PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Face of terror was 
chasing you in the dreams and 
voilence made you sick of the 
evil designs. 
We must unpack our grief. 
Hurts were huddled under the smiles; 
times were stypefying. 

I grieve for the dead 
prophet, spread – eagled on road. 
It had been a memorial death 
fighting the ugly machinations 
the days had planted. 
A calculated murder of mighty truth 
had taken place. 

Again a flaming head 
seeks revenge 
violence does not cease. 
The greed was the essence. 
The town was full of howling. 
There was civil war amongst 
the wailing windows. 
My heart aches, 
I did’t belong to this 
profile of naked wolves.