Two faces of Justice....
HOW cruel could they be
those seals of the seas
burying a dead man's body
whose left eye is a hole
into the Arabian Sea
IT is not according to the law
and customs and religion
This is foul and horrendous
To the hearts of the faithful
The sorrow is and must be
Tremendous
YET how most cruel was once he
too
burying thousands of screaming bodies in a split second on a building
exploding into dusts
as planes hijacked crashed on its side
Thousands and thousands of other lives
sacrificed for an ideology
of terror
still nameless on the roll
call of
Untimely deaths
And even the those still living
They who live everyday in Fear
Those who travel in air
In a hundred anxieties bear
Still the unfairness reigns
One body swallowed finally by the sea
On the other hand
Some thousand hands and eyes or so
still unrecoverable
From the terrorism of
history of the bombs
Those nameless still hungry for justice
Those grieving to the more
Because the losses are still unbearable
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
There Are Thousands And Thousands
there are thousands and thousands of poems
written everyday in this world where we, whether we like it or not,
still continue living, breathing, writing, sighing,
whatever that we do, singing, bathing, playing, mourning,
there are thousands and thousands of poems
thousands of us, doing the same boring things in this world,
you are one of us, we are us, us, us, us,
thousands, and trillions, we are us,
despite, i have my ears for you, my eyes,
all for you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Bells Ringing
bells ringing...
thousands and thousands
of bells.... ringing....
the chorus of crows,
the sound of the whip
cracking on thousands
of backs, , ,
black and white,
brown and red....
the fat-bellied ticket taker
stands with hand outstretched...
cant pay the fare... cant ride....
left standing on the corner
of lost, and nameless.
marching to death, leaving
no trace, no footprints....
the bastard children of freedom,
no home to return to....
look up, look up!
the skies full of wings!
bells are ringing!
thousands and thousands
of bells... and each one
has a name!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Another Sad Anniversary of 911
I remember the day when the terrorists shocked
Our world. I remember that sad and dark day.
Two planes crashed into the Twin Towers, other hijacked
Plane hit the Pentagon and another one landed
In Pennsylvania and exploded; all aboard died.
Thousands innocent people lost their lives.
I vividly remember that infamous day.
Thousands of people could not get away.
Millions of people panicked, millions cried.
I will always remember that day, where countless lives
Were changed forever. Thank God that the number one
Killer is now dead. Thank God that other killers can simply run
And hide; they cannot plan like that anymore,
They do not have the means to hurt us anymore.
The Almighty God is good all the time,
Even after being the victim of an egregious crime.
I will always remember 9/11,
Even when I'll reach ninety seven.
May God bless America!
May God protect America!
poem by Hebert Logerie
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What to fear
I need not fear a hundred battles to come
Because many thousands more I've fought
I do not fear the sword that awaits me there
Stuck with more, walking with them like a bear
I need not fear the fear of the unknown
Because its own fear left him scared below
I do, however, fear killers of dreams
While I'm alive they kill everyday from within.
poem by Olufunmbi Aransiola
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The Blood of Thousands
Thousands upon thousands are slain
Each year, are killed in cruel, cold blood.
Thousands cry out, but to no avail—
They are attacked with cruelest hate.
They scream and shout!
But do we care? No! and we never will!
Let’s murder some more! Kill more from inside!
It doesn’t hurt us in the least!
They’re as dead as dead can ever get—
They’ll not trouble us again.
They are gone and now you can rejoice!
Take pride in your murder of innocent blood!
Who are these thousands killed every year?
The infants in your womb!
Murderess! ! Fiend! Heartless animal!
You don’t deserve motherhood!
Abort them. Go ahead. At least they’re in a better place,
A place you’ll never go! At least it’s over, and they
Didn’t have to deal with you, selfish pig!
I hope that guilt tears you apart the way you did to them!
This is abortion.
This is evil.
This is.....
Murder!
poem by Paige Scott
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I Too Mourn The Dead!
i too mourn the dead...
the victims of bullets,
preordained by message.
the blown and splintered bodies,
strewn in nameless disarray.
the guilt pills of generals,
swallowed with patriotic vodka.
but too the carcass of the dog,
blindsided by the truck.
and the small bird beneath the tree,
whose wings froze and failed.
the stray cow that fell,
and couldnt get up.
the tree cut and felled,
to widen the road.
the mountain blown asunder,
to make way for progress.
the thousands of fishes,
choking to death on oil.
the river stopped and stagnant,
filled with raw sewage....
the young boy's body hanging,
at the edge of bullied taunts.
the girl on the corner,
selling her body for a rock
the businessman dying,
with every numb decision.
the body of the old woman,
barely breathing in a bare room.
the child sick and shaking,
dying of hunger...
the baby in the dumpster,
nothing else needs said...
and the apathetic faceless mouths,
devouring the poor....
i too mourn the dead, and the dying...
and see their faces,
in the palm of my hand!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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The Retired Commander In Chief
For one who profess a strong belief in God
To say the least I found it rather odd
That he sent his Country's troops to fight in his uncalled for war
From their home shore to a Nation afar.
A war where hundreds of thousands of people have died
Their right to life by him has been denied
Yet for his crimes against Humanity he will never pay
An honourable life in retirement is his lot today.
For most of his war dead terrorists he does blame
Terrorists his war created for to commit acts of shame
He should have known that's what happens when other Countries you invade
For conflict the price in human blood is paid.
A hero to many but a major criminal to me
He gave rise to crimes against Humanity
As well as causing thousands of deaths he destroyed the archictecture of another Land
Many in positions of power history does not understand.
The mothers of his war dead grieving today
Leave him to Karma is all one can say
His life achievements hundreds of thousands of war dead
Perhaps the power at his disposal did go to his head.
poem by Francis Duggan
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Last of the thousand kisses
Every thing has a beginning
And every thing that began has an end
Good or bad
Pallatable or otherwise
Joyful or saddening
Things have an end as they had a beginning
Though, most of the times, we know as to
When things began
We do not really know as to
When they are going to end
There is a need for us to be
Prepared for the nemesis
Whether such an end is
Acceptable to us or not
We really do not know
Whether it is the last of the thousand good things we have done
Whether it is the last of the millions of breathes we have taken
Whether it is the last of the billions of beats our heart has performed
Whether it is the last of the thousands of suppers we had
Whether it is the last of the thousands of the tear droplets we shed
Whether it is the last of the thousands of hearty laughters we had
Whether it is the last of the thousands of affectionate hugs we made
Or
Whether it is the last of the thousands joyful intimacies
We had with our life partner
So
Let us enjoy every bit of every thing we do
Let us be involved
Let us be immersed
Let us be lost
Let us be perfect
Let us be self-satisfied
Let us be exciting the beneficiary of our deed
With whatever we do
As if it is the
Last of the thousand kisses
poem by Bashyam Narayanan
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As They Dance
The heat rushed through her body
as she moved her body along side his
The movements were fast and breath taking
as they moved with the tempo of the music
His body bends back
as hers bends forward
His body bends forward
as hers bends back
Their bodies intertwined
as a vine on a wall
Their bodies move side to side
up and down
The music keeping the beat
as the danced
The stage lights dimmed to green
as they moved together
His hands run down her body
as she sways side to side
Her mouth open her eyes closed
his eyes on her body
He keeps his hands on her hips
as she ran her hands up his body to his face
Their lips met and their hearts raced
as the music stopped
poem by Bethany Maxwell
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The face of terrorism in Iraq is dead. Abu Musab al Zarqawi brutalized, tortured, and killed thousands of innocent people, forcing Iraqis to live in fear. The Iraqi people finally had enough, and gave up his whereabouts to the Iraqi security forces.
quote by Tim Murphy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fast Food Generation
everyday, thousands die
because they canne' afford medicine
yet everyday, thousands o tons
are fed te coo's, poultry and chickens
Third World Governments, hands are tied
by pharmaceutical patent
fur the corporations sue
those wha help, their children
Global capitalism controls
the World Bank and I.M.F
Blackmailing developing countries
privitization, fur cheap loans and credit
yep, we are the Fast Food Generation
living a total lie
indebted, up te oor eyeballs
in television and credit card bide
poem by John Mcleish
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A Death Song
What cometh here from west to east awending?
And who are these, the marchers stern and slow?
We bear the message that the rich are sending
Aback to those who bade them wake and know.
Not one, not one, nor thousands must they slay,
But one and all if they would dusk the day.
We asked them for a life of toilsome earning,
They bade us bide their leisure for our bread;
We craved to speak to tell our woeful learning;
We come back speechless, bearing back our dead.
Not one, not one, nor thousands must they slay,
But one and all if they would dusk the day.
They will not learn; they have no ears to hearken.
They turn their faces from the eyes of fate;
Their gay-lit halls shut out the skies that darken.
But, lo! this dead man knocking at the gate.
Not one, not one, nor thousands must they slay,
But one and all if they would dusk the day.
Here lies the sign that we shall break our prison;
Amidst the storm he won a prisoner's rest;
But in the cloudy dawn the sun arisen
Brings us our day of work to win the best.
Not one, not one, nor thousands must they slay,
But one and all if they would dusk the day.
poem by William Morris
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Osama Can You See
I remember when you attacked us, in our own land
It seems like only yesterday...
When so many... thousands of my brothers and sisters laid
The wounds you left... cut us so very deep
Still on our minds...
Most likely forever... we'll keep
Yes... We had tried to be good neighbors
Foods, medicines, dams floods controlled.
But for our own tears?
They've just endlessly flowed...
And
For our torn hearts.... bleeding,
For our souls.... pains beyond pains.... and sad...
Yet, from with in comes something,
That you never knew we had!
Love for our country
United... heart to heart
And when needed... hand to hand
Hurt us... yes...Yes!
Yet together we still stand
Well... Old Rett Buttler said....He said it best for us... Frankly Osama...
We now don't give a Damn
You've opened such a Big Can of Worms
Our Only Warning For The Taliban's
So we're still burying our dead... and crying... and...(oh,)
Some more flowers, and tears on their graves...
This is why we came to teach you about
The Homes of The Brave
And so
By the Dawns Early Light...
The Rockets Red Glare...
The Bombs Bursting in Air...
Osama Can You See?
Our Flag is Still out There...
And con-quer we must...
For our cause... it is just....
And this be our mot-to.........
In God is always our trust....
And that star-span-gled banner......
In tri-umph still waves.......
Over the Lands of the Free..........
And the Homes of the Brave..........
poem by Clyde Bryson
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On The Execution Of Timothy McVeigh
He will be long remembered due to his heinous crime
For such barbaric acts of cowardliness don't fade away in time
Because of him one hundred and sixty eight had died and he left many with horrific injuries
And memories of him will live on like all bad memories.
But before condemning Tim McVeigh we ought to not forget
That there are as bad still alive as he who will never be put to death
Who are looked upon as heroes where can one draw the line?
So many innocents have died in the name of war yet to many that seems fine.
The leaders who have ordered foreign cities to be bombed from the carnage far away
Live in happy retirement our ageing heroes of today
The blood of innocents on their hands but that seems quite okay
But the wrongs and rights of the taking of human life not for mankind to say.
The war leaders order their fighter pilots to bomb cities far away
But for acts of terror in their homeland there is all hell to pay
And Tim McVeigh for act of terrorism died tightly strapped to a chair
Whilst the one responsible for thousands of deaths lives as a free millionaire.
One seen as a villian and the other a hero though I see them as the same
For one cannot make an excuse for brutal acts of shame
One died though lethal injection the other ageing and gray
Lives in the lap of luxury and a hero still today.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Thousand Desires
Thousands of desires, each worth dying for...
Many of them I have realized...yet I yearn for more...
Why should my killer (lover) be afraid? No one will hold her responsible
For the blood which will continuously flow through my eyes all my life
We have heard about the dismissal of Adam from Heaven,
With a more humiliation, I am leaving the street on which you live...
Oh tyrant, your true personality will be known to all
If the curls of my hair slip through my turban!
But if someone wants to write her a letter, they can ask me,
Every morning I leave my house with my pen on my ear.
In that age, I turned to drinking (alcohol)
And then the time came when my entire world was occupied by alcohol
From whom I expected justice/praise for my weakness
Turned out to be more injured with the same cruel sword
When in love, there is little difference between life and death
We live by looking at the infidel who we are willing to die for
Put some pressure on your heart to remove that cruel arrow,
For if the arrow comes out, so will your heart...and your life.
For god's sake, don't lift the cover off any secrets you tyrant
The infidel might turn out to be my lover!
The preacher and the bar's entrance are way apart
Yet I saw him entering the bar as I was leaving!
Thousands of desires, each worth dying for...
>Many of them I have realized...yet I yearn for more
poem by Mirza Ghalib
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Psalm-Poem (In Answer To Cornelius Van Der Merwe)
Lord You who are the eternal shepherd
notice the evil things in our country,
how cars are being stolen, are hijacked,
how some malignant men rape women,
how they do not regard any of Your laws,
how they have already tortured and killed
thousands of people in anger
and where we have already lost hope
I ask that You lead us further,
through the valley of death intact,
where Your body is the temple
that had been raised again in three days
my eyes are still drawn to You
and I ask that You reach out Your hand,
to cover every house, every property and farm
from these wicked people
(even everyone else that serves You)
with the power of Your mighty angels to protect,
that You draw Your impenetrable laager around us all
who stand faithful on our knees before You.
poem by Gert Strydom
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With loud bang
With loud bang
I was loosing my sense with loud bang
Sudden burst of cracker’s sound and rang
Big explosion near by and I found senseless
As if no body parts attached and wound on face
I wanted to shout but could not
I tried to move little forward and fought
But of no use and cries all over
How to run for shield or cover?
In seconds it was all over
The dark clouds were seen however
The rain started to pour
I felt so sad with pain and soar
I saw the bodies scattered
My all dreams shattered
It was just bang and loud explosion
Humanity y was on shame with many questions
I want to speak but can’t
I wish to see and want
But I fail as my body doesn’t cooperate
I want to show something and narrate
Please come someone here and pick
People rush from here with panic
Many lay on ground motionless
Awkward and ghastly scene to see and face
O god, hear my prayers and rescue
I am unable raise my voice and review
Who are all fallen victims to attack?
Why so many lives at risk and stake?
May be scores of people lying dead
Many concerns are possibly seen or read
They had all come with high hopes
Their life was merely hinged on ropes
Can I speak for a while?
I can’t do it for while
My body wishes but unable to do
Only life is left there to feel true
Oh God, give them some lesson
To pick innocent lives can be no reason
They are dear and near to someone
Few losses here and there may help no one
Thousands more may die in such fashion
Bereaved families may loudly cry and get mention
But how long we may bear such losses?
What are we doing to protect when silent are the bosses?
*Bomb explosion near high court in India*
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Two- point perspective
Thousands of Jews
Killed
For what reason?
None
Thousands of blacks
Slaves
All because
People are lazy
Racism
The Holocaust
Unfortunately,
All of
Our world’s history
poem by Twisted Rose
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Buried Alive
[Venom cover]
I'm alive but dead, awake but asleep
As friend gather round and mourners they weep
My mind thinks of all the things I have done
My body is cold but my heart beat goes on
And on................and on
As they lower me down into that hole in the ground
I scream out for help but they hear not a sound
I fear at the lid, my fingers they bleed
Is this happening to me or is it just a dream
Summon the dead..........
Baphomets call...........
Blood on my hands........
"Let me out of here"
My bones are decayed, my flesh it doth rot
I'm lying in silk, take the lid off this box
My lungs gasp for air, my eyes scream for sight
I promise the rise of my body this night
Summon the dead..........
Baphomets call...........
Blood on my hands........
Screaming in torment.....
I'm felling you all......
Take heed of my plea.....
Answer my call...........
I'm gonna be free........
song performed by by Obituary
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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To Hell Or To Connacht
To Hell or to Connacht was Cromwells's war cry
To poor Irish tenant farmers his cruel words did apply
Cromwell was a war criminal the facts never lie
To Hell or to Connacht were his words or die.
When Cromwell handed over the command of the Royalist Troops to Henry Ireton the results were the same
In human history their treatment of poor Irish people is a human shame
In their conquests of Ireland thousands of people died
Any form of human rights of them was denied.
Poor Irish tenant farmers were put on the road
To Connacht or to die of no fixed abode
Oliver Cromwell and Henry Ireton were far worse than cruel
They were despotic leaders who abused their rule.
Anyone who knows of history surely do know
Of the atrocities of the Crown forces in Ireland three and a half centuries ago
Cromwell and Ireton were horrible men
They must have been born in the Devil's den.
Some look on past history as over and gone
But in Ireland to Hell or to Connacht those words do live on
And thousands on walking to Connacht died of hunger and cold
The poor and forgotten their life stories untold.
poem by Francis Duggan
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