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Evil Dream Poems | Evil Poems About Dream

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Details | Narrative | |

The Old Dark House

The Old Dark House

This tale of “The Old Dark House” is one that’s replete with a
most horrid sense of pure evil and macabre, and is worth being
retold each year during the deep-dark hours of All Hallows’ Eve
before the chime of midnight, when the thin veil separating the
land of the living and the dead momentarily dissolves, bringing
both worlds together until the break of dawn.

Beware of this house’s mythical and ethereal presence in the
shadow dreams of the innocent, and be forewarned to never
conjure its image in your unconscious mind. If so conjured,
The Old Dark House shall become an unending reality to the
innocent and uninformed, and on All Hallows’ Eve, the evil
“Demons of Hell” shall come for your very soul!  

The Old Dark House is one that is bathed and cursed in utter
hellfire and damnation by Lucifer himself. It’s one that creeps a
chill and frozen reminder into the very frame of its nasty, putrid
structure. It shall guarantee you the worst possible nightmares as
your very soul cries in agony and pleads unrelentingly for mercy!

Your nightmares are, in turn, amplified and born into the very
structure of this house with ivy creeping as you palpably sense
the wretched ice-cold fingers of Hell opening the doors to the
cavernous basement were evil shadows of goblins, ghosts,
ghouls, vampires, and werewolves parade openly from past lives.

Everyone suffering the curse of the damned was captured here
when they visited, becoming prisoners to the darkness of true evil,
far away from the light, goodness, and eternal mercy of Almighty
God Himself.

Six generations of my family actually dwelled beneath the rafters
of The Old Dark House where demonic forces were constantly in
play—as hot sparks burned the tongues of lost souls who cried in
agony, and their world would enter the vortex of darkness whilst
blood-curdling screams could be distinctly heard during the night
on All Hallows’ Eve. Ghostly images would appear out of nowhere
supported by the frightening ferocity of Lucifer who is the true dark
presence and ultimate tempter of mankind!

The horror I felt as a young boy trapped in this existence is truly
unimaginable. The image of The Old Dark House still haunts my
adult consciousness, even today, as I would shudder in the cold
night-sweat of sleep to purge its eternal presence from my mind!

Cruel pictures adorn the hell-hole hall of imagination as a gruesome
and unbelievable power underneath wields its vice-grip of hideous
words, whispering in the coldest of ice without the living being able
to breathe in a cloud of mercy and forgiveness, within an ancient
language of evil and evil-doings that twist the shape of words to
suit one’s human fears and cold shivers!

I still don’t understand the full measure of things being lost in this
dark pit of Hell in The Old Dark House. It’s a place that’s devoid
of human meaning and worth as shrunken heads are disembodied!
I hold on to what remains of a past shame, hovering high in the air
as unclean spirits of a crooked vision-circle wander aimlessly as a
Blind Sheppard leads our lost souls to the depressing Dark Land of
Nowhere and Nothingness!

Every October as the full moon rises high in the dark-sky evening,
a ritual fire is set by a local coven of witches to celebrate the advent
of All Hallows’ Eve. These witches know well the power and evil of
The Old Dark House. Their burnt offerings and black magic spells
echo hauntingly as Hell’s own fury is unearthed, challenging all
things virtuous in mankind’s existence and in God’s world of beauty,
hope, kindness, and light.

These evil images of black magic and witchcraft haunted my sleep
entire. I couldn’t sleep at all before dawn. I constantly sense now
an awakening madness in my soul, as if it comes from hidden graves
yet to be uncovered. Images and bad memories of The Old Dark House
push me now toward the opening of unknown tombs. I can actually
now smell Death’s Sulphur-burnt flesh!

Doors begin to rustle behind me as I hear loud footsteps of a pin
echoing deep in my mind. The echo shatters any illusions I have
of human sanity and forgiveness. I feel the sheer horror and begin
suffocating as the stale air is trapped in each breath I take!  

I sit up now—immediately confused, looking directly at a lonely
and empty Black Void that goes on and on and on—to infinity!

Cell doors in the house basement were always closed tight with
rusted iron links bound by heavy chains. As a poor child alone in
this house with other condemned children, there were nice rooms
upstairs that were always barred and shut to us as we suffered in
the filthy basement below. In Lucifer’s Hell!

I recall now too, in my memory, a gallery of special portraits in
The Old Dark House, which formed a ghastly mosaic of pure evil.
These portraits were of key human disciples of Lucifer who had served
him well through the ages. All of these images were grotesque and evil
when taken as a whole.

What did I learn? Evil is what Evil is! And Evil does what Evil does!

I’m free now from the eternal curse of The Old Dark House. I escaped
this mansion of the macabre as a young man and found my soul path
to Almighty God and stepped into His holy light of forgiveness and
redemption! 

As a very old man now, I sleep and dream a lot. Usually my dreams, 
thank goodness, are pleasant as I draw toward the end of my mortal
existence here on earth.

Yet, despite all the good things in my life now, during October of
each year, as All Hallows’ Eve cometh closer in the deep recesses
of my mind—I remember clearly that the ground floor of The Old
Dark House always had these frigid-cold wind gusts that spoke 
chillingly to one’s very soul. As young kids we would run upstairs
in this evil house to hear the “Demons of the Night” moan and cry!

Old Hob always had a way to speak to all of us as kids in His House!

Anne-Lise Andresen, Liam McDaid, and Gary Bateman
A Collaborated Poem, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
September 7, 2016 (Narrative)

Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2016

Details | Narrative | |

- The Demons Shrill Cry of Dread and Horror -

The Demon’s Shrill Cry of Dread and Horror

This tale of “The Demon’s Shrill Cry of Dread and Horror”
lives on in the mountain village of Gpeth Tor in the outlying 
region of the “Dark Forbidden Forest” known for evil, death,
and lost souls. This tale passeth from generation to generation,
to the present, and still frightens all people who hear its grim
message as it sends an icy-cold chill that stabs the heart of one’s
holy eternal soul!

A young boy who just turned six years heard this tale so told
by both of his parents who shivered with a great palpable fear.
Their story of the Devil’s Demon of the Dark Forbidden Forest
mesmerized this young lad, giving him gruesome nightmares,
whereby the Devil’s Demon whispers cruelly to him in the 
darkest corners of his mind and in his deepest moments of sleep!

The young boy’s recurring nightmares show him running each
night deep into the darkness of the Forbidden Forest while both 
shouting and screaming his desire to see and to serve this foul
Demon of the Wild, while forsaking Almighty God in his thoughts!
This ghastly dream world each night is like morphine to his brain,
as this young boy suffers, feeling the chains of its merciless torment!

But this story of the boy is now 22 years ago as he’s progressed on
to manhood—driven to the very depths of depravity and insanity
as he witnesses nightly in his padded cell the evil actions of both
Ghouls and Ghosts who’d open up the graves of past rotting souls.
This insane young man now sings paeans with a fulsome alacrity
as he celebrates the shrill and haughty cry of the Devil’s Demon!

Does anyone really believe in happy fairy tales when Hell itself
corrupts the mind and spirit of the young and unsuspecting?

Does anyone believe a young fairy princess who kisses a frog
and says that the frog is now a dashing, noble prince?

Does anyone really understand and believe there are real monsters
who roam the maze of one’s mind crying now into a dark abyss,
while Goblins and Ghosts float freely robbing the living of breath?

The Dark Forbidden Forest of this evil lore does indeed exist, and
it lives freely in the dreams of young village children so frightened 
and terrified by the dark-demonic-visage of a bile-black-blooded 
Bogeyman who resurrects himself nightly in their true dreams of a 
sweet innocence in the place where scars are born every waking day,
as the lid of terror is lifted open, spewing legends and tales of the
macabre stealing the very life-force of heartbeats leading to Death! 

The local people of this legend in the village of Gpeth Tor speaketh 
freely of shrunken heads in large glass jars deep in the bowels of the
Forbidden Forest, where the threshold of pain and absolute madness
knows no bounds of moderation, and tortured beings and lost souls
cry out loudly as the Dark One takes his due while the broken bones
of those who remain are crossed—weighted so heavy like an anchor!

Invisible and evil forces at the Devil’s command have taken control
of the Forbidden Forest, where nasty beasts with a rabid blood thirst
for torture live in the very cells of the chained and forgotten souls who 
have lost their way to Almighty God and His Angels in Heaven above.

Grotesque stories still abound to the present time in this century of the
perverse and maledictory nature of this dark forest that borders so close
to the ancient village of Gpeth Tor—of what can happen to those who
dare to speak of the unspeakable, as Specters of the Undead feast upon 
the heartbeats of innocent victims until they are fully consumed, and
their souls are condemned to an unending damnation and agony!

It’s been so many years since I graced my presence again in this ancient
“Village of the Damned.” Mea Culpa! Forgive me! A difficult journey!
I’ve now lost my way into the light and to the holy path to God Himself.

Gpeth Tor and its people live on into this twenty-first century as it is.
The frightful memories and presence of the Forbidden Forest are real,
and are still devouring the very living thoughts and ideals of the young.
Many moons later the sacrilege of this reality still lurks and crawls now
beneath one’s own human flesh as the divine answers to “God’s Truth”
lay, locked far away in the depths of Lucifer’s Kingdom here on Earth!


Gary Bateman, Anne-Lise Andresen, and Liam McDaid
A Collaborated Poem, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
August 20, 2016 (Gary)
September 10, 2016 (Anne-Lise)

Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2016

Details | Narrative | |

The Demon's Shrill Cry of Dread and Horror

The Demon’s Shrill Cry of Dread and Horror

This tale of “The Demon’s Shrill Cry of Dread and Horror”
lives on in the mountain village of Gpeth Tor in the outlying 
region of the “Dark Forbidden Forest” known for evil, death,
and lost souls. This tale passeth from generation to generation,
to the present, and still frightens all people who hear its grim
message as it sends an icy-cold chill that stabs the heart of one’s
holy eternal soul!

A young boy who just turned six years heard this tale so told
by both of his parents who shivered with a great palpable fear.
Their story of the Devil’s Demon of the Dark Forbidden Forest
mesmerized this young lad, giving him gruesome nightmares,
whereby the Devil’s Demon whispers cruelly to him in the 
darkest corners of his mind and in his deepest moments of sleep!

The young boy’s recurring nightmares show him running each
night deep into the darkness of the Forbidden Forest while both 
shouting and screaming his desire to see and to serve this foul
Demon of the Wild, while forsaking Almighty God in his thoughts!
This ghastly dream world each night is like morphine to his brain,
as this young boy suffers, feeling the chains of its merciless torment!

But this story of the boy is now 22 years ago as he’s progressed on
to manhood—driven to the very depths of depravity and insanity
as he witnesses nightly in his padded cell the evil actions of both
Ghouls and Ghosts who’d open up the graves of past rotting souls.
This insane young man now sings paeans with a fulsome alacrity
as he celebrates the shrill and haughty cry of the Devil’s Demon!

Does anyone really believe in happy fairy tales when Hell itself
corrupts the mind and spirit of the young and unsuspecting?

Does anyone believe a young fairy princess who kisses a frog
and says that the frog is now a dashing, noble prince?

Does anyone really understand and believe there are real monsters
who roam the maze of one’s mind crying now into a dark abyss,
while Goblins and Ghosts float freely robbing the living of breath?

The Dark Forbidden Forest of this evil lore does indeed exist, and
it lives freely in the dreams of young village children so frightened 
and terrified by the dark-demonic-visage of a bile-black-blooded 
Bogeyman who resurrects himself nightly in their true dreams of a 
sweet innocence in the place where scars are born every waking day,
as the lid of terror is lifted open, spewing legends and tales of the
macabre stealing the very life-force of heartbeats leading to Death! 

The local people of this legend in the village of Gpeth Tor speaketh 
freely of shrunken heads in large glass jars deep in the bowels of the
Forbidden Forest, where the threshold of pain and absolute madness
knows no bounds of moderation, and tortured beings and lost souls
cry out loudly as the Dark One takes his due while the broken bones
of those who remain are crossed—weighted so heavy like an anchor!

Invisible and evil forces at the Devil’s command have taken control
of the Forbidden Forest, where nasty beasts with a rabid blood thirst
for torture live in the very cells of the chained and forgotten souls who 
have lost their way to Almighty God and His Angels in Heaven above.

Grotesque stories still abound to the present time in this century of the
perverse and maledictory nature of this dark forest that borders so close
to the ancient village of Gpeth Tor—of what can happen to those who
dare to speak of the unspeakable, as Specters of the Undead feast upon 
the heartbeats of innocent victims until they are fully consumed, and
their souls are condemned to an unending damnation and agony!

It’s been so many years since I graced my presence again in this ancient
“Village of the Damned.” Mea Culpa! Forgive me! A difficult journey!
I’ve now lost my way into the light and to the holy path to God Himself.

Gpeth Tor and its people live on into this twenty-first century as it is.
The frightful memories and presence of the Forbidden Forest are real,
and are still devouring the very living thoughts and ideals of the young.
Many moons later the sacrilege of this reality still lurks and crawls now
beneath one’s own human flesh as the divine answers to “God’s Truth”
lay, locked far away in the depths of Lucifer’s Kingdom here on Earth!

Gary Bateman, Anne-Lise Andresen, and Liam McDaid
A Collaborated Poem, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
August 20, 2016 (Narrative)

Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2016

Details | Dramatic monologue | |

Nightmare on Elm street

            "My college try at 'You're in a Horror film "


               something has taken over his spirit
                I do think I'll be his next ...

                The land line rings , I answer Hello ? a response with crackling voice.
               " Do you remember me , I am an old friend ? "

                Who is this ? I respond noticing the rain falling hard ..
                a sketchy voice response..

                I am here , can't you see me? 

                "is this a sick Joke ? as I grab a knife for protection"
                I'm calling the police ! This is Harassment ! 

                " The police are here ' ....'in a psychotic response 

                The lights go out , the lightning from the storm has
               hit a tree, I am scarred now, looking for all candles to light my way

                A loud Knock !  Again a knock , I  slam the phone down , fearfully
                 lock the door fast, yet trembling. It's as if someone is breathing 
                 a cold breath with a long finger nail running down my back ..
 
                Knock Knock again , I look out the peep hole, it is the police !
                 Opening the door , The Policeman says " We are checking to see
                 if you are Ok ? You need to let me in and stand behind me "

                  The policeman calls for backup to Elm Street .
                " Someone said they saw a tall man with a mask and knife enter
                 your basement , The storm has blown out the electricity, lines are down "
               
                Grabbing the cordless, I respond " someone just called , scarring me! "
              
               That is not possible , these lines have been down for hours , the person 
                 driving by called prescient on a cell. 
                             

                    I try to get a line and the phone is dead ....

                 The policeman is searching the home with a flashlight .
                  As he goes into the Kitchen I see a large knife in his Back shirt ,
                  Now he is laughing ..the phone rings ..

                 
                 
                         'you're in a Horror movie contest '      
                 
                

Copyright © Shanity Rain | Year Posted 2013

Details | Narrative | |

A Land Bearing Green White Green

Which way leads to the 
land of green white 
green?
Which way are we 
heading?
   A country the wicked 
bears the rulership, and 
the people sighing 
continuously.
   A terrible thing sprouts 
beneath the sun: a 
pregnant woman 
delivering not.
Imps come to lime-light 
by snuffing air from the 
goose that laid the 
golden eggs.
The blind guiding the un
blind.
The weak suppressing 
the strong-a terrible 
thing.
Like the overthrow of the 
gods at Mt. Olympus by 
the Titans.
A country where also 
thieves appear as men of 
integrity.
Land of green white 
green,which way?
A land where the 
enlightened ones are 
overshadowed and 
peanuts given to them.
The masses are dogs that 
eat the crumbs.
 Which way to go you 
Land?
Iliterates stand on 
podium of power 
bellowing orders as milk 
of sorrow known as 
dividends of democracy 
is passed around.
The machine of progress 
manned by the 
unproductive.
"There is better 
tomorrow" we hear.
Land of green white 
green,my country 
where rule of law walk 
beside anarchy.
The proles are sentenced 
to adversity,and there 
endured death-like trials.
Chai! Aru! People 
dancing on thorns 
whimpering as they 
throng 
along.
  I see a new sun rising 
from the horizon,hope is 
rekindled as its rays 
grace on hopeless bodies.
 Look!! there soon be 
change!



Note: 
This 
is 
poem 
full 
of 
Nigeria 
political
 angst.

Copyright © Ifeanyi Bob Ekechukwu | Year Posted 2013

Details | Prose | |

Just Jump - Frankenstein's Grand Finale - End of the Dear Frankenstein Saga

What happens when your only way out is so final, yet so beautiful?
When the only one you've got is your captor, your abuser?
When your chance at a legitimate escape is too far away, when you’ve just got to get away now?

 

I’ll tell you what happens:
You get a little crazy, a little careless.
You can’t remember all of the people who care for you, the ones who would miss you.
You get selfish.

 

You can’t see what causes it, so you can’t fix it… this dysfunction.
You know you can’t just change it, because you’re not the only one involved.

 

So… You run.
The first chance you get, you run.
But there’s no where to go.
You know they’ll come.
You know they’ll find you.
So, you run.
Just until you find a beautiful space.
It’s so beautiful, it might already be heaven.
You’ll find out soon.

 

It’s a beautiful cliff.
Maybe they’ll think you fell.
It doesn't matter.
Don’t leave a note;
Let them think what they will.

 

Jump.
Now’s your chance.
Hear them coming?
They’re closing in.
Quick!
Before they catch you.

 

This is your last chance to escape.
Jump.
It won’t hurt once you've hit the bottom.
It can’t be any worse than everyday.

 

Do it now,
Before there’s anymore pain.
Don’t start thinking.
They’ll get over you.
Move on without you.

 

Jump.
Before it’s too late again.
Just jump.
Nothing will ever hurt again.

 

Quick!
Do it quick!
Jump.
… Just Jump.

 

*This is the end of a tortured life.*

 

Turns out…

The bad guys win.

 …………

Copyright © Mistylove Lopez | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

Infinite Energy S

Get on your bike and get out of my face it smells of fish and oil on the beach this peachy day cape on my shoulders to fly away up with the seagulls I sh*t on your face Now that the body has been properly buried full of the scars from the wars do I carry I cannot believe you all find me scary I skip full of spirit for despite this I'm still merry For on this day God smiled on me gave me the sign to renew my belief and with his presence I shall achieve an eternal life filled by my infinite energy (S).

Copyright © Bj Fard | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme | |

Scary Moments

I felt the saddle’s movement;
I heard the horse’s snort;
Around my neck I felt the rope
Of my weight to soon support

Underneath a giant oak
I sat upon my steed
As I awaited punishment
For some malignant deed

I heard the creaking of the hemp
Against an oaken limb
‘T is Hell would I soon visit
… I was sitting on its’ rim.

I looked down, and all about:
Oaken acorns on the ground!
I urged to pick them up …
But … both my hands were bound.

My thoughts were all distorted
My vision was a blur
I tried so hard to scream
But … my words were just a slur

I felt the rope go taut -
Someone slapped my horses’ rump …
I heard the snapping of my neck
And felt the jerk and bump!

Suddenly I was screaming
Sitting upright in my bed
Sweat was pouring off me
I was sure that I was dead!

Slowly did I realize
The nightmare had been a dream
All was calm and normal
… not at all like it had seemed.

Back down on my pillow
I lay my sweaty head
Smiling unto myself …
I was glad I wasn’t dead.

I felt something on my pillow
 … in the dim light did I stare …
Horror rushed back into me:
‘T was an acorn lying there!
5/17/2014

Copyright © Jack Clark | Year Posted 2014

Details | Epic | |

Lost ones

All these people
so deeply lost in their minds
Where?
In the universe,
could you ever find
Something so destructive,
yet so deeply and truly divine

We are in this transcendental place outside
Its where we all hide
We are all trying to find a place where we will forever reside
We are just playing
No need to get a fright
We are all really, 
just very high...
 
Dancing,
Chasing the night
Flying through never ending time
Searching in the darkness,
for a trace of light
The heavenly skies...

No need to cry
They just want you to die
So that they can forever,
and never, say goodbye

Goodbye
Aim high
The heavens behold 
An unremarkable sight

There is a battle, a never ending fight
in our minds
Kiss the sky
Where the angel birds fly

Hermes takes over the night
To give our children a fright
He calls upon the darkness in our eyes
He sucks out our spirits love supply
Hermes, why?
Do we either love or hate inside?
Are we just tempting fate?
We don't know where to hide...

Bring back the light of day
While darkness slowly fades away
to the rhythm of love
we sway today.



Copyright © Dani Elle | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

Take Me

They played reverse psychology with his mind He felt so stupid Like everything he had ever believed was a lie The auras are bad, we continued to say They are not good Test the spirits…test the spirits He went haywire He pushed away How could we blame him? His body was not his own Come to grips, we told him The doctors don’t understand But still we must not jump to conclusions You are strong; you have God The upper hand If I lift this bed will you think otherwise? Lift the entire world and I will see nothing of you You are nobody compared to him in my eyes Your wonders are for wonderment alone You wander and then you stay You prey prey prey Those that prey desire nourishment Those who prey lack strength And to grab onto the youngest Mistaking him for stupid and weak That is below everything unworthy That is just pathetic Whatever you are You are not him And surely not worthy of a line of acknowledgement You hurt my closest friend And it is on You will be the reason The fire of my claws flare You will be the very thing I will devour It preyed on his innocence It made itself his friend Acting the hero Burning him to nothing in the end Come to grips, we said No more writing No more imagination The auras are not good He is not good! Laura is not good! Life life life is not good! You prey on a sick, young boy You are messing with a demon like me! I will tear you to shreds for the next flaw you set fire to! Believe me I will hide more under the timbers And I will crawl out Spewing perversity and hate And drag you in with me True colors will surround you I realize you have the power To kill my loved one I stake alone I hand the burning torch to you And with fire surrounding me I spit and hiss Take me Take me instead I know you want all And all live in me You cannot turn down my offer Become me And I will destroy me

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

Don't Try It

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.

Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013

Details | Epic | |

Betch Please, Really

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?

Copyright © Bj Fard | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

I lay sleeping

I lay sleeping with eyes wide open,
I lay sleeping with dreams that have no meaning,
I lay sleeping with nothing to dream about.
I lay sleeping with no care and sleep with eyes blind,
I lay sleeping, there with my eyes wide open.

Seeing the dark change from dark to black.
There is no moon, there is no sky
just purple strokes of paint in the sky.
Take that morning dew smell and close your blind eyes.
Smell the morning, that smell that clicks in your mind.
The smell of childhood dreams,
that as an adult never came true.
Sleeping bare in the nude with your eyes wide open.
Thinking of her, as she is five thousand miles away from you.
Wanting to love and hold her, but no use in crying.
Sleeping their with blind eyes in the dark that dances in the light.

Your lamplight turned down low,
as life trickeles down in its nightgown and yawns for sweet slumber.
Tired from longs days, and sometimes long nights,
wanting to curel in bed and close its blind eyes.
Dusk will soon peek its head through the blinds
and awake life to a new dawn.
She sleeps in the morning, and walks at night.
When he sleeps at night, and walks with a bare nude heart in the morning.

Life climbs over yellow mountains,
and meets her fellow compainion
a handsome fellow with broud shoulders and blessed with an ego
as I sleep there with my eyes wide open.
As I sleep with my eyes blind to what life has intented for me,
and as I raise to walk the lone streets at the break of the dew covered lawn
at the first sweet smells of dawn,
I can see life go on with the handsome man
and I blind and wanting to go to bed.

I dream of dreams that have no meaning
Gardens of cluelessness and raging emotions
tare me down and I am confused on which way to go.
Do I stay here and dream away, blind and half awake
as life slaps me across my broad cheek?
Or shall I walk on with life hand and hand
and regain my vision of the world,
Start to sleep with dreams that make sense
and dreams that are made of gold and have no end?
Dream of fancy dreams that show love and happy endings
I would love that, and I would love to walk with life,
but she is out of my leauge.

And my bed is so cozy and I feel like sleeping.
So I shall sleep on more restless night chashing life down.
I lay sleeping with my eyes wide open.
I lay sleeping with dreams that have no meaning.
I lay sleeping waiting for life to come back from the mountains
and lay beside me.
I lay sleeping with hope of regaining hope and salvage
what is left of my spirit at hand.

Copyright © Chris Boskovski | Year Posted 2013

Details | ABC | |

A Bad Dream

A dream, bad from every nook
In front of my eyes, so painful.
Eyes of mine being tearful
And petrified of the remembrance, I looked.

Deep down somewhere inside the heart
Lies a monotonous melancholy,
Lording slowly, speaking distinctly
Of the ones, moving willingly or unwillingly, apart.

The awful reverberation of the pains,
The anomalous silence of the lips
Makes no good to the victims’ deeps
But to menace the already-made stains.

Love and affection, nothing but an illusion,
Drive the youths, sometimes, into a circle so vicious
Making them, gradually, sub-conscious
Of the foredooming situation.

The hazardous ambiance of betrayal,
So treacherous, so obnoxious
Makes us so ferocious
To trust in one being more than loyal.

Women and even small girls 
Practicing and participating in prostitution
Though a taboo to the sophisticated civilization,
For a mouthful forget their morals.

Jobless the students are, so hopeless
Leave no reason for education.
Depressed to the manhole of frustration
Question their independence.

The merciless slaughtering of people
And of the innocent newborns, so cruel
The carnivorous minds inside, that dwell
Are they better than animal?

The miring sins, all around
A sinister awaits the weak,
Till this insatiable appetite of Politics
Forever will be sound.

For us, the same
Day or Night, it is.
Our conscience to protest it is
Upon which, hovers the clouds of shame.

Forcing us to do what we should not
In the name of God, either,
Or by reasons of fear,
Hurts our life and existence, a lot.

To the bloodthirsty vampires,
Stop these barbaric games
Of pretending to hold your false fame
Leading to your catastrophic massacre.

For a year or two, if these pursue, I fear,
Ruthlessly skinning and ripping the society
For the highest worldly possession, money
End of the world is not too far, my dears.

Copyright © Nilanjan Ghosal | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

A Dystopian Dream

"A Dystopian Dream"

Cursed rays of Sun
tease skybound smog
and evoke
the crimson gleam
of aged rust.

Witnesses of our carnal sin
play a mournful symphony.

Wreckage, dirt and junk
replaced its percussion,
the decrescendo scream
of disfigured death
silenced a hundred violins.

The final melody
is but a fragment
of a stale record.

Oh horror!
I eat the madness
and it nourishes me
with nectars of reality!

Turn back now
and escape my fate,
or stay and admire
beautiful decadence.

~ Nino Kadic

Copyright © Nino Kadic | Year Posted 2015

Details | Rhyme | |

Goodnight

Is life worth a try?
Would I be living a lie?
If I smile, would it break?
If I laugh, would it be fake?
I see the tears from the sky and me
See how self doubting I can be
The feeling of damp grass
The moment that's bound to last
The ways I could wash away
All the people who have gone astray 
Is it me to blame?
When can my feelings be tame?
Why is this world so dark?
When can I actually make a mark?
The tears all fall down
Ive been given a permanent frown 
Standing out is not a choice
Cant risk screaming with my voice
The sky is now dark blue
How many insults were true?
I wish I could be pure
They all hate me, I'm sure 
All eyes watch me every move
So much that i want to prove
why do i still put up a fight?
Why shouldn't i just say goodnight?
i don't have anyone to miss
could death give me a dark ending kiss?
Is there a reason for me to be here?
I all i can feel is numbing fear
I just want to feel the sun shine
To feel happiness throughout my spine
But that is just a dream
That will float away with my desperate scream
Help is the word i always say
I ask for it everyday
And what do i get?
I pile full of regret
I think it's time
To end my faith, my suffering, my rhyme

Copyright © LIfe Taken The Wrong Way | Year Posted 2013

Details | Sonnet | |

Dare I, Own Up And Confess

Dare I, Own Up And Confess


Whispering shadows floating in the dark
Sound of laments ringing in their wake
Biting with wicked teeth so like a shark
seeking one lost and lonely soul to take!

Alarm clock wakes me from such a dream
yet bloodstains are at foot of the bed
How silly! All was not as it did seem
nightmares rage inside my old, aching head!

Rising to race quickly to the cold shower
stepped in a slippery,soft and warm mess
Blood on my feet, shows dreams have power
now the police demand I own up and confess!

Waking! My ankles shackled to these bars
Got a feeling,this dream going to leave scars!


Robert J. Lindley. 08-15-2015

Note. A dark sonnet for a change.

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2015

Details | ABC | |

the beast and me

There's fire in my lungs.
smoke flows through my veins.
I feed the beast my soul
to gain euphoric pain.
I serve he who lives in me.
The monster in my mind.
The creature so abusive,
at times can be so kind.
In my mental hell,
I sit beside his throne.
I tend to his desire,
so I don't have to be alone.
Here He is my god.
And I, in turn, am his.
A symbiotic worship,
sealed within a kiss.
Sulfuric fumes consume us,
as we dance into the ether.
The hands of god are ours.
Hes made me a believer.
My halo, so very worn.
His horns, so alluring.
Hand in hand we walk,
love and hate enduring.
His guidance lifts me higher
than any drug could try.
His chains hold me down.
bound wings can not fly.
Walking straight and tall,
crawling on my floor.
I am his moonlit goddess.
And his filthy whore.
I wont break his binds.
I wish not, to be free.
I can never escape him,
for this beast is me.

Copyright © JoAnna Mitchell | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

Never So Gracious

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 of familiarity 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.

Copyright © Bj Fard | Year Posted 2013

Details | Epic | |

Introduction

hello my friend, stranger walk by,
borrow a moment, spare me your lie,
through pen of the narrow and mist of an eye,
below absolute zero, someone will die;
sentence to rambler, apple hereby,
flute of the meadow, mandrake will cry,
in front of the riddler second might try,
get out of here mortal,
exit near by-e.

angry as he strike out his pen,
get out of here demon, get out of this den,
in thousands of years how long has it been,
when scriptures wear sandals;
on meadow you land, many bear seasons,
stakes shall bend, lantern still burning,
your letter is send.

Copyright © Miche Ulman | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme | |

The Evil Queen

Strangers:
I feel as though she may never change,
Never give good a chance.
I feel as though we play a game?
One I've played in the past. 

Friends:
I swear her eyes tell me no lies,
I think they all are wrong.
Yes, if she feigns at least a try...
Behind her I'll stay strong. 

Family:
Until the day she overcomes,
Her past and her evil deeds,
I'm patiently standing all alone,
And often she'll stand with me. 

Copyright © Faire Lucas | Year Posted 2013

Details | Dramatic Verse | |

PAST OF HORROR


I wake up with another tear for I have again, relived the nightmare will it ever leave me with any way to see when will I again be able to see my family the past is forgiven so why is it still living my heart was so broken but soon after it was frozen let it lie and the past die for I have a life to live with but the past is still being relived how do I stop this past of torture so I can find my new future

Copyright © Denise Hopkins | Year Posted 2013

Details | Diamante | |

Dream Like

                  Dreams
             Whimsical,Magic
         Perfected,Lived,Lying
       People's perception on life
        Mirage,Complex,Unfair
            Realizing,Wicked
                 Reality

Copyright © hannah gold | Year Posted 2015

Details | Terza Rima | |

Journey Into Tomorrow's Dreams

Every stride I made yesterday gave its ripe fruit,
I vowed to do better and I still thrive;
whoever seeks glory must have a true pursuit!

No milestones can be snatched by time that never returns,
too much faith and effort I put into them;
let none flow in the wildest river that overflows and erodes!

When your search ends, your eagerness for more dies,
let hunger be that force greater than yourself;
life doesn't confine you to any boundary, climb walls!

The weaker ones give up too soon, the stronger always prevail;
their mark of excellence stands like a fortress
never conquered, but some like to burn it with the fire of Hell.

I am the victorious heart which thwarted possible defeats,
invigorated by courage and desire to win;
I intend to continue this journey into tomorrow's dreams!


Written on 1/ 8/ 2016 

Copyright © Andrew Crisci | Year Posted 2016

Details | Lyric | |

Pledge Not The Allegiance

It's the third verse,
I got the urge to purge
All the curt words I've splurged,
I've submerged in sin,
I'll go to church repent,
Then go curse again,
Lets reverse this trend
We nurse tolerance,
When it might offend,
If I white wash my fence,
So try to not get tense,
When I do not defend, 
Those who chose to be dense
And not use their two cents,
To show kids the reverence,
For the pledge of allegiance.

Copyright © Mike Conway | Year Posted 2013

Details | Narrative | |

THE VISITOR

Eleven years has already passed.
The moon was shining brightly that night.
So far but I can still recall.--
I sat down in the window pane,reading my favorite magazine.
Then my eyes got tired and laid down myself in bed,
Leaving the window open to let the wind passed in.
Soon I fall asleep, very deep and dream occured.
I was standing in front of  the window.
The night is high,then an image of a guy appeared in my front.
I tried to close the window but I have no strength to moved my hands.
I tried to shout,aloud but no one could hear me...
And the clock started to rotate in full speed.,,
Little by little I grasp  a thin air, Im suffocated!
I screamed! No voice can filled my room.
Then darkness envaded my world...
I closed my eyes and told myself,"I was just dreaming."
Deep sigh, I prayed and called for His name...
And a tiny light came out in a  horizon.
It's done...I woke up in a horrible nightmare.
I opened my eyes and stunned to what I see.
The image of a man was right in front of me!
He was so near...an incubus watching over me.
I was frightened...and stared at him...deep sigh I whispered.
"It ain't real...I was just dreaming."
I left the bed  hotheadedly to lit the room.
But the button couldn't switched the light on.
I rushed to open the door and escape from the darkness.
When I reached the living room and calmed myself a bit.
I looked back to my room and the light was already on.
There I whispered..."my dream was over."
Not yet until he visited my daughter in her dream.

Copyright © Aiyah de Torres | Year Posted 2013

Details | Epic | |

The Settlement of the Four Ligures

The stones slipped through the great fingertips of God
Each ligure staked its existence on the four corners of the universe
The quadrivial region began to spin and pull into a sphere
And pathways revealed their footholds 

The fourth ligure bravely landed in the midst of history
So that one day the future settlement of the second 
Would be moved by the last—by the past
Suffering much it stayed
Manifesting in incandescent words
Thrusting evanescence upon the weak
Selfless, it's sorrow would move the merriest
Would move the unmovable

The third lies in the profound valley of mystical guardians
Star-recruited, they are the very light above the canvas of gray
They embrace the stone—are inspired by the stone  
The very reflection of their creator was evident
Upon their unremitting glimmers
Unafraid to stare the others down
Motivated and construed by the glower of death
Eyes move fixedly beyond the simple vast

The second ligure rested upon the shoulders of invisible martyrs 
The hopeful power it planted on the sufferers was unbelievable
For spectators used their disbelief to cover their ever-placed envy
They never were part of the battle—they merely watched
Always seeing truth
But they never quite absorbed
Like a rock hitting the water
The inevitable fate was to fly and sink

The first of the ligures settled in the very reservoir of Satan himself
Even the very heart of the devil is marked
Though rebellion embarked  
The cold stone landed upon his naked bosom
He despaired not to the pericopal truth the gods had bestowed upon him
He merely despised it
But wished not to lose it
For such a stone to fall upon that dark corner—he felt pride for the gracious wound

In truth, there are twelve ligures of stone 
And four were dispersed, dropped into the universe
The last eight the great Eternal wears upon his breastplate 
And only He can re-move these ligures

-July 20, 2013-
-For Shadow Himilton's Any Subject Contest-
-Thanks for the inspiration-

Copyright © Laura Breidenthal | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme | |

Take My Hand

10:30 p.m. I was off to bed
One last drink before I lay my head
Then I heard a voice and got up to see
There was the Lord looking back at me

The Lord said—“Take my hand my son and I shall take you to Heaven...
And I’ll have you back in bed before eleven.”
So I took His hand and off we flew
Like a bolt of lightning to meet Heavens crew

There we were standing by His Throne
He embraced me with His brilliance and welcomed me home
The Angels were hovering while singing their song
As they whispered to me “This is where you belong”

I then fell to my knees and began to cry
As the Lord revealed His Heavenly sky
The Lord said—“Get up my son there is so much more to see”
And then the Angels sang to Him “Glory Be to Thee”

I was so mesmerized by His Love and Light
Visiting Heaven was such a Majestic sight
The Lord said—“I shall now take you back...
But before we do...” everything now turned to black

The Lord said—“Now my son I shall take you to Hell...
So you may bare witness to where demons dwell...
Be not afraid my son, have no fright 
For you are protected by my inner light”

So down we go as we approach the Hellish gates
The demons scatter abound but the dark one awaits
We are now in the catacombs of Hell
Where Satan commands your soul to sell...

So now the Lord took me back before eleven
I fell asleep and woke up at seven
In the morning I struggle, was it just a dream?
Even so, I shall always remember what I have seen.


Feb.22.2016   ^WW^

Copyright © Winged Warrior | Year Posted 2016

Details | Senryu | |

Ice King

 Ice that will freeze the heart
shaking icy mountains
roaring like a lion does
thunder echoes around
with ice in hands body turns to stiff
heart faints weaker
Tears fall of cold imprinted on face
beneath his mask lips of lavender 
face as white as a ghost
Fatigue of a warrior 
ice blades that cut razor sharp
heart turned to blue
from harsh torture of his endless soul
among the most powerful 
the king of winters
with ice of bone he conquers all

By

Brian Otoole .......

Poem for  ((skat-oz ICE KING Contest))
08-05-13

(((I held an ice cube today in my palm for almost 15mins in my room with full ac power on held it tightly and after palm froze stiff I imagined the pain of dieing by ice)))
 so I took sub zero picture you posted and it inspired me way more to write this poem for your ice king contest and feel to pain of the ice and cold in palm and in my room.im still very cold now even after this poem 


Copyright © Brian Otoole | Year Posted 2013

Details | ABC | |

A Speechless Night

My nightmares hold me down
And take away my voice 
I try and try to yell
It's someone from hell
He floats around me late at night
And holds me down with all his might
Waits for me to fall into that state of mind
State of mind where I'm asleep
But hear and see and feel it all
My parents are who I try to call
Petrified to fall
To fall into this state of mind
Where I have no control 
When the devil grasps my soul
A time he can conquer my mind and body

Copyright © Alyssa Marie | Year Posted 2013