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Burial if you find this
cremate my feelings
put my thoughts in a mausoleum
bury my heart in a wooden coffin
dump my soul into the sea
just leave my body here.
CannibalWhat a taste which has scarred the very life out of me, and I cannot seem to get such a taste out of my
Mouth, mushing such hymns only to buzz out and roll back and forth over my tongue, for I am deathly
Frightened my mind has swept into the bitter delusion of darkness, and has made my flesh have the
Urge to seek pleasure, which I so do not wish to conquer, I am hungry for the chase such ones should
Hurry and stab out the light, for I am ready to taste the blood and let it run down my chin, cease for your
Life, for I cannot seem to hold this grudge any longer, so please forgive me when I bulge and rip through
Your skin, for it is not wh
Recreate and ControlFormaldehyde bracelets twined bitterly with dusted cuffs of expected rust; a must to overprotect the masses, for their minds contain our very lust.
Twice paid the price our souls have completed, to deplete the credentials from exterior's precision; it maintains the strength we have always needed, one to eliminate the wisdom's decision.
To the highest of clouds we stray near subduction, our rays of lied blindness obscure those in the plains; factories of children lay wasted in grounds, here shall begin our wretched games.
Birthed before us the acquainted fallen, risen now are the mindless dead; our slaves have at last clearly awakened, let
L'Ankou des pluies
La Mort va, la nuit,
Par les chemins creux,
Trempés de pluie,
Nourrir de vie
Le froid appétit
De sa lame.
Death's HandsGo ahead and peel back my skin, so you can see the pain I have for so long enclosed trickle down from
My veins, here I lie with such agonizing symptoms, how maddening it is to see me this way, so go ahead
And build me a bed in the earth, while doing so cover me up with the dark earthen grain, I am merely
Paralyzed and here I remain as my blood sinks deep down into the roots, making the earth feel numb,
I am blessed with death’s hands, as it takes and devours me with no mercy intact, but how long can you
Remain with such a secret, without festering thoughts beginning to go about around your mind, making
You tower over with guilt&he
Death WalkEyes closed you can still feel the night
Darkness embraces this loss of sight
Listen quite closely and you shall find
There is no such thing as silence of mind
Thoughts wailing in a scream and roll
Shrieking banshees twirling out of control
Overwhelmed these sounds tear within thee
Eyes sewn shut by fright and no longer see
Lost within this seemingly timeless breath
The path we walk is the path of death
House Of The DamnedHouse Of The Damned
The ghost felt forgotten in the house of the damned
Since his wife and child had died in a car crash
The madness and depression had set in
He spent night after night in his office
Listening to the voices in his head
And writing in his journal
Short stories, poems and observations
He thought he had an unique talent
A modern day Edgar Allan Poe
After his death he hoped he would be famous
He sent his poetry to publishers
But always got a negative response
The alcohol helped ease the pain
Dampened down the negative thoughts
One night everything fell apart
He played a piece of sad classical music
He took a few pills and some r
Treated like a StrangerMerciless creature you have bitten off my wings and devoured them whole, in promise that my hope
Would be gone, you left me for dead in this dreary pool of blood, why do you treat me like a stranger,
What did I do to deserve such silence? why can we not be more than this, if you want to play then I’ll
Pretend and have it my way, I will tape your mouth so I can say I have won, nothing pays to have such
Silence of yours, and see your cunning eyes go back into your skull, I am but a joker and you are the
King mocking me with your surrounding peasants, but you just wait for such mockery will lead
To your undoing……
Ode to the SirenShe calls to me with song and my strong heart melts,
Like iron cast into the forge,
Enthralled by her beauty I come forward,
Even though I know,
That she only seeks to gorge,
Upon my flesh,
Staring up into her eyes,
I know that smarter guys would despise,
My utter weakness to her spell,
Gnawing my neck down to the bone,
I know that she will drag me into the depths Hell,
But it is as if my legs are cast in stone,
I do not flee even though I see,
Imminent doom approaching,
As the reapers come for me,
Isn’t it tragic,
How I have fallen victim to her magic?
----Engraved into the walls of a vacant ship docked
within the harbor of Port
DespairAcross the bellowing sky comes abroad and leads to a road, full of longing screams and cries, with voices
Telling curious souls not to go farther for they will become perished with bellowing plagues accustomed
To the lurking sonnets, hoping such ones will come to take away their sins, and free their lost locked
Away minds, a recipe for despair over scourges the land, blinding already swelled bloodied eyes, such
Burning emptiness enters into this road of vile obscenities, only to swallow those up ablaze who are
Weak and inferior, whose hearts have already bursted open being liable to suffer….
No One Can Hear You ScreamSilence prevails,
an endless, comfortless silence,
which is worse than death,
because you remain conscious
of how utterly alone you are.
All dreams are nightmares
that come without sleep
when you never know if you
Time is without meaning,
and you begin to wonder
if you still have any existence,
even madness dare not tread here,
but instead something worse,
and yet unnamable, unknowable,
the utter loss of self.
Denied even the mercy
of waiting upon death,
when you cannot even be certain
of what life is any longer.
How easily the mind turns against you,
begins to consume itself,
and you can no longer trust your own thoughts,
~Death Poem"One Moon, Many Stars
One Murderer, Many Deaths
If You Wake Up With This Text,
You Will Be The Next"
Catching death of coldIt’s cold, COLD, there’s frost and icicles at me bones
Feeling cold, COLD, I stand and face the chill alone
No sun, no moon, no stars, nothing to tell me what time it is
Oh it’s cold, it’s COLD, and now my mind’s all gone to frizz
With the arctic at my backdoor, and winter at me front
The frost and chill be prowling, I can feel it on the hunt
Icy vines they creeping up my arms, tiny tendrils they unfurl
Feeling cold, COLD, winter’s dominating my world.
Jack Frost has come to take me, he’s broken into my home
Sees my heart be icy cold, yet warm blood beneath my bones
His winter’s all about me,
MirrorTake one look at yourself,
"What are you?"
The figure remains motionless,
Clear orbs glaring icy daggers,
Mouth curving into a twisted snarl,
Hands finally moving at lightning speed,
Palms colliding with the fragile barrier.
"What are you!?"
A jagged smirk is painted on the figure,
Laughter resonates from within,
Sick and disturbing and wicked,
Fear begins to invade your mind,
As your body trembles along with it.
The glass is cracking,
Shiny shards scatter across the floor,
Crimson liquid oozes out,
Soaking into everything.
"Stop it! That’s enough!"
'Only you can stop it,
But will you?'
The sealed room continues to fill,
IkeThe air is thick again,
And summer smells come back
So fast to this southern city,
These glittering towers in a swamp.
And with the damp comes memory
Of another not so long ago
When Ike sat on our roof
And beat his fists
And wailed until he tired of his fit.
Then left us with a starry silence
Sitting sticky skinned in candle light
Serenaded by mosquito buzzing
Reading to eachother from that trashy tale
That couldn't pick between zombies or vampires
And something in me clicked.
Home can do without water and lights
hot meals and hot bathes.
It just needs you.
Holy LimerickThere once was a bishop of England
Who liked to dress up for the weekend.
To the clergy's distress,
In his best Sunday dress
From the pulpit he'd weekly descend.
He'd preach about Moses and Noah
With shoulders bedecked by a boa
Of lavender feather
(To go with the pleather)
While the nuns all sang "Sweet Jehovah."
And none could deny he looked snappy,
Or kept his perishiners happy.
For he found that in lime
He looked simply devine!
(Though his sermons often were crappy.)
But bedecked by bangles that jangled
And earrings that sparkled and dangled,
He had more than enough
When he preached in the buff
To distract from the prov
A Good DayHit or miss.
Hit or miss
I feel like a kiss today.
A pair of rosy lips today.
A rose dancing in the light today.
A fine display.
A crimson overlay
Where the shadows play
Nodding to the wind
Nodding to the day
Nodding off in a lovers arms
Blooming in his sunshine
Like a rose.
Bitter FruitHe sells fruit.
But it looks like he only eats the lemons.
Sour and puckered
from too much ripening in the sun,
He's a grape turned raison instead of wine.
"I fought in Nam," he says with pride,
the old light returning.
"I trained as a ranger.
One hour of sleep a night.
A sergeant in the ranks.
Till they blew the top of my head off
and sewed it back on."
Now he sells me fruit
sweet and seedless
and keeps the bitter ones himself.
PoemRun it through me
and let me throw it up
a garbled mess
of dream and drudgery
of claws and teeth
and whispered sighs
a swirling mass of conscious collective
a repository of memory
a dumping ground of emotion
a graveyard of words
where each stony cherub
and fetid corpse
are given the same sanctity
CrackedMy brain is dirt
and I'm a corpse
and worms are eating me eating me
my eyes and nose
my tongue and toes
and everythings turning to dust
how much more can you take
when you can't take any more?
jumping on my back
this last straw
goes my spine
goes the world
like an egg
like my life
spilled out and scrabbled
Mollie's Ribbons I grew up in a small town just a few dozen miles from the closest water sourcea slowly shrinking aquifer that squatted underneath the seat of Thompson County, our neighborly border. Fortunately, we hadn't yet been quite as devastated by our annual droughts as those in Oklahoma and Texas. Rumors would occasionally drift in with a tumbleweed traveler about how bad the deep South had dried up into nothing but an old dusty lake bed, but these flashes of news were too few and too far between to be counted on as up to date or even true.
Once, I heard one of my distant cousins, a boy by the name of Harold, was said to have been caug
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`anmari has been spreading her infectious positivity throughout our community for over 6 years. Throughout this time Ana has been at the core of all things devious, passionately developing an eclectic gallery, helping organise devmeets, participating in chat events and also recently completed dedicating her time as a Community Volunteer. We are absolutely delighted to bestow the Deviousness Award for May 2013 to `anmari, congratulations! Read More