the first true fire,
As the moon is considered all of death's lyres.
While life is given power by the sun,
The moon is the cloak for all of its assassins.
As the sun is fiery and passionate,
Our moon is quiet and loves maleficence.
As the day gives only the bare truth,
The night covers all that who are to sleuth
Sun and moon,
God and Satan,
Earth and sky,
Truth and jive,
Life and death,
Fire and water,
Dusk and dawn
Diverting Martyrs
Oppositions of our humainty,
Sun and moon,
Balance our reality...
Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 7:27 PM UTC
Violating a placid spirit
Memories transgress
desecrating the sacred.
Memories are
the dark side
of a full moon.
Memories are unsatiated desires
couched on sorrow
entangled in time
a perennial wrinkle on the soul.
Memories are trespassers
possessing neural atrium
wading saline sockets
slithering in to throbbing veins
tiptoeing to hollow spaces
burying all under their eerie weight,
Memories are an inescapable affliction.
In fragmented mindscape
Memories are violent winds
littering the past.
Lurking behind aches
in ethereal garbs,
Memories are assassins.
Or sema
of a swirling dervish.
Hurtling within, Memories
is an avalanche
pounding the abyss
choking the void
one gasp at a time.
Memories are
nameless apparitions
fused as shadows
to the very being.
Memories are an assault
on identity and belonging.
Sep 28, 2018
Sep 28, 2018 at 6:23 AM UTC
Hypocracy Mandatory.
Gullibility Mandatory.
Insensitivity Mandatory.
Obesity Mandatory.
Immaturity Mandatory.
Childishness Mandatory.
Monarchy Mandatory.
Capitalism Mandatory.
Conservatism Mandatory.
Terrorism Mandatory.
Corruption Mandatory.
Incompetence Mandatory.
Socialism Mandatory.
Dictatorship Mandatory.
Militarism Mandatory.
Liberalism Mandatory.
Bhuddism Mandatory.
Islam Mandatory.
Christianity Mandatory.
Judaism Mandatory.
Hinduism Mandatory.
Vedism Mandatory.
Hatred Mandatory.
Anarchy Mandatory.
Jealousy Mandatory.
Nationalism Mandatory.
Fascism Mandatory.
Racism Mandatory.
Lies Mandatory.
Hypocracy Mandatory.
Obesity Mandatory.
Heart Disease Mandatory.
Cancer Mandatory.
Idiocy Mandatory.
Eco-Nazism Mandatory.
All of us Humans.
Of all Five Colours.
Wherever we be.
Whatever we do.
However we "see" ourselves.
What do we call ourselves now?.
How about shallow nitpickers?.
Or celebrity obsessed morons?.
Or religious hypocrits?.
Or Democrats?.
Or Socialists?.
Or Revolutionaries.
Or just plain "nice folks"?.
Or supporters of oligarchy policies?.
Or immature backpackers?.
Or government assassins of integrity?.
Or juicy ***********
Or swift tongued ******** ticklers?.
no matter how many lie dead or injured as a result
of our obfuscation and avoidance.
As if poets have the explanation to life
except in strings of meaningless associated
but fine sounding words.
When "poets" are the voluntary slaves of Mind
and Conditioned Identity..
As if poets had the ***** to go beyond all these things.
As if .
Scrape the Moons suface and you will find a delicate Castello Blue Cream Cheese.
Jul 3, 2014
Jul 3, 2014 at 4:49 PM UTC
Amongst the weak.
The strong will rise.
Bringing our blades of justice.
Assassins,
All in disguise.
We rise together.
Along the line of the crowd.
Were at the corner of our fate.
Destiny will take us all.
Blades thrusted forward,
Arrows blacken the skies.
We charge into battle.
We fight for our lives.
For Freedom,
For honor.
JUSTICE.
But for whom?
I fear not what we face.
We will rise together.
Assassins for one.
AND all.
Together we fight,
Against the Templars.
We may be an Animus,
But our hearts are true.
Abstergo Destroyed a brother.
Or maybe hundreds.
Tonight,
They die by our swords.
Our blades of honor.
Will create a world of War.
Beware the Assassins,
We've Come to ****
You will die,
Drowning in the seven seas.
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 12:27 PM UTC
She wears dresses of calendar papers
Makeup of cremated ashes
Stilettoes of assassins' accurate daggers
Diamonds, tears of angels
Heart a ticking time bomb
Each swell of emotion, increased heart rate
Acceleration of expiration
Jun 16, 2013
Jun 16, 2013 at 10:41 AM UTC
Sometimes i wonder,
Wondering wonders of wonderful
World,for i living in this awful
World,spiral of life with terrific
Surroundings.
Unholy acts to the victims of
Xenophobic attacks,violence
Turns an everyday speech.
Government revolts gathers.
Towards poverty-stricken.
Diseases classic collide,remittance
Assassins rendered for intensely
Militancy.
Objection!!my lord,
Shysters bailing out
Evil-doers,juridical system
Not pertained.Poverty-trap
Pounding,chemical gases
Filling lungs of little
Ones.
Somebody play nice to
This,God play part to
This,denote dualism of
Good and evil.
Yesterday they gang banged
One of your children.
Drugs co-operate infection of
Young minds,youth gangsterism
Uproar.
Father herd your sheeps
To the right path,we seek
Guidance from above.
Family horror-strucks unites,
Matrimony rending day by
Day,onto religion segregations
Strickes by ??????.
Keep holy to this life *Life
Testimony* and paste
Amen...
Oct 12, 2015
Oct 12, 2015 at 4:32 AM UTC
The assassins hit in 63
And Camelot was gone,
Inspiration vanished
And the darkness sang it’s song.
*Vietnam escalated
Brezhnev’s Russia loomed,
Africa was eviscerated
And Red China entombed.
*Floating on a long white cloud
The Kiwis were replete
With abundant British markets
For their butter, wool and meat.
*The Europeans went ****
And Britain lost it’s way
When the Beatles and the Rolling Stones
Monopolized their day.
*Man landed on the moon
And raised the Yankee flag
And they shot Mahatma Ghandi
For making good things out of bad.
*The Berlin Wall dividing,
The Cold War tense and spare,
ICBM’s threaten silently
In their silos of despair.
*Bob Menzies ruled Australia
As an amassing of his loot
And his White Australia Policy
Condemned him as a brute.
*Found naked on her tousled bed,
Blonde hair across her face,
Marylin Monroe is dead
The world’s a darker place.
*In the Age of Aquarius
Our children lost their youth,
LSD and smoking ***
And Afro’s were the proof.
*Lots of leg in miniskirts,
High bouffant’s in the hair,
Screaming teeny boppers
Rock with Elvis on “the Air”.
*Giant, Rawhide, Ponderosa,
Martin Luther King,
Kaftans and a cheese fondue,
Abortion is a sin!
It’s a sixties kaleidoscope,
A panoramic skim
Of an era of wonderment
Which you and I lived in.
Marshalg
@the Gate
Mangere Bridge
20th January 2009
Oct 23, 2009
Oct 23, 2009 at 2:25 PM UTC
Silence
Can be oh
So
Many
Things.
But
If I had to pick
One word
To describe it
That word
Would be:
Deadly.
Silence
Is full
Of screaming
Assassins
Silence
Is filled
With hurrying
Scurrying
Thoughts
Incessantly
Screaming
Destroyers of peaceful days
And once sleep filled nights
Killers of dreams
Breeders of nightmares
Silence is
Loud
Silence
Is full
Of Screams
And cries for help
All unheard
By outside ears
Silence
Is full
Off every mistake
Put on Repeat
The ultimate broken record
Every single
Could've
Should've
Would've
Come to think of it,
I've never
Heard anything
Louder
Than silence
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 11:28 PM UTC
*hey, before kung fu fighting
was kung fu ***
emperors practiced it and
would have lived to be Immortals
if not for the darned traitors and assassins*
Crane sees Phoenix
and in Plum Tree Garden of Scents
Plum Tree Arms
Encircle Double Mountains;
Pine Reaches for the Skies
Drunken Monkey Jumps
and Pheasant Sings
and White Pearl Slips;
Dogs Unite and Clouds Merge
Tiger Bites and Lion Roars
Grand Dragon Withholds
Jade Gate Opens
Jade Stem enters
Wild Boars stampede
and Cherry Blossoms Fall
Drunken Monkey Sleeps
White Pearl Smiles
Drunken Monkey Awakes
and Blue Pearl Awaits -
and again Serpent on Rock hisses;
Wheels of Legs Rotate
*hey, before kung fu fighting
was kung fu ***
emperors practiced it and
would have lived to be Immortals
if not for the darned traitors and assassins*
Jul 30, 2011
Jul 30, 2011 at 4:26 AM UTC
The silent assassins came floating down,
Tiny but deadly they came.
Two thousand dead mice,
Stuffed full of Tylenol,
On the island of Guam they deplaned.
To **** off the snakes
That are killing Guam’s birds
Tylenol should do the trick
A mere 80 milligrams
Can **** a grown snake
Or at least make them terribly sick.
I hope this works better
Than the Mongoose Brigade
We deployed on Hawaii’s fair shores.
They were sent to **** rats
But instead took long naps
And the birds are more rare than before.
Dec 4, 2013
Dec 4, 2013 at 11:06 AM UTC
Il était très **** dehors était noir
Comme un maudit soir
Qui allait porter: angoisse et tristesse
Pour une mère soudainement tombée en détresse
Les escadrons de l’obscurité viennent d’exécuter
Son enfant de vingt et une années
Il avait prétendument un couteau en main
Et l’innocence d’un jeune matin
Fatal dans sa pensée. La technologie
Peut, par hasard, améliorer ou détruire la vie
Plusieurs cartouches tirées, le jeune homme est tombé
Criblé de balles réservées pour des condamnés
Les assassins nocturnes ont abattu une autre victime
Ce qui est pire, c’est qu’ils ne vont pas payer pour cet horrible crime
C’est abominable, le noir est souvent injustement ciblé
Le racisme est un cancer qu’on doit éradiquer
La mère est inconsolable
Ses douleurs implacables
Ses larmes intarissables
Et ses peines incommensurables
C’est triste et amer, la mère va enterrer son enfant
C’est drôle, affreux, criminel et méchant
Les malhonnêtes « foliciers » sans remords
Viennent de causer un autre mort
Ils ne connaissent pas les souffrances
Endurées par une mère pour donner naissance
A un bébé en bonne et parfaite santé
Quelle tristesse! Quelle calamité!
C’est une autre tranchée forcée
C’est vraiment déchiré un cœur jadis farci de fierté
Voir une mère pleurer dans une telle condition
Est écœurante pour toute la famille
Et les amis
Qui brûlent dans un enfer imbibé de pénibles émotions
L’ignorance et l’immaturité sont deux plaies
Qui jamais ne sèment ni l’amour, ni la paix
Les pleurs de la mère sont intarissables
Ses douleurs inimaginables
Ses peines incontrôlables
Et la mère inconsolable.
Copyright© March 2011, Hebert Logerie, Tous Droits Réservés
Hebert Logerie est l’auteur de plusieurs recueils de poèmes.
Sep 4, 2025
Sep 4, 2025 at 11:02 PM UTC
(Sung to Where Have All the Flowers Gone)
Where have all the assassins gone,
I'm just asking,
Where have all the hit-men gone,
It wasn't long ago.
Where have all the psychos gone,
Ones like Sirhan Sirhan,
Or a crazy American,
Better still, a red Russian.
Where have all the agencies gone,
I'm just asking,
The MI5, the CIA,
KGB, Mossad;
Where have covert actions gone,
When there's a guys like loonie Kim Jong;
A psychopathic American,
A dictator with no where to run.
Where have all our heroes gone,
I'm just asking;
Where have all our leaders gone,
Not so long ago.
Where have all fine Presidents gone,
Biden was the last good one;
When will we ever learn,
Ego-maniacs can't govern.
Oct 1, 2017
Oct 1, 2017 at 1:01 PM UTC
On chain they did put me,
tied up to the burglary protector,
handcuffed and battered.
Tortured and meant to be broken.
Poisoned but survived.
Marked for assassination,
and shot twice,
bullets flying around,
resilient and unflinching,
was ready to confront them.
Dead or alive I must choose one.
Must find a way out of this mess,
to escape was on my mind,
but how do I get out of here without
jeopardizing the lives of my family.
Courage summoned I revert to plan B,
the art of fighting without fighting.
Intelligence and wisdom must come into play.
Must outwit them to survive.
Cunning and craftiness must be used,
the uncanny ways of the spirit is amazing.
Become like water,
be flexible,
Yielding but still immovable.
Stealth in action but remain like the firefly.
Understanding their intent
and misdirected anger,
their aggression towards me was contained.
Tranquilized and overpowered,
their capture became imminent for
i am more than a conquerer,
for the greater one lives in me.
Today I stand here to testify of that victory against
the intruders and assassins with a grateful heart.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 7:26 AM UTC
Hate flows,
free through her blood.
Infecting every *****
First,
with her heart,
then her brain.
A deranged, heartless *****
with all the power.
Succubi.
Queen of Bloodshed.
Harlot of Satan.
Swing dancing murderers
& ball-room assassins.
Seek her out, on
the dance floor.
To, get a chance to Swing Dance with Lucy, herself.
Good men will fall down to evil.
Slowly dancing and stabbing
pretty, young girls.
Under the noses of their wives.
To save their,
lost souls
from the belly of the beast.
Covered in their blood, sweat & glitter,
the Party Princesses are slain
by the Princes of Poverty.
Cause they weren't getting pity ******
Jul 19, 2012
Jul 19, 2012 at 2:34 PM UTC
Kids trained as suicide assassins
Being lead into a gas chamber
Intensify the breathing
Intensify the bleeding
Sounds of poison floating through the air
Flesh decaying from corpses
As they feast upon the stars
Children playing in the playgrounds
Swimming in pools of their own blood
Unknown slaves to the sun
Apr 25, 2011
Apr 25, 2011 at 6:18 AM UTC
You sit gathered in
Robes wielding knives
From your sleeves;
How determined are you?
Did you agree this death
Behind closed doors?
Assassins in closets,
Knives in their craws,
A ****** of crows pecking
A dying wolf's paws.
How calm you lie
While you hide the knife
You used to slay me;
How calm and sure.
Did you hesitate
To put me in the ground?
Was it hard to push it in
Without a sound?
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 2:35 PM UTC
Doom and gloom prophets
happiness assassins
depression rockets
miserable visions
Nov 12, 2013
Nov 12, 2013 at 4:28 AM UTC
another cool bullet
to the head
a sudden death of
an American dream
the smart uniform
of a young officer
pressed and squared
sharp as a West Point salute
lay blood stained and crumpled
in a lifeless heap on a hospital room floor
the furious efforts of
heroic triage teams comes to naught
trust, respect and idealism
lie victim to an assassins whim
the dreams of another young patriot
prematurely commended to a cold grave
forevermore his body to moulder
returning to earths royal dust
an assassins work speaks
hard blatant truths
we somehow
refuse to hear
leave Afghanistan
to the Afghans
its time to exit
the ungodly places
that betray our dreams
and ****** our children
Music Selection
Tom Jones
Green Green Grass of Home
Oakland
3/1/12
jbm
Mar 1, 2012
Mar 1, 2012 at 12:53 PM UTC
My world came crashing to a stop
Thirty four years ago....on 8 December
I can tell you all just where I was
And I'm sure that you'll remember
I mourned the loss of a legend
I sat and cried for he who died
And like people the world over
Our emotions could not hide
Three years before, another
Died, but it didn't mean the same
He was found dead in his bathroom
A brand new image for his fame
I mourned the loss of a legend
One who died, but at what cost
He was a victim of his excess
I didn't feel the sense of loss
Two Men of peace in Sixty Eight
I was not yet seven at the time
Assassins changed the world we knew
It changed direction on a dime
The King of Camelot in waiting
His brothers shoes, this man would fill
But, for a bullett in Los Angeles
Would hit their mark and get the ****
The other man was destined
To die, because he had a dream
But he united those who heard him
It was a surreal as it did seem
Five years before in Dallas
A President brought down too soon
Was it a single snipers rifle
Or another on the knoll there in the gloom ?
For each of us, a moment,
When our world did change it's way
When we asked why did this happen ?
There was nothing left to say
Imagine or Remember
We all have that certain date
Be it November, or December
It was not ordained by fate
Lee Harvey Oswald, James Earl Ray
Sirhan Sirhan, Mark David Chapman
Elvis Presley, John F. Kennedy
Martin Luther King Jr, Robert F. Kennedy
John Lennon....ask which ones we should remember.
Jul 24, 2012
Jul 24, 2012 at 8:33 PM UTC
What's this what's this there's targets everywhere
What's this what's this there's screaming in the air
I can't believe my eyes, I must be dreaming
Wake up Altair, this isn't fair
What's this..
They're all throwing tomahawks, instead of throwing heads.
They're slitting throats with a blade that's in their wrists now they are dead!
All the people dead, I can't believe my eyes.
I'm so surprised Altair's the only one that had survived...
What's this?
Oct 14, 2013
Oct 14, 2013 at 11:58 PM UTC
They watch from the shadows, they hide in plain sight.
Weapons that whisper silence and death, Masks that hide truth.
Illusions are revealed to be lies, Kings and peasants will die alike side by side.
Lights dwindle and shadows flicker, the night is young.
The path of the assassin is hard they are always in death's backyard.
The traits of the skilled, the doers of evil are all laid before the assassins creed.
Shadows and steel, poison and guile are some of the tools an assassin needs.
Walkers of shadow and light, the invisible stalkers assassination done for the greater good.
Where assassins enemies reign it's a world of fear and pain.
It is they who commit that deadly sin to inflict so much pain the mind simply cannot take.
An assassins creed is law for assassins are a brotherhood in arms.
Written by Kelly O'Hara 5th June 2014
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 8:40 AM UTC