I know you, you're godless like me, and to the natives We Are The Wandering dead. Headless in sunshine, blind in the wilderness. I know you, you're the sister of death that's true. Your red lips caress mine as I choke upon embers. I'm awaiting life to be stripped from these bones. I smoke the feathers from the angels round here, and laugh with the devil. She sleeps at my feet. I found a home down here. She's the one who'll burn down the temple. She's the one who shall coerce the swarms. I know she'll do anything and more.
Copyright © Pauly Plaster J.R. | Year Posted 2014
Black Cat hath the coldest green eyes of most hideous evil
Which chilleth my blood, causeth me the greatest upheaval;
Darkness doth pervade this creature’s most gruesome gaze
Giveth me unbridled terror, leaveth my soul in an utter haze;
Lucifer himself giveth this black demon animal its dark life
Only to bringeth me a terrifying malediction of most evil strife;
Black Cat with its visage and its promise of eternal damnation
Seeketh for me its vilest of intention and its darkest tarnation;
I prayeth then Lord God, saveth all my eternal spirit and soul
And delivereth them on All Hallows’ Eve most sound and whole!
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved, Schoeningen,
Germany (October 8, 2014) (Rhyme poetic format)
Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2014
She adored her old, crepuscular cat,
Penumbra, and could see no evil in
his ways, visceral, quick to hiss at
strangers, cynical of almost everyone,
jealousy in him was always overdone.
Desultory, and all it constituted
exuberant, only when it suited,
his needs were opulent, never spare.
Halcyon days with kind deeds unrefuted,
his sonorous purrs were like a morning prayer.
For silent One's: See No Evil Contest
Copyright © Suzanne Delaney | Year Posted 2016
Your advisory pursues the light
Like a beast that hunts
in the night
Even after he has been fed
This animal won’t stop
unless he’s dead.
The race is fixed
the tackle is set
The bangle tiger will
cause him regret.
BY: Sabina Nicole
Copyright © Sabina Nicole | Year Posted 2013
He's a silent hunter,
with a murderous heart,
and he doesn't care,
what he tears apart,
he is very independant,
and cunning to,
and if your his prey,
then you are through,
he has a ravinish blood lust,
that he can't contain,
and if he don't kill,
he'll go insane,
he may seem like a sweet little kitty,
but trust me people,
he is witty,
don't let those purrs,
and cuddles fool,
he has many concealed weapons,
he'll use as a tool,
he has needle sharp teeth,
and 5 dagger claws,
on each and everyone,
of his cute little paws.
Copyright © RobieLynn Collins | Year Posted 2014
Little burnt bodies,
loud tortured screams.
These little souls are now paraded – skewered on beams.
They have no voice to speak,
their tormented, painful cries are disregarded.
And after the soulless bastards have torn flesh from bones – like trash, they are discarded.
Mothers mourn their starved-to-death babies,
some of their cellmates are riddled with rabies.
When the executer comes to collect his daily, raw merchandise –
they cower in corners, wishing to live another day not being butchered and eaten…with a side of rice.
You’d think that a humane slaughter would suffice?
Think again, their hearts and souls are colder than ice!
They laugh with pleasure at the agonising screams
of these innocent little souls - still alive – advertised in streets.
From electrocution - not enough to kill,
to being hacked up by blunt machetes – still alive, and gravely ill,
to being boiled alive – just for the thrill,
to the final seconds of scourging…pleading for the passing of a Bill,
with lifeless bodies and fading lighted eyes,
for a shameless government to sacrifice
a maltreating tradition, a decision unwise.
Remember – a world remembers what they see,
and this cruel exhibition will eventually turn upon thee!
Copyright © Sinead Terblanche | Year Posted 2016
The Ballad of Cat Ballou (Continued)
With her outlaw gang they're now telling a story of how she rode the plains.
The wildest gal in the old west since Calamity Jane.
She killed a man in Wolf City, Wyoming. Killed a man it's true
and that is why they'll be hanging her highness Cat Ballou.
The day has finally come. She's being sent to her glory for the way she sinned.
They'll be sending her soul on a wayward wind.
She has the smile of an angel,
but fights like the devil.
The eyes of an angel,
but bites like the devil.
The face of an angel,
I say she's the devil.
She's mean and evil through and through.
what's come over you?
You're mean and evil through and through.
She escaped and rode away,
on her hanging day.
Where is still a mystery,
but Cat rode into history
and her legend grew.
She was the Queen of the Outlaws,
Her Highness Cat Ballou.
Copyright © SillyBilly theKidster | Year Posted 2010
In China in the increase of rats,
Not only Chinese,
Made in China,
Not only toys but rats,
Where are Chinese cats?
Chinese cats all belled!
Chinese cats all belled,
By clever Chinese rats!
Copyright © Muhammad Safa Thajudeen | Year Posted 2014
Standing round the ritual fire, white smoke then black entwinning higher, she takes the
book up from the floor, the spell to open heavens door,
This chant kept secret for so long, in her evil hands did not belong, her intentions were
to create despair, her words to be carried upwards on cold night air.
Without a hint of hesitation, she began the ancient incantation...
"I have bathed in water near, that crystal clear my words you'll hear, to the eyes of this
enchanted seer, heavens entrance now appear"
She waited as her words ascended, to fuflill the wrath that she intended, with
anticipation as she watched, the door appeared, but it was locked.
"This can not be right" the seer spat, her temper unleashed upon her cat, "I saw no
mention in the book, but wait I'll take another look"
She read again the spell she'd cast, 'To obtain the key you need a cat'
How could I of missed that line, she wondered as she sipped her wine, her cat already had
run away, maybe there was another way?
"To gain the key to heavens door I cast this spell just once more, with the crucial part
evading me, instead of a cat I use this bee"
With eyes a glow she watched and waited, the key soon to appear she anticipated, in a puff
of smoke that cleared to see, her spell had summoned up an old oak tree.
It's branches thick, it's leaves so green, much taller than she'd ever seen, on the
highest branch could it be? a golden glistening hanging key.
She knew now what must be done, began climbing branches, one by one, "this tree will not
get the best of me, I am going to have that key"
Closer and closer, going higher and higher, evil spurned her on with it's desire.
At last a branch away the key, she was mesmerised by what she see's, she reached out her
hand without a sound, as the key suddenly fell to the ground.
"Damn and blast, what game is this", she cursed and ranted, spat and hissed, with angry
words, her face a frown, she began her long descent down.
Finally she reached the base, out of breath and flushed of face, she looked around but
could not see, where was that damned elusive key.
For years that followed she looked and searched, from north to east upon the earth, from
south to west and back again, she never saw that key again.
What happened to the key you ask?I thought you may of wondered that, the answer is within
the spell, you must of worked it out by now,
'To obtain the key you need a cat' surely you remember that, he caught the key as it fell,
and where is pussy? he's down the well!
Copyright © julie Cottingham | Year Posted 2008
Rose dust upon the white snow
this is how my story goes ;
the ravens fly deep into the night sky
while the old sad moon cast its gloom
the black cats are prowling around
eating upon the rats of the town ,
As I was walking
I hard some talking
about how bad I am
holding a lamp around town
casting stone upon clowns
with witch bones in a bag of Jupiter dust ,
the church around this small hateful town
made a fire higher then the empire
casting rose dust and lust into dark spells
of a life of a living hell
a little old man rang the bell
while Dark Angel cast his spell
that had made everyone i'll ,
Now all that talk had left a mark
on everyone holding jealousy in their hearts for me
their eyes burn deep into the night
they blasphemed about everything
I stand around them all holding a lamp of fire
all my wrath of the past is coming back on you
that cast the stone of abuse in hallowed places
will be your faces in different places ,
Oh how the little town of the past laughed
but I never looked back
while the fools cast their stones
I walked away in beauty of the night
holding what is of the light
of what is right in my own life .
Poetic Judy Emery (c)
Copyright © Judy Emery | Year Posted 2016