“Vengeance” by Kenny Simon
born to the blood
rage wells in my channels
a flood-tide of ancestral
passion for vengeance
the intellect whelmed
by sheer volume of anguish
all grace of humanity
washed from the spaces
within me by waves
of spontaneous anger
percussions of hatred
reducing my bones to an
unrecognizable ruin
the bullets of madmen
have made of me one of
their unreasoned own
murder filling my mind
Writer Lynne Sargent
Poetry Puttering by Pax & Company
Sometimes everything has to be enscribed across the heavens so you can find the one line already written inside you. Sometimes it takes a great sky to find that small, bright, and indescribable wedge of freedom in your own heart. David Whyte
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I am where the valleys are deep, the mountains are high, and the wind moans through trees...
Poesy plus Polemics 
Snap!
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Sadly so true. Hatred and violence breeds Hatred and violence 😦
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again and again and again
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What about some of the idea that it didn’t even happen?
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inexplicable
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Visceral . . .
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that’s the word
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Wow… I like this! Dark, powerful and compelling. I especially love the lines “the bullets of madmen have made me one of their unreasoned own”. wowww..
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we both seem to have stepped into the dark today
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yes! sometimes it can be fun to be the Bad Guy! 🙂
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I feel as if this attack has caused me to find a new wellspring of anger in my soul. I don’t like this me, but I’m dealing with it.
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writing helps vent the rage – not much – but better than nothing
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I’ve alienated just about everyone I know over this. If I didn’t write I’d go nuts.
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Another strong piece on the subject. Thanks, Paul.
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much appreciated, michael
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Beautiful Piece , Paul 🙂
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appreciate that very much
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This seethes with anger. Powerful statement. Beautiful poetry.
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feelings that are impossible to contain
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Powerful work, Paul!
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much appreciated, noora
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Our parental teachings would perhaps shame us for our thoughts yet how otherwise do we rationalize the inconceivable devastation that fills the hearts of many now cast in stone? When the innocent fall to the hatred, bleeding, their last breaths of most worthy speaking yet who can hear the voice of the weak and dying?
Is this our only answer to an alternative peace and understanding?
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I honestly don’t know – just as honestly, I can only express what’s in my heart, which in this case remains bitter and bleak
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