"avenging" poems
1337
Upon a Lilac Sea
To toss incessantly
His Plush Alarm
Who fleeing from the Spring
The Spring avenging fling
To Dooms of Balm
6.3k
We are both Gods creation
Created to love and help one another
White or black it doesn't matter
Love supersedes all
Let us come together as one
Live as one
Be happy as one
Join hands to kick against racism
If you are black maybe your lover is white
If you are white maybe your ancestors are black
Let us say no to racism
Let be best friends
Love. Each other
Marry each other
Care for each other
And help each other
White man needs a black man
A black man needs a white man
Together. We can make this world a better place
A place we can live a life worth living
Send our kids to school worth going
Fall in love with someone worth loving irrespective of the color
Am black and I wanna mary a white for real that's love
If u r a white and wanna marry a black go ahead that's love for real
Let's make this world better for our kids
Better for our unborn kids
War isn't going to be any good
We might have done so many things
We might have heard so much about how our color as been treated
At some point even I wished I was white cos it seems the black had no place on the planet earth
My heart grows sick with hate, becomes as lead,
For this my race that has no home on earth.
Then from the dark depths of my soul I cry
To the avenging angel to consume
The white man's world of wonders utterly:
Let it be swallowed up in earth's vast womb,
Or upward roll as sacrificial smoke
To liberate my people from its yoke
But one dream changed my mind
The greatest dream ever dreamed by a man
A black activist
Martin luther king jr
Today white walks among blacks and blacks walks among white
White fall in love with blacks
Blacks marry white
That is love
Let us say no to racism and make the world a better place
One love
We are United
We are one
Black +White =Love and peace
Jun 25, 2015
Jun 25, 2015 at 8:51 AM UTC
Shattered Bowed
Clustered broken glass
Dark shadow engulfs
Laid on the grass
Stone piece signifies
People bid goodbyes
Death Lord besieged
Now a graveyard breed
Tested through times
Committing crimes
Resting, Evil Wrath will rise
Avenging my cries
People, friends betrayed
My Wrath, My Hatred
Declared self-destructing
At times exploding
My Wrath, My Friend
My Wrath, My Hatred
My Wrath, My Enemy
My Wrath, ME!!
Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 4:19 AM UTC
Cutting through devils flesh, bones and marrows,
Healing sorrow, it's wielders never cold or shallow,
All Divinity or Nature destroyed is healed and harrowed,
Behold, the gift of the Goddess: The Sword of Shadows.
Despite cold hearts making our world a burning hell,
Despite many angels, light bearing souls, who somehow fell,
Despite those taking pleasure from greed, envy and sin,
Warm Hearts realize The Goddess is indeed our kin,
Despite endless waves of lives and death,
Despite moments when even good has lost life and breath,
Despite the sinuous evil and creeping dark,
One receives his Sword when Healthy with Halo and Heart.
For a Sword Bold of times Old, your heart must stay warm,
Even when anger for a purge starts and your mind 's a storm,
May every plot against Humanity forever fold or foil,
A Sword waiting for you, end all turmoil.
With Knowledge gained either thought the art or craft,
Sword of Shadows, Avenging all pains, even future and past...
Only tears shed are that of Love and Joy, no remorse,
To allow our dear Goddess in our world, All rejoice.
A Sword of Shadows for Hearts Brave and True,
Our Goddess Loves all, and has Sword for you.
Nov 1, 2016
Nov 1, 2016 at 4:00 PM UTC
It was upon the whim of an ancient cataclysm,
That brought forth the faith of naturalism.
The praying of saints and sinners alike, whether in the grave or still full of life.
A judge of true light to be heralded as grand,
Receives the effort of an avenging plight.
Remember in darkness where the truth lies, as it lies in the beholder's eye.
Trick our souls into feeling the withering cause of death.
With one last stroke we shall take expel our breath.
Break down these barriers and how they exist,
Make all divinity crash down with it.
What gods may conquer, they shall never control.
For the armies of faith and secularism will be in turmoil.
Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 5:15 AM UTC
so
here we Are:
Arnold......Shortman,
Shorty......Meeks,
Mr......Meeseeks,
Ezekiel......Whitmore.
Morphine,,,,,,Morpheus,
Neo......Geo,
OG......Sour,
Sour......Diesel.
DeeDee's......Brother,
Cousin......Vinny,
Vinny's......Lover,
Brothers......Grimm.
Grim......adVentures,
Billy......Madison,
Hansel,,,,,,Gretel,
Chelsea......Grin.
Grimace,,,,,,Misery,
Mister......eBonic,
Bonny,,,,,,Clyde,
Kyle,,,,,,Kenny.
Kenny......Powers,
Powder Puff Girls,
"Girls Girls Girls",
Girls Gone Wild.
Wilee......Coyote,
Coyote......Ugly,
Ugly......Betty,
Betty......Crocker.
Doctor......Parnassus,
Doctor......Krieger,
Doctor......Horrible,
Doctor......Evil.
Evil......Knievel,
Felix......the Cat,
Captain Jack Sparrow:
"Captain......my Captain".
Tinman,,,,,,Scarecrow,
"Rowrow Rowyer Boat",
Bo......Burnham,
Earnest,,,,,,Vern.
Verdict,,,,,,Votive,
deVotion,,,,,,Vengeance,
aVenging......Evey,
V,,,,,,Vendetta.
Denace......the Menace,
Crystal......Globes,
Snow,,,,,,Aesthetics:
Skeletal......Shedding.
Head,,,,,,Tail,
Sally,,,,,,Jack,
Jack......Rabbits,
Magic......Hatters.
Shattered......Glass,
Glasgow......Smile,
Guile,,,,,,Vega,
Akuma,,,,,,Ryu.
You,,,,,,Me,
Beneath......the Bleacher:
Jeepers,,,,,,Creepers,
Reapers......of Seeds.
Seeds......of Chucky,
Chuckie......Finster,
Principal......Muriel,
Yuri......Gagarin.
© Copyrighted Jesse James Adams
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 12:44 PM UTC
Oh when I think of my long-suffering race,
For weary centuries despised, oppressed,
Enslaved and lynched, denied a human place
In the great life line of the Christian West;
And in the Black Land disinherited,
Robbed in the ancient country of its birth,
My heart grows sick with hate, becomes as lead,
For this my race that has no home on earth.
Then from the dark depths of my soul. I cry
To the avenging angel to consume
The white man's world of wonders utterly:
Let it be swallowed up in earth's vast womb,
Or upward roll as sacrificial smoke
To liberate my people from its yoke!
2.8k
My anomalous trip thus far has been dichotomous.
Harbingers motivate my advent: a chorus.
Acceptance of frolic ventures sent: a quest.
My sneakers meet familiar soil at last.
Designed to be a panacea, yet I fall ill.
Sleets of rain impact my soul: a slight chill.
Hazed trance, awashed clean of all acrimony.
A lurid stroll, downhill, parallel, perfunctory.
I, a stoic mercenary, avenging my ties tonight.
Arcane magic flow through my veins, my sight.
Moisture sparkle, glistens through my mental maze.
Resistance, control: I attempt to regain ablaze.
Synaptics fuse, burn, misfire, discombobulate.
Higher functions remain: calculus, formulate.
Veritas! Visual focus be on 2D layer sharp.
Disintegrated data sung with melodious harp.
Laissez-faire slayed by Communist meritocracy.
Mental hierarchy arise from wayward sorcery.
My affection for her nets only melancholia.
The amity cease... yet reborn by spying cornea.
Upon a hill from sea to sea brings forth diplomacy.
Lively lads, enshrouded in black; they be prodigies.
Persons of worth: one stranger joins their ranks.
If my creed offend, beg you pardon pranks.
Silent drizzle softly sings of night and majesty.
Lament under moonlight, behold gray sanctity.
Ne'er shall dreadful turmoil befall our facilities.
Literature conceals such divine secrecy.
Aug 28, 2010
Aug 28, 2010 at 5:15 AM UTC
Water horse, sea demon
She demon, green-eyed sprite.
Hunted for centuries
By knights and teenage boys alike.
An avenging spirit of
The frightened and slight,
Yet she cannot travel far
From her watery prison.
Green-eyed monster
As slippery as the weeds
That grow in her underwater
Bower
Lost children and virtuous
Maidens alone have ridden
The demon and survived,
Carried safely to the marsh's edge.
Cabbyl-Ushtey, the water horse,
Seducer of weary travellers -
Unless they possess an innocent heart;
Few escape the watery grave
They vanish into a well as
Mysterious as the mare that lives in it,
Deeper than the ocean and as
Dark as the souls it swallows.
Sep 9, 2011
Sep 9, 2011 at 7:48 AM UTC
Competing,
sabotaging, manipulating,
controlling, demeaning, angering,
underestimating, avenging,
hurting
stops when you
learn to respect
that person.
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 6:34 AM UTC
The First. My great-grandfather spoke to Edmund Burke
In Grattan's house.
The Second. My great-grandfather shared
A pot-house bench with Oliver Goldsmith once.
The Third. My great-grandfather's father talked of music,
Drank tar-water with the Bishop of Cloyne.
The Fourth. But mine saw Stella once.
The Fifth. Whence came our thought?
The Sixth. From four great minds that hated Whiggery.
The Fifth. Burke was a Whig.
The Sixth. Whether they knew or not,
Goldsmith and Burke, Swift and the Bishop of Cloyne
All hated Whiggery; but what is Whiggery?
A levelling, rancorous, rational sort of mind
That never looked out of the eye of a saint
Or out of drunkard's eye.
The Seventh. All's Whiggery now,
But we old men are massed against the world.
The First. American colonies, Ireland, France and India
Harried, and Burke's great melody against it.
The Second. Oliver Goldsmith sang what he had seen,
Roads full of beggars, cattle in the fields,
But never saw the trefoil stained with blood,
The avenging leaf those fields raised up against it.
The Fourth. The tomb of Swift wears it away.
The Third. A voice
Soft as the rustle of a reed from Cloyne
That gathers volume; now a thunder-clap.
The Sixtb. What schooling had these four?
The Seventh. They walked the roads
Mimicking what they heard, as children mimic;
They understood that wisdom comes of beggary.
1.9k
Say, heav’nly muse, what king or mighty God,
That moves sublime from Idumea’s road?
In Bosrah’s dies, with martial glories join’d,
His purple vesture waves upon the wind.
Why thus enrob’d delights he to appear
In the dread image of the Pow’r of war?
Compres’d in wrath the swelling wine-press groan’d,
It bled, and pour’d the gushing purple round.
“Mine was the act,” th’ Almighty Saviour said,
And shook the dazzling glories of his head,
“When all forsook I trod the press alone,
“And conquer’d by omnipotence my own;
“For man’s release sustain’d the pond’rous load,
“For man the wrath of an immortal God:
“To execute th’ Eternal’s dread command
“My soul I sacrific’d with willing hand;
“Sinless I stood before the avenging frown,
“Atoning thus for vices not my own.”
His eye the ample field of battle round
Survey’d, but no created succours found;
His own omnipotence sustain’d the right,
His vengeance sunk the haughty foes in night;
Beneath his feet the prostrate troops were spread,
And round him lay the dying, and the dead.
Great God, what light’ning flashes from thine eyes?
What pow’r withstands if thou indignant rise?
Against thy Zion though her foes may rage,
And all their cunning, all their strength engage,
Yet she serenely on thy ***** lies,
Smiles at their arts, and all their force defies.
1.8k
This is for a girl whose name means light,
Who fights every day of her life to beat the gravity of depression,
Whose dearest pastime is turning everyone she encounters to poetry,
Who’s never stopped looking for fairies or shaking glitter over everything,
Who is tall in the flesh and tall in the heart; love overflowing,
Who aspires to be ironclad but always tender,
Who knows too much about bruised innocence and precious things ripped away,
Who can never get enough of walks in the wind and rain—all of that pulsing sensation, all of that alive-alive-alive,
Who salutes Eve each time her teeth break the skin of an apple,
Who is thoroughly in love,
Who has taught herself to bleed out with dignity,
Whose defiance could halt the turn of the earth,
Who grew up on bare feet, free will, and the softest joy imaginable,
Who would die for justice,
Whose soul is warm and messy and unfurling,
Who has a family of artists living in her head [Alcott scribbling in the cerebral cortex, Van Gogh mixing pigments near the frontal lobe, Ginsberg clacking at his typewriter beside the cerebellum],
Who dreams of avenging the marginalized,
Whose arsenal includes sturdy black boots and neon strength,
Who is ruthless yet sentimental beyond belief,
Who slipped into the world with a sweetness she’s never really lost,
Who lives like she writes like she laughs like she argues like she loves, with heat and certainty and unending vibrance.
This is for myself.
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 10:57 AM UTC
Avenging activity among our society
Based behind our bravery,
Centered in our controlled community
Dances our dimes distantly,
Eating the Economy entirely,
Freeing some family’s from financial stability
Giving the Government full guidance to “Give willingly”
Help save history and fix the hired hereby diligently
Isolating the problem Indefinitely before another civil war breaks out immobilizing us internally,
Jacking up jumping prices to live within our jungle of commonality
Killing Kids futures by leaving them in debt for keeps of knowledge to secure their vivacity
Living our Lives in stress leniently because we are your servants dwelling down here in the low depths of poverty.
Massing out our Money on your table tops feasting morbidly on fattening foods while millions suffer from malnutrion
Nobody speaking nervously now
On the open opinion’s on our governments greed
People pacing the streets for a piece to eat
Quiet our questions or riots will quake the streets
Rage ripping through our roads radiantly
So sustain us all seriously separating the needy from situations of squandering
Take hold of our Tantrums and turn them on the ones demanding this tangibility
You’re yearning for yesterday’s better life
Venom of today’s values vast out over our minds
When will they welcome the revolution?
Xenophobia exerts exteremremitys on our souls
Zero Tolerance for Zaberism and Zolism is the way we go.
May 18, 2015
May 18, 2015 at 12:23 PM UTC
Introduction
Burning pages
Blood-red sky
Rage of angels
Days gone by
The Chosen one, with eyes of searing flames
Is opening the book of Living Names....
I
The turning pages tell of lives gone by,
Furled by the one whose eyes are blinding flames;
Hot ashes flutter to the blood-red sky,
Like burning souls of undeserving names.
Where justice fails in life, death compensates:
Rare Mercy brings the angel who redeems,
While cruelty brings down avenging fates,
Even if conscience sleeps throughout our dreams.
The one with eyes of flame sees everything,
His Book of Living Names is always fair;
Yet every page frail as a fledgeling's wing -
Tread carefully if your name is not there.
There are but two volumes: one leads to light,
The other leads to Hell, without respite.
II
He sat in shadows, working through the night;
A scribe writing in words of ****** red,
While brass lanterns imparted sickly light,
As nightmare voices raged inside his head.
And all the names of those forever doomed,
Of future deaths and those of ancient past,
Were on the page, committed and entombed
In holy blood, scarlet and colour-fast.
All those whom God shall cast into the flames,
Unworthy of Heaven's forgiving grace
Are ever here, in this Book of Dead Names -
Named, numbered souls, each one bereft of face.
Thus, all enjoying notoriety
Shall be vanquished in anonymity.
III
Place copper coins over these weary eyes,
Gather my gold around me in the tomb,
Pray overlook transgression, all my lies,
Cradle me unto death, as from the womb.
Bury my silver at my lifeless feet,
Burn sandalwood, utter my name in prayer,
Drench me with nard and hyssop, bittersweet,
Remember me with lilies in my hair.
Pray write me in the Book of Living Names,
God turn thy face from my iniquity;
Spare me the flail, the pit of raging flames,
But let the quiet waters carry me.
Float me upon the Styx when I am gone;
Erase me from the Necronomicon.
NOTES:
This was inspired by some of the startling imagery in The Book of Revelation from the Bible.
Sep 2, 2009
Sep 2, 2009 at 11:47 AM UTC
So the Datamaster encodes the Fray
And tried to submit those Terms with you Two
What once his Morphing Body by Sons decay
Threw the Keys to Salt the Sugar in you
So why do you think I try to avoid
That Swollen Army grossed to Petition
And signed, perkept, smiles the Avenging Void
Then pins it neatly in Recognition
You're not alone, Madam, for it to Stop
Which I too want to end this Currency
Tell him now! His Black Shy Trumpet a-top
Will finally hand this Insolvency.
I try to avoid it; You know I do
I only just wish you do your Part too.
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 11:40 PM UTC
black shadows spread
congregated silhouettes
torn from their sleep
anguish etched on their faces
where nightmares have been dumped
create an avenging rage
of systematic hysteria
beyond all human bonds
become blind
to the anticipated
repressions of reality
entities whose powers
are not fully grasped
grey noise a menacing presence
anthracitic, their blackest tasks
so horrible
creating night in the middle of the day
mischievous and malicious
they are no more
than an eternity away
where a box has no mother
black shapes beg
in their furtive
ballet once again
pure with night
sees the scene
Jan 31, 2013
Jan 31, 2013 at 3:08 PM UTC
She wore her red shoes to Romeos funeral
and misssed the stale smell of his cheap cologne
and that his lips had always tasted of whiskey
she picked up a card and some flowers and a strange ballon
for $29 and some spare change from the drug store
on Kentucky Ave. where someone had stolen
her favorite alligator purse
somewhere in the distance a train pulling box cars
whistled to the magpies with their wings spread up above
just hanging there like kites
and she wore a pretty blue gun strapped to her thigh
right over where he had left his teeth marks on the forth of July
the one he had given her on the Valentine's day
he had spent in jail for attempting to rob the jewelry store
for the necklace she had wanted for Christmas
the December before
the same Christmas all he could give her
was his favorite skull and crossbones ring
tied around the broken piano string
he had once tried to wear as a tie
they had meet the night he stole her record player
and she had happened to be on the wrong side of the road
as he made his way from the scene of the crime
completely unaware she would steal his heart
before he would see another sunrise
but that was all before he took a bullet to the chest
after avenging his brother that was left to die
without his knife
they had found his body in the theater
with his shoes full of blood and a smile on his face
and she knew as his body was lowered
into the cold cold ground her new favorite color was going
to be blue come next Valentine's day
Mar 6, 2017
Mar 6, 2017 at 11:29 AM UTC
Gracious Lord, our children see,
By Thy mercy we are free;
But shall these, alas! remain
Subjects still of Satan's reign?
Israel's young ones, when of old
Pharaoh threaten'd to withhold,
Then Thy messenger said, "No;
Let the children also go!"
When the angel of the Lord,
Drawing forth his dreadful sword,
Slew with an avenging hand,
All the first-born of the land;
Then Thy people's door he pass'd,
Where the ****** sign was placed:
Hear us, now, upon our knees,
Plead the blood of Christ for these!
Lord, we tremble, for we know
How the fierce malicious foe,
Wheeling round his watchful flight,
Keeps them ever in his sight:
Spread Thy pinions, King of kings!
Hide them safe beneath Thy wings;
Lest the ravenous bird of prey
Stoop and bear the brood away.
1.2k
Amusing to most cynics, these tragic tales of love.
Questioning his mercy, the one who watches from above.
Diabolical confrontation, an army so strong.
Sleepless nights withered, pondering what went wrong.
Meek perception of a fickle minded clan.
Denouncing an ambitious child, an insubordinate man.
An intense adoration, eloquence of being crazed.
Contested against vehemently, all hell aggresively raised.
Not unrequited, not unfair, a beautiful symphony meticulously shared.
Infatuation so strong, hope for lives to be paired.
Cacophony of society, this petrified state.
Throngs of loathing, a cumbersome hate.
Agitating separation, an indignant ploy.
Hearts shattered, like a worthless toy.
These bonds of unfair blood, creators of an avenging soul.
Guaranteed devastation, eager to come out of its hole.
Upset the master plan, cause his own disease.
Let there be genocide, In god's decrees he did not believe.
Buried alive, weight of there mutual debt.
Grieving loss, Giving up on everything left.
Beaten, he screams in mortal vanquish.
His very soul on fire.
He forsakes them all, allows his blood to douse there funeral pyre.
Jul 8, 2014
Jul 8, 2014 at 2:50 AM UTC
i like to imagine you can't feel the way i
can; you are sculpted from ashes and
ice, you smile and you laugh and you
melt when someone touches you in the
right way, but still, you can't fall in love,
not really. you have kept your heart
clutched tight in your own fist, vena
amoris unlaced and fluttering in the wind
like a kite string.
[anybody could make you fly in the right
wind, but the trick is to keep you high
without letting the tether slip through his
fingers.]
it would be easier for me if you really were
so cold, if you were a simply a monster
masquerading as a man. but i know
that the only person here who isn't quite
what they seem to be is me; i'm the one
who pretends that if you came back to me,
i would twist up my lips and pull back my
hands and leave you crawling in the street.
[but i know, and you know, that if you even
turn your head to look at me, i am yours all
over again.]
there is this creature inside of me, malignant
and scavenging for any memory, for the
sound of your name. i think of you and it lifts
its head, salivating, i wish you were here and
it gnaws on my bones until i am weak and
stumbling. i am not sure if it is punishing me
or living off of me, if it is an avenging angel
or a parasite, but i think you both have
something in common.
[i am heartsick and trembling, swaying when i
try to stand, and neither one of you would
bat an eye if i didn't make it. for you, it would
be the same as any other day; for it, well,
there are plenty of others with whom it could
roost.]
Jul 3, 2011
Jul 3, 2011 at 4:21 PM UTC
This is the avenging of my mediocrity
Altering into virginal happiness
My ventilated train of thoughts
assist the obsoleteness
of the impression i had
of love.
my reverie of hope
a simple consideration to hold
something i've never come to grips with
for i cant hold on
to what the other has let go of
my knowledge grows
my hand's been raised
for quite some time
an indifference for beings
saturated in ignorance
for they're just caught up
in the years that have passed
my soft feelings
have turned to rock
by the beast himself
i held such languish
but now i toss it all to the killer
i'm walking across the line
of bitterness and betrayal
and grabbing what i missed:
a chance
for things to be
new again.
Oct 22, 2009
Oct 22, 2009 at 1:04 PM UTC
The light from below
shines up above,
seeking the savior
she once was.
Reaching for love,
hope, and safety
while under the gloom
of danger and lies.
No one will come
she thinks with lost hope
when the dark goes away
and light softens day.
Her heart,
once so kind,
now hides in a cage
made of thorns and regret.
No promises made to be kept.
Lost from her slef
by the ****** and theft,
she begs to be strong
like that which she was.
Weak in her posture,
strong in her faith,
she cries out with anguish
at those who have left.
Though no one is waiting,
and no one alive,
she leans forward to kis them
a loving goodbye.
Rsing in glory,
her sadness her strength,
she leaps forward in heaven
and angel's grace.
Looking in love
toward the battlefield below
she descend and forgives
for all the hate and deceit
while crying in sorrow
for all the lsot ones.
Then with her anger
that was towards the man
that had caused it all.
So with her sword of hatred,
and her dagger of lead,
she dove down on him
slitting his half.
For that she has fallen
and become a lost soul
for her fury had caused her
to break her own heart.
Jul 19, 2011
Jul 19, 2011 at 5:50 PM UTC
Glory be to God for avenging the ****** of William Laud!
Refusing the reality of the Spiritual Church?
Puritan
Though not altogether disjointedly?
Pilgrim
As Puritan dreams
turn to happy meals
and
vast parking lots
of freedom of choice.
America that Church
with their Jeffersonian natural religion and
their Masonic philosophies.
Where human rights/freedom are the Gospel;
as Christendom falls to human nature
for exaggerative innuendo and condemning councils
to further intellectualization of faith
in Jesus name.
© S. Wesley Mcgranor
Oct 3, 2016
Oct 3, 2016 at 7:07 PM UTC