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Bo Vigoren Poem
He cried when he was happy,
He cried while he was sad,
He cried when he felt nothing,
He cried while he was mad.
He cried when he saw laughter,
He cried when he saw tears,
He cried when he saw someone
Aged beyond their years.
He cried when he would walk home
From Work every day.
He cried when he had free time,
So he drank it away.
He cried when he was loving,
He also cried alone.
He cried looking in eyes
That, for him, only shone.
He cried out of sorrow,
Empathy, and love.
He cried for the scarecrows
And the pure white doves.
He cried into the night,
And throughout the day.
He cried when he was right,
And knew what to say.
He cried out of reason,
Philosophy, and pain.
He cried himself to madness,
Just from being sane.
Copyright © Bo Vigoren | Year Posted 2017
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Bo Vigoren Poem
Infinitely I long for
Someone to write a song for.
Dismally I claim to be
Content with being lonely.
Pitifully I fake my glee
While my sorrow wallows slyly.
Regretfully the truth is:
I think I have lost my bliss.
But how, I pray, does one retrieve,
Thoughts they now cannot believe?
How can I regain my joy,
If my heart is not employed?
How can I avoid the noose
If I've lost my only muse?
Copyright © Bo Vigoren | Year Posted 2016
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Bo Vigoren Poem
The hardest hearts fall apart still beating.
They say it starts growing dark once bleeding-
Only the strong can move on once broken,
But I deplore, there is more unspoken.
Even the mighty still have their moments,
Weakened by the strong heart's true torment:
A brand new face that radiates sheer lust,
Can weaken knees, with meakened pleas from us,
Can slyly silence the loudest creatures,
Can finely brighten the shrouded features
Of a, once happy, humans' love filled eyes,
And completely rescue them from demise.
So, perhaps love isn't just for the strong,
Perhaps, It's what gave us strength all along.
Copyright © Bo Vigoren | Year Posted 2017
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Bo Vigoren Poem
Trust Issues
Lovers trust,
While devils lust,
But it's so serpently,
The way you hiss,
In a choked up bliss,
As you slither away from me.
You're left with no eyes,
Left with no tongue,
Left with no legs,
With which to run.
One more slice,
Your movements entice,
One more slit,
And a ruby-red drip.
You're left with no arms,
Left with no ears,
Trapped in your mind,
A prison of fear.
No more regrets,
No more lies,
One last kiss,
To this world goodbye,
Your sanity drips,
From your fingertips,
You give into sleep,
Your soul, mine to keep.
Every breath you take,
I let you take,
And your breathing is in key,
With the strings I pull,
your eyes go dull,
As you pass, so peacefully.
And now this curse is mine,
I can't stop,
because it's so divine.
I seek blood,
and all the flesh I see,
Is just a playground,
for every fantasy.
I wreak havoc,
and I lust for death,
The smell of her skin,
still on my breath.
And when the morning,
Finally arrives,
I'll quench my thirst,
with unsuspecting lives.
Copyright © Bo Vigoren | Year Posted 2016
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Bo Vigoren Poem
Drifting softly, off to sleep,
I've taken life, but yours I'll keep/
I take from those, who don't deserve/
But your beauty, must be preserved/
You'll never die, I promise you/
The life you had, is all you'll lose/
A painting even loses shade/
But Your skin will never gray/
Soon you'll open, those blue eyes/
That put shame to cloudless skies/
You'll try to open your soft lips/
From which no sound escapes or slips/
You'll feel the stitches as they pull/
At your sixty new lip-holes/
I promise your pain won't last long/
Try to relax, and hum this song/
Hush now child, try not to cry/
Mother's gonna wipe your teary eyes/
If this is our last goodbye/
Look for me until you die/
I make my victims hum this song/
So I can cry and sing along/
I dry my eyes with each one's flesh/
But mother really did best/
She taught me how to do these things/
To save their faces with these strings/
She said they wouldn't look like her,
Not at first, don't be deterred/
once I'm through, I'll see her then/
Never if, but only when/
Painting makeup on their skin/
Show me where my mother's been/
I stitch their lips unless their noise,
Reminds me of my mother's voice/
If they're lucky and willing,
I let them have a chance to sing/
Hush now child, try not to cry/
Mother's gonna wipe your teary eyes/
If this is our last goodbye/
Look for me until you die/
It's been so many drawn out years,
With no mother to dry my tears/
I reminisce the bodies sprawled,
All throughout my bedroom halls/
And now my moms' image is scrawled/
Across my four white prison walls/
I kill another every night/
Inside My schizophrenic mind/
Copyright © Bo Vigoren | Year Posted 2016
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Bo Vigoren Poem
I keep dreaming I wake to texts from you.
It's so strange, normally my dreams come true.
Now I can't tell whether they are nightmares,
Because those night terrors just don't fight fair.
I keep dreaming I wake to your picture,
That morning face you make is a scripture.
The real thing is better than my dreams,
A perfect smile and it always gleams.
But when I wake to familiar blank screens,
It's so hard to figure out what it means.
living vicariously through my dreams,
Because life is much better than it seems.
Dreams about your kisses, air in my lungs,
But I've been drowning, trying to get one.
I dream of a future, where I can breathe,
Head above water, monsters off my feet.
Would you swim beside, and keep me afloat?
I've been drowning calm, and painfully slow.
Copyright © Bo Vigoren | Year Posted 2016
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Bo Vigoren Poem
Shivering in numbing pain,
Every night ends the same,
Clinging to the jagged parts,
Of my lonely, broken heart.
Though their edges cut my hands,
I piece them back as best I can.
For it may take a heart break,
To shape a heart to it's best make,
And if it stands the test of time,
Perhaps someone will want mine.
No one sees how my heart sings,
No one knows my deepest fears.
Nobody has eyes like me,
Or ever offers to hear.
Searching for a way to cure,
The emptiness that I endure.
Reaching out to anyone,
open arms are next to none.
They don't see my intentions,
They see my imperfections.
what wets my eye every time,
They all want love, only not mine.
I have such romance to release,
Why is it every night I freeze?
No one sees how my heart pleads,
No one knows my deepest fears.
Nobody has eyes like me,
Or ever offers to hear.
Yesterday when I reached out,
Again I found I was let down.
Each and every passerby,
Barely bats their wondering eye.
Then they stroll as quickly by
As they can, and I know why;
My heart lives upon my sleeve,
And darkens every time I grieve.
No one wants it once it's black,
But I need you to bring it back.
No one sees how my heart grieves,
No one knows my deepest fears.
Everybody always leaves,
Me alone, shivering here.
Copyright © Bo Vigoren | Year Posted 2016
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Bo Vigoren Poem
There was once a widow who had nothing but her beloved twin babies, Rosemary, and Ethan. The Widow loved her twins more than the Earth loved the Sun, and vowed to give them anything they desired, so as to make up for them growing up without a father.
As soon as they started breastfeeding she began experimenting with what the children prefered to ingest: After herself eating sugary things, it seemed the babies would suckle her breasts more vigorously than after she ate salty, spicy, savory, or any other flavor. So the ever-caring, ever-loving mother started feeding herself nothing but sugary sweets. "Nothing but the best for my little angels! Yummy yummy, In the tummy!!"
By the twins' first birthday, they were terribly malnourished. They had sinewy, frail arms, and bloated tummies. Their skin was the color and texture of a faded tan leather couch; Deep, dark, sunken in eyes left them In all respects looking like a miniature version of what you'd expect to be inside the wrappings of a mummy. Their mother's teeth had nearly all turned black with decay, aside from the few that went missing. When she smiled at her perfect little darlings, they would often cry and/or turn away, in which case she would respond with nurture and more sugar "Yummy, yummy, in the tummy!!"
When the little ones teeth came in, they looked like small chips of peanut brittle. "Oooooh!" The mother exasperated. "Peanut brittle! More sweets for my little sweethearts! Yummy yummy, in the tummy!". She let them chew and gnaw on her nipples until they were so raw and swollen she could no longer secrete milk, forcing her to wait a few days to heal(at which time the babies cried so much that she was forced to give them regular milk with added sugar).
Once her nipples healed, she pumped her breastmilk into bottles, and would add copious amounts of sugar. Now she didn't have to ingest the sugar herself to please her innocent little gems (which was good because she was in admittedly poor health, Unlike she would have even noticed). After about Eighteen months, Rosemary and Ethan were crying more often, so the widow fed them stronger doses of sugar in their milk, to keep her little treasures happy.
She no longer slept, due to the consistency of their cries. She only wanted to please her perfect angels..
The twins no longer had teeth, just small black stumps lining their pink
little gums like a row of raisins shoved into some silly putty.
She had been trying to teach them how to say "mummy" or "mum" since the day they were born, but only recently had they been forming vowels, or decipherable sounds in general, crying: "umm" and "ummyy". The widow believed they were on track to vocally claiming their cherished mother, as they
cried "umm" and "ummy" until one day when they were almost two, with hardly moving, frail arms, clutching their stomachs while their agonized faces twisted sickly lips into whispered cries of the only word they knew: "Tum... tummy. "
The mother, of course took this as a cry for more sugar. "They must need more sugar, that will most certainly stop the crying" she let herself believe.. So, in an act of desperation, the widow cut open their bellies ever so gently, and poured all the rest of her sugar into her perfect little twins. The widow smiled an Onyx grin of devilish relief as the children's cries finally ceased, and she drifted off to sleep.
Copyright © Bo Vigoren | Year Posted 2017
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Bo Vigoren Poem
A frail woman walking home,
Quickly finds she's not alone.
A shudder ruptures her old bones,
As she falls to cobblestone.
Two young men without a home,
Quickly find they're not alone.
They spot an elder with a purse,
Then take the places they've rehearsed.
They duct taped her mouth and feet,
Then drug her out of the street.
They took the poor woman's cane,
Snapped it, and stabbed both her legs.
As she tried to scream and plead,
The men just laughed at their mad deed.
Then said what she'd learn to heed
"God won't clot your veins, just bleed."
Choking on her screams and tears,
Thankful that she'd faced her fears,
She clawed at her coat in dismay,
Frantically for her pepper spray.
She realized, in an instant,
She had no idea where it went.
She looked up and kicked her feet,
When her spray and eyes did meet.
Those young men had snatched it from her,
Before they'd begun their plunder.
Then she heard the sound of thunder,
As they both wound up and punched her.
Trying, but she can't nod off still,
They poured the mace down her nostrils.
Drowning now and feeling dire,
Searing screams from liquid fire.
They made her drink mercilessly,
Disregarding the gurgling.
Then shoved their dirty fingers down,
Her throat until vomit abound
Had started piling around,
And she regained her sense of sound.
She couldn't see, but heard their voices,
Contemplating all their choices.
"It comes down to two" one said,
We have fun, or leave her dead.
So They took her eyes and tongue,
And Kicked her teeth, leaving none.
They cut off every finger,
So her story only lingered,
In her head, those two so deft,
Her thoughts were all that they left.
Copyright © Bo Vigoren | Year Posted 2016
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Bo Vigoren Poem
I make my way to the cemetery,
They won't look for me where I was buried.
I lay my love down to die beside me,
The ghosts they graze but demons guide me.
I look to my lord, just beneath my feet,
His victory lies, in life so sweet.
The only promise that I've ever known,
A world where I am free to live and grow.
The only promise that can be kept,
My life is mine and I won't lose it yet.
I am a monster,
'Cause I look dead to them,
The stitched together image of a hundred men.
I am a monster,
That's what they say I am,
They see these dead pieces,
And someone else's hands
I am a monster.
I make my way through the tombs that made me,
Below those who won't help but hate me.
It's been so long I've been running from them,
I tried so hard but they don't comprehend.
So if a monster's what they want,
I guess that's what I'll give them.
No games,
No gimmicks,
Real death,
Eating your infants.
You've been blessed,
With what you're given,
So I'll take,
You're right to heaven.
I can't die,
I am forsaken,
My senses,
Have been awakened.
All the life,
That I have taken,
Makes me strong,
But not complacent.
I am a monster,
At least I know what I am.
The life I have been given,
Isn't without demands.
I am a monster,
See me for what I am.
The clear spitting image, of your lord so be damned.
Now I will conquer,
Every last living man,
My army of undead is soon to stand,
And all the monsters,
Across the land will span.
My legion will rip flesh,
From God's precious humans.
'Cause we are monsters,
And his children will burn.
Signing up for hell,
And they wait their turn,
Because they're monsters,
And they March on command.
They'll swim the lake of fire,
While dreaming of land.
Cause we are monsters,
Innocent blood on our hands.
We're not asking for forgiveness,
We are taking a stand,
As human monsters.
Awaiting your command.
Shall we kill the unholy,
Or should we be damned?
For being monsters.
Copyright © Bo Vigoren | Year Posted 2016
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