Putin’s Undesirable Pathogens

 

Putin’s Undesirable Pathogens

Like a recurrent plague, of pathogens, Putin’s hostile army, has ran amok,

Leaving heartbroken people, and precious lives benign, where they’ve struck.

Loading the atmosphere, with toxic carcinogenic chemicals, laying cities to siege,

Committing mass genocide, and killing harmless children, with mindless ease.

Blowing up bridges, blockading the roads, terrorizing towns, in their path,

Hurling large bombs, and missiles, as they create, an uninhabitable aftermath,

Littering the streets, leaving unsightly scars, where shattered ruins remain,

Then relocating elsewhere, to ruthlessly continue, their embittering campaign.

Heartlessly probing, seeking new civilian targets, trashing towns, in their wake,

Aggressively inflicting, unspeakable crimes, more suffering, pain, and heartache.

He leaves, bitter resentment, festering fury, and revenge, wherever he’s been,

His incurable mindset, against humanity, is wicked, grotesque, and obscene.

The Kremlin’s FSB agents, spread disinformation, and dissent, around the globe,

As they infiltrate communities, creating malignant spy cells, in their anal probe.

Like a cancerous tumour, his sickening appetite, out of control, steadily growing,

Putin’s grotesque cysts, aggressively swelling, to what end, there is no knowing.

At Wits End

 

At Wits End

Oh wits, I wonder madness, hath laid this awful weight, upon his heart,

In confusion set, and solemn sadness aroused, his spirits ripped apart.

Through his mind, thousands of sad thoughts, raging without restraint,

Of gruesome corpses cast, lying prone, encrusted in, their bloody state.

Of all the innocent people, their unpretentious lives, sadly inverted,

By one, who plays the devil’s advocate, with unruly power perverted.

Yes, he saw, the poor grief-stricken child, embracing, her parents stone,

Now left, without her mum, and dad, to bravely face, the world alone.

At the train station, a sad little boy, silently waiting, sitting in the crowd,

An ocean of faces, struck with disbelief, lost beneath, the terrible shroud.

With grief, and distress, set in their eyes, as they cast their vacant stare,

In anguish he turned away, the sadness, was too much, for him to bare.

Yes, he saw, the old man, about my age, lying dead, in the broken street,

His mouth gagged, with limbs tightly bound, boots stolen, from his feet!

He also saw, the young man, kneeling by, the black body bags, in tears,

Distraught, with the grisly sights, he’d seen, stolen lives, now in arrears.

Away, hidden from view, innocent girls, their purity, roughly laid, there,

Torn clothes, his heart sank, for what he saw, was way too much, to bear.

In pain, he could not restrain, the tears, welling within, his watery eyes,

As he imagined, how they had suffered, with no-one, to heed their cries.

The awful pain, they’d unwillingly endured, while being forced to submit,

To the ruthless conduct, of the wild beasts, before their throats were slit.

As he struggled with the weight of death, for each life, he couldn’t save,

He saw the sea, of grisly mounds, on the edge of town, of shallow graves.

He wondered cowardice, upon innocent men, executed, shot in the back,

The use, of powerful weapons of war, that had seen the cities wracked.

He saw more, than you can imagine, he saw the peaceful lives, unfurled,

He saw, all the horrific deeds, for he was the eyes, and ears, of the world.

Far away, he saw the wicked creature, that wrought misery, upon our kin,

Knowing the evil sleuth, that twists the truth, shall one day, own its sins.

Gott Schütze die Politiker

 

Gott Schütze die Politiker

The Kremlin, continues, to cast, its toxic spell, all across the land,

And, the state-owned media, remonstrate, with hypnotic hands.

Each day, weaving, a wicked web of lies, out across the nation,

Twisting, the honest truth, creating hatred, and disinformation.

The people, gather round, the promise tree, it bears bitter fruit,

All bowing down, to the crazy demands, of the heartless brute.

He’s like, an old organ grinder, grinding on, around, and around,

And the people, are all in tune, to the same old, same old sound.

As their empty souls, are filled full, with the sickly sound, of lies,

The poor, are neglected, and permitted, to lead their dismal lives.

His comrades, are in cahoots, collectively, they call, all the shots,

Forcing the people, to follow, the party line, filling in the dots.

The elections, are rigged, the Kremlin comrades, really don’t care,

They’re in stride, with dictator Putin, any conspirators beware.

He’s had rivals poisoned, or locked up, all hail, the wicked Tsar,

It’s a terrible mess, a shambles, outsiders think, it’s quite bizarre.

While the people’s needs, go unanswered, and poverty remains,

Living within the void, of broken promises, and awful hunger pains.

Putin’s secretly, ferreted away, the people’s money, he’s a patriot,

He’s stashed his wealth, all round the world, mansions, he’s a lot.

Still, poor Russian children, go hungry, they’re found, in ration ques,

They know, Putin’s empty promises, aren’t worth, two brass Razo’s.

It’s against the law, to protest, say wrong words, or question why,

There’s no point, in having dreams, he controls, their precious lives.

His sales pitch, has implanted propaganda, and hatred, of the west,

Pitting Russia, against the world, sending its sons, to their deaths.

He’s spent, a massive fortune, on tanks, ships, jets and missiles too,

The cannon fodder soldiers, are paid peanuts, uncertain what to do!

Sadly, he’s not, the only leader, whose line led, their nation astray,

Sending in troops, to blast, innocent people’s, precious lives, away!

Dieu Sauve L'humanité! God Save the World!

Hell in Mariupol

 

Hell in Mariupol

Putin is in control, he will not listen, diplomacy is no use,

He has programmed his people and set his Orcs loose.

The Ukrainian soldiers are defending, Mariupol Sea Port.

Beneath the giant steel plant, they are holding the fort,

Loyal soldiers of Ukraine, bravely fighting, on to the last,

Defending their land, standing strong, and standing fast.

Missiles and massive bombs, are exploding above ground,

The relentless bombardment, making terrifying sounds.

Bent steel, and broken concrete, providing a barricade,

There is no way of escaping, this treacherous blockade.

Like large hammers, pounding the earth, generating a din,

Innocent people are trapped, under the wasteland, within.

The civilians, hiding in terror, entombed against their will,

Trapped, in the tunnels, and bunkers, as time stands still.

Frightened women and children, being pounded from above,

By an oppressive regime, devoid of compassion, and love.

There’re wounded soldiers, lying with black festering limbs,

Slowly rotting, with urinary infections, and sepsis setting in.

And no one’s willing to end the siege, their minds are set,

Some are praying, for the lost souls, we will never forget.

But there’s little hope left, for the survivors in Mariupol,

It has been deemed impossible, without raising the toll.

The Shame the People Wear

 

The Shame the People Wear

You stole the sons of Russia, and sold their souls away,

Then brutalised their hearts and led their minds astray.

Your generals changed them, into Orcs, the savage beasts,

That bragged about, each rampage, at their drunken feasts.

You encouraged your Orcs, to execute, the shameful crimes,

And brutal acts, of genocide, well beyond your border lines.

As they, preyed upon the helpless, with shameless intent,

And left, a bloody trail, of devastation, everywhere they went.

With bloody stains, worn with pride, leaving victims crushed,

A shame, upon the uniform of Russia, a world within disgust.

Their lustful deeds, upon women, and young girls, abhorred,

While the desperate screams, of the innocent, were ignored.

Now there’s a bloody trail, all the way, back to Red Square,

To Putin, with his badly scripted propaganda, standing there.

Pontificating to his followers, the people who now live his lies,

Blind to the carnage, and slaughter, deaf to the victims’ cries

The old guard, is really restless now, turning in their graves,

For he cast his stain, upon the nation, in the victory parade.

God won’t have mercy, the dice is cast, Putin’s evil soul is lost,

A terrible stain upon Russia, for the souls, that paid the cost.

The world won’t forget, Putin’s name, upon The Wall of Shame,

We stand together, to remember, the lost children of Ukraine!

The Beastly Man of War

 

The Beastly Man of War

Yet another, rural town, in east Ukraine, now in sadness dwells

The civilians, have really suffered, and been subjected, to living hell

The raging fires, have finally passed, the marauding Orcs, have left,

Leaving haunting memories, in their wake, and the town bereft.

It is a miserable place, with smouldering piles, of unsightly rubble,

With unpleasant signs, and offensive smells, of the restless struggle.

Many people gone, poor tortured souls, have left their pain behind,

No more torment, as they lie face down, bound, where they died.

Lots lying, in unmarked graves, before the Orcs, made their retreat,

Leaving burnt-out tanks, and armoured trucks, blocking the streets.

Where homes, once proudly stood, amidst the joy, that filled the air,

Now wisps, of acrid smoke, like homeless ghosts, silently wafting there.

A wall defiantly stands, with a picture of her, hanging on a skew,

The mother standing by, sadly mourning, the lovely girl she knew.

The sky is dark, the birds have vanished, with their welcome song,

Instead, the siren calls again, it loudly cries, for all, to move along.

Warning the survivors, of incoming missiles, and imminent trouble,

Past the bodies, of their loved ones, still lying beneath, piles of rubble.

Past the derelict schools, hospitals, and playgrounds, all blown apart,

As the fearful people, retreat again, carrying their burdened hearts.

Into the dark underground cellars, hopefully well out of harm’s way,

Where at night, they wonder why, he stole their dreams away?

Symbol of Peace

 

Symbol of Peace

Giant daisy, with strong stems, rising above the ground,

Standing tall, with bright yellow petals, delicately crowned.

Oh Helianthus! How we look forward, to seeing you again,

Each summer, splendid yellow, glorious colour, of Ukraine.

Thriving, as consecutive generations, have done so before,

For hundreds of years, budding, and blooming once more.

Oh, majestic, vibrant sunflower, warm colour of dreams,

With your glorious golden coronet, set in colourful scenes.

Gracing gardens, the whole world over, a spectacular show,

And fields of Ukraine, where in great abundance, you grow.

Each morning, head bowed to the east, patiently waiting,

With us, our eyes, fixed on the horizon, keenly anticipating.

While nature, welcomes the majestic sun, burning so bright,

Bringing hope, to all of the world, so dependent on light.

All waking to the radiant sun, sunflower heads outreaching,

Then attentively locked, on the sun’s rays, they are seeking.

Taking the same path, every day, heads attentively turning,

While we wait, the return to Ukraine, so painfully yearning.

Yes, elegant flower, flower of peace, the flower of Ukraine,

Oh Helianthus! How we look forward, to seeing you again!

Echoes of the Saddest Song of All

 

Echoes of the Saddest Song of All

Deep in her heart, there plays, the saddest song.

As she silently laments, her lovely homeland gone,

Locked forever, within the lonely ruins, that remain,

As wars wretched song, plays over, and over, again.

Forever present, the dreadful sights, she has seen,

Abruptly woken, in ruins, and destruction dreamed.

Lost in the rubble, amidst the ashes, full of grief,

Wondering why, the worst of man, beyond belief.

And as she wipes, the salty tears, from her cheek,

Their stains, the solemn words, she cannot speak.

Saddened by the road, where in dreams returned,

To a homeland lost, the sombre place still yearned.

Only she, will ever be able, to appreciate the cost,

The pain she bears, the tragedy, the ones she lost.

Thoughts, that will forever abide, within her mind,

Where the tangled spirits, of her past, are entwined.

Ever strong, the feelings for them, burning bright,

Playing sad songs, keeping her, from sleep at night.

As their precious memories, become faded notes,

Heart still broken, for the ones, she loved the most.

Sweet Katerina, Ballerina

 

Sweet Katerina, Ballerina

Maryia, will never forget, the awful horrors, wrought on Kharkiv,

Her heart-rending account, in a bloody war, difficult to conceive.

The terror, as the unforgettable blast, took her lovely Katerina,

Bringing great sadness, to a mother, missing her little ballerina.

Everything shattered, lost, and gone, now burdened with grief,

Pining for Katerina’s return, a dreamy notion, well beyond belief.

Come back Katerina, she solemnly cries, with tears welling inside.

Struggling to understand, sorrows emotions, so difficult to hide.

Each night, as she closes, her weary eyes, into a dreamy trance

Their souls, are reunited again, as she watches Katerina’s dance,

And as the symphony, softly plays, its rich mesmerizing sound,

Katerina glides, upon swan lake, gracefully round, and round.

Floating, as in the clouds, sweet Katerina, such a beautiful sight,

Enchanting vision, upon the stage, dancing through the night.

Dreaming, that she is Queen Odette, waiting for Prince Siegfried,

To pledge his love, breaking the evil Barons spell, setting her free.

And as the bevy of swans, elegantly drift, upon the seamless lake,

Their slender forms, circling round, silently gliding, until daybreak.

Their gowns, of pure white feathers, lightly sailing, in the breeze,

Till caught, by dawns first light, filtering through, the distant trees.

Then as mother Maryia awakes, longing to see, her Katerina again,

She is reminded, once more, of her world, full of fear and pain.

The Shame We Turn Away

 

The Shame We Turn Away

With tanks and missiles, the beastly army, tightened the noose,

Drafted from, the cesspool of discontent, its Orcs, were let loose,

Onto city streets, where innocent children, laughed and played,

The awful taint, of despicable war crimes, now left them stained.

Blood heartlessly let, all is lost, lifeless forms, colour turned to grey,

Harmless citizens, brutally gunned down, left to lie, amidst the fray.

Severed limbs, left lying upon the ground, such a brutal way to die,

Civilians’ throats slashed, these ruthless acts, too ugly to describe.

Cars crushed by tanks, while in fear, the helpless victims, sat inside,

As the ruthless brutes, full of malice, engaged in acts, of genocide.

Frightened children, forced to watch, as their parents, were slain,

Left with distress, and horrific visions, little eyes, subjected to pain.

Poor lost souls, numb from shock, hiding in the ruins, that remain,

All dread the regime, that callously raped, the children of Ukraine.

Burned bodies, too charred to recognise, a terrible message, to find,

Destroyed buildings, backyards, corpses, and crime scenes, mined!

Innocent civilians, prisoners of war, in the street, bound and dead,

Lying, where they had been shot, right in the back, of their head.

Mass graves concealing, decomposed corpses, the evil acts done,

Liberators now standing by, with tearful hearts, and souls, stunned.

As the dark cloud, of cold-blooded death, prevails upon the wind,

The mountain of evidence too high, and no denial shall ever rescind.

Orcs On Steroids

 

Orcs On Steroids

Sons of Russia, guilty of theft, assault, rape, and numerous crimes,

Second chance soldiers, recruited into the ranks, to avoid prison time.

Bred by the evil army, to be brutal butchers, to slaughter, and maim,

Leaving their poor victims, lying fatally wounded, slowly dying, in pain.

An unsolicited holocaust, brought by hordes, of Orcs on steroids, let loose,

Forcefully, overpowering the vulnerable, subjecting them, to awful abuse.

Army officers, blithely standing by, sanctioning, the brutal Orcs rampage,

As the chain of command, right to the top, endorses the war, they wage.

Unwilling, to stop, the mechanical storm, wrought by their mindless thugs,

Heartless beasts, fuelled by a cocktail, of performance enhancing drugs.

Innocent young girls, being dragged out of class, someone’s dear daughter,

Enduring the terrors, of being repeatedly raped, then inhumane slaughter.

Civilians sliced, with sharp knives, bound, and tormented, at the point of a gun,

Succumbing, to persistent torture, till the cut-throat acts, are finally done.

We, the people of the world, recoil, when accounts of the brutality are told,

The heinous deeds, leaving our hearts wrenched, dumbfounded, and cold.

We all unite as one, against the obscene perpetrators, of these terrible acts,

Crimes against humanity, in the despicable mountain, of indisputable facts.

Lost in Thought

 

Lost in Thought

Expressions aghast, still suffering, the unutterable nightmare,

Eyes betwixt, caught in between, firmly fixed, in vacant stare.

Pilgrims standing, in long border ques, weary refugees of war,

Hopelessly, trying to grasp the answers, they are searching for.

Shell shocked women, and children, waiting, lost in thought,

United in speechless silence, their minds, and souls distraught.

In silent reflection, haunting images, held within the empty gaze,

Struggling to comprehend, the malice lurking, within the haze.

Strong memories, of recent acts witnessed; terrible sights seen,

The impacts, of destruction wrought, within wars smoky screen.

Too soon, for them to purge, the terrifying screaming sounds,

Warning, of hypersonic missiles, their onslaughts inbound.

Bearing down on them, caught within, the burden of death,

And terrible bombs, sucking the oxygen, from their breath.

Then the perilous journey, of escape, from their city torn,

Fleeing the devastation, where the sirens, screamed in scorn.

Under heavy fire, down the treacherous corridor, in haste,

Leaving, their shattered homes, now lying, within the waste.

Evading watchful eyes, of the invading force, in fear of death,

Pausing behind rubble piles, and debris, to catch their breath.

Increasing the gap, between the war-torn area, left behind,

Daring not to cross any fields, fearsome they could be mined.

Weary young mothers, cradling hungry babies, in their arms,

As they passed on by, the great expanse, of empty farms.

Amidst anxious evacuees, drifting along, in the despondent tide,

Ever hopeful, that they would be able, to hitch a passing ride.

Pressing on, with badly blistered feet, with rest having to wait,

Driven by urgency, and terrifying thoughts, that wouldn’t abate.

Now patiently waiting in line, slowly advancing, lost in the crowd

Indebted to the help they receive, grateful hearts, humbly bowed

Written By: Alan.Clark@WW1POET (April 2022)