|
|
|
|
|
| Dark poetry
Posted: 2/11/2008 3:48:31 PM | Something i like to call now i lay me down to sleep.
Sell my soul before i sleep.
Sell my soul to your hell.
Make me your little whore.
Cleanse me with your tongue.
Baptize me with your cum.
Leave the mark of the devil.
Scratches n bruises.
My god.
Oh god.
Sin on my knees.
Confession in my pew.
Let me praise you.
Leave me unable to walk in the morning.
Aching
Gnawing lust
Between my thighs
Lick my liquid silk
And sing me a psalm
Amen | |
|
| Ice Encased©
Posted: 2/12/2008 8:17:05 PM | The wind screeched as it abused the trees
Stabbing cold limbs barren of leaves
Then moving on through Infinity’s Gate
To engage in mischiefs that somewhere await
The desert of snow, swirling en masse
Here - up a drift … there - down a crevasse
But he saw not the snow nor heard the winds rage
His blooded steps, his only gauge.
The moon, running from that cloud to this,
Provided light, the next cloud would dismiss
And the black of the night again gave him pause
To recall gnashing teeth and slashing of claws
Weary, so weary, with his body in pain
Tempted to look backward – but he fought and abstained
But then savagely, and trumping the winds’ scream,
Came the cry of The Beast, a seeming blaspheme.
With strength about gone, his resolve on the wane
He had to keep moving - along with his pain
His wounds were near bloodless because of the cold
But how much he’d lost was a story untold
He lowered his head and pushed forward once more
Knowing not what ahead lay in store
But, he dared not stop … he dared not tarry
For death lay behind – ahead: Merely wary
Then midst the whistled roars of the wind
The Beasts’ voice again did It send
A harsh rancid most toxic shrill
And Fear grasped his heart cold in It’s chill.
One step. Two. His feet were like lead
Sense of feeling had for hours been dead
The snow was so deep, up past his knees
But his legs moved - in response to his pleas
Then … From his weight a snow bridge collapsed
But for quick grip, he’d gone down the crevasse
His fingers entwined in roots of a tree
He swung there quietly, cursing softly.
He swung his legs with his unfeeling feet
Hoping a foothold his feet there to meet
On his third try, his leg stopped its’ swing
His foot at last had found … some thing.
His breath became labored in all his efforts
He tried not to think of his pains or his hurts
To himself he said: I must do it right,
Then he pushed with all of his might.
His hand grabbed the trunk of a small tree
His fingers were numb but he could instantly see
Tonight that crevasse would not be his grave
Nor would his soul therein be enslaved.
He pulled himself up on the snow-covered ledge
And was about to make himself an unbreakable pledge
When the beat of his heart suddenly ceased …
As upward he looked into the face of … The Beast.
All pain was forgotten. Sheer panic reigned
His mind was completely, utterly deranged
His voice found sound in an unending scream
There midst the snow within a moonbeam
He put up his hands to fend off The Beast
One of his fingers commenced The Beast’s feast
He stepped back …and slipped on a wedge
And over he went … out over the edge
He bolted upright, there in his bed
Eyes wide open, his mind filled with dread
And he was cold, as cold as could be
But it was July, the temperature: 93
Just a dream he said with a frown,
And so … back he laid his head down
But …There on the pillow next to his face …
A bloodless forefinger … in ice encased. | |
|
| Ice Encased©
Posted: 2/13/2008 9:49:55 AM | This is the first poem I have ever written, so be gentle LOL. I don't know if it "dark" persay, but I think this is the best thread to post it in.
The twinkle in my eye
Did you see that?
that twinkle... there it is again
and now that shiver in my spine
that lets me know this is no friend
That feelings getting stronger now
much more than just an urge
anger now flows through my veins
just begging to be purged
Quick, think, what did the doctors say?
ten deep breathes, in and out?
the angers growing like a Beast I can not slay
of this there is no doubt
Did you see that?
that twinkle, spark or glint
the Beast of anger's full grown now
He holds the tinder box and flint.
I fear this Beast
my fear he uses for His fuel
I am much less my own person now
and more like just a tool.
Metallictattoo
Well there it is, I WILL be post more as I write. There are some AMAZING writers here and I have loved reading your works. | |
|
| Ice Encased©
Posted: 2/13/2008 10:49:22 AM | My 2nd poem ever.
Neglect
There is a child in her room
sitting in the cormer
a single tear trickles down her face
looking like a little mourner
She's been there for days
grasping onto hope
that someone might notice her
and teach her how to cope
All around her is chaos
just more yelling and screaming
and all she thinks now is
please tell me that I'm just dreaming
But this is no dream,
It's a six year old's nightmare
and lives it everyday
Now, do you still think that your life's so unfair?
Metallictattoo
Not really that dark, unless you have children. | |
|
| Let’s Change Fate©
Posted: 2/14/2008 10:14:34 PM | He sits by the window, bathed in it’s light
But within his mind it’s … black as night
Hate: His companion. Depression: His mate
Silently, quietly he plans out his fate
His classmates: All bullies. His Parents don’t care.
And all around him there’s no one aware.
Teachers: Too busy. Counselors: Aloof
All their demeanors are uncaring proof
Into himself he now has withdrawn
He knows soon his miseries all will be gone
Up from his chair, and with firm resolve
He turns t’wards the hallway – his problems to solve
A gun in his coat, and a shotgun concealed
His deadly intentions are now revealed
And my children, there in that school
Had they to this boy been a bully or cruel?
Had I taught them to be kind and a friend
To everyone - even those who offend?
Will they fall victim to hatred and fear,
From the boy with the guns drawing so near?
All our children, yours … and mine too
Can fall victim to Fate’s turn of the screw
Unless we teach all of fairness and right
Not of wealth, or the vainness of might
Be not a bully of ridicule voice
Be understanding and make the right choice
For when halls are walked by a boy filled with hate
For our children, it may be too late. | |
|
| Anger
Posted: 2/15/2008 11:20:17 AM | I channelled my anger
I did what the psychiatrists said
I loved the whole world
But it hated me instead
I did all the normal things
I treated people with respect
I kept the anger in
Kept my true emotion locked within
But you had to wind me up
You had to make me snap
You released the anger built up
Now i ****ing hate your guts
Your nothing
Your no-one
Your a worthless piece of shit
Your exactly like me
But at least i can admit it
I looked up to you
You looked down on me
Iv had enough of this shit now
All the dirty looks
All the stupid frowns
I want the whole world to die
It doesnt matter to me anymore
Everyone heres, lost all respect for me now
Just because i couldn't be
A ****ing boring robot
You all label me
A hating, satanic
Suicidal nobody
A Marilyn Manson wannabe
But i could give a shit
Cause at least im who i wanna be | |
|
| Cry To Sleep
Posted: 2/15/2008 11:20:48 AM | as i gently cry myself to sleep,
do you even care why i weep?
you were never there when i needed you,
when i needed somone to pull me through,
o how i wish, you wanted me,
the way i wanted you.
now i cry myself to sleep,
now i cry myself to my eternal sleep. | |
|
| Nothin’ Else To Do©
Posted: 2/15/2008 7:09:41 PM | It was a Tuesday night and dull boredom had set in
‘ thought I heard my ol’ car say: “Take us for a spin,
Go pickup Bobby Mac and maybe Cindy too,
‘Cause it’s Tuesday night … and there’s nothin’ else to do”.
Bobby Mac rode “shotgun” with Cindy in between
And I gripped that steerin’ wheel as we rode through Abilene
We stopped ’n got some soft drinks and a load of hot French fries
Then off we went again crusin’ – ‘neath those Texas skies
Cindy’s eyes were sparklin’ after Bobby told a joke
Once I had to stop the car from spillin’ most’ my Coke
Then Bobby Mac asked me just what my car could do …
Could it reach a hundred … or maybe one oh two?
I turned the car and cruised on down to Ol’ Commanche Road.
I was rev’in’ up my engine, while the duel exhausts bellowed
I popped the clutch and tires protested with their clouds of smoke
And horsepower erupted through every bore and stroke
The needle on the dashboard gauge was approaching one oh oh
And then I felt that right front tire when it decided to let go
It happened in a heart beat, but slow motion do I see
For now I relive that awful night for all eternity.
And Cindy has no sparkle left within her big brown eyes
And Bobby Mac’s no jokes to tell ‘neath those Texas skies
Here I sit on this cold cloud with Bob and Cindy Lou
‘Cuz now … and forever more … they’ll be nothin’ else to do.
Don’t speed. | |
|
| Pain … Forever©
Posted: 2/15/2008 7:30:53 PM | All the word crap was over, and when they’d asked me if I had any “last words”, I’d given them a belly full of what I thought about them, the society and the world in general, and I was feeling pretty good about what I’d said.
Then they commenced to set me down.
The seat is much more uncomfortable than I had imagined. And cold through my prison pants. For some reason I had thought it would be warmer. I shifted a bit as I set down, trying to find a more comfortable position, but there wasn’t one. I guess this chair isn’t for comfort anyway.
Almost immediately a guard kneels in front of me, and begins strapping my legs in place. Simultaneously, another guard starts strapping my right arm to the arm of the chair. The time crawls by, and I think to myself I wish they’d hurry up.
The guard that had been working on my leg straps, stood up, and moved around to my left and began strapping that arm to the chair as well. I think my arms straps are too tight, but say nothing as the guards continue there work about me.
Some guy in a cheap gray suit comes over from somewhere, and checks the strap-in job the guards did, but says nothing.
I suddenly get the sensation of a wetness on the top of my head, then realize it’s the sponge.
Some one behind me says: “Lift your head up”, and I comply.
A very cold metal cap is placed on my head, and under my chin a very rough, leather smelling strap is hitched in place, and someone whose face I can’t see, asks if the chin strap is too, tight.
I smirk at the remark, and say: “What difference does it make?” but my comment garners no response. They were all trying to be so polite and considerate. What bullshit. I wondered where all that “politeness” was during my trial and my many incarcerations!
Out of the corner of my eye, I get a glimpse of the cheap suit guy, but he walks behind me and disappears from my field of vision. Then I feel someone fiddling with the metal cap on my head, and figure it’s probably the same dude.
Then, from above, a rubber-ball gag appears, and drops down over my face. The guard tells me to open my mouth, and I tell him to go **** himself. I ain’t going to open my mouth, and I ain’t going to have that gag inserted. I had already told them I didn’t want that damned black hood over my head, so at least they didn’t try pulling that on me.
There is some discussion between a couple of dudes behind me about the gag which lasts a couple of minutes or so, and then someone speaks into a microphone, because I can hear the electronic sounds his words make: “The prisoner has elected to dispense with the oral restraint”.
Shit, I say to myself. Oral restraint, what crap … they have these stupid ass names for everything. It’s just a damned gag. Why don’t they just call it a gag!
There was a response from someone else, to the dudes comment about the gag, but I didn’t catch it.
A guard appeared at my feet again, this time with a long insulated black cable, and began to fumble around near my ankles. At the same time someone was again screwing around with that cap on my head.
The guard at my ankles finished, and the cheap suit dude comes – again – and checks my ankles, then, when he was satisfied, he walks around behind me and fiddles with my metal cap.
There was more muffled discussions behind me, but I couldn’t recognize the voices.
Then, I hear the shuffling of feet, followed by the closing latch of the door.
Of course I just sit here … waiting.
While I’m waiting I start wondering what my ol’ lady is doin’ about now, the ****. It’s Friday night, so she was probably down at …
The jolt hits me like a freight train!
In one single instant:
Raw seething pain; Hot, immediate and all encompassing; All my teeth shatter and my jaw bone breaks as I bite down from my jaw muscles going rigid with the force of a hydraulic steel press; I feel my eyes shoot out of their sockets; my spine snaps at my pelvic bone, as the rest of the muscles in my body violently contract from the intense high voltage; Blood shoots from my nose, as my facial muscles viciously turn into hard, hot steel bands; The hair in my nostrils and on my head vaporizes and smolders; The searing hot pain of the current shoots through me like a head-on car wreck; All nerve endings are white-hot and melting; I involuntarily urinate – HARD; My bowels erupt; I scream through fried vocal chords …
I bolted upright in my bed, sweat pouring off my face. My heart was racing, thumping so hard I thought it might come right through my chest.
Quickly I looked about me, but I could make out nothing in the darkened room. Slowly, my eyes became accustomed to the small amount of light, and I looked down at myself.
What was that on my wrist?
It was a dark band of … something. I brought my arm closer to my face and as I did I was stricken by a foul smell, reminiscent of burnt meat. Ignoring the odor, I examined my arm.
The band was about two inches wide with little white spots in a row that seemed to completely encompass my wrist. I touched it with my other hand, and the flesh fell away from the band mark.
Then … I understood: My God! It wasn’t a dream!! OH NO …!!!!!! I wasn’t in bed, I was in the process of being transferred … to … Hell.
Then came the eternal blackness in which I would carry my last instant of intense, horrid pain, living it constantly over and over … forever. | |
|
longte
|
Joined: 10/18/2004
Msg: 560 | |
| Dark Side
Posted: 2/16/2008 1:21:35 AM | Twilight lingers quietly
Gentle rain has beauty
Grove bequeaths the stillness
delightfully
Beaver pond shod in ice
Frozen liver twice as nice
...
 | |
|
| Dark Side
Posted: 2/16/2008 1:57:09 PM | It doesn't get much darker than this
(about an insidious serial killer in BC and our sometimes misplaced bleeding hearts)
THE VANCOUVER MISSING WOMEN - The Vancouver-area pig farmer was found guilty of second-degree murder in an estimated, highly controversial, $100 million investigation and longest trial in Canadian history. Pickton preyed upon sex trade workers and is believed to have been responsible for the deaths of some 60 women. Many were stunned and disappointed that he was not found guilty of murder in the first degree.
Pork Chop Hill
Was he hooded when his guillotine wile
fondled their necks, the sudden retraction
cementing his feet to the gutter
Sixty lives butchered
in the gleam of a pig’s eye
and only the hog-tied jury
hangs in shame
If there is a God,
his victims leapt from the platform
long before the verdict
unaware their dismemberment
was not much more than a media event | |
|
| a gun to my head - a knife to my wrist
Posted: 2/17/2008 1:18:23 PM | i push you away
black you out
do anything
to get you out of my life
no i dont love you to
no i dont want to be your friend
no i wont ****ing do anything for you
just **** off
get out my ****ing head
i dont ****ing need you
i never did
you needed me
to get rid of all your problems
but you never listened to mine
you never realised that i care about you
and every ****ing problem you had i cried for you
but now i cant take it anymore
i cant ****ing cry anymore
i wont
a gun to the head?
a knife to the wrist?
how will i die?
i dont know yet
but it will symbolise all the pain
the pain i never asked for
but everyone seemed to want to give to me
and i never objected
maybe i thought it would make you happier
maybe it did
but it doesnt matter anymore
cause i wont be here for long
i cant take this
a gun to the head?
a knife to the wrist?
how will i die?
i dont know yet
but it will be soon
i cant take another argument
another day of not seeing you
another day of the emptiness and the pain
a gun to the head?
a knife to the wrist?
how will i die?
i dont know yet
but it has to be soon
a gun to the head?
a knife to the wrist?
how will i die?
i dont know yet
it has to be now | |
|
| **** What You All Say
Posted: 2/17/2008 1:18:57 PM | Use Me And Abuse Me Mother-****er
It Means Nothing To Me
I Am Too Used To This Shit
Although I Know It Shouldn't Be This Way
Take My Life Away
Punish Me For Another Day
After All, It's My Fault He Died That Day
After All, It's My Fault He Died That Way
Or So You Always Used To Say
Shout At Me All Day Long
Hit Me, Simply Because I Am Always In Your Wrong
I Didn't Care That You Took All Your Problems Out On Me
I Didn't Care That You Could Watch Them Do The Things They Did, So Easily
All I Cared Was That You Never Left Me Alone For Too Long
But I Guess My Cares Meant Nothing To You
At Least I Sort Of Made It Through
Or So They Sometimes Used To Say
I Used To Think I Could Forget It All And Be Normal Again
Now I Know You Screwed Me Far To Badly For That
For The Things You Did You Deserve To Die In Pain
Don't You Realise, That I Can Never Get My Childhood Back Again
Don't You Realise How Hard It Is To Trust Anyone Ever Again
To Believe In Anyone Ever Again
To Love Anyone Ever Again
You Completely ****ed Me Up
Well, That's What Everyone Always Seems To Say | |
|
mmmmmy
|
Joined: 2/11/2008
Msg: 564 | |
| **** What You All Say
Posted: 2/17/2008 1:27:12 PM | I sharpened my blades
put on my black tights
lit candles on my chest
spit on your picture
cried cause I loved you
smiled cause I hate you
Rode the motorcycle
no one thought I could ride
laughed in spite of their asses
They don't know my pride
not to mention my nasty side!
Laugh cause I know
snicker cause I know you don't
know me!
Get a grip...and a trip
Dis girl aint your next trip
she has been to Mars and back
laugh cause you think you might
know her
smile...cause you aint got the least
idea! | |
|
| The Dark Side
Posted: 2/22/2008 1:34:05 PM | Step Beyond
Each step up
Heart thrashing
Mind twisting
Lights flashing
Another floor
Pulse is racing
Preconception
Of what I’m facing
Next level above
Entire body is shivering
A silent scream mimics
Through lips quivering
Onto the roof
The night never so black
The air so thick
There’s no turning back
Over to the edge
To narrow for feet
Slightly tilting forward
Falling to the street
The wind rushes up
The windows speed by
Then you wake up
Right as you die
Was it a dream
Did you collide
Are you alive
Or on the other side
Body damp and wet
Or is that clammy and cold
Did you say your prayers
Or was it your soul you sold………
Sam
 | |
|
| The Dark Side
Posted: 2/22/2008 1:51:51 PM | | Hey Sam ... an EXCELLENT write ... and I absolutely loved the last stanza. Powerful stuff. Keep it up! | |
|
| Jacob R. McGee©
Posted: 2/23/2008 4:11:59 PM | “Jake” was what they called him with respectfulness and awe
Ever’ since he came up here from down in Arkansas
Never was no bullies who’d confront our family
Cause my Dad, was the big and bad Ol’ Jacob R. McGee
There’s stories told about him right up unto this day
Like when with just one hand he picked up a Chevrolet
Or the one about his knockin’ out ol’ Jerry Mason’s bull
But the story ‘bout ol’ Jack Savage - now that’s a big earful.
Ol’ Jack Savage was a nasty man, that no one could deny
With many scars upon his face and with evilness of eye
But Nasty Jack met a diamondback all people did agree
When he crossed the path and aftermath of Jacob R. McGee
No one knows just why they fought that August afternoon
But Jack lies in the ground within a coffinized cocoon.
And the face of ol’ Jack Savage it went unrecognized
It was ol’ Jacks’ scarred-up face that Jake had pulverized
All Jacks’ ribs were broken, and both his arms were too
The undertaker said, ol’ Jack’s neck was twisted and askew
The man who’d done the damage, and walked from the melee
People say it was my Dad, ol’ Jacob R. McGee
Jake passed on some years back and now there’s only me
And no one knows I kicked Jake’s butt when I was twenty three
I knocked him down to the ground, then tied him to a tree
So let me introduce myself: I’m Chainsaw R. McGee – ya’ want a piece of me? | |
|
real12
|
Joined: 12/31/2007
Msg: 568 | |
| Throwing Away The Hours......
Posted: 2/23/2008 8:03:46 PM | Yeah, so I didn't know where the hell to stash this thing......I figured this was a good a place as any.
I run this path
Like a drunken angel
Through deep forest dawns
Sunlight licking me into shape
The beat of my feet
Wet asphalt beneath
Nowhere to hide
Amongst all this concrete
I sweat with hunger
Starving to death exhausted
Yet I am bloated
Out of breath
We are all the same
Throwing away the hours
You & me
I feel safe at this speed
Through the cold rain falling
Through the black night surrounding
Through moonlit clouds unseen
Passing wrought iron fences
Gothic with age
Surrounding those places where
Emerald moss & gravestones lie
Those.....
Subtle gray reminders
Stoic & sunken in heavy silence
Deep within the good earth
They all go by.....
They all go by without a word
Just a soft whisper through
The cemetary leaves
I know this road
I know this path
Intimate with this land
Yet I somehow still feel lost
We are all the same
Throwing away the hours
You & me | |
|
| Throwing Away The Hours......
Posted: 2/23/2008 8:06:58 PM | ^^^ I liked the entire poem but, in particular...these lines are really really good!
Passing wrought iron fences
Gothic with age
Surrounding those places where
Emerald moss & gravestones lie
Those.....
Subtle gray reminders
Stoic & sunken in heavy silence
Deep within the good earth | |
|
longte
|
Joined: 10/18/2004
Msg: 570 | |
| Throwing Away The Hours......
Posted: 2/23/2008 11:39:22 PM | A sign out side a Strip Club in Worchester St Christchurch
"Watch Beautiful Nude Girls Strip For YOU"
Invitation so raw
stripper enters from stage right
razor clutched in fingers tight
bones is what they saw
..
. | |
|
| Throwing Away The Hours......
Posted: 2/24/2008 12:36:41 AM | Voices telling what to do
Only the calling of the creator whispering telling me what to do
Where do these voices come from
I fall to the floor weak with savvy as I embrace my only friend the bottle
I shake, I'm paranoid they tell me as they let me walk out with a prescription $500 dollars a month
Who are they labeling schizo as I take a pill to ease my pain
These voices have to come from somewhere as I pace around my mental ward while I can't go outside and enjoy the rain
Yes rain as heavily as it burdens me as I stare into my bottle as I succomb to a deathly sleep that could last for days
I shiver in my blankets five quilts as I listen to the words in my head
Sometimes they tell me to kill someone I ain't seen in years
Where do these voices come from as I shake in tears | |
|
| Throwing Away The Hours......
Posted: 2/24/2008 12:46:05 AM | everything's gone, because I made it all up to hurt myself
the only thing that's real is that I'm alone. | |
|
| yeah, the dark side, my only side
Posted: 2/24/2008 1:00:54 AM | It's dark and it's black and it's cold
and with a smile, I see that it's my heart
I've forsaken everyone else
the universe is black
There is always the minutia of hope
I realize now how useless that hope is
I am destined to be alone
now and forever | |
|
| Throwing Away The Hours......
Posted: 2/24/2008 1:10:00 AM | remembering one who knew
voices came to him too
calming him with even call
holding that calm less he fall
asked of him how does it feel?
to be inside that world surreal
answer I was told that day
a acid trip was here to stay
in those words I understood
deep inside the voices hide
a chemical imbalance creates a lie
deceiving one to live awry
for his pain tears I cried | |
|
| Busywork
Posted: 2/24/2008 6:45:36 AM | Busy
7 digits , two hands
thats not long division
count and cut
should be a simple way
to find out which hand you favor
lost eyes in an empty head
heart on a stick , no hope of candy
a valentine for George Romero
a night spent looking for the sun
wrong movie, you lose
a soft sound seems loud
yelled in the ear on your good side
or what used to be before the bleeding
drew circles on your face
with the razor you found in
a hand with 2 fingers | |
|
|
| Page 23 of 24
|
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24 |
|
Home
login 
