Related quotes: Witnessing the blood baths, the...

The Weeping Moon

Witnessing the blood baths, the massacre
Of God’s people, children’s bodies everywhere,
And octogenarians expire slowly and quietly in horror.
The undistorted and the vivid images of terror,
The ugly realities of life for millions; what a rancor!
The large plumes of gray phosphorus smoke! There is nowhere
To hide. Showers of shrapnel, unprecedented heavy shellings,
White clouds of death and discriminating lynchings
Of everything that breathes, walks, runs and flies;
This is war, this is sheer terrorism! The God-flies;
Where are they when they are needed?
Our world should not be so muted,
So insensitive toward so many.
This is a shameful disaster, a pity…
To do nothing and hope for the awakening of the gods;
The worms, the flies, the rats and the tods
Must be happy. What an inhumane feast!
In this young century, we cannot find Peace.
The photos are real, and dying is not a joke.
The lenses of the camera recorded the blood soaked
Pregnant women, their babies shredded
By the wrecked fires of the big guns.
No one is spared: fathers, mothers, sons,
And even young girls are arrested,
Humiliated, stepped on and eventually annihilated.
This is the state of our human family.
Centuries old victims are now the perpetrated
Beasts that devour nymphs, angels and dignity.
The moon can only helplessly weep,
The gods and the geese are high by the burning bodies.
Terrorism is your vocation; falling asleep,
Amid this, is criminal, we should unequivocally denounce the bullies.
Big gun shipped helicopters can only destroy; they don’t make Peace,
H bombs only create more activists, more militants and more beasts.

poem by Hebert Logerie
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes

Massacre Of The Unborn

No survive
Unborn child
Cut to pieces
Left without a name
Unwanted because of the problems of humanity
Unspeakable crime
Silent war is the name of the game
Millions are dying in actions of death and pain
Misguided mothers make this happen
Sometimes for a financial situation
Or a sexual mistake
[Chorus:]
Massacre of the unborn
Massacre of the unborn
Massacre of the unborn child
Innocent blood cries in vain
Defenseless lives are slaughtered everyday
They should make a law against this insanity
Unborn corpses are growing in extreme quantity
Premature stage
Slowly destroyed by the human race
[Lead]
Tortured by tyrants
Unjustly demise
Infant children are left to die
Just innocent lives they slay
There is no chance to escape
Murdering is the matter of this case
A merciless torture to take
No one will live, because they won't survive
There's infant dying
Can't you see
That they will not have a chance
Of growing up in this life
[Lead]
[Chorus:]
Massacre of the unborn
Massacre of the unborn
Massacre of the unborn child

song performed by by Incubus
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Where Do We Go From Here

Where do we go from here.
Where do we go from here,
Where do we go from here.
If we sweep the bottom of the rivers
We find bodies that shouldnt be there.
If we sweep the courts and offices
We find heads that shouldnt be there.
Dingdong hell, pussy in the well,
Cats on the hill, ready to kill.
Where do we go from here?
Where do we go from here? where do we go from here?
Where do we go from here?
If we sweep the shelters and asylums,
Well find women that shouldnt be there.
If we sweep the dark streets and alleys,
Well find dealers that shouldnt be there.
Dingdong hell, pussy in the well,
Cats on the hill, ready to kill.
Why do we miss you so if youre just a speck of dust?
Are we getting tired of blood and horror?
Are we getting ready for God and terror?
Are we getting tired of blood and horror?
Are we getting ready for God and terror?
Are we getting tired of blood and horror? (where do we go from here? )
Are we getting ready for God and terror? (where do we go from here? )
Dingdong hell, pussy in the well,
Cats on the hill, ready to kill.
Dingdong hell, pussy in the well,
Cats on the hill, ready to kill.
Dingdong hell, pussy in the well,
Cats on the hill, ready to kill.
Ready to, ready to, ready to, ready to, ready to, ready to,
Where do we go from here?

song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Where Do We Go From Here (Tricky Remix)

song performed by by Yoko Ono
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Run

[Violent J:]
Something has woke my a thump on my roof, it was followed by crashing, more
thumping ensued
I jumped out of my bed thinking I'd been invaded, heard smashing, more
pounding, the sound escalated
Looked out of my window, blood dripped down thy glass, I see bodies lay twisted
and mangled on grass,
I ran into thy main room and Shaggy was dead, so was Nate the Mac, Jumpsteady
and ABK
Bolted out of thy house to see if it's a joke, I heard hundreds of car alarms,
saw flames and smoke
and thy sky above red, I see dead bodies fallin' it's raining with corpses thy
blood is appalling
[Chorus: Shaggy 2 Dope and a gang of Juggalos]
Mama told me when it rains - IT POURS, but never mentioned Dead Bodies - DEAD
BODIES
Mama told me when it rains - IT POURS, La de da da de la da de -
DEAD BODIES
[Violent J:]
I never seen so many.... horrified looks on people's faces...
(Thy blood is appalling)
I hope I never see what all them people saw... and put them in there places...
(Thy blood is appalling),
The sun was so hot... So hot...
I was burning... Yeah
Dead bodies lay randomly some stack in piles, on all of there faces pour
horror, no smiles
I see children, and ciders, and ninjas my age, all lay naked and mangled, most
withered for days,
I found safety a shelter I'm under a tree; only fingers and organs come falling
on me,
I lay sleepless for days as thy raining continued, thy heat of thy sun baking
corpses like food
Then it finally stopped I walk knee deep in blood, over piles of bodies threw
what was my hood
It was right at that moment thy Wraith had appeared, and thy message it left me
might sound kind of weird
But take all that I'm seeing and opposite that, truth is I'm thy one dead and
this is my Hell's Pit.

song performed by by Insane Clown Posse
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Soilder’s Anguish

A SOILDER’S ANGUISH

In a flash a flashback
The transmission of images forgotten
Images that halted time
And tamed a lion

The gory of lost sons
His eyes swells
Like that of a widowed woman
The egos of men

With or without consideration
Those who decided the fate of others
The horror of a haunted night
The cry of departing brothers

Brothers turned enemies overnight
Over the change of interest
The trauma of witnessing a murder
Murder of one’s beloved

War is but a super volcano
That can destroys the unrecoverable

poem by Magnus Amudi
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Hell's Forecast

VIOLENT J: Something had woke me a thump on my roof, it was followed by crashing, more thumping ensued. I jumped out of my bed thinking Id been invaded, heard smashing, more pounding, the sound escalated. Looked out of my window, blood dripped down the glass, I see bodies lay twisted and mangled on grass. I ran into the main room and Shaggy was dead, so was Nate the Mac, Jumpsteady and ABK. Bolted out the house to see if its a joke, I heard hundreds of car alarms, saw flames and smoke and the sky above red, I see dead bodies fallin, its raining with corpses, the blood is appalling.
SHAGGS 2 DOPE AND A GANG OF JUGGALOS (CHORUS): Mama told me when it rains-IT POURS, but never mentioned dead bodies-DEAD BODIES. Mama told me when it rains-IT POURS, La de da da de la da de.
VIOLENT J: I never seen so many...horified looks on peoples faces...(The blood is appalling) I hope I never see what all them people saw...and put them in their places...(The blood is appalling) The sun was so hot...So ho...I was burning...Yeah. Dead bodies lay randomly, some stack in piles, on all of their faces pure horror, no smiles, I see children, and elders, and ninjas my age, all lay naked and mangled, most withered for days. I found safety a shelter, Im under a tree; only fingers and organs come falling on me. I lay sleepless for days the raining continued, the heat of the sun baking corpses like food. Then it finally stopped, I walk knee deep in blood, over piles of bodies through what was my hood. It was right at that moment the Wraith had appeared, and the message it left me might sound kind of weird, but take all that Im seeing and opposite that, truth is Im the one dead and this is my Hells Pit.

song performed by by Insane Clown Posse
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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God's Gunna Work it Out

As the bombs shattered people’s entrails
The screams of horror did not assail
Organized violence against humanity

Blood ran thru streets like frightened children
But the children are smeared all over
Freedom is not as free as War-Spilled Blood

But have no fear
God’s gunna work it out here

Women and children being brutally raped
By aids infested soldiers
Decapitation elation
War-cry copulation
Victorious assassination

But have no fear
God’s gunna work it out here

poem by Josephine DixonBanks
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Everything Vivid oh so Real

So surreal
everything appears
too real to be real
sober wide eye lucid mind
hallucinations?
How dull our perception
what we deem to be real

hydrogen strawberry patch
purple atmosphere soil
harvest dawn
streaks of violet orange-red
blood shed
sky's living proof

cloud's ceremonial formation
channeling spirits of great
distant cousin mountain ranges

sky
vivid oh so real
trees
vivid oh so real
auto metallic body paint
vivid oh so real
neighbor's sleep eye smile
vivid oh so real
morning rabbithole obligations
vivid oh so real
stage and spot light silence
vivid oh so real
flying feathered wake-up calls
vivid oh so real
everything I see
everything I touch
vivid oh so real
everything I feel
everything I imagine
vivid oh so real
dew transfers from
air to grass to my
bare flesh
vivid oh so real
my body
everything within
everything without
vivid oh so real
tepid bitterness
lukewarm caffeine fix
vivid oh so real
every illusion
performed by the senses
vivid oh so real
meditations under fulsome
tree branches
peace of mind
vivid oh so real

poem by Gregory Allen Uhan
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And the children died

And the children died.
Our children kept dying.
Then our childrens child
picked up the struggle,
and they died.

Whether in Belfast, palestine, chile,
or Iraq. They, our children died.
When moneyed powered barons
enjoin to force their farce of alien
thoughts upon a righteous people
our children die.

They, our children continued to fight
and to die.Their bodies piled up.
Sorrow became our life, the blood from
their wounds glistens always in our eyes,
and they our children fight.

Whilst we listen to politicans imploring
us to accept their just peace.
And the children died...
WHY

poem by Johnoe Mc Guckin
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War: a massacre of people who don't know each other for the profit of people who know each other but don't massacre each other.

quote by Paul Valery
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Insulting

I can not believe,
The magic of your artistry.
Your ability to capture vivid images...
Is something I have never seen.

And the depth and scope,
Of your comprehension of the craft...
Should not be kept to yourself.
You have an audience out there,
Unprepared to be enthralled within your grasp.
YOU are a 'genius'.

'Why don't you come out and say it?
What you see is a bunch of crap.
You think I am 'that' sensitive?
And you use reverse psychology,
Believing any insulting comments...
Will hurt and shatter me in disbelief?
Tell me what you 'really' think.'

Okay.
I will.

I can not believe,
The magic of your artistry.
Your ability to capture vivid images...
Is something I have never seen.

Now...
If you want me to say that,
In a more insulting way...
I'll do my best.
Because I 'know' I am blessed with talents as well.
Do you want me to give it another try?

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Bombs Falling (Who Pays The Price?)

the horror of
...bombs falling,

...bodies running,
........split apart,
...........torn to shreds,

warm pulsing blood
...screaming injustice
......from earth plowed

by patriotic greed.....

which side?
...doesnt matter!
.....both wrong,
.......both lies;

children's eyes,
...fixed, staring
......as if to point,

who pays the price?

poem by Eric Cockrell
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Those' Images Made

People love to treasure those images made.
Those images created to help them escape,
From depictions of reality.
And the way the displaying of it is portrayed.
People love to treasure those images made.

People love to treasure those images made.
The ones flowered to sugar without a bitter taste.
Those images glammed up to spotlight,
On a public stage.
But behind the scenes indignities can be mean.

Yet...
People love to treasure those images made.
And their minds are affixed to them to defend...
Every blemish that is openly seen.
Since people who love their images made...
Have not been conditioned on reality to feast.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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We should realize in a vivid and revolutionary sense that we are not in our bodies but our bodies are in us.

quote by Ruth St. Denis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Blessed By The Almighty

blessed by the almighty

the blind is so lucky
not to witness the terror
not to witness the horror
but to be in his own world
sweet world beautiful world

helpless is the tale of the able
who feels so pale
yet hale and healthy
male or female
who is forced to witness
the terror and the horror

death doesn't approach
life doesn't smile
stays away far a mile
only stays a while

wishing he was also blessed
by the almighty
crawls every single day
only to see another cruel day
by the merciless beasts
who feel they are the best

the blind is so lucky
not to witness the terror
not to witness the horror
but to be in his own world
sweet world beautiful world

poem by Jai Prakash Satyamangalam Bhupathy
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There Are No Children Here

The untrained eye
Walks down the street
And sees children
But they're not children
There are no children here

Adults look back
With hungry eyes
And someone thinks
''They're just children
With a mother and a father
Never any fear''
And they kid themselves
As there are no mothers
No fathers
Because there are no children here

Terror doesn't care
As they cry over there
It lets someone stare
Through the sight of a gun
Seeing everyone
And just for fun
Shoot them

People rush around crying
''But they were just children!
They were just children! ''

A man with a gun
Turns and runs
But as he does they hear
''They aren't children''
And
''They weren't children''
And
''You need to know:
There are no children here''

No one makes a sound
Listening to the truth he's found
And they know:
It's our fault
We didn't save them
We could have saved them
If we cared
There would be children here

poem by Violet Llewellyn
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Widow of Massacre

Some said she lost,
None said she crossed,
Nothing was known clear
Something about her was fear.
Everything, though said,
She's a widow of massacre.

If asked, she never say,
because witness you can pay,
She lost hee husband,
Then lost her hand.
Everything, though said,
She's a widow of massacre.

Behind her, there're stories,
Behind stories, there's worries,
Her village was ambushed,
And in bullets, washed.
Everything, though said,
She's a widow of massacre.

She survived the claws of wild,
After death of her single child,
Finally she ran to this village,
Where we paid her homage.
Everything, though said
She's a widow of massacre.

poem by Buyunde Acura Sylivester
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Black Friday

Killer, intruder, homicidal man.
If you see me coming, run as fast as you can.
A blood thirsty demon whos stalking the street.
I hack up my victims like pieces of meat.
Blood thirsty demon, sinister fiend,
Bludgeonous slaughters, my evil deeds.
My hammers a cold piece of blood-lethal steel.
I grin while you writhe with the pain that I deal.
Swinging the hammer, I hack through their heads,
Deviant defilers, youre next to be dead.
I unleash my hammer with sadistic intent.
Pounding, surrounding, slamming through your head. yeah!
Their bodies convulse, in agony, and, pain.
I mangle their faces, till no features remain.
A blade for the butchering, I cut them to shreds.
First take out the organs, then cut off the head.
The remains of flesh now sop under my feet.
One more bloody massacre, the murders complete.
I seek to dismember, a sadist fiend.
And, blood baths are my way of getting clean.
I lurk in the alleys, wait for the kill.
I have no remorse for the blood that I spill
A merciless butcher who lives underground.
Im out to destroy you and ,i will, cut you down.
I see you, and, Im waiting ,for black friday.
Killer, intruder, homicidal man.
If you see me coming, run as fast as you can.
A blood thirsty demon whos stalking the street.
I hack up my victims like pieces of meat.
I lurk in the alleys, wait for the kill.
I have no remorse for the blood that I spill
A merciless butcher who lives underground.
Im out to destroy you and ,i will, cut you down.
Its black friday, paint the devil on the wall.

song performed by by Megadeth
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Jugurtha

How cold are thy baths, Apollo!
Cried the African monarch, the splendid,
As down to his death in the hollow
Dark dungeons of Rome he descended,
Uncrowned, unthroned, unattended;
How cold are thy baths, Apollo!

How cold are thy baths, Apollo!
Cried the Poet, unknown, unbefriended,
As the vision, that lured him to follow,
With the mist and the darkness blended,
And the dream of his life was ended;
How cold are thy baths, Apollo!

poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Ultima Thule: Jugurtha