Love Poems About Violence or Violence Love Poems

Violence love poems and/or love poems about Violence. Read, share, and enjoy these Violence love poems! Also, try our sister website's powerful search engine for poems.

Poem Details | by Demetrios Trifiatis |
Categories: love, peace, violence,


The towering mountains of menacing fanaticism and
in the midst of the shadows of constant fear,
Agonizing humanity,               
Desperately, is crawling in search of  
The trail of understanding,


That it would lead her onto the valley of God-loving
Where the peoples of the world, respecting the beliefs of
Others, in harmony would live,
Glorifying God’s wisdom which saved them, from falling
Into the ravines of voracious hate where Man's 
Annihilation awaits!

© Demetrios Trifiatis
  10 JANUARY 2015

Poem Details | by Aiyah Torres |
Categories: absence, abuse, death, hate, love hurts, violence,


I have died so long ago.
The pieces of my bones were buried in Sheol.
It was so dark where I lay now.
My flesh is rotten and almost gone.
I have lived once in this world,
Where a loving family I was involved.
A dearest mom who loved me so,
Loving siblings I treasured most!
I'm a free-spirited young lady.
I love to entertain the world,
Wind hums as I hit the notes.
The nature  became my hidden world.
I was once  a fruit in a tree.
Until one day, a harvester picked me.
Still unripe, too young and fresh.
He stole my innocence.
Too many years past and my seed grew.
I have started bearring fruits.
But the harvester did not content, 
He pulled me out from where I'd been.
He murdered me on one darkest night.
Then buried me beneath the ground.
I'm so helpless, no voice to shout!
My breath is counting one by one.
Until I surrendered the last air in my lungs.
I have died so long ago.
This girl that you used to know,
Isn't the one who writes a poem.
She had died so long ago.
She walks every night to find her home.

Poem Details | by Dani Elle |
Categories: abuse, addiction, allusion, emotions, love hurts, pain, violence,

She is more

She is, exactly what he wanted to see
His erotic fantasy
Every teenage boys playboy bunny dream

Look at how you come onto me
Lost, destroyed soul is all i will ever see
U disgust the innermost,
deepest feelings in me

She is the beauty queen
The one from your dreams
She doesn't even look like she bleeds
Imagine how she screams...

Perfect without a flaw
Take her on the wall
Have her spread all over the floor
Dont even close the door
Look at what you all came here for

Destroy her pride
Till shes got nowhere left to hide
Give her your might once more
Until she cannot take it anymore

Look into the eyes of all your lies
Realize every hurt you've given in your life
This is your whore
& now shes all bloody and sore
The same girl next door,
that u begged for more

You've burnt your soul to the core
A deed done
With blood on your hands
Listen, to your screaming fans

Shes just one of those,
that you used to love
You stole all her fairy dust 
and turned it into lust.

Poem Details | by Sheer Terror |
Categories: betrayal, conflict, crazy, dark, death, imagery, jealousy, lost love, love, passion, tree, violence,

The Carving of Hearts

I can not give away the Image engraved in my vision 
as I stood beside giants while hidden
mighty Titans, that is how I see the trees that hid me
in their shadows like a villain 
thrown together by circumstance, 
I looked high into the sky, had to cover my eyes 
reaching out for an introduction
my gesture sat unmoved, unworthy
the trees remain silent and solemn
absurd, it would be troubling if a Tree answered me
as a friend to attend a function
crazy as it seems the perfect witness is a tree 
to keep a secret like an alliance unspoken
a maze of roots wrapped around in the soil
twisting, and turning almost impossible to follow, to my feet, to a connection   

In the privacy of the trees, I saw you hiding from me or was it a dream that brought me here just to see you my dear carving the heart of another into our tree

the tree trunk held a carving of the smallest heart
amber in color like old blood no longer red
I found you here like all the tears that do not fall
instead I am drowning in my head
the knife came from your pocket as you were kissing me
far into a place unexpected 
with precision our letters appeared in the center
of the tree, of the heart, of regrets
pride, he walked me along the path to the trees
to the heart, to you and the sharpest of knives that I keep in your chest
time has slipped away,no forward, no back, no simply left me in trespass
my titan trees did not protest the screams
the blood that still runs along their roots
twisting and turning from you to me at last

Terry D’Arcy-Ryan

Poem Details | by Sandip Goswami |
Categories: art, encouraging, jealousy, life, love, philosophy, violence,

Art of Love

This times, you would receive the two things from others.
Violence or grace
Jealousy to your success,
And grace to your failure.

So, you should not be sad.

Survival is meaningless with grace

Believe me,
You are the king or queen of love.
Try to distribute your love.
Don't want to see yourself as the beggar of love

One day, future of mankind will be written with your love.
You will become history.

(The poem is dedicated to my favorite poet Charmaine Chircop.)


Poem Details | by Jessie Rae |
Categories: betrayal, conflict, deep, emotions, hate, sad love, violence,

Bloodied Handprints

One day, you'll be dead to me

My life is a hazard to everyone
And myself

My desperate detestation for you
The way you are
What you do
How you breath

My hatred for you is an endless pit 
Of Hell and dark memories

The heart inside my weeping chest
is sewn in grotesque shades of purple
and its all your fault

You're a beautiful creature
of misery and despair
the painful tears you shed
slowly pull up the corners of my lying mouth
to my sweet, innocent ears

I want your head on a stake
bloodied scissors in your chest
your blood in a jar

You disgust me
the twinkle in your eyes is a knife to my neck
soon to be turned on you
cutting out every bleeding piece 
of your perfect soul

One day you'll be nothing more 
then a crying, screaming memory
a haunting melody that plagues my sorry heart

My love for you is a complete lie.

Poem Details | by David Welch |
Categories: adventure, conflict, history, love, violence,

The Outlaw's Angel, Part II

...Burke grabbed Aura and they both ran out,
riding double on his trusty horse.
The word raced quickly through the town,
a posse was formed, as a matter of course.
So Burke pushed his mount, more and more.
They couldn’t go back, despite acts justified,
not when two men, one a sherriff, had died.

So they rode, pursuers hot on their trail,
until they reach a ranch high the peaks.
Burke pulled a gun while Aurelia seized
a new horse, both study and sleek.
The rancher fumed, too angry to speak.
Burke apologized, gave him all his gold,
then sped off again into mountains cold.

Two days passed, the posse drew close,
and both their horses started to flag.
No longer able to outrun their hunters,
Burke mad camp high up in a crag,
where he could shoot safely if they attacked.
The posse appeared in the meadow below,
lead the by the sherriff’s oldest, known as Milo.

“Surrendor now, or we’ll shoot you down!”
They shouted it as they stared to climb.
But before Burke could even open his mouth
the air exploded with shrill, Indian cries.
A horde of Bannocks their arrows let fly!
They swept into the meadow, circling fast.
The posse died quickly, not long could they last.

Burke and Aurelia hid low in the rocks
until the last of the Bannocks had left.
Not much was left of the posse below,
they lay still, and were mostly scalpless.
But one figured crawled amongst the dead.
Burke climbed down, still clutching his gun,
and loomed over the sheriff's bloodied son.

“You won’t believe me, but I’ll say it now,
I acted only out of self-defense.
You’re father and Grisby were gunning for me,
and Grisby was putting his hands on my friend.
There choices brought them to their ends.”
But Milo just snarled, and crawled away,
Burke and Aura sighed, and left him that way.

No one from Tillico ever saw them again,
even when Milo put a bounty of their hides.
Some say they made for themselves new names
and peacefully lived out their lives.
Others said, like most outlaws, they died...
And if you all liked this tale that you just heard,
Tell your friends about me, Bruce Bowden the Third.

Poem Details | by Susan Ashley |
Categories: anger, dark, loss, love hurts, nature, power, violence,

Abandoned Dreams - Favorite Poem

Knotted in the torsion of a tempest’s mood - the barrage drains the sun and overwhelms the dusk ire’s flash stabs the night. Susan Ashley April 6, 2019 ~ Second Place ~ Contest: Favorite Poem From Last Week (March31 - April 6, 2019) Contest: Lu Loo ~ Third Place ~ Contest: April 2019 Premier (3 Line Max) Sponsor: Brian Strand

Poem Details | by Emmanuel Fajutagana |
Categories: blue, break up, career, conflict, courage, dark, dedication, deep, depression, devotion, emotions, feelings, goodbye, hate, i love you, leaving, life, light, loneliness, lonely, longing, loss, lost, lost love, love, love hurts, moving on, patriotic, sad, sad love, sorrow, sorry, success, suicide, sympathy, violence, war,

Love is a Sacrifice

You have my soul, but you have your fate Whatever your words, I’m willing to take You have my word; I’ll give you my breath It’s like a chain that would never be break You are my love with all my heart, I’ll fight for you with all my might. And in the way, you admire your goals, You hold my hands, but not so close. As you go to your chosen path, I’ll accept the fact that we will be apart. In the dark side, I leave behind Within my faith, that you’ll arise Please don’t look back, coz I’m fighting still I’m hurting so much! Don’t want to have you near I accept my fate for what it does, I’m bleeding so much, do you know for whom it was? You reach your goals, as you want to have, Would you remind the man that gave what he had? As you reach the stars, and be the one Be a sun that shines its own. After the rain, the rainbow comes, Like dark in the moon, when the light flash A glimpse from you at least a short For then I knew my pain is worth.

Poem Details | by Zeki Majed |
Categories: abuse, allah, anger, beautiful, beauty, creation, cry, dark, death, evil, freedom, god, how i feel, i love you, slavery, smile, society, violence, war,

Oh Syria

Reality is lost and I fear…
That someday, somewhere so near…
I will fall amongst the people so dear…
I fear…that I’ll just be another one…
Another one lost…

I wonder what the cost of my life is
not to get political…
But I want to know what the cost of my life is
Is it money, is it land?
I do not own any of them, I’m just a simple man

I remember, when I ran across your land…
I remember when I kissed my grandmothers hands…
You ripped me away from her, from my home
You took me away from my heart, you took me away from my soul

I feel helpless, I feel low
It’s hard to play along when I know, I have no role
I have become a slave.
After all the love I gave.

When I look at my country, people I want to save
When I look around me, people I wish to change
It seems like a hard thing to do…
When the world around is bigger than you

To the fools who dare murder in his name
When God gave us life…
He warned us, only he can take our lives…

Oh Syria, my home
Oh Syria, my all
Oh Syria, what did they hurt you for?
I am Proud to be your son…

Poem Details | by Victoria Anderson-Throop |
Categories: allegory, baby, birth, care, child, daughter, introspection, life, loss, love, may, mother, self, today, tribute, violence, visionary,


                                        Elegy to Child Lost

                                 Passion's love oft tempts despair
                                 Casts a prideful cosmic dare--
                                 Like Prizing Joy's most intimate caress
                                 Babe snug beneath a mother's breast

                                Senses at this time are keen
                                There's no secret kept between
                                Loving mother, wriggling babe--
                                Wanted , dreamed of, much delayed
                                But entwined twin was also loved--
                                Some say Nature's method proves
                                That one twin may give all to mate---
                                But this fatal sacrifice must decimate.

                                Only mother's eyes would feel babe's smiles--
                                or sense those legs that wandered miles
                                And daring feet that danced in tunes while
                                Arms swam in gentle Celtic croons.

                                When babe vanished--not  a sound.
                                Mother 's grief was not allowed.
                                Tempted so to trail behind
                                Escaping shattered troubled mind

                                Squelching sorrow's hungry arms
                                She Tried erase babe's fluttering charms
                                Never spoke of-- never mourned.
                                By her husband she was warned
                                Was best forget a child so early lost--
                                Funerals, gravestones--such a cost--

                                But the years have called babe near,
                                Mother's journal writ in tears:
                                'Please forgive my selfish heart.
                                Repressed from all --this tragic part
                                I felt your sacrificial act--
                                You left your cherished twin intact'.

                                There is no law of random acts
                                Doctors examine data facts
                                It may be --that in the womb
                                When both spring flowers cannot bloom
                                One bold twin refrains to eat
                                Compels the other to complete
                                Hardy growth that life requires---
                                Sparks survival's crucial hours.

                                Not an accident 'tis sure--
                                Boldest spirits blossom pure.

Victoria Anderson-Throop ©

Poem Details | by David Meade |
Categories: anger, conflict, hope, violence,

Love Sorrow

        blood pouring forth red

           yelling hate  r a d i a t i n g 

                                      shooting, dying  why

“A voice was heard in Ramah, wailing and loud lamentations “ Jeremiah

“so much weeping!  Such a burden of lamentation!  I will not gloss over the terrible pain and sorrow that comes from vanity and anger, but neither will I forget the final word of resurrection“  Eugene Petersen

David Meade
Live Generously

Poem Details | by Gerald Dillenbeck |
Categories: anger, destiny, fear, hate, love, power, violence,

Watering Terror

I'm so confused,
raised to believe cooperative love overpowers competing fears
about scarcity of time, 
and other resources,
and anger about past over- and under-valuing of myself
as a regenerative resource,
CoPresence Source,
raised to believe the Golden Rule
is most effectively applied to all life,
as cooperative ecological regenerative potential

I don't see how it could be OK
to run a national political campaign
assuming I will confuse the taking of life for nutritional needs
as less just than the taking of life for punishment and retributive needs,
death-debt owed for death-taken,
as if it were possible to kill
disenculturing clans of terrorists
for each and every innocent life taken
with such unholy cynicism as anti-life hopeless degenerates.

I find this violence-begets-violence nowhere else
in any ecosystem,
anything that could possibly be called a sustainable system,
in any form of nature,
other than humane nature as de-natured humanity.

However, now that I think of it,
perhaps we do see something of its kind
in diseased and over-crowded populations,
literally eating their young.

We often call this "rabidity",
as individuals,
swarming in a monocultural snarl,
turn on each other
begin unprovoked cannibalism,
prey on each other,
perhaps as a form of punishment or retribution
for past angers and fears only these terrorist champions of chaos
can see
and feel;
a mounting prescient culture of mutual disregard and antipathy,
trending toward Lose-sociopolitical economic and Lose-ecological

is it wise to sanction violence to be perpetrated by others
on our behalf,
at any scale,
for any reason?
How is abuse and neglect of death-producing miscreants
not hypocritical
for a person who believes in the power of cooperative love
as a more effective Golden Rule 
than "Beat Others down before they Win more than you"?

Do we intend to include anything but monocultural AnthroCentric overcrowding, 
more violence, 
more dissonance, 
trending toward decomposition of all Earth's systems?

Am I to invest
or disinvest
in a competing human race
or a humanizing regenerate space and time?

Or, are we somewhere MidWay between?
Sometimes competing anger and fear might be Teachers,
I suppose,
although still not the best choice-makers.

Perhaps we could leave cooperative balancing
of Tipping Point decomposition 
and analysis of therapeutic/toxic trends,
within exclusive charge of CoArising Love as Golden Rule choice-making;
choosing whether or not to invest in regenerative health potential values of a life,
or a biosystem,
an ecosystem,
to optimally invest in Earth's regenerating health and vitality.

Yet, Earth does not necessarily
always and at all times,
water humane flowers
to starve the weeds.
More often, weeds starve flowers of water
as Crusading Christians starved diversity of intelligence
through violent ex-communication.

So, if these interdependently organic
cooperating relationships
between and within individuals,
families of weeds,
tribes of flowers,
nations and planets,
and the ecobalance of co-arising space with time
are what we seem to love,
then why do we suboptimize with Win-Lose economic and political choices
to compete with each other
for livelihood.
sense of vocational value,
for power to declare war on each other,
the right to abuse and neglect and ex-communicate each other,
as if Earth's evolutionary journey
is not historically rooted
in cooperative regenerate enculturation,
as any of life's surviving cells
could quickly attest,
even under threat of ex-communication.

It is difficult for me to find any faith
or even hope
in the belief that Earth produced this humanizing race
toward degenerating dissonance
and overly-competitive Win to Lose strategies
of Left-brain cultural language
and political and economic

It feels less confusing to me
to comprehend we are ecoconsciously co-loving each other
in a rapidly overpopulating monocultural species
with humane researching and incubating
emergently embryonic cooperative aspirations
to optimize WorldWide Win-Win ecosystemic networks,
to balance Left with Right mindbody co-mentoring intelligence,
harmonizing all our bicameral systemic information,
issuing inductive from Heaven's TransParent Cloud
and deductive from Earth's RNA icons 
recreating intelligence,
form with nondual co-arising cooperative function,
noun as verb,
multiplaying Wins as perma-path,
and harmonic-octave frequencies 
in 4-square Prime Sequential Relationship,
both Time's co-gravitating with Space's thermodynamic balance,
Yang OVER yin-squared = c-squared ecoconsciousness
of Universal TransParent (0) Metric Light Balance.

Perhaps, then, it is less confusing to me
to think about how to invest more wisely
in non-violent empathy of Basic Attendance
to notice and listen with still-centered mindbody,
empathically absorbing claustrophobic fear and anger
saturating toxic terror that my life,
therefore your life,
has no ego-intrinsic value
because LeftEgo is too dissonantly dominant
over Right EcoEarth Regenerational Analogic
CoEmpathic Arising Function,
so my death, therefore your death,
has no Earth-intrinsic regenerative value or disvalue.

From this position
I cannot see Allah as ReGenerator Power and Flow,
Spirit with NatureFunction,
Love with Synergetic Intent,
TransParent Empathic Elational Present
Concave HomePlace within Convex healthculture
through Time's bilaterally co-gravitating eco-normative lens.

How is any directive to starve and/or neglect and/or kill
not what Christians have known as ex-communication
unto decomposition?
Dissonance struggling against dissonance,
when we could choose to emerge mutually-resonant regenerators,
re-communicative poly-empathic optimizers,
co-mentoring Earth-regenerate soil
reforesting our rivers for clean water,
repurposing mutual immunity
as mutual subsidiarity within 
RNA/DNA Integrity.
These three held together into perpetuity,
Earth Tribal ReSolution.

Poem Details | by Shane Cooper |
Categories: conflict, love, violence,


Lover Sensual, sultry Kissing, touching, tasting Bodies, lips, teeth, claws Snarling, ripping, tearing Sharp, vicious Enemy “ A poem in diamanté form” written ~06/05/2015~

Poem Details | by arthur vaso |
Categories: arabic, art, emotions, first love, jesus, jewish, violence,

Black Winter

Black Winter

She hid behind veil
The coldness
Her companion
The umbrella her armor

I died
Years before
Her last kiss
In heaven I adore

I shed tears
At my widows pain
In paradise
I go insanely insane

Black widows
Weep in the dark
Dead spies
No one finds, eaten by sharks

Shifting winds
Freezing rains
Snow drops reliving
The survivor’s pain

As she walks down her rue of memories
Umbrella shielding her tormented face
Embracing the coldness, embracing lost fate
Teardrops wipe the history from her case

We never existed us two
When I died under enemy plans
My lover had to flee her fathers land
No one is safe at Palestinian hands

Hatred buried so deep
Hamas bloody knifes never sleep
Child and foe, kill them for the goal
My lover is dead, Arabic beauties lost soul

Israel is the Promised Land

Poem Details | by Chad Greef |
Categories: character, community, conflict, courage, father, feelings, forgiveness, fun, growing up, hero, i love you, image, passion, relationship, sound, spoken word, student, truth, violence, visionary, wisdom, youth,


When I was called little brother, 
I smiled.
It meant I have an elder sibling.
One from whom I could learn,
To discern,
Between Light and Dark.

What about the Grey?

Only a few would about the grey; 
Even fewer, 
Perhaps none
Would even begin to aspire,

Is grey the divider?

What is a divider?
A partition,
A separation, 
A barrier.

In essence a carrier,
Of both dark and Light;
Having both thane sight!

The grey is never contrite,
It does and will do on sight!!!

Come with your purported might!
Unseen seen chaos,
These are my instruments,
Your might;;; 
Will be eaten as sacrements.

For continual human growth within, 
Mistakes rectified by the elder or role model;
Taught the current crop must be,
Lessons are as seeds;;; 
Planted into our mother, 
Blending with Earth, Water and Sun,
The seed transmutes and soon the seed has had its fun,
A plant is now the end product.

We humans are also ever transforming,
Perhaps not as apparent as natural beauty forming,

But what is natural beauty?

What is beauty?

Random randominity is beauty natural,
Random beauty is natural randominity,
Natural randominity is random beauty,
Beautiful randominity randoms naturally,

In essence;
Culturally cultural.

Not an over-spill,
Providence shines.
Understanding and comprehension,
In succession,
For thee

The trick however is to pass on that understanding and comprehension.
But how do you do that?
When most of the generation is tuned to the Playstation!
Violent games evocating the continuation
Of our disgusting violent nation.

Perhaps attempt to not scold or tell;
Allow thane actions to speak wonders,
As an undiscovered well.

Keep the resonance of thane bell,
Perhaps another revolutionary,
Your prodige has to be selectant,
Of his student, his confectionary.

Without this passing down of knowledge,
We all might as well eat the most poisonous berry.

Poem Details | by Andrew Crisci |
Categories: animal, crush, culture, desire, flower, girl, joy, love, passion, romantic, spanish, true love, violence,

Watching The Matador

The roaring bull
enters the arena;
clouds of dust raise.
Then the slender matador
in tight attire arrives;
he has no knowledge
of who is watching.
The prettiest girl
in traditional dress
has set eyes on him;
her posture is elegant.
A red flower in her dark hair
suggests an inflamed passion.
It's a scorching day
in Madrid; the fan she holds
does little or nothing
to keep her cool.
Thoughts in their minds
contradict; she's the admirer
from the balcony.
He is the fighter in the arena.
He must kill that bull
to win her; fierce are his looks
while his hands keep on fanning
the red cloth to gain control.
He can't lose this fight;
he must win at any cost.
It's a battle of strength and pride;
man against animal.
Ah, the bull succumbs to injury...
maestro grabs his horns and claims victory!
" O Matador, my matador...
you are the bravest one in all Spain! "
Stretching her arms.


Poem Details | by Andrew Park |
Categories: crazy, lonely, murder, pride, sad love, truth, violence,

Blinding Power Of Love

He gathers all flowers he sees to show off his romance. He chops all trees he faces to show off his masculinity He gayly spits out a lump of saliva to show off his coolness He leaves traces of money wherever he goes to show off his richness. He sings everyday, every moment to show off his persistency and passion. But she doesn't stare into his eyes with admiration nor satisfaction nor true desire. Her eyes are a pair of story tellers, without a tint of a lier. They only speak the truth, insulting the man with a harsh glare This time, his simple-mindedness carries him away. His lack of mind demonizes his very heart and bones of his soul, Snapping at once like a monster, existing as a deleterious being He goes mad, killing hundreds, thousands, millions, thirsty for a genuine love, only waiting for to see a swarm of oozing blood waves gushing in and out of his lungs He cannot cope with this madness, His responsibility he has once established. At last, he cuts his breath with an undeniable slash with his double edged sword, chanting a regretful cry out of his body until the silence takes over his surrounding

Poem Details | by fayaz bhat |
Categories: lost love, satire, sensual, sexy, violence,

An Erotic Poem

Do tell me!
When he is out on a 
Dead doctor!
I will leave in twilight
And reach there
Your window
In late night.
We will hurried and 
scared kiss-- 
Deep and long kisses
In damp moonlight
Of the early spring.
Then as an ancient 
Arabian robber 
I will run holding 
hard to my chest
Your body of gold
Stumbling with the 
Climbing the fences
Jumping over the 
thorns and shrubs
To the remote 
By the dense forest.
And as an ape-man 
had picked a 
western woman 
In Gulmarg
And held her as his 
woman for some six 
We will sex whole 
days in the den
And in the nights 
In the bushy pasture.
I will pull your brown 
curly hair doggy
And slap your thick 
And, you will moan in 
gratification loud and 
As a witch in a wild 
place practicing craft
Or a whale in sea at 

Poem Details | by Bryn Roberts |
Categories: bereavement, lost love, prison, violence, voyage,


I took a rich man’s wallet
So that we would not starve
I’m sure the lord has forgiven me
But the judge he surely did not.
He spared me from the gallows
But sent me across the sea
Away from family and friends
And away from you sweet Molly
I could see you standing on the dock in the rain
As the ship lurched out in the mist
And I wondered sweet Molly would I ever again
Hear your laughter or feel your sweet kiss.
Well terrible fortune befell us
On that awful disease ridden ship
And brutes were the crew and the guards
Who beat us with fists and with whip.
And the wind howled and the seas rose
And many were washed overboard
And illness, storms and starvation
Were sent upon us by the lord
And gradually everyone perished
But somehow I seemed to survive
Until somehow I made it to Botany Bay
The only soul left alive.
I joined a prison gang Molly
And hard to work we went
They gave me a chisel and barrow 
And told me to go and carve steps
From a mountain made out of rock
On a path that led to nowhere.
No food or drink did they give us
I feel that they wished we would die
Well their wish came true sweet Molly 
As the men started dropping like flies.
The sun burned my face and my arms
As I hammered away at the stone
And when the rains finally came
They soaked us through to our bones
Then a flash flood swept the others away
And left me there all on my own.
Well my life was hard to be sure 
But again I seemed to survive
And I finally made it back to the camp
The only soul left alive.
They all were surprised to see me 
They clapped my back and shook my hand 
They said we must throw a party
For the luckiest man in the land
Well a grand party it was
Under a night of starry skies
The officers all were so drunk
That they started dropping like flies
And in the morning the soldiers found me grinning
Twenty dead officers, two blood stained knives.
Holy Christ said the men as they clapped me in irons
He’s the only soul left alive!
So now I finally face the gallows Molly
And there are no more lies left for me
What I couldn’t eat of the men on the ship
I threw the remains to the sea
What I couldn’t eat of the men on the mountain
I buried among the trees
The drunken officers deserved all they got
So Molly my conscience is clear.
My only regret dear Molly
The only thing that causes me pain
Is knowing that I shall never
See your sweet face again.

Poem Details | by Reynaldo Mast |
Categories: abuse, adventure, anger, baby, betrayal, bullying, care, child, childhood, children, conflict, confusion, corruption, courage, crazy, culture, dark, death, desire, devotion, discrimination, emotions, environment, evil, faith, family, fear, friendship, grief, growing up, growth, heart, hope, horror, image, innocence, life, loneliness, lonely, longing, loss, lost love, love, me, memory, pain, poverty, sad, sick, strength, stress, sympathy, violence,

Physically and Mentally Abuse

I was born in a world of poverty and soiled life of a third world country
The way I lived till I was five years of age was walls of boundary
These walls had towers of guards that had no heart or care
If a child would try to climb the wall they lose their life I swear

Father had drank and threatened my mother with a knife
My father lost his job and wife and that was the hardship of life
He stopped my mother from taking off with me in her arm
Hoping that my father would ignore and left me be with no harm

When my father went off to drink one night and came home with rage
My brothers stood by my crib and took a beating that set up the next stage
My father had woken up to three scared children half starved and in pain
His final words as he walk away from the orphanage gate live life do not go insane

I was still a baby in the orphanage; the caretakers did not really care about the babies
They stole items and materials those wicked men and maternal evil ladies
They starved all the babies because it cost a lot to keep them alive
As a child of that age I could feel the sins and greed that gave out bad vibes

I was ignorant about what I drank and ate, as I see white maggots move in my bottle
As I see them move I thought about how they were playing and some were hostel
They ate each other to keep each other alive in a manner that took me by surprise
In the back round I hear others throwing things with sounds of painful cries

I got very strong at a young age I was able to start pulling myself up over the cage
My feelings were to see my brothers with strong lungs that I cried out of rage
My two brothers came to see me and sneak food into my crib
The caretaker would find the food in my hands as they grabbed it and hit me on my ribs

As painful as it was I kept eating the food with blood in my mouth as it was instinct
I sometimes laid in my crib dazed and confused with smell of death so distinct
With all my might I kept myself strong and climb the small wall
I finally was old enough to get out of the building and I could hear my brothers call

With tears of joy with short legs that ran as fast as my heart
I ran to my brothers arms and held their hands to have a new start
I grew stronger everyday but more things came into my life in a manner of dismay
If my brothers stay by my side I could smile and everyday their would be okay

Poem Details | by Jack Kenny |
Categories: love, peace


defeats violence
every Love day
What's meant to return

Poem Details | by Robert Ronnow |
Categories: class, dad, evil, light, love, time, violence,

Anyone who wants to fight me all the time

"Anyone who wants to fight me all the time"
committee meetings, board meetings.
Facing death was how they knew they were alive
or was it more about allocating resources
like yr Dad said.
It's hard to step outside what yr DNA tells you to do.
Nice tits.
Family farm, fight clubIt's all one yet distinctions are
what separates the librarian, reflective man, from the road and bridge
That's a class statementUs guys love
our children and will, circumstances dictating, fight for you.

                       *                             *                             *

"Anyone who wants to fight me all the time"
is more important to me than my wifeBut there is no one left to fight
and no one knows me and I know no one wellThat's good,
"there is more space between people than I'd ever dared to hope."
I'm confused.
Meditator or gunfighterEither could come to know himself,
flat abs, clear sight
with patience and discipline.
What's this:
know yourself?
Once yr knee or neck is smashed there's no getting up to fight.

                       *                             *                             *

"Anyone who wants to fight me all the time"
will grow old alone once I'm in the groundHe will live
with the question what was our purpose? He was managed by
the molecules we're made of, proteins, enzymes, amino acids, DNA.
**** DNA.
I'd rather be a rock.
But the rock is subject to
its elementsThus, the periodic table and particle physics,
meiosis and mitosis and yes, democracy and self-governance,
all the colors of anthropology and ecology, windmills and sundials,
fission and fusion for evil and light
and the devil who exists to carry the load when we misbehave and fight
among ourselves.

                       *                             *                             *

"Anyone who wants to fight me all the time"
is how I know who I am.
Because the truth is always changing, depending on the meeting.
What's good.
Service to others is a safe betThat service
may take many forms: fighting, meeting, teaching, making.
The fighting may be part of holding community togetherLimited scope,
      defensive posture.
"How broadly we define community says everything." So,
we come to Mexico, a violent border and an unhappy history.
Or Gaza and IsraelOr Russia and just about everybody.
"How can a people become a nation without resorting to violence or
      incurring violent reaction?"
Does it matter? Accept violence like any EMT and devote yourself to
what, beauty?
Why do I write about violence, I've almost never
had to fight.

                       *                             *                             *

"Anyone who wants to fight me all the time"
is nothing compared to the ocean which can take your children any time.
The Nazis or janjaweed.
In peace we have our meetings.
"When violence comes to the neighborhood the hierarchy of
      communicants will hold or fold
it is then the peace work proves relevant."
Hold your clod of land.
Give way to the waves.
All I do not know.
I admire the writer who penetrates the unknown by describing that which
is not himself.
His enemy,
anyone who wants to fight him all the time
helps him live outside himself.

Poem Details | by Lisa Costigan |
Categories: drink, funny love, humorous, violence,

Your having a giraffe

Just a normal Sunday sitting on my chair
When all of sudden in walked my auntie uncle Claire

What the hell you doing barging in like that??
He said your not going fu**ing believe it? I just ran over your Cat

I said the only pussy in this house is my other half,
We played a few drinking games and i beat him at charades
He soon ad enough of that tho so i  pulled out deck cards then he stared moaning reckon the games i play are hard.

Well i had enough of his lip i couldn't take no more
so rubbed his face on cheese grater and now hes bloody sore.

Poem Details | by Maria Williams |
Categories: lost love, memory, mystery, violence,

Running -'Memories 6'

Memories Episode 6 … continued from 'Run Run As Fast As You Can' - (Memories Episode 5)  

A scene shift - now I’m running on the beach yet again
The waves roll and crash onto the shore
In an angry crescendo
The sea gulls screech perhaps sensing an impending crime scene
As I run I think back of the hospital -
The hospital room
Which sometimes felt like it was closing in on me
Making me run from myself
This perpetual running - feels like it might stop here
Now he’s here - maybe I can just be in control once more
I’m starting to feel my confidence returning
A feeling something akin to exhilarating
That perhaps we can walk away from this nightmare
Perhaps find myself once more with him
Strolling - instead of running

As I make a ‘bee line’ to our secret hiding spot
The cave within a cave
I know exactly what Jackson is trying to do 
Get me to a safe spot
While he handles the problem at hand with Greg
And this does not alleviate my fear
In fact it increases it two fold

I run into our cave
The place where as kids we played many a good game of ‘Hide and Seek’
A memory flash of us running - ‘Playing tag’
Jackson - the wiry little dark haired boy 
Running ahead - calling out -

‘Run Run as fast as you can
You can’t catch me I’m the Gingerbread Man’
Me shouting back - ‘No you’re not’
Him laughing uproariously and yelling back -  
‘Yes I am - Yes - Yes I am’

I head to the rear behind the waterfall cascading
There unknown to most - exists an entrance to another cave
Where I shall take refuge until Jackson comes for me

I sit on a rock - gulping air into my overworked lungs
As I reflect and piece together my memories

Waves of emotion assail and attack On the choppy stormy sea of my emotion As treasures of memories come flooding back It tosses me around like a boat on the ocean
I see our wedding day - the modest affair The dreamy little chapel - me in a beautiful cream silk dress The dress my mother wore on her wedding day The wedding party consisting of only My mother - smiling through her moistened eyes Our best friend - Jackson’s business partner Greg holding hands With Gabby his beautiful wife And my best friend Maddison Maddison? The woman behind it all? - Maddison … the other woman? My fragile mind now in a turmoil Her intention of deception masked with affection The threat of danger to my Jackson too strong It overcomes my fear I head quietly back to the entrance to see what’s unfolding Angry voices outside the cave An exchange of opposite views followed by Sickening thuds and thumps Shouts and grunts then silence - Deathly Silence ‘Going out on a limb’ - I run out of the cave Taking my chances one way or another And then - My Heart - My Beating Heart Nothing can be compared to the pain of a heart shattering into a million pieces My husband lying in a pool of blood I die a thousand deaths - screaming his name as I run Feeling all along Futility - senselessness - hopelessness Yet like a mantra - over and over Words repetitively loop in my mind again and again -
‘Just say you won’t let go You promised me - You promised me You’d always be there You promised me Coffee in bed Oh - you promised me’ And in his motionless form of death No words of Love on departed breath Could reach his ears and nor can he see Love like ours was never meant to be
I intuit him before seeing him behind me Like a force of Evil A man gone wrong and deceitful Then … A brutal blow and a searing flash before my eyes Excruciating pain - a thousand shooting stars erupt Time stands still in my broken demise All in slow motion I see my life flash before my eyes Memories from the past with my loved ones Never to resurface in the future again
Sunny days that I thought would never end Locked In each other’s arms we would always stay Looking for shapes in the cloud formations Counting the stars in the Milky Way Laughing at our own corny wedding vows Sharing memories under a crescent moon Vows of ‘till death would we part’ Never thinking death could ever loom so soon Sparkling in her twinkling eyes of green The glow of my Mother’s love - Oh so true Encompassing our love - a bond so strong Completing the circle of me and you Till Death destroyed our union true A kiss denied - In Love's last adieu
Last flash of a sweet little cherub face Taking her life with mine I plummet just feet away from Jackson Ironically - Not close enough to even reach his hand As I try I feel Greg roughly pull my rings off my finger Rip the necklace off my neck I’ve lost me - I’ve lost us - I welcome … Darkness
Spiralling in the dark - stark vortex of hopelessness Like a carousel round and around in my head Desolate emotion in the ocean of darkness Heinousness is this madness and all that I dread Tears and my fears reflects my darkest pain and sorrow Needless to run - a midnight sun holds no tomorrow
Not every story has a happy ending - Or does it? Stay tuned and find out in the next Episode…'Amnesia' Past episode list in consecutive order: Memories - Episode 1 Blind Terror - (Memories Episode 2) Wistful Expectations - (Memories Episode 3) Deception - (Memories Episode 4) Run Run As Fast As You Can - (Memories Episode 5) Running - (Memories Episode 6) Video Clip - Beyoncé, Arrow Benjamin - Naughty Boy - Runnin' (Lose It All)’- Published on Sep 17, 2015

Poem Details | by Tony Bush |
Categories: introspection, loss, lost love, love, sad, me, heart, heart, love, me, violence,


A vignette of domestic violence and the weird rationale of love amidst such 
circumstances - adapted from how it was depicted to me by a female friend and 
taken from her own personal experience.

I was defined china and porcelain, 
Inlaid glass flowers and gently spoken;
Fragile in doe-eyed delicacy, 
Pleading and begging not to be broken.

I loved him with total forgiveness, 
Did not, could not, would not understand 
The dark chaos mood of lability, 
The spontaneous violence of his hand.

Blue and black bruises indecorously swelled 
Question marks about tear brimmed eyes;
And I wept and despaired in confusion, 
Smashed and grabbed by wherefores and whys.

How could he dream to hurt me so, 
The brutish malediction of his touch?  
How could he stand to hurt me so, 
When he knew I loved him so much?

And now the years have drained away 
Like sweeping veils of rain;
The agony of our breaking apart 
Ever haunts me with anguish and pain.

I still see him some times, 
Rarely, truly out of the blue, 
On the old territory of familiar streets 
When unconsciously passing through.

And always shook by the stalking truth,
A lancing bright-bladed knife,
And with dogmatic aching my heart lets me know
He was always the love of my life.

And I know there's no sense to be had
When I look to the heavens above,
Just the sad and lonely heart of the matter:
You never can choose whom to love.

Poem Details | by Just That Archaic Poet |
Categories: lost love, violence,

Meet Me Halfway

As loving you no longer lingers,
Against my hand of broken fingers
Of which I've washed the Past away
(The second skin I've shed today!)
To block, to shield, to guard- protect!
But will it last the length to trek?
I'll run right and you leap left,
Our rendezvous to be discreet
Forward, backward we progress-
And in the middle we will meet

*based partly on a lover's spat and a Radiohead song ;)

Poem Details | by Dana Christou |
Categories: abuse, hate, hurt, love, violence,

There is a fine line between love and hate

I love your smile I love your witty charm
I'll never forget when you broke my arm
I adore your walk and the way you talk 
You always said I'd be the one you stalk

I cherish your humor and you dance well
Since I've met you life's been a living hell
I love your eyes and your great sense of style
The things you tell me are so very vile

"He's no good for you" I heard from a friend
I keep praying for the abuse to end
When we started dating it was so grand
Why did you ever have to raise your hand?

I wish I didn't feel you're my soul mate
There is a fine line between love and hate

Poem Details | by Noble Smalls |
Categories: abuse, betrayal, emotions, sad love, violence,

Her Black Eyes

A woman walked up to me asking, “Is there anything I could do for my black eye?”  I stood there for a moment, “Well…”  There wasn’t much that I could tell her to do besides letting it heal knowing that time is and forever will be against us and pain just slows the process  
She stated,” It has me feeling…” I was puzzled looking into her eyes, I asked,” Feeling what?”  Noticing a black line under her left eye and the right slightly bruised 
She continued, “I’ve chosen certain things in my life and I don’t understand why, crying doesn’t help my heart from hurting Unable to remove scars you know, from my heartThe pain to real sometimes and I’m blinded, look at my eyes Scared by tears and a hand that I once kissedMy protector, the man I thought that shown genuine love, turned on me and without second thoughts As he hit me…I played back the moments in which he said he loved me, kissing me daily telling me how much he misses meLove made gave us a beautiful daughter in which I can’t explain to her when she asks, “Where daddy?”  I have no more fear because it’s passed that, I’m brokenMake up and shades does not cover how he made me feel with his hands around my neck, and I still can’t tell you what I’ve done wrong besides loving himWas it enough?  Verbal aggression rose to another level because I took it for years, because you know what they say about love?”
She paused, shaking her head…” So my black eyes, bruised skin and broken heart, what can I do?”  
I stated,” Time…” As she walked away.

Poem Details | by SONYA ARRINGTON |
Categories: peace, god, world, children, city, god, love, violence,



When the silence of Violence is here; we know that God is  nearEveryone’s fear will disappear; When we find the love that God hold’s dearHe touched the world with his heart; Now it’s time for a new startLet the Silence of violence stand so that we can protect our landThank God that we are finally here to share the love that God holds dearLets bring back the hope that God believes in the mostWith Peace in the world we would all be priceless pearlsLets love not fight; Lets show our children how God can make everything alrightLove thy neighbor and thy friend, we will all be blessed in thee endViolence free is what I want the world to beViolence free will start a New HistoryIf we lead by example our children will be the perfect sample; Of what life could be if our world is Violence FreeSo let’s Silence The Violence for a PEACEFUL ENVIROMENT and let’s Silence The Violence for God’s SPIRITUAL GUIDENCEBless our City for we need GOD not GUNSGod Bless our City for we have WonVICTORY OVER VIOLENCE is what I see for a happy and SAFE COMMUNITY.