Best Deathold Poems
" WHAT THE OLD SEE SITTING,
THE YOUNG WON'T SEE STANDING."
GOES THE FAMED PROVERB PIECE.
THUS GIVING TYRANTS EASE.
SO AFRICAN LEADERS
WED POWER,INFLICTING SCARS-
FOR THEY BELIEVE TO KNOW
BETTER THAN OTHERS WHILE OLD.
SO GROWS SEPTUAGENARIACY
BECAUSE THE OLD
BELIEVE TO SEE
AND SEE SUPER-HUMANLY
WHILE INCREASING DEMOCRATIC MORTALITY.
"SO HEREIN LIE THE BONES
OF THE TYRANT WHO SO
MADE THE PROVERB FAMOUS
MAY HIS BONES BE AT PEACE AT MOST."
Old Bill (written by by Steven Cooke)
Old Bill died today
He was a grumpy old sod said Mrs. Grey.
Fool thought me,
For you do not know what memory is
He was a decorated soldier who,
Courted beautiful women
Argued with royalty
And dined with the Aga Khan
For Oscar Wilde and Keats was his tipple,
But women cheated him
And his money cheated him.
And finally time cheated him
All gone now,
Just silence echoed by a distant memory,
Interrupted by Coronation Street, and Eastenders
Is this the legacy, of modern Life.
For Bill, all that is left is the shell
And now that has gone.
Yes he was a grumpy old man
But Modern life too will be cheated by time,
And what memories will it leave,
And what will people say about you Mrs. Grey
DEATH!
He lost a father
She lost a son
He came back in the morning
And said I was the one
I told him to come back another day
He said he will not and he wishes to stay
Everyday that passes I hear your deep voice
Fate is your only master because you have no choice
We wait patiently for you on your arrival
Even though your companionship is not desirable
But yet you decide our survival
The Old man dress in black
With a black cloak
With a big black hat
That looks like the old witch’s cat
Riding in a carriage driven by a dark stallion
And the five rivers inscribed on his medallion
You are incorruptible
And you take no pound or shilling from those who wish not to ride with you
You simply tap them on the shoulders and one will become one or two
You pardon no one whose time is near
Kings and queens bow down to you in fear
You are mightier than any man
And greater than any beast
You will not taste wine or eat at a rich man’s feast
Sages and wise men can never unsolved the mystery of your power
To resurrect Lazarus at the very hour
Your cold, icy and fragile hands could make a leaf
Wrinkle to ashes
Hades king of the underworld
Commander in chief of the realm of darkness
Who sits on his throne with his queen Persephone
And lives in the dungeons of hell
A place he calls home
Guarded by his loyal servant Cerberus
The three headed monster
Who strikes down unwanted visitors with lightening and thunder
By
Olusegun Akanbi
This would be the day his life here on this earth would end,
In just a matter of minutes his slow walk to the gallows would begin.
An old padre reading him his last rites in a language he could not understand,
As the guards place him in shackles he is helpless but to follow their commands.
Up the stairs they travel as the old priest follows close behind,
And a million different thoughts start tangling up his mind.
There he sees the noose that is calling out to him,
Then he spots the crowd in the arena with lights so dim.
Men and women sit gawking and whispering to and fro,
Waiting in anticipation for the starting of the show.
Like a freak in a sideshow this was something you didn’t often see,
He mumbled I just hope they had to pay dearly to watch the last breath leave me.
There stands the warden and the executioner right by his side,
Now the men are starting to get antsy and it sounded like a woman cried.
The warden asked if he wanted to make peace before this act was done,
He just shook his head then nodded to each and everyone.
They placed the hood over his head and then the noose was set,
As fear flooded his mind he was not ready for this yet.
Then he felt the floor give way as he dropped to his death,
But his mind refused to stop even though he knew he had drawn his last breath.
He was now like the air he could float all about,
He wondered why they were ignoring him as tried so hard to shout.
Then he saw his body and knew this may not last,
As he struggled toward the light he felt the darkness closing fast.
Sunken eyes
bared tooth.
worn shaggy rags cling to frail bone.
Watching the old town
with eyes of fire
she casts venom filled words amongst those who inhabit
A mean old women full of impurity
and disgust for the living
She trudges into the dark of night
Hunting those who are frail and ill
Eating there insides for taste
and poisoning their remains.
Lynched in the sycamore
she hung
staring out at the mob
Her neck black and blue
her breath
no more
She hung until laid unto the dirt
The next week she was gone
only rags remained.
The people cried in terror
the air chilled
and the crying towns people fell under a deathly spell
They fell to the dirt
as birds picked at their eyes
they shield the mass
But died in their own blood.
amongst them traipsed an evil spirit
covered from her neck lay bruises...
OLD CURLY IS BURLEY
I’m telling you dude, the man is as wily as they come
He’ll leave you wishing you were dead or numb
His name is Curley and I don’t know why
I just know he’ll sell you dope and watch you die
I learned years ago about Curley’s way
As my pace slows down and my hair grows gray
Whom so ever raised old Curley should be in jail
And this ain’t no made up fairy tale
He’s a living and breathing son of a b***h
And his momma must have been a witch
Because old Curley casts specious spells
And he does so with each dime bag he sells
Okay, I dare you dude, turn your back on the mother
And you’ll swear to Christ he’s Satan’s brother
When you cop from him there’s always a doubt
And for sure one of his hot shots will take you out
So go ahead and deal with that which the devil designs
But when he boasts about his dope you’d better read between the lines
Selling dope is okay but killing junkies is no way to behave
And if you don’t heed my words I vow to visit you at your grave
© 2011.….Poefree
WALKING DOWN AN OLD DIRT ROAD
MY INTESTINES FEEL SUCH A SHIVER.
THE FULL MOON IS BIG AND BOLD
IT LOOKS LIKE AN OLD MAN’S LIVER.
I WALK PAST THE STARLIT LAKE
THERE’S A STRANGE FEELING I HAVE.
I FEEL SO STRANGE, FOR GOODNESS SAKE
ON THE INSIDE, I AM GOING MAD.
I HEAR THE ECHO OF SHAKING TREES
THE TWIGS MAKE A FREAKY SOUND.
BUT WHEN ONE BREAKS, I BEGIN TO FLEE
AND AFTER I HIDE BEHIND A STONE, LOOKING ALL AROUND.
I STEP INTO AN ABANDONED HOUSE
IN THE CLOSET, THE BATS ARE WAKING.
I HEAR A NOT A NOISE, NOT EVEN A MOUSE
NOR A CRICKETS SONG IS PLAYING.
I SEE A STRANGE CREATURE AND WALK DOWN THE STAIRS
A SHADOW I SEE WITH FRIGHT.
AND SUDDENLY, WITH SO MUCH FEAR
I QUICKLY DISAPPEAR INTO THE NIGHT.
“Women are evil creatures boy. Evil. Every Go**amn last one of ‘em,”
Thunk- the shovel smacks on it’s target.
“Do ya hear me BOY? Every one of ‘em.”
Thunk.
“Yes Daddy.” the eight year old agreed with his old man, as blood spatters across
his face.
“N, this ‘un, this ‘un was just like yer Mama. Lyin’, cheatin’ whores, all of ‘em.”
Pappa explains, eyes a little wild as he finishes his gory work on wife number 5.
“Now git in that barn 'n' bury her, don’t wanna see her face no more.”
When Pappa tells ya to do something, you get right to it. Otherwise,
you might end up like one of his wives.
Eight year old Thomas takes everything in. From a baby, his Pappa started teaching him all
the right ways of the world. Pappa taught him men are to be revered, no matter what.
Animals are to be used, then kilt when they ain’t no good, money was to be made in an
honest, hard working way, and women were slaves. Soon as they get to sassin’, it’s a sure
sign they’re out there assin’. Then like the animals, they ain’t no more good and need to
be “done away with”.
Thomas followed his Pappa’s creed, down to a tee. And when Pappa died, Thomas took over
that farm
and continued his father’s legacy.
Sittin’ in that chair, eyes covered, hands strapped, a preacher a preachin’, Thomas
thought about his own wife number eight.
The bit** got away.
He was only doin’ what his Pappa taught him.
Thomas considered his self a good ole boy.
Hard workin’, couldn’t understand why he was a sittin’ in that chair with that preacher a
preachin’.
But the one who got away, yep. She tole on him alright.
Cops came and got him that night,
And when they went through that old barn,
they found what they called,"Derenged."
Thomas didn’t understand.
He was only doin’ his Pappa’s demand.
Honorable Mention in Nathan Dilt's contest, "The Opposite Sex".
A. Green
"Life for life my one exchange, for your's another given, but not a corpse mind you old
man, I feed only on the living"
"I know of such a person, that would make a fitting feast, he sleeps not far away from
here, I'm sure you'd like to meet"
Beckoning him to follow, the old man led the way, to creep upon the runaway sleeping in
the hay.
"See he sleeps so peaceful, wrapped up in the straw, strike now demonic Demon, as you were
planning to before"
The Demon flicked his fingers and spread out a sharpened claw, he struck the sleeping
runaway, ripped pieces from his jaw,
The lad in shock reacted, but to late, the demon dined, and underneath his winged
cape,blood flowed like red, red wine.
He picked up the lads frail body, split his torso clean in two, half thrown to the waiting
serpent, the other he gnawed and chewed.
There was nothing more delicious than the crunch of human bones, as blood dripped from the
demons teeth he said "well done old man, go home"
Once the demon had completed his feast on human meat, he took a fractured splintered bone,
pick free the flesh stuck between his teeth.
The morn was fast approaching, he knew it time to leave, as demons in the daylight are
never really seen.
As the demon climbed upon his serpent, ready to ascend, he gave an evil smile in
appreciation of this friend.
How kind he thought the beggar to lead them to a banquet, "this beggar shall be
remembered, I really should go back to thank him".
Demonic demons rarely you encounter and survive, I guess that's why his thanks were
mutilation in the sty!