These Beautiful Evil poems are examples of Evil poems about Beautiful. These are the best examples of Beautiful Evil poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
Reality is lost and I fear…
That someday…somewhere so near…
I will fall amongst the people so dear…
I fear…that I’ll just be another one…
Another one lost…
I wonder what the cost of my life is
not to get too political…
But I want to know what the cost of my life is
Is it money…is it land
I do not own any of them…I’m just a simple man
I remember…When I ran across your land…
I remember when I kissed my grandmother’s hands…
But you ripped my away from her…From my home
you ripped my away from my heart…you ripped me away from my soul
I feel helpless…I feel low…
It’s hard to play along when I know…I have no role
I have become a slave.
After all the love I gave.
When I look at my country…people I want to save
When I look around me…people I need to change
It seems like a hard thing to do…
when the range of people is way bigger than you
Freedom…oh how much I’ve heard that word
Freedom…oh how this idea has become absurd
when God gave us life…
He warned us only he can take our lives…
Oh Syria…my home
Oh Syria…my all
Oh Syria…what did they hurt you for?
Oh Syria…I’m here…I won’t let them hurt you anymore…
I am Proud to be your son…
In the mountains near the land of Nord
Their lived a fiery Dragon
He had such hot and fearsome breath
Yet he kept his tail a dragging
Because he knew he wasn't bad
He was shy and that was all
And if he looked too meek and mild
Then folk would treat him cruel.
He met this little lad from Kelt
One day whilst coasting round
With fire belching from his face
And roaring fearsome sounds
The little lad was terrified
When he saw this thunder brute
And the dragon he was hurt indeed
As this fear he did intuit.
He said "I'm sorry little boy
But I'd not do you harm
I rasp and roar like this you know
So folk will leave me calm
I really want to be your friend
It's so lonely being me
Then the two they walked off arm in arm
It was beautiful to see.
Socrares Dec 7 2003
Feel me standing there
on the draw bridge
that stands stubburn and erect
over the rushing waters blown by the wind
back and forth.
I listened to the crows
posted on gargoils designed
of eightenth century Gothic architecture
singing their death songs,
when the sun is setting in the far.
The voices of women passing
startle me with a feeling of sorrow
I can't breathe, I am dying.
Feel me, can you feel me rot away?
Slowly but surely rot away
as time passes with ease,
and taxi cabs take smiling, intoxicated faces
to wayward cafes, oh how they screech to a halting stop
and wave to me to get in.
"No thank you, I'd rather walk." I say to the smiling faces
highly intoxicated with the thought of the birds and the bees
rattling around in their empty minds.
Then they drive off, into the city lights and turn a darkened corner.
I look at the rushing water
and feel myself rot away
slowly but surely rot away.
Can you feel me?
Can you hear me?
Can you see me?
Feel my heart thump with slow paces
that manage to keep up with fast melodies.
Of songs that play in your mind
only the ones that make you sigh
and think those one days in Spring time
as you walked over the draw bridge
and paid no mind to the water underneth.
I hear no more talk of you and me, I hear no more talk
of the good old times we all shared.
Time has passed, as I take my last breathe
and hold my chest and shead a tear.
Feel me, can you?
If you can, put your hand to my weak heart
and feel it thump away with every second wasted
on useless items.
Now, see me a man of one time greatness
reflect his life with a reflection in the water below.
How I sigh and cry and breath heavely,
as I feel myself rot away.
The voices of woman pass me by.
Tomorrow is a new day,
for the smiling faces in taxi cabs will go home
and soak their raging hangovers with cool, wet rags.
As I still stand on the draw bridge singing with the crows,
feeling myself rot away.
Can you feel me without you, rotting away?
I surely can feel myself rot.
Such a heavy word, "rot"
So vulgare, yet a great description of me,
I pull out a shawl you once wore and I kiss it.
As the wind gusts and the sun rises and my shadow
comes to meet me, the wind shall take my last memory
of you away.
And I shall weep no more.
Then what will I do? Shall I walk the streets
and think of you.
Yes you, still rambling all throughout my head
like a lose screw.
Can you feel me? Feel me rot away
feel me think about you, and all your works.
Can you feel me?
Random thoughts of you run
randomly throughout my mind,
as I hold, looking through a simple picture of you and I,
smiles and holding each other,
embracing warmth brings me to sanity,
watching your hand on my forearm,
as you gaze into my eyes.
Oh the tears flood such emotion,
only you and I now in such madness we call love,
such madness we all call life,
such madness we all call reality.
Thoughts of me without you,
I cannot bear to see such a sight in mind,
to hear such words that tear my heart out
and sadness stabs me rapidly in the back,
and I can't bear to see such a sight as this.
Thoughts of you
running randomly throughout my mind,
my hair turns silver and white with stress
of not being with you,
and my liver covered with cancer,
and lungs black with smoke,
and stomach embraced with ulcers.
All I ask for you,
is not to be a thought anymore,
and come back to me in flesh and bone
in a portrait painting of you in reality
come to me with your beauty and glory
and kind heart and hold me again,
and let me kiss you again and love you again,
and call you mine again.
Don't say it is impossible,
when you know and I know,
that it is in fact possible
to love each other once again.
I simply love being me
for I am so good at everything
step into my city and they
will tell you who is King
one day when I am hungry
I will swallow everything
then and only then shall I
inherit the stuff I dream
even then I promise
not to settle for satisfaction
at any instant half a second
I could spring into full action
so go against me? please,
you do not even measure
up to half of the goodness
that I hold tight like my treasure
still spreading rumors about me
to try and destroy my life
can't believe I let myself get beat by
a stripper and my self-intended knife
try and say I'm gay
even though we both know that isn't the truth
just ask any woman I been with
if they ever needed proof
they'll say I was the cream of the crop
as they took it all night knowing
I just may never stop
I own the status of a legend
now what you got left to say
when I bring it twenty-four seven?
A single kiss from thy lovely lips,
so sweet and so divine,
yet I taste posion upon your tongue.
Your beauty so glorious,
like a blooming rose so beautiful,
yet, why do mine eyes go blind
in the sight that you walk along with another?
Yes you, walk with another,
arm under arm,
lips touching lips in romantic kisses,
it makes my blood boil,
for mine lips are dry.
For mine eyes have seen your glory,
yet no one here listens to my story.
You are evil, yes you are,
don't try to deny,
Listen to a man of experience,
you might as well save some expense.
I write of our long romantic walks
we took together, under the shade of olive trees,
how we went apple picking in autumn time,
and made love in the foyer.
Nomore of that sweet and passionate love,
nomore silent kisses in the night,
when the wind blows hard against the branches,
that tape violently on my windowpane.
Nomore somber tears shed, when you got sick,
and nomore warm embraces when you shed tears of betrayal.
Betrayal now is a game played by a fool,
such as I,
to think I'd have a happy life with you?
Huh, only a fool would think such a thing,
but now I sit, looking at the foyer,
where we once made sweet, passionate love,
nomore will that foyer be filled with exotic pleasure.
Nomore will you be filled with smiles and exotic pleasure.
I've done my job, as a good man shall do,
now pack your things and get of my stage,
the spotlight yawns for anew,
and the audience grows tired and restless of you.
Now I live life anew,
you too shall see life in new eyes,
walking hand and hand with the blond, blue eyed devil
you call your own.
Shall he take one kiss from your lips,
and die of the posion he tastes on your tongue,
shall he go blind, when he sees your true, black beauty?
He will see the ugly soul, covered up by white rags,
and cheap makeup,
and then he will come to me,
and shake my hand in condolence
and say, "You were right!"
Now you are all alone,
looking for another, as you did many times before,
Now you are alone, walking an open road,
spying on another,
fear of being alone.
Now, you see when you play games with a good man's emotions,
don't try it,
because a good man is not meant to be toyed with.
Sitting alone here,
all by myself,
looking at a reflection that I do not recall.
I see a face looking back at me,
but not my twin,
no I see a pale face,
I see jealously, pain, sorrow, and a frown
I see all the negative.
I see fear,
I see nothing.
I am sitting alone,
in my room
white walls surround me.
I hear the trains blow their horns off in the distance,
and the cars and trucks roaring down the lonesome highways.
I can even the crying and wailing of sirens
blazing down the avenues,
"Where is the fire, folks!?"
The wind blows through my window,
moving the blinds back and forth,
and I sit there alone,
smiling and singing a little.
Sitting there alone,
peaceful and tired
wanting to rest my head,
but scared too face the nightmares.
Too hear the voices of the dead
call out my name.
And I sit there alone
thinking of what once was,
beauty and harmony nomore
in my trial of certainty.
As the sun sets
and the twilight comes out,
as the birds and squrriels are no where in sight.
As the whores and pimps sit on street corners,
waiting for street lights to turn from green to red.
As cadillacs stop and roll their windows down.
I can her the faint cry deep in the darkness,
of dirty gutters and dark, dead end alleyways,
I hear the faint tears fall and hit concrete pavement.
I feel the faint cries of whores,
I hear the sound of backhand hitting face
and brused tissue and broken noses are everywhere.
And the somber tears fall onto pillow cases,
and white motel bedsheets run red with blood
and cheap Italian wine.
And you can her the poet over the radio,
reading his own work for the one millionth time
and you can hear his soul slowly wanting to die.
He drowns himself in smoke and alcohol
the whore takes her pay, or spends a night in a jail cell,
the pimp nowhere to be found,
with a shiny blade stuck deep in his gut.
And the somber tears fall gently on the concrete pavement,
the floors of a jail cell,
tears on the pillow case and tears on a lonesome stage.
Tears never present, but are seen by many,
pain aches and pain takes away,
and I pour one more drink for the whore.
She takes me away,
and I caught her salty, somber tear,
and she crawled into my warm embrace.
I was the one who stuck the blade in the gut of that pimp,
who broke her nose and made her bleed,
with a cowardess and souless backhand.
I walk into the moonlight,
hearing the somber tears all around me,
crash violently to the concrete pavement.
The Earth rumbles and erupts with these tears,
that are shead for fellow Men, and Women and Children,
but we all look at ourselves and smile.
Happy we don't pay rent,
happy we don't have cancer,
happy we aren't six feet under;
But we still all cry,
Somber tears all fall in one big wave
crashing violently on the concrete pavement.
Now the red light turns green,
and the traffic moves along,
the whore is still at her corner,
the pimp still with the blade in his gut.
A full moon night
to my delight
what is so wrong
with doing what's right
nothing is right
after so long
no use in complaining
time to move on
The Dream Water one day
might take me away
farther from the comfort
I float on my back
then shut my eyes
my body now sinking
into ocean arms open wide
Now swallow your son
back to his nature
when he is no longer
needed to stay here
the next generation
are dooming themselves
they need my experience
to guide them through hell
Why should I bother
on my own, I strive through
I turn my back on the thought
of bothering to save you
alone in this world
my, is it spacious
I'm finally smiling,
never so gracious.
It’s the story of an angel with sparkling white feathered wings,
Whose halo shines bright & voice is enchanting when she sings.
Her eyes had a glint that makes you fall in love,
She brought with her all the peace that was above.
In her mind, earth was a place full of joy & happiness
Until a day that erased all her glee, all her gladness.
She used to think that all people are beatific & pure
Then she discovered most of them were cruel and insecure.
[She became a]
Her wings have turned to flames of hell
In her mind nothing goes well
When you see her you can tell
She’s a fire angel, a fire angel
Anything she does turns from good to bad
She used to laugh now she’s always sad
Fire angel, fire angel yeah fire angel
Red eyes, black hair, always in the shadow
Instead of feeling high she’s always being low
Don’t get too close to her she could burn you
She’s a volcano who erupted & destroyed everything too
What could change her back now?
If you know please tell us how
To keep her from being rude
Wickedness has filled her heart
And now she’s falling apart
Please change her bad mood
After she lost each & every bit of hope she had
And when nothing could convince her this world isn’t bad,
She found a bright light in the dark; she found her soul mate
And ended up forgetting all spite, anger and hate.
[She’s no more a]
Now her heart beats sound like music
Now she’s ambitious, strong and epic
Extinct fire she’s angelic
[Again…cause she’s no more]
The fire angel
Whose wings have turned to flames of hell
The fire angel
In whose mind nothing goes well
Fire angel,fire angel
Now her heart beats sound like music
Now she’s ambitious, strong and epic