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Zachary William Jul 2017
Marduk
came down to Hammurabi
and provided the
laws
of the kingdom
in hopes that
the strong
might not oppress
the weak
and it all disappeared
under the ceaseless
sands of existence
and doubt.
An eye for an eye.
But you don't want mine.
It'll show you that love is a lie
And life is a line,
That we fall off and die.

It'll show you that young love is a tragedy
That hasn't happened yet
And that the phrase "I love you"
has great gravity
That a boy won't soon forget.
But; if you decide reap what you sow,
Then hell is where you'll go.

After you place my pain in your sockets
You'll pull the bullet from your pocket
Like you pulled our picture from your locket
And end the world that you know.
David Barr Jan 2014
I have an insatiable appetite for oxymorons, as they can be violent in their state of calm relaxation.
Although Bacillus anthracis is truly antisocial within the context of biological weaponry; so, domestic discipline has become intertwined with the Hindu philosophy of Vatsyayana.
So, what do you think about that?
Personally, I have never consumed methylated spirits even though I have unravelled a myriad of ideologies whilst my boots concealed precious opioid syringes.
Therefore, always reflect upon the Code of Hammurabi, because she is the epitome of savory stew.
How alternative are your affiliations?
Overwhelmed Apr 2011
unsure of living
I have discovered
the waiting room
of the nearly dead

there are pictures
of the famous ones
hung upon the wall

******, Hemmingway,
Hammurabi, Harrison

in their different times
they all sat in these chairs
reading magazines and
quaint biographies while
they waited for their name
to be called

the most unsettling thing
is not knowing if you truly
belong here

so sitting in death’s waiting room
I flip through greasy, old pages
wondering if I’m brave enough
to walk out the door and see if
anybody notices
Vincent J Comeau Oct 2010
I

There's a bitter taste in my mouth
As the bride, in all her radiance,
Marches down the aisle, victory
Trailing behind her.

My throat burns and vision blurs
And when asked to object, I'm too late.
So I leave with the “I do”'s
Trailing behind me.

Who ever heard of an open bar
before a wedding?
Who ever heard of a cake
with a stolen groom?
I have. I have.

I have heard years of laughter
And heard the hesitant cheers
And heard the hallowed wedding bells
Trailing behind, driving away.

II

In the car I run
My fingers over smooth plastic
Features and remark,
Through drunken tongue:
How real this feels!

Hammurabi was right –
An eye for an eye
Makes the whole world right.

Stolen groom for stolen groom;
The cake still clings to his feet
And in the distance, church bells.
Married before God, and here is tribute –
Give unto Caesar what is Caesar's!
And remember, thou art mortal.
Yet I feel like Jupiter
With my idol in my hand.




III

This plastic idol, I'll melt it down
And take it in, in, in,
Drink it down like poison,
Poison I've already felt before!
Prepare to take notes on its effects:
It will burn like one sided solemn vows
And it will cling to my throat like promises,
Promises only I kept and he forgot
Faster than he could melt down.

When I said “I'll love you forever”
I intended to keep it true.
I'll love him longer than the plastic,
Clinging to my throat, will exist.
As the molten idol goes down, words come up:
“I love you” (Always).
PJ Poesy Mar 2016
Measure horizon interjecting South Asia
Hammurabi formed Akkadian Nation
Babylonian beast winged lion
upon your cajoled eyes
Mesopotamian feast
a civilization dreaming
under oil fields now known as Iraq
petroleum empowered
How history repeats
in crude circumstances
Assyrian War rages on

Have all temples been replaced by
mosques or filling stations
for Halliburton to gas up?
tanks, projectile convoys
not a winged god amongst them
unless you count Mobil

Babylonia azimuth
combustible tankers horizon
sunrise or sunset
both burn black
We must eliminate this dependence which has caused the fall of humanity, once again.  My sincere condolences to Belgium and all suffering loss. Fueled by greed is this thing fashioned as terrorism. Greed has always worked this way through history. Cloaked in madness it is. Remove the veils of delusion.
David Chin Oct 2011
The parents cry and scream at the news
and the nation creates a song of agony.
For the lives of thousands, two nations will become stronger –
but we forget why we are even there and for how long –
and as more people die, we come together
as one nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all,
but we have doubts of our actions.
Ten years ago, we lost thousands of lives and we follow the Code of Hammurabi,
but we have to remember, “An eye for an eye makes the whole world goes blind.”
Vivekanshu Verma Apr 2020
Riddle in Rhymes,
During Corona Times
By Toxic Detective for Indian Society of Toxicology (IST)
Vomiting is nature's protective reflex against ingested toxins with my bitter alkaloids, accidental by innocent kids,
Bitter is Killer 💀, As a thumb's #rule, in medical science; but most of life saving medications are also bitter 👅, instead;
Vomiting after ingesting me, protects you medically as well as legally, in court of law leads;
Prehistoric #judicial systems determined guilt or innocence in a legal #trial, for human misdeeds;
By subjecting the accused to a dangerous experience, traditionally known as “trial by #ordeal” misusing my seeds;
Whether one survived such an ordeal poison of mine,
was left to control of divine,
to be freed;
and escape or survival was taken to indicate innocence on behalf of the defendant, instead;
The roots of this custom lie in the Code of #Hammurabi and the Code of Ur-Nammu, the oldest known systems of law, reads;
Numerous West African tribes from #Calabar, depended on my toxic bean in jurisprudence, in needs;
Also renowned as ordeal poison or #lie-detector bean, for rulings in their early courts, impledes;
Tribal #Nigerians, misused toxic action of my beans to detect witches & people possessed by evil spirits, who concedes;
#Judicators, would feed numerous seeds, what they called “ordeal poison,” to the accused; if he or she was innocent, indeed;
Hypothetically, God would perform a miracle and allow the accused to live—and the court would have its ruling, proceeds;
If the reverse was true, of course, guilt would be “proven” the moment its sentence was successfully carried out, in recede;
I am a climbing leguminous plant in forests, can be poisonous to humans when chewed, as beads;
I am a large, herbaceous perennial vine, with a woody stem at the base, as natural weeds;
I produces a large, purplish flower with intricate visible veins; attracting innocent Kids;
My flowers yield a thick brown pod of a fruit, contains 2-3 kidney-shaped seeds;
it’s not until rainy season (June through September) that my fatal plant Breeds;
In monsoons, my fruits, capable to produce its best, most toxic beans; indeed;
I am named botanically by appearance of my fruit “a snooping beak-like solid appendage” physo- means “bladder,” at the end of the stigma Beaked;
My toxin is reversible cholinesterase inhibitor, which acts on the autonomic nervous system, leads;
My poison disrupts communication between the nerves and organs of victims, it needs;
In this regard, I acts similarly to nerve gas, which results in contraction of the pupils, recedes;
Profuse salivation, convulsions, seizures, spontaneous urination and defecation, exceeds
Loss of control over the respiratory system, and ultimately death by asphyxiation, as due to secretions, airway blocks & impedes;
Antidote to my poisoning is the slightly less toxic tropane alkaloid atropine, which may often succeeds;
Though myself toxic, my alkaloid proves an effective antidote for poisoning from another deadly plant, Atropa Belladonna seeds;
Guess my name, causing Vomiting, as Lie detector for your means: when an Ordeal poison, impleads;
References:
1. Pillay, VV. Comprehensive Medical Toxicology. 3rd Ed. Jaypee. 2018 p612-15
Torin Apr 2016
He was my guide
My teacher
And all the lessons lost
Then learned again
This world has a way
Of laying you flat on your back
We have a way
Of lifting our legs in the air

When we are the ones should be doing the *******

He was a shaman
A ghetto Hammurabi
And when the night is too dark
And the truth too stark
And I don't want to play my part
I heed his words
His wisdom

I remember what he said
"**** this ****,
I need some chees"
How very profound
My ***** **** what you say, ain't no more play in GA
Michael Marchese Jul 2021
Productive days
Of improv humor
Lately I’m
A real late bloomer
But a tumor
Lurks beneath
Metastasizing
In the deep
The sunset looming
Out of reach
No one to share
Its fading heat
And I fear never
Will return
Shall once more lend her ear
To learn
The myriad
Aways of me
Intricacies
Deceptively
Expressed
In this
Suppressive state
Oasis
‘Bout to immolate
At any moment
But despair
Still constitutes
The everywhere
I go,

No golden fools
Aglow,
Nor soulless ghouls
Sold out for show
Quite artfully enough
Pretense
My shattered psyche
Imp laments,
As I laugh last
At their expense
Though not aghast
At class
Distinction
Just as natural
As extinction
More surprised to find
The kind
Of people
Who see dollar signs  
Can look like me, or you, or us
Just must be someone
I could trust
Like confidantes
No strings attached
Contracted obligation
Scratched
Adam Kinsley Jul 2018
The depths of my depravity sink
My cruel and careless mind is aligned
With eyes affixed on all I've solely lost:
I dance with my scapegoating ghosts

Yearning to turn the page:
My hands are cut off by Hammurabi--
To keep from gouging Oedipus' eyes:
I am written out of the story

Ambition does not lust after me
I am forgotten in Dante's Inferno
My hands have denied any involvement--
They cite my brain for a lack-of-character(s)

Volition is cemented in the mire of Regret
Yet, She still screams to me:
"'Out ****'d spot! Out, I say!'"
So, we bury my tell-tale heart under the floor...
I mix several historical references with historical literature, spanning around 3,500 years, with my modern-day interpretation of my own mind.
nihiliti Jun 2018
Solomon rides his chariot of fire
the sun, sky-high and singular, eyeing
his war waged in the dirt
with ant soldiers carrying banners
of men who trade blows for love

patrilineally doth the crown fall down
tumbling from head to head
'til two heads beheaded are consulted
as double-minded words of wisdom
make the world spin like unwise heads of state

molecular clock ticks and talks until
the ancestors come unglued
and the ancestry unravels into
yarns of pride and dying for
tales of glory, written only in blood

prehistoric fathers sacrifice daughters
before the mothers could file complaint
of double-edged swords in the house
where Hammurabi's word in etched in stonewalls
but falls on deaf, stone-hearted heroes

deforestation dreams destroy wooden wands
and depeople dozens of homes; magic gone
the holocaust costs more than halos and crowns
'cause caustic causes contrived by the man
make the world burn twice over

and there's only so many do-overs 'til it's truly over
The magician holds three pairs, but must fish in his cups for his vehicle of tyranny.
BB Tyler Jul 2019
stretching on the carpet
alone
listening to a video
about ancient Mesopotamia
an approximation of a yoga routine
and I go to take a ****
thinking about Hammurabi

"the law was made between two rivers"
i think, and sigh
letting my stream go
Adam Kinsley Mar 2019
I am captured in No-Man's-Land:
In a Great War of silence and solace
My heart, when at its best, had meant that all of your fear had bred your peers
But, this awkward ambition deceives:
[Through our true nature]

My heart is bad company to keep:
I cannot sleep
Hammurabi's Code--
The heart of man was bought and sold
There is no place to run:
The bottle will find me

Underneath the moonlight:
We are stranded by this silence
Regret had set sail long ago
My breath awaits its volition
This indecent descent into dissent thrives--
Meanwhile, our egos play Russian Roulette

I'll trade your violence for silence
My will is filled with thieves
My thoughts are holes in an hourglass
Aspiration had marched off to war--
Though, you never came back
After a while, I stopped looking for you...
Sam Oct 2017
I
  i.
sometimes, being discriminated against
is
an elementary school teacher treating one of her students
like a thing to be exterminated and killed and disposed of
like the dirt under concrete she steps on everyday
~ except that dirt can be beneficial ~
because her student has a different skincolorhaircoloreyecolorappearance
than every single other student she teaches, has taught,
doesn't matter how intelligent hardworking forgiving
her student is --
and the school is letting it go
and the school is doing n o t h i n g
to stop it


  ii.
other times, being discriminated against,
is
the way their eyes pass over you.
and this is after, they tell you,
                ~ how rare, how brilliant, how exceptional ~
you are, especially considering --
especially considering how d i f f e r e n t you are.
because
you will never be considered one of them.
because you will always be considered d i f f e r e n t.
because you may be "good",
but you will never be good enough.





II
   i.
being a minority, is the word
                                            i n s i g n i f i c a n t
carved into and hammered onto you so many times
you curl into yourself
and hunch over so you look less tall than you actually are,
just so you can blend in.
just so you can avoid the stares.
so someone doesn't call you out for something you haven't done. again.


   ii.
being a minority
is never seeing yourself in those around you.
it is getting so used to being different
that those alike you, are a novelty, tucked away and hidden so far,
injustices don't matter.
one killed another
but it is history repeated all over again,
Hammurabi's Code and the rich and the powerful get fined
while the poor die.
the killer walks free, nothing but a slap on the wrist --
   the dead is the guilty party, now, the dead is the guilty.

because why would a person from the majority ever **** an innocent?





III
     i.
being a teenage girl  
is
looking old enough to look like an adult, but not truly being one yet
so choosing between jeans and shorts, and saving skirts --
skirts, dresses, for occasions when you must where them
because that way
if there are drunk men surrounding you on trains,
or enough of a collection of blood thirsty ones,
you have some protection
against wandering hands
and people who tell you your body is not your own.


   ii.
being of the female gender is also
never going places alone because
you have heard the h o r r o r stories
you have seen them
   you have experienced them
and you do not want to end up
sexually  h a r r a s e d
*                                       b e a t e n
  *                                                         r a p e d

   *                                                                ­        d e a d.


   iii.
being a woman
in a working environment,
is
  *g l a s s   c i e l i n g

                                      never shattering
never speaking too loudly or too much
for fear of being called "bossy" "loud" "obnoxious"
for fear of being fired.
being passed over for promotions because social norms disallow you
from being competetive
or having your own ideas
from having the same right to be there as the men.
from work being not profession --
but professionsecretarycleancookwifelookafterchildrenmother
all of the above.
Convicted murderer locked in his cell
Watched by guards, news and defenders of morality.

They say about the case: "Thirty years? Too few!"
They say about the judge: "He's a *****!"
They say about the policeman: "He should have killed him!"
They say about the prisoner: "Human? No, he  ain't!"
They say about the dead: "He's a saint!"

We sleep peacefully seeing the beast jailed,
the criminal act contained,
as a reward for the things we were deprived:
The murders we did not commit (but wanted),
The aggressions suppressed (but wanted),
The lack of character we did not manifest (but, hell, we wanted!),
The sick look in the mirror we learned to mask.

Killing is not just pulling the trigger.
It is about the indifference,
about all the fingers pointing out failures,
about the accumulated pain of every struggle,
about greedy desires fueled by what we see daily,
about the lack of power, from cradle to coffin,
about the eyes we meet everyday but cannot see.

What is worth a fair sentence
over an ever unfair life?
What dose of love will fall
in the remains of a life built in such lack of compassion?
Why do we keep on returning to eyes and teeth
while Hammurabi remains buried for tens of centuries?

We do not fear the murderer,
we fear our own rage, our frailty and lack of control.
We proudly watch the misery of the prisoner
for we renounced the free animal
for the imprisoned human.

— The End —