Best Cruel Poems
My mind is a puzzle of cryptic metaphors.
whilst searching for my sanity,
I've become my own worst enemy.
In this cauldron of despair,
time is like sand in my hand -
an oxymoron poetic
paradox of cruel compassion.
Sadistic green eyes bring my demise,
as my sighs are captured by the wind,
slowly morphed into madness and travesty.
I sit alone on the throne of midnight illusions,
cursed by dark imaginations
lingering like mouldy air,
as vivid flashing images
engrave inkstained imprints.
Dripping lament from a
palette of black and white,
colouring in the emptiness of my sensitive soul.
In echoing whispers of weeping violins,
whimsical vibratos from wooden wind-chimes,
steadily orchestrate instrumental sonatas,
ringing through my strained metallic heart,
whilst I try to strum strangled strings,
harmonizing an inconsistent symphony of a tragedy.
Fate has me stranded within a monotonous loop of uncertainties,
for when twilight’s last breath piercingly eclipsed over
lyrical edges of my insomniac shadow,
it awoke restless beasts of nocturnal nights -
in nightmares I wondered does no one hear my screams?
i can see dazzling dusts of black diamonds,
drizzle manuscripts of maniac irony
translating dialects hidden behind unshed tears
that gleam like shooting stars,
as i sing mystical moonbeams,
sewn with silver sequins of euphonious memories on refrain,
chorused from nameless tunes of timeless tomorrows,
as the magic of the maestro,
residing in the highest bridge of sanguine skies,
guides these electric fears, trapped between
synchronized layers of my unsettled skin.
I'm tired from intangible tears in the mirror,
slowly sinking me in swirls of sorrow,
like a bruised creature
seeking shelter in a silk cocoon,
so this aurora's smile is no longer a masquerade.
I hunger for rays of sunlight to paint my skin
in a plethora of pastels,
so this golden bronze queen,
can once again glitter
in a crown of illuminating heartbeats.
A black stone with diamonds inside
She shines but you would never know
They hit her but she never falls
They whip her but she never breaks
Speed in her step even though they try to slow her down
Make her fail, just so that they can beat her down
Again and again
But they never get the chance
They tell her she's property
Meant to be owned
Planting plants that their too lazy to grow
In their eyes she's just a cotton-picker
But she knows better than to believe their foolish words
Black as night
But bright as a star
Hard as a diamond
Hard to break
Locked in a concrete box
That's hard to take!
She writes with passion
In the shadows
Hidden from her captures
Writing the truth of her sufferings
Sometimes writing away the reality of her captivity
White clouds surrounding her
Caving in
Watching her every move
So clear but so dark and evil at the same time
She barely wants to move
But she doesn't have a choice
She writes with her heart
Not with her head
Writing is her release
Reading is her consumption
Breathing out then slowly inhaling each and every word
Falling deeper into someone else’s life and wishing it was her own
That’s why she started writing
To create a new reality for herself
Envisioning a world of peace
Released from the cage that she has been confined to
But the cruel world that she has been cursed with by God
Creeps its way up to her neck
Taking hold of any freedom that she had created for herself
In those so few minutes alone
Pulling her from her slumber
Stripping her of her innocents
Marking her with fire
Crippling her into ashes
Making her realize that there is no way out of this alive
She can only pray for that last day to come sooner
The morning sun taking her out of her trans, making her sufferings all the more relevant
Silent shadows whisper wicked rumors from tawny tinted tents
Reflecting rueful random thoughts, such are their laments
Circus kingdom cast offs disappear for no fault of their own
If only you knew, the stunt star’s stunning and raving review
Perilous pyrotechnic cruelly disfigures, and if only you knew
Dark duplicate shapes of onyx outlines, two damaged lives
Repellant is he, a vibrant visible resilient soul is she who thrives
Redeemed restored! Residing in each other’s passionate thunder
Unscrupulous undertones shan’t ever tear their love asunder!
You know what I mean...
Sequestered away from prying eyes of light they remain inside
Alas all alone, as in The Phantom Of The Opera they hide
Yet, shimmering silhouettes seen against the dimming sky
What witnesses the galactic guardian stars cannot deny
They say beauty can never be found in the dark,
I’ve heard this from an empress ere she was ready to embark
upon a ship shouting, sheets rife with words written about her love
No not notes of loneliness it’s not for this lioness a warrior above
it all, she places all her inner impetuous into her piercing poetry
A dusky distant shape and outline listens, lusting, yearning with glee
The light shone brightly behind, they move closer kissing eagerly
You know what I mean…
I Write
Less words
in a windowless room
no use for my eyes
Humidity suffocating
what is left of me
I hear the silence of evil
poverty a state of mind
a shiny gold coin
Turns a small man
into a rich thief
Laughter the cause of death
An open window frames a scene
Compelled obsession’s wistful sway
A metaphor imbues my dream
Entranced a moth, in porch lights gleam
Around it flits, a cruel ballet
An open window frames a scene
With you at night, the same routine
Your heart within a glass display
A metaphor imbues my dream
Unaware the faux flame's scheme
A driven urge the moth replays
An open window frames a scene
With fettered will and pull extreme
Your gravity of soul persuades
A metaphor imbues my dream
The glass I stroke as slumber weans
In crushing heat I fall away
An open window frames a scene
A metaphor imbues my dream
A childs innocent eyes should never know this place.
Blood stains the soul.
News reports flash another soon to be lost face.
She was just heading home unsuspecting of the danger.
In a world she should not know.
The veil of innocence shattred many will be affected by
the sick act of a stranger.
broken is the body tossed like rag doll into the
trash alone in her cries.
Taken so many with her as the innocent dies.
The evening news plays a mothers plea.
Hope is all they cling to as time does pass.
Prayers asked of many but it's outta the
hands of you and me.
What is a story on the evening news is a life
stolen from the hearts many held dear.
To know this pain is beyond understanding
it exist's on the edge of hell in the constant season
known as fear.
A perfect innocent face.
Should never exist apon posters.
Missing to only eternally haunt the
memories space.
Do monsters exist young fearful eye's ask seeking
protection as helpless to answer the question.
you havent a clue.
And with eyes cast with regret.
The parent with a heavy heart most reply
yes they do.
Tepid rain drips upon flowers.
June feels cold with all these showers.
Sunset descends, as twilight dips.
Upon flowers, tepid rain drips.
I feel afraid, numb from the cold.
It feels like summer is on hold.
As thunder and lightning cascade,
numb from the cold, I feel afraid.
Ears crave to hear her soothing tone.
She's the queen to my kingdom's throne.
In her embrace, heart has no fear.
Her soothing tone, ears crave to hear.
Just like the moon, glowing at night,
in darkness her love provides light.
In bright shades we form a festoon,
glowing at night just like the moon.
Oh cruel fate, gift me a glance,
her lips have left me in a trance.
I feel blind without my soulmate.
Gift me a glance, oh cruel fate.
once while planning to take a picture
i thought about how i could
get God to pose
of course i could use a distingushing suit
but for a picture with God
a suit is of little use
then i thought of the obvious
a wonderful plan
i would take a picture with
Gods word in my hand
still as of yet
i have not posed for that picture
but at times i ponder pleasantly
on when i'll take the picture
until one day
it was cruelly exposed
i already had a picture of God
and just didn't know
pulling down the sun vissor
inside my truck
a cut out picture of
Allanis Morrisette
she played God in a movie called
"Dogma"
it frightened me at first
for obvious reasons
but when i think of God
i think that this is the kind of joke
he would play
so, allanis morrisette will stay
i will not worship her
or say that she is God
but when ever i see that picture
i'll see a picture of God
The light catamaran sailed swiftly
Before the breezy, gusty wind
Out towards the open azure sea.
We sat together under a vermilion sail,
The fresh air sighing through our hair.
My love was suddenly ablaze,
In the soft afternoon heat,
In the luminous and lucent light.
We played in a flamboyant spirit,
Feeling splendid and tender,
soft and lambent.
We snuggled up towards each other,
An idyllic moment.
He felt she was the woman of his life.
Soon we returned to port, happy and contented.
Then she dressed up and left,
Not even a smile or a backwards glance.
It broke my heart in two.
Little noticing she had left her card behind.
Stricken by grief heart
Flooded by myriads tears
Cruel men rejoice!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
25 May 2018
The Story Of The Cruel And Dark Queen That Feeds On Souls
She that exists to eat innocent souls and this world's vast wealth
A dark goddess, splaying her straggly long hair with wilted roses
Pretty, brazen, wickedly heartless and damn to hell soulless
Even far more beautiful, glowingly fair than is Lamia
Artists and poets seek words to describe her deep darkness
Souls of artists, painters and reprobates toiling for her glee
Thousands enslaved in the mirage of her horrible essence
She that holds me locked into her enticing horrid imagery
As I toil like Hercules to break these impregnable chains
Such that morning holds no beauty, sky is devoid of its blue
These many months pass and pass, O' my spirit is wilting
I seek the gold moon at night but find only darken shadows
And absolutely no human pleasures ever do I know or feel
I that exist in this raging true hellish world of deep evil pains
Pray for dearest release that I may one day die a free man
And if gifted our God's sweet mercy, shall enter the Pearly Gates.
Robert J. Lindley, Verse
APRIL 11TH 1971
Old Note: Age 17, this is one of my early dark poems, no rhyming.
I rarely ever do just plain verse....
New Note: Well, I still rarely ever do just verse. May have have written 15 or 20 poems that were just verse.
Years ago, you found me grounded with wings afraid to fly.
Toting smiles and wants of note, you paused to view my sky.
Was soon that I thought once, and you concurred twice,
that merging our styles would make a love themed paradise.
Years confirmed our intangible wares of mutual shares.
Even our highs and lows equally sighed with visual cares.
I never grew concerns about thunder, so I did not feel around,
poke or peek under for shudders from lightening blunders.
I saw no clue stains for panic in any cracks of tragic.
Then, at my joy’s peak in romance’s security streak,
you turned cold and scowled, ice water endowed.
Stayed confusion hovered in my same daily clouds
as your words and actions rose into caustic attacks.
My full tears left clear tracks, but my world swirled black.
Trapped in walls with love's silt, my once full heart spilt
as your cold face growl tilted me with its cruel wilt.
Bones gone, feelings stung and laid me on our bed you built.
Sob chokes watched hopes darken and fall on our quilt.
I heard your shoes sounding the harsh retreat of a final leave.
My reality undone, I spun inside a brutal, nightmarish tide.
My shivers surged frail coldness, exposing me as clueless.
In my mind, fantasies fumbled seeking a stronghold.
I beseeched memories to transition into numbing flakes
that would deaden all my grieving from this love mistake.
fears and excuses
white deserts
new moon in
virgo
solar eclipse
thursday pass over
signs of earth
careful plotting
meticulous planning
shadow of the sun
dark mass of land
thin rings of white light
friday is cruel
aug 30 2016
2.56 pm
AVOIDING CRUEL TASK BY CANDLELIGHT - DH
her shadow quivers.
(the hemisphere of
a potted plant cool -
a divisive mind.)
she stands in the soil.
she cannot move
for she’s been caught.
her breath catches,
her fingers wrought.
cucumber
at her desk
burns in hell -
pinches
the flame
stark
1/18/2019
Diminished Hexaverse
Sponsor - Charles Messina
*American saying: cool as a cucumber can mean calm but also cold
**stark - rigid as in death, harsh, blunt, strong, absolute
They will be cruel
They think they overrule
Over every girl and boy
And try to control them like a type of puppet or toy
Some think that’s cool
To use your emotions as a tool
To get in your head
And make you cry as it is said
But don’t let them get to you
Because if you do
You will fall into the trap that they have set
And there will you go along with your self esteem that you have tried so hard to get
So just ignore them they are nothing at all
They are nothing so don’t let them make you fall