"persecutor" poems
To die,
To fall,
To lose,
In an act of,
Life-giving,
Spirit lifting,
Victory,
Is simply,
Nonsensical,
And yet,
Perfect,
Completely,
Irrational,
And yet,
Thought out,
And so,
Incomprehensible,
With human mind,
But absolutely,
And definitely,
The right thing to do,
Because God loved the world so much,
He would let his own creation,
Take his only son from him,
To save his creation,
From the hands of evil.
And the best thing?
The most amazing and inconceivable thing of all,
Is that he did it for all mankind.
Athiest
Agnostic
Christian
Jew
Muslim
Sikh
Hindu
Buddhist
Black
White
Straight
Gay
Lesbian
Bisexual
Asexual
Boy
Girl
Bigender
Transgender
Agender
Young
Old
Kind
Cruel
Happy
Sad
Rich
Poor
Healthy
Ill
Free
Enslaved
Safe
Afraid
Intelligent
Stupid
Deaf
Blind
Disabled
Handicapped
Single
Taken
Married
Divorced
Remarried
Widowed
Lost
Found
Persecuted
Persecutor
Murderer
Self-harmer
Suicidal
Unloved
Adored
Popular
Ignored
Beautiful
Ugly
Guilty
Innocent
Outcast
Desperate
Autistic
Bulimic
Alcoholic
Bipolar
Addict
Dyslexic
Anorexic
Schizophrenic
SAVED
Every single human being ever born is saved.
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 8:34 PM UTC
My heart was found guilty
Of witchcraft by my brain
He dragged her and beat her
Spewed his hatred for her
Tied her to a wooden stake
My brain couldn't comprehend
The magic of my heart
Why she never wavered
How she always loved
He started this persecution
Because he couldn't understand
I always felt her growing
Beautifully and powerfully
With every beat she won me over
All I did was want to protect her
But my brain called it heresy
My punishment was to watch
As he burned her alive
I heard the shrieks of hope die
The smell of her love stung
My nostrils and it haunts me still
I walk around pretending
As if nothing had ever happened
My brain condemned me to live
This life without my heart
Without the love and only
With the memory of that night
Every day I burn like she did
As every day I hate like he did
I was unable to convince him
That she just wanted to love
But my brain was too afraid
Of the powers of my heart
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 12:10 PM UTC
The persecutor feels
persecuted
because the persecuted
speak out
Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 10:48 AM UTC
I’m Medusa, yes Medusa
Not long life that was Methuselah
Vile violent visage I am the muse for
Gorgon legend is my future
I’m abused and an abuser
I am used and I’m a user
Magnet to so many suitors
Once a beauty now a bruiser
Myth: Just deserts for killer cougar
Truth: ***** then accused as a seducer
Athene was my disapprover
Sisterhood is just a rumour
Hair curled tight it can’t get smoother
Locks they’re snakes crawled from a sewer
Lovers now they’re getting fewer
Call me mad it’s only lunar
Perseus my persecutor
In slaying Titans he’d been tutored
He is blessed, I’m outmanoeuvred
My death births Pegasus the wing’d hoofer
Seem to have lost my sense of humour
Need more than a troubleshooter
Temperature has just got cooler
Turn to stone you’re such a loser
anna jones ©2017
Apr 7, 2017
Apr 7, 2017 at 4:17 PM UTC
Just a boy who never wished to have hatred in his heart, seeing people abused was a daily thing. He had his fair share of beatings and run-ins with near death. This would all fuel his rage and hatred towards the persecutor. He felt it consume him and he did not want that, he did not want to be like his father when we grew up filled of hatred and self-loathing. So anytime he could he went up the hills to the mountains and overlooked the city. He sat there for hours writing or meditating. He constantly told himself "Do not hate the persecutor, for he himself was persecuted and knows of no other way". At only 14 years of age he came to understand what others never have. It was imprinted in him perfectly; the cycle as he liked to call it, and he wish nothing more than to break it. So there he sat surrounded by nature taking in the chirping of new born birds, the breeze swaying through the leaves, the sun warming up his skin. He closed his eyes and took all this in as he let go of the hatred to his father and brother, the resentment of his mother, the jealousy of his sister. This is how he cleansed his soul, this is how he stayed pure, this is how he was able to come home everyday, this is how he stayed strong.
Now he takes others, to the place where he found solace. He tells others how to let go of past harm n not let it influence future thoughts. He tells them to scream at the top their lungs everything they've built up, and then close their eyes n to listen to the wind, n feel the sun creeping on their skin. He helps and try's to heal his friends, cause everywhere he goes all he sees is pain.
Aug 4, 2013
Aug 4, 2013 at 12:36 PM UTC
she became a new york city
street corner fixture
acted like its the only place to be
acted like its the place for the persecutor to begin
after all all men are guilty
none are forgiven
so she painted false hearted judges
to prop up her proposition
to subvert the natural truth
she lied when it came down to the last hours
but i was unsurprised i had seen her coming
the deception was the rationalization
means to the end
just because you can lie means you should
integrity means so much more when
there is no shame in the game
so once again i ask
just because you can lie means you should
isn't it about change
or was that just part of the lie
i walked away
on a north bronx street corner never to return
no regrets
she had sold herself at every chance
for two bits silver
for a lies chance to shine
but i will not be there to suffer the consequences
just because you can lie means you should
isn't it about change
or was that just part of the lie
Dec 31, 2014
Dec 31, 2014 at 10:44 AM UTC
perscuter
victim /_\ rescuer
here's to ending this pyramid scheme:
the rescuer is:
jumping bean in trauma closet
the persecutor is:
a vampiric silence
the victim is:
numbness prostituting for warmth
and they shift ominously like phases of the moon
Feb 24, 2016
Feb 24, 2016 at 12:36 PM UTC
Your sad eyes awaken a need within me to heal the heart which cries tears poorly hidden by the night rain.
Who left you out in the cold?
Whose harsh hands left those marks upon your skin?
Something in me wants to save you from your chosen fate;
Lean into my protective embrace and I promise you no hurt shall ever visit you again.
We both recognize that lie;
The saviour is nothing more than the precursor to the persecutor,
I would lay you upon a cross we built from your past misfortunes and misdeeds, and the understanding which thinly covers my hate.
Better I offer you nothing now but a friendly smile,
And leave you, alone, cold in the rain, waiting for the man who bruised your face,
I would batter your soul.
Jul 24, 2014
Jul 24, 2014 at 3:19 AM UTC
Periodically put pass peoples personal perceptions
Physically Pass Pompous Proprietors possessive profits..
Passive pupils perform persecutor's pineal priorities
Problematic Pastimes produce poorly processed plans..
Police purposely Prosecute pigmented Powerful Personas
Peers, Perceive, Portray, Procreate Positive Progression
#micromoments #6x6challenge #PtothesixthPower
Aug 6, 2014
Aug 6, 2014 at 12:37 PM UTC
The devout of Saint Sophia, the ones who prayed
Venerated, virgin-martyr, holy hunger
The priestesses, vestal tombs. Virgins of Etrusca
What do they know of me?
Waifish, heart-sad, victim of ill womanhood
Persecutor, rejector of the womb,
Denier of her blood.
Apr 27, 2018
Apr 27, 2018 at 7:01 AM UTC
Years ago: 93-94
NYC: Columbia
trying to finish that thesis script
in Butler library
sitting at a wooden table in a room full of wooden tables
covered in a vast ceiling
creativity squeezed from my brain
my boyfriend waiting for me
only a notebook, a row of payphones on the first floor
a line forms as undergrads wait for the inter-college phone
Today, 2012
Berkeley: Doe library
Looks like Butler but nicely painted
not ravaged by the weather and city
rows of wooden desks with lamps and outlets
I write on my laptop, a cell phone in my bag
The row of payphones on the first floor are just empty booths
I feel like, I could look up, and you would be standing there
You, my boyfriend, who became my husband
My best friend, a difficult one who I stood by against the odds
You would be standing there, or maybe sitting down reading a
large novel in French, and we would get up and leave together for a dinner on Broadway
I look up. The room is quiet and clear.
The air is fresh, no sounds of the inner city
You are not there
You live only in my mind
I wonder, how it was for you, years ago, in your year here at Berkeley
before you ran home, uncomfortable on this strange coast, this new world
I wish I could say to you
doe library looks like butler library
isn't that interesting
when I'm here, I feel like I'm there
But you, my past persecutor and abuser, would not listen
you new wife would be horrified.
It's such a simple thought
I don't want anything more
I'm afraid of you
Just wish I could connect, with that good part
at an innocent time when things were working
Jul 21, 2012
Jul 21, 2012 at 3:27 PM UTC
the psalmist cries
by the wonders of your creation
but now we worship you
with half adoration
half obedience
and even half concentration
the Israelites bow down before you
but others take you for granted
the capacity of your power cannot be fathom
neither by a myth nor by a mortal man
you are the Greatest
the kings among all kings
the highest among all kind of Gods
the alpha and omega
beginning and the end
the Just among the guilty
the persecutor within the nation
the yin and the yang
the universe God and the highest father
Yhwh, the purest name above all.
Jun 19, 2016
Jun 19, 2016 at 3:13 AM UTC
In an instant it dissipated
Dissolving into regulated patterns and cycles
of heart wrenching battles that always brings about the rain
My distain falls short for I am also at blame
In his name
His name...
I see something untamed
It is a beast of burden that ignites me into flames
Motivating and tempestuous
A storm to be famed
It knocked me for a loop
Guiding me on my path and waking me from my stoop
Hawk eyes with a diamond mind
He is a predator disguised
The lines become faded
I must be jaded
Is it love or hatred?
I feel galvanized and shook
Lost in his book
Each chapter leaves me breathless
Hanging on a word
That's blurred by my tears and fears
The kind of events and plots
that will remain with me for years
Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 2:22 PM UTC
Because there is just not a particular button
Either in the real world, or in my memory
Not even key in my mind to stop myself
From loving you Oh ignorant fellow!
You are still here lodged inside my mind
Like a bullet, from a war of olden times
Always I wonder who is my destroyer
Was it you Oh young persecutor!
Apr 26, 2013
Apr 26, 2013 at 9:05 AM UTC
As we age and go about our lives we will face many trials. Persecutor’s questioning our ambitions and testing our strength. Waiting for us to give in or break down, only to meet their pleasure. Judges who will compare us and critique our every move. Making us feel as small and insignificant as the dirt we drag our feet upon. And lastly there is the victim, ourselves. We must look the victim in the mirror every morning and face its emotions, hate, gratitude, fear, courage, anxiety, and pity. Constantly changing perspectives in life as we cross certain paths and destinations. We grow together and grow apart. We are human and were not perfect. Our “self-discovery” journey is an adventure called life, and everyone must face it. Because in the midst of the roller coaster of heaven and hell, we will find our purpose. We will discover our holy grail, our happiness, what keeps us aching for another day. Yet meet the shadow hiding in the darkest corner of our minds. As the great philosopher, Nietzsche, once stated “Knowing yourself is the beginning of all wisdom.”And it’s up to us what we want to do after our discovery.
Jan 29, 2016
Jan 29, 2016 at 11:08 AM UTC
THEY SAY
they want to be different, greater
don't they realize to their own words they're a traitor?
THEY SAY
they're a debator, educator, investigator, negotiator
but how?
how can they be so different when they all say the same things?
how can they be so ignorantly hypocritical?
love everyone they say whist full of hatred
hang out with your friends they say when alone in bed
you never talk to me they say although they've never tried
go outside they say from deep inside
get off your phone they say while on the computer
just be nice they say when they're actually a persecutor
THEY SAY
so much and do so little
want to become more while becoming less
they guess it's a success when they oppress
but it's just a mess
THEY SAY
things they should be saying to themselves to us
but we are all people too, not slaves to command or objects to discuss
THEY SAY
this and that and everything
but I say
N O T H I N G
for it is better to say nothing at all than to participate in the
parade of puppets who profusely preach phony phrases.
I'd rather remain silent than take part in this cacophonous,
hypocritical, ignorant, perfunctory mess that we call
s o c i e t y.
Sep 14, 2016
Sep 14, 2016 at 9:51 PM UTC
We were allowed out
of the coach
to stretch our legs
and have a quick look
around Poitiers
in France
Miriam stretched
her arms out
and kicked out
her legs
almost got cramp
she said
I could have massaged
them for you
I said
I’m an expert
at massaging
away cramps
sure you are
she said smiling
but not
on the coach
it's too impersonal
we walked around
Place de Gaulle
looking in shop windows
and cafés and restaurants
how about some coffee?
I asked
if you're paying
she said
anything for a lady
I said
and what did you want
in exchange?
she said
putting her hands
on her hips
who said anything
in exchange
I just want to buy
you a coffee
she smiled
OK if you say so
she said
so we sat outside
a small café
and ordered
two coffees and cake
and the waiter went off
I lit up a cigarette
what's the book
you're reading
on the coach?
she asked
it's called The Apostle
I said
what's it about?
St Paul
isn't he the guy
who fell from his horse
or donkey
when a voice
called to him
at Damascus?
yes something like that
I said
why are you
reading about him?
he interests me
I said
why?
well he went
from being a persecutor
of what we call
Christians now
to actually joining them
and becoming one
of their leaders
enough already
she said
I heard he
was against ***
and all that
I guess
he was not keen
on the idea
and you want to read
about him?
*** is a brilliant thing
without it
no one would
be here
not even that Paul guy
she said
the waiter brought
our coffees and cake
and went off
beside
she said
you weren't practising
what this Paul guy
was preaching
on the coach last night
never said I was
practising anything
but it was dim
on the coach
and most others
were asleep
she ate her cake
and I recalled
the coach radio
playing some Mozart piece
the night before
while she and I
tried to explore.
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 4:04 AM UTC
Cackling and Tyrannizing for the seed of arrogant greed
What a pompous persecutor is he! none for you all for me,
is there truth bound in-between the aggressors glamour?
The Company of ignorance was pain
ruptured violence with shame
The unknown was dissent untrue
yet it doesn't mean it's you
From this darkness comes this light
in the night the mocking bird serenades insight
conscious reconciliation that will fracture the dead world that
lives inside you nearing the bridge of an imagination
the innocence in darkness mirrors back to me
A fear unseen on
memory lane
Is it true that you’re only innocent when you dream?
Jan 12, 2016
Jan 12, 2016 at 1:55 PM UTC
I only react softly in anger
I only persecute the persecutor
I only lie to the lier
I only hurt the hurter
I only hate the hater
I only cause pain to the deserving
I only love the one's who love
Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 1:07 PM UTC
Is it my calling to **** do I adhere to follow those that sing such an operatic call for
death.
I wait in earnest for my provider with fain instructions to request this body to invade
with evil destruction upon another. I request, no, beseech that this is not to be the
case.
Beg implicitly that I shall be freed from this unlawful and ungodly task. Something
deeper warrants that I follow, in deed demands that I pursue this most superfluous of
destiny.My argument is futile falling so fluently onto deaf ears, if only I could
reciprocate
in same kind. If only this persecutor would leave, get out of my head, Exorcise itself
from
within this troubled mind. But nay the barracking continues incessantly.I wake in
unusual
surround, bandaged in bloodstained attire. How or where remains mysterious? Why?
Even more so. I cry into the night. I cry for this cadaver, this shell bleached in such life
giving elixir. I cry for me.
Lock me away I plead. Padded cell is my destiny my only resistant, use any form to
remove this incessant drone. I pray to my God to release me from this bond but only
Devil answers my calling.
Aug 24, 2014
Aug 24, 2014 at 3:03 PM UTC
At the house of Viennese, Gilgamesh's actors
and team members were transformed into Batist
heroes. Sea to sea and in the future for Russia,
green and green. Kay Nielsen's Essay allows
you to swim in the North Sea and give the
animals to Berlin. When he was about to leave,
he was born into a future baby. The best of the
best soundtrack players is the best and best
playlist. Chinese Stars Museum of the Museum;
Museum of Saudi Arabia 1 Saudi Arabia
helps to improve their alcohol consumption
needs Health Care Neurons System.
Women's clothing; Six women. He was a small
member of parliament in the organization.
D Badar Today, Bugan, the author of the group,
the author. Indeed, the Signs of our Lord
are indeed an adornment by the stars.
Although Bishop Christopher came from
the Heavenly House in the courtyard of God's
house, in Heaven, Dry and Rough through
at home. Hutch At least 10 percent of the
acoustic and six hundred years of a song
or GH to Guru ★ ◆ ◆ ◆
was an African composition,
but a perfect compass. Fifth
Mark is thought to be Africa's
longest Karl Marx, the fifth
lifestyle leader. It is not unusual
for women to make women,
as much as women in Swat.
Water color What is the color
of the water? This man is a
persecutor. After spending all
the wildlife dreams, they are
willing to sell the finest
Arabs, bestsellers, and Arabs.
For example, you sell grocery
and have bullets for sale.
Dec 3, 2018
Dec 3, 2018 at 8:26 AM UTC
I hear a chopper coming-is it coming for me-- postman in my driveway with registered mail ---Ex refusing to leave my house of bitter memories-Children are making up games about me on the streets-mean streets -I remember them well -asphalt burning my soles--want to find a group to call my own-tick tock familiar clock-were at it again-no place to be-plenty of time left for most anything everyday-answering -I hear you -I know what you want-to talk with a persecutor , family , marketer , dealer, -ex boss-medicine-hand over bad -eye-room moving always -conditioned -revolving day to day events-just like the day before -future day -Ive seen them---know what they tell-----mind reader -Im the mountain you can't climb-I'm the lake of fire-hiding behind closed doorways-trapped in Walmart with no way out ----loud on the internet where i can't be seen-making friends to take friends to quell my aggressive tendency -chest pounding-breath -window -drawing -remembering-ass beatings-hiding-drinking -stabbing childhood-screaming-parent-nodding sleeping -leaving ****** in my pants -pleading returning -forgiving dealing -needing-grieving !
Sep 24, 2015
Sep 24, 2015 at 10:56 AM UTC
give me water, give me fire,
let me scribe with blood my ire
emblazon vellum with his name
blot it out, end his game
languid, lazy, sunny summers,
blackened by the bombinating
darts of death from droning drummers,
breath of babies desecrating,
permeating peculiar fragrance
hypnotised by his own cadence
avuncular charm to the rabble
made himself a Tower of Babel
as he faces interlocutor
forked tongue slithering with sick ease
he the notorious persecutor
refusing onus of war-freeze
proffering peace with guileful lips
whilst he plans apocalypse
ignore the innocent, defile the dying,
hell created through his lying
O give me fire, give me water,
let me scribe with blood his slaughter
let me scrub out cursed name
blot it out and end his game
Oct 31, 2022
Oct 31, 2022 at 5:59 PM UTC