She hated herself there’s no denying that
As God’s favourite chastened child
Bearing the burden of betrayal
And a heavy heart filled with sorrow
In her sombre world
Where light doesn’t penetrate the walls
Penalized for her sins
Waiting for the gallows to pull in
And bring her dim life story to the end
A tortured soul never touched with genuine love
Appreciated or treasured
The curtains will fall
On the lie, she has been living for so long
Then may her soul rest in peace.
They live in a world of illusions
Gripping onto their beliefs
Weaving a web of lies
Steering their journey through the tide
Are guardians of their pride
Masses who follow their rules
Followers of the deceitful fib
Enjoy a life of ease
The ones who supply them
With their fabricated visions
Shape their lives with lead
Are masters of this creed
But those who dare to speak the truth
Are victims of their dreaded cruelty
As a testimony of the act of defiance
Ruthlessly slaughtered in public
Hanged on the gallows of death
So, with their minds full of illusions
They dream of world domination
Or are pawns of a larger game
Leading to this devastating end.
How is this free verse poem.
Perfumef handkerchifs
Hiding thete smells
SEND THEM TO THE WORKHOUSE THEY ARE SPOILING MY MEAL
Urchins and vagabonds
Scavaging for food
SEND THEM TO THE WORKHOUSE THEY ARE SPOILING MY MEAL
The starving scrambling
Food from the bins
SEND THEM TO THE WORKHOUSE THEY ARE SPOILING MY MEAL
Pickpockets stealing
Stealing my bread
SEND THEM TO THE GALLOWS THEY ARE SPOILING MY MEAL
Christmas is coming
Give them some gruel
THE WORKHOUSE IS WAITING THE GALLOWS CAN WAIT
The sweep boy is crying
The chimney neefs sweeping
WHIP HIM AND BEAT HIM THE CHIMNEY NEEDS SWEEPING
Chestnuts roasting
Carol singers caroling
MERRY CHRISTMAS URCHINS AND ALL
(This dark poem was written on the anniversary and in memory of the events of January 6, 2021.)
Gallows at the Capitol
By Mark D. Stucky
“Hang Mike Pence”
was the chilling chant
the day democracy died
on a gallows at the Capitol,
when citizens began rejecting
election outcomes they didn’t like,
and, to get their way, turned to
threats, harassment, and violence.
Denials of elections, ethics, and common sense
lead us ever further down a path toward ruin.
Democracy’s rough corpse is already rotting
as we now slouch toward another election.
(See also my poems "The 2023rd Psalm," "Bathing with Bathsheba," and "The Art of the Devilish Deal.")
(The image is a collage of two images by Andy Feliciotti and Johannes Blenke on Unsplash.com.)
"Nobody favors a share ...
for sins I bear,
no one cares.
Now that the appointed hour pines faintly,
I stand in lights grace, a shadow no more,
barring lives in my wake and none before.
My cup did run over, right into me,
and spilt nothing,
and as I saw the empty cup,
I prayed.
Do tell, 'What does absence appear to be?'
Shunned by God as a void cataloged life.
Does it take some sordid form?
If so, be it horridly misshapen,
and be there a face that pulls night's veil,
luring darkness to hide its shame,
thus causing sleepless nights forevermore.
A son and brother were I and then a husband,
later, a father ... a family's man, thought I?
Benevolence accommodates me naught,
for charity had tipped over its cup.
Hopes I join with lives once shared,
those times when I was happy."
Show me how you tie the knot
Wow, great!
Does it fit your head?
It would suit you!
Are your legs tired?
Don't you want to rest them?
Don't you trust yourself to overcome anything?
Don't you trust me?
Welcome to the gallows my friend
Welcome to your lifes end
You lived you life so fast and hard
So from life you have been barred.
Worshipping everything under the sun
Taking what you wanted with a gun
From state to state
You made your own fate
So Welcome to the gallows my friend
Your life will soon end
Life on the run
I know hasn't been fun
Stealing and forcing your way
Your heart getting colder each day
Those you hurt without a care
To them you were so unfair
Welcome to the gallows my friend
Welcome to your lifes end
Money and greed
Taking more than you need
The hate you did breed
Indeed
Lifes had enough
May sound rough
Hell does await
For people filled with hate
Welcome to the gallows my friend
Your life now ends
Dedicated to artist N.
It was the spring so frantic that
even the ancient gallows at
the city square spawned a green sprout.
I read my poetry aloud
to you, my first, my awkward and
ecstatic poems that I penned
last night to sing your abstract art,
your cold and unresponsive heart,
your gray-blue eyes and the prune sleet
on my lone way home. Oh, how sweet
you are, young rhymes! Years later I
see that not fondness but those my
first trials of pen resulted in
my happiness, my gloom akin
to deepest hell, my grace, my curse,
my sleeplessness and this small verse.
You married a long time ago,
I sing of other beauties, though,
in spring the memories about
you still make ancient gallows sprout.
A gallows stands in the midnight light;
The empty rope swings left to right.
The rotting steps stand bleak and bare
Though many feet had passed through there.
A shadow recalls the wretched waiting;
Of rusty bars and iron door grating.
A teeming mob and rasping cheers
And a little child who stood in tears:
“They’re taking his life, who gives them the right?”
“The people, Dear.”
Of a man in black and a tickle of sweat
And the feel of the noose around his neck.
The yank of the rope and the gasp of the crowd;
The thrill of the watching,
The heads that were bowed.
Recalling it all for the thousandth time
The morning rang out with silver chimes.
Melting away beyond the bridge,
He left us all this heritage:
A gallows stands in the morning light,
The empty rope swings left to right.
With death advanced in range and scope
We use much swifter means than rope.
Walking up the steps to the gallows rope,
Hands bound tightly behind me, there is no hope.
The hangman, the preacher and the crowd all want me dead,
For what I’ve done or something I’ve said.
They haven’t given me a chance to explain,
Why I’m not the man who caused all this pain.
As they slip the hood down over my eyes,
It dawns on me as I realize,
Why I’m doomed and can’t go back,
Because in their white world they only see my black.
2019 Miracle Mile Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mark Toney
2/18/19
Gasping
rasping
clasping
grasping
condemned man's last gasping, rasping breath,
hands on the noose clasping, grasping- death
(* Tyburn was the site of public hangings in London from the 12th century,
executing everyone from Highwaymen to Clergymen, at what is now Marble Arch)
For contest 'write me a Tyburn', sponsor Kim Rodrigues
24th january 2018
ILLUMINATION OF THE GALLOWS
x
x
x
x
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
gallows
hallows
haloes
shallows
Sallow-sad priest, hallows gallows, bleak.
Saints enshrined in haloes ~ shallows shriek.
1/22/2018
The gallows stand tall
Booming into the white sky
Wooden steps stand before me
Stairway to my death
My penance for being a man of faith
Belief in our father
Where is he in my time of need?
Give me strength
The noose swaying in the wind
Myself soon to replace
My robe falls to the floor
Exposing my skin to sunlight
Naked I stand in front of the bellowing crowd
Demanding more death
Forgive these people I whisper
The smell of woven old rope flares my nostrils
My crime is spoken aloud
Close my eyes as darkness soon to arrive
Contest name: LATE OCTOBER STANDARD CONTEST
Sponsor: Brain Strand
Date: 24/10/17
Upon Somber Gallows Stands The Condemned
Upon somber gallows stands the condemned,
anxious crowd slobbering for his demise.
Preacher and faithful begin bible hymn
concerning fools not clever, swift or wise.
There dancing spirits castigating him,
this lone, dejected and now shaking thief.
His dark, haunting past now so very dim
bereft of all hope and steeped in deep grief.
Beelzebub stands there with wicked grin,
to welcome home the coming of the fruits.
His harvest dark and heaped over in sin,
crowd crying loud to see his swinging boots!
Soon darkness will bring on its last release,
as stiff rope snaps into a sudden drop.
Deadly correction makes this lost soul cease,
when his life and time will forever stop!
Gallows true, having done their cheerful deed,
crowd lurches forth in a collective swoon.
Beelzebub, gathers fruit of his seed
and reaps happy crowd's dark joy as a boon!
7-05-2017
The unruly mob beat me to death
In the dank filthy street,
Before the scaffolding had its chance
To snap my whiskered neck
Beneath the bone crushing force
- Of the proverbially,
(But still most certainly)
No less than lethal
Terminal velocity...Lucky me!
It was a real load off
My overactive imagination:
Finally, some good news for a change!
...I didn't even have enough precious time
To nervously vomit my last meal
Before being ultra-violently killed...
...So there probably is a God after all...
# Welcome to Gallows Humor 101:
If you don't already know and understand by now,
exactly what "gallows humor" is
- Then I highly doubt a God of any nature
can actually help you see the light before you've died
- But this is just my professional opinion as a satirical author,
who really should have become a medical doctor - If I ever wanted
to be able to afford a legitimate interest in women.
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