Best Demonic Poems
tsunami commands
mother earth to tremble --
demons unburied
blue skies of water
pour out devastation --
crashing tears thunder
thunderous booms of
explosions in aftermath --
resilience conquers
By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders, March 9, 2012
for Nature the Destroyer contest (PD)
first place
I stare down the alley, upon a tree.
The Demon Child does stare at me.
I look back and He isn't there,
Leaving me frightened and unaware.
I can feel His unlimited hate,
Piercing flame burns as Hell's gate.
That evil Thing sees through my soul.
Each eye is like an empty hole.
I run with my very soul's essence,
But nothing can relieve me of His presence.
I turn around, and there are more,
So i reach down, onto the floor.
I pick up a club of nails and wood,
And I facing them, there I stood.
Looking forward, I was ready to fight.
With what ever remained of my soul's might.
I swung so hard, my club did peel,
But useless against skin hard as steel.
I gather my strength and lunged ten feet,
Over a fence and onto the street.
I look with happiness, then almost cried,
The oncoming cars have no one inside.
There is nothing, no one, but Them and me.
Why is this how it has to be?
I am exhausted, but continue to sprint,
The light of hope is only a glint.
I get an idea, and find some rope.
I know this is my only hope.
I climb all the way to the roof of my house,
And I hide there like a panic-stricken mouse.
With none in sight, I can finally rest.
What happened next, I couldn't have guessed.
As I lay in wait, Something taps my shoulder.
My stomach sinks just like a boulder.
He just stands there, pointing at me.
I am certain it's futile to flee.
Because they are all there, voices dark but true:
"Why do you make it so easy for us to find you?"
Demonic desires, dark, feral
Seek objects to possess
True love outpours, it’s touch plural
All’s but God consciousness
Go with love, not with lust
In God alone we trust
For what’s body but dust
Ego urge stokes fires
Demonic desires
15-February-2022
I am a free moral agent
I detest imprisonment
I abhor bondage
I reject life in the cage
I am imbued with the ability to choose
So I choose freedom
Freedom from political oppression
Freedom from economic oppression
Freedom from religious oppression
Freedom from poverty
Freedom from hypocrisy
Freedom to speak when humanity is in danger
Freedom to say yes when my heart means so
Freedom to say no when the world says yes
Freedom to be myself and nobody else
Freedom to stand on God’s authority
Instead of man’s majority
Freedom from demonic entanglements
Trials and temptations may come my way
But I cannot run away from them
Cause they speak strength to my life
I was born to be free
And so no impediments should limit my freedom
The Demonic Prince
Demons
The legion of demons
They dwell
In the cold place of hell
Tempt thee
The depth of hell's empty
They're here
For it's time to spread fear
Black crows
Come out of the shadows
They mean
They mean to ruin thee
But who
The demon inside you
Split Couplet Variation:
- Iambic monometer
- Iambic trimeter
Rhyme Scheme:
- Coupled rhyme (AA, BB, CC, etc.)
Keeping Rhythm or Meter:
- The ti-tum rhythm is known as an iamb
- An iamb is a metrical foot
- An iamb is disyllabic
- An iamb has an unstressed syllable on the first sound and a stressed syllable on the second sound
An unstressed syllable sound:
- Lower
- Shorter
- Quieter
A stressed syllable sound:
- Higher
- Longer
- Louder
If the poetic meter of the poetic form is iambic monometer & iambic trimeter:
- Iambic means of or using iambs
- Monometer is a line of verse consisting of one metrical foot
- If an iamb is a metrical foot and the poetic meter is an iambic monometer, then it is simply just one iamb (ti-tum)
- Trimeter is a line of verse consisting of three metrical feet
- Again, if an iamb is a metrical foot and the poetic meter is iambic trimeter, then there are three iambs (ti-tum, ti-tum, ti-tum)
Track: Madchild - Write It Down
We'll dread
If we're on our deathbed
We'll cry
For we're going to die
That sin
It's a turmoil within
So pale
To feel so very frail
In hours
I'll give you a flower
Suppose
I'll give you a red rose
Last breath
So taste the kiss of death
Track: The Lost Boys - Cry Little Sister
Track: Slipknot - Psychosocial
Have you ever had a demonic dream? You know, the kind where you find yourself running for hours away from something that you saw in a horror film? Have you ever thought how those demons were able to follow you through your pillow to the quiet recesses of your mind? You allowed it! You allowed it when you played around with things of the occult. The occult has a very large global movement. They make millions and billions of dollars off of innocent people each and every year. They plant these movies in front off our loved ones as a way to give the devil a foothold to enter into our lives. Is it not enough that we have the internet and video games and foul illuminati music? Our loved ones make a conscious decision to watch or listen to these things.
What about when they enter our dreams? We didn't invite them there. The thing is is that we give satan permission to send his ugly little trolls into our dreams when we refuse to stay away from the things that are obviously evil. We give the devil an inch and he takes an entire foot trying to get a foothold. Just think about it for a minute. If we were to truly focus on the heavenly things of God and meditate on His Word, then only good things would be around us because we have taken authority over our world. The enemy believes that the entire world belongs to him, and so when we do the things that he loves, then we are inviting him to come and sit beside us when we close our eyes at night. End of story. This is not make believe. This is the real deal!
Some people say it claws its way out the artist like a demon
As if ripping his soul instead of flesh
Then fervor bursts like blood
So that a painting anthropomorphizes
How then will the canvas look like
If the stirring’s wreaked by the lord of hell?
How will the music ring if Diablo clobbers the drum?
Will there be songs or only blares of Armageddon?
I LUST TO WRITE POEMS.
THIS PEN ITCHES FOR YOUR BLOOD!
Hate is demonic
Hate is the war against love
The foundation of the act of war
Is hate
When one hate
Is mind is demonic
As his act is evil
All from hate
Oh let live spiritual
For in spirituality
is the Art of love
Hate is demonic
Love and hate
Are like two ways
To life
If you need a reason
Why choice exist in life
Here you have an answer
And here I could understand
When one chose one of
This ways he live to war with
The other
Even when you live with love
You still will hate evil
For evil is of hate as
hate is demonic
Oh let live spiritual
For in spirituality
Is the art of love
Hate is demonic
In the heart of a man
Covered with hate
You hear demon
Speak as he speak
You see demon
Clearly as his acts
Are full of evil
While he show hate
To love
Demon is produce from
An evil force that is not
Of love
Demons live among us
For one that fails to love
Hate as
Hate is demonic
Oh let live spiritual
For in spirituality
Is the art of love
A demonic mind
send in the demons
trudge, trudge, trudge
more demons, we need more
trudge, trudge, trudge
My mind is on fire
I cannot aspire
to go any higher
brain cells in a deep fryer
cooking, smell the stench
untighten my neck with a wrench
take off my head
for I'm already dead
trudge, trudge, trudge
we need more demons
trudge, trudge, trudge
ah, the coolness of scapels
removing wisdom's shrapnel
no need for thought
nor reminders of havoc wrought
the world I've ruled
peasants I've schooled
within my own mind
ye have been blind
send me more demons
trudge, trudge, trudge
more, more, more
trudge, trudge, trudge
ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
Bob Shank-Nov. 8th, 2006
done for a challenge
I sat on a merry-go-round from, to, and of Hell.
Goblins floating round and round,
Gremlins going up and down.
I sat on the merry-go-round from, to, and of Hell
Playing "Let's make a deal." with the devil himself.
And as his smile turned into knives,
I could see the infinite expanse of lives he had claimed,
like an insurance company running your life,
like an investor running your business,
like a lawyer running your troubles,
but this man led all of the above for millions.
There was suffering in his eyes,
but not his own.
You could tell how many tears have been shed,
but not his.
His hands were hooks,
"all the better to hug you with",
more like all the better to ravage my heart.
His nose was an expanse of two deep holes,
"all the better to smell you with",
more like all the better to sniff up my soul.
His ears were large and bat like,
"all the better to hear your wishes",
more like all the better to hear my supersonic whispers of all my deepest fears.
He spoke:
"Your soul is a small price to pay for true happiness, what do you desire?"
Right there I made my wish,
and before I could barely finish,
a contract pulled up and I scrawled my name.
Keenan MacKay.
After a short while he showed me those knives again,
those reflective blades that refuse to show the whole picture,
a metallic and deceptive smile.
And I smiled back.
For with my wish,
my plea for ultimate power,
I struck him down.
I made him afraid.
And as he cowered in the corner,
I took back my soul and walked away.
But not before I scratched at his feet.
"The Keenan giveth, and the good Keenan taketh away."
My demons, I see,
Though they are quiet
But are never silenced
They still want to riot.
Some of the demons leave me,
So, it's quiet in my head
Some of them travel with me
Yet, they roam inside me, dead.
I'm sure they'll always be around,
In my darknesses, I want to sleep
They want to pull me, tied-up into
My abyss, deep in the steep.
Release me demonic spirits, I quake,
And lead me only to an endless solitude
So I can rest from the exhaustion
Your evils cause, then wants to take.
Fleeing, setting me free from your distractions,
You're this chaos, that's causing me to dread my life
With the unsettledness lurking, stirring around inside
I find myself dead, having no more strife.
Each little percussion of your
Heart’s drum centers on
Perfection.
Apathy becomes a cold friend
On a dry day full of lethargic
Heat—sweat beads of undesired
Lust.
I am the apprentice—my master—
Spirits of unquenched probable
Addictions—demons of
Ignorance.
Fallen angel—I denounce you
Here and now.
____________________________
More of my works at alexfalls.com
The whooshing of threadbare curtains cuts through deadening silence,
while shadows on the wall toy with a hermit's sanity.
The graze of unseen, jagged fingernails scrapes against sweaty flesh,
injecting poison into subcutaneous tissue,
unwieldily setting the stage.
A heaviness of humid, stale air presses down on compressed lungs,
as maniacal laughter bounces off cracked ceilings.
Buzzing flies circle, swooping down
just to taunt—then vaporize into nothingness.
Muttering voices cling to the inside of a failing cranium,
overtaking a discarded soul, slowly stripping away morality.
Irises blacken, then return to sapphire, before blackening again.
Sitting, rocking back and forth with arms wrapped around legs,
speaking in tongues—
the transformation has begun.
A shattered will; possession seems inevitable.
Fighting feels increasingly hollow.
The smothering venom accelerates.
Chattering crescendos
until your body becomes complete chaos,
and what's left of your soul is trapped within a cage,
locked deep inside the pits of demonic despair.
Blood fluxing in my veins stained the DARK canvass as pigments
LINES stroke - exemplifying this pestilential excruciation within
Color of SHADOWS and of my vexation and abhorrence occupied this art
Ending this existence to give birth to this lifetime masterpiece
For my very last breath, I can exaltedly declare,I've consummated one virtuous creation.