Tag: hatred

War on Refugees

Huddling close for warmth they gripped each other’s hands,

the ragged clothes hardly covering their shrunken flesh,

their sore covered faces closed eyes that had lost their light,

no one would come but those displaced, empty handed,

starving families, children like theirs dying slowly into

the corrupt earth.

—–

Governments rage against refugees, refusing to grant

them a chance to be free and a shaft of hope of life.

They go to their worship where they hear of a God

who cares about humans and the ravaged planet,

and turn blind backs on the horror of displacement

and dine richly.

—-

Charities working give them hope in clothes and food,

but no-one can help them while terrible traffickers 

take their coins for frightening travel, cons and lies,

promising heaven and giving them hell, while those 

who could stand for justice and mercy choose hatred

punish the innocent.

—

Now politicians think up wicked schemes and plot

to send them to countries violating human rights,

spending our money to perpetrate crimes against

humanity, binding them in chains and sending them

away to suffer more, be killed and so Pilate Patel

washes her hands.

Social Media Hatred

The gif spread slowly across my screen Opinionated, detonated, created, calculated.
Cold and cruel, treating me to someone’s 
unhappy heart turned on me in spite, a bite
Of hate.

——/
Her photo stolen from her life, haunting her
as they passed it along its invisible trip wire.
Seeking fame by defaming, hoping for shares,
and done despairs, violated, cries to be heard.
In vain.

—/
He knew the perpetrator who’d sold their soul to the ancient devil of betrayal for a joke they’d said.
A knowing Dad, noticed his darkened demeanour,
wrestled the walled silence of shame, in the hope.
Of rescue.

——
The suicide note said it succinctly, shouted the ——-
scream, a soul too stretched by media malice,
pushed to the perimeter of a life once played.
New fears of furious parents are charged with 
Their tears. 

——
Media moguls sit in their silks and silver service,
ignoring the strain, the pain, the chains that bind,
And grind down the hope of tomorrow, backs to the misery and missed chances to save lives lost to.
Their Greed.

The Harrowing of Hell

Is it within, without, was it always

someone else’s tool that they used

to abuse, confuse and cruise their

hate through another’s quick crisis.

——-

Hell hath no fury? Give them hell.

Hell is – other people said Sartre,

The road to hell is paved with –

good intentions. I felt like hell; are

——-

just the many man made ways we 

use a word that holds the world in

contempt; forgets to tell of the one

who came to hell and withstood its

———

snares, despair, and vile wares.

He sparred as he harrowed hell 

on a lonely hillside, braved alone, 

and faced the dreadful darkness down.

———-

He attacked it within and as death

lost its power. he cowered it across

the land, until hell punched the air

with joy over the sealed dark tomb.

———-

Dead, he harrowed evil o’er and more,

til he rose above the empty grave,

and hope erupted, gilding the day

and building a way for you and for 

——-

me to crush and push and thrust

hell, hushing its voice in a troubled

land and hassling it in our hearts

to pulse anew with joy and grace.

———–

To seek it, wreak it, break it and 

there in the darkest moment we

will find the candle set there by

a loving, grieving pearl of God.