Best Diabolically Poems
Malevolent imploded uncontrollably,
twisting wildly maniacal posies
amid diabolically toasted brainstem,
angst uncompromisingly yanked tresses
purging stinging speech patterned rhymes
amuck iniquitous poetic verses hung
upside down to tormentingly dry,
facing other inimically knotted borders of
antagonistic galleries in deranged snapshots
razing warped poetical tapestries,
tripping on tunes of whiskey rushes' savoy truffles
and greenish tangerines whilst Led Zeppelin's
Sick Again danced upon reflective ceiling tiles,
time written sideways 'round alleged autonomy
hidden furthermost immune masked mirror images,
debauching Greek braille calligraphy's vindication
on walls of graffito scripted physicality
calling out 'tween hysterical compulsions,
naught one heeded the sounds of synapses
about ill-fated half moon's arresting arc,
synthetic doomsday's clocks aptly chimed
quarter to analytical cuckoo's nest repudiation,
still awaiting on serendipity to surrender
furthermost rabbit hole's curiouser rants,
relinquishing unwell-languaged compilations' sabotage - -
circumventing rhythmically subversive escaped detonation
Categories:
diabolically, allegory, hyperbole, imagery, imagination,
Form:
Imagism
I was caught by a train yesterday
I hear people say
this often in exasperation
exaggerated tones
with over-dramatic groans
as if the train somehow
physically captured them
in its large mechanical grasp
diabolically refusing
to let them go
Yesterday
I was caught in a different way
imagination captured, you might say
captivated
charmed
and enchanted
by the passing art display
Something about the way
vibrant, vivid colors
unexpectedly
splashed out on moving canvas
of rust red and dull gray
traveling fast
across the city
feisty train talking smack
with tags and words amusing, witty
strange, disturbing, edgy, gritty
grinding down the tracks
Sometimes shocking-
artfully rendered obscenities
or surprisingly
endearing
cartoon creatures
manga characters
from overseas
expressed with impressive
expertise
and ingenuity
As other drivers sat nearby
fussing, fuming
missing the show
pawing their floorboards
like impatient horses
hands gripping wheels
ready to go-
I watched the trains in
constant childlike
wonder and delight
for those twenty minutes of my day
two trains gone by, one each way
...Then watched the other cars
rolling through
still red
flashing lights
as soon as crossing arms
were lifted halfway
rushing, roaring
trying to make up
the time that was “taken”
by the railway
Categories:
diabolically, appreciation, art, imagery, inspiration,
Form:
Free verse
Do not be diabolically deceived by this entity called ‘Love’, and the Blue Jewell we call Earth. For both of them work in unison to capture their prey, like a Venus Fly Trap. Some will die a thousand deaths, before a pound of flesh must be given to escape their succulent snare. As we are being dissected by vultures beneath a brilliant blue sky. Holding hands in the park before the unforeseen quenching quicksand, as it hungers in the distance. Fallaciously fornicating…to release more life, a pound of flesh must be served. There are many piercing pleasantries that excite the exotic eye, each to allure its victim, as we watch the clouds caress the mountainous view. To whom the bells toll, a pound of Flesh for your soul…
why does love exist?
for only to meet its death
under the blue sky
April.27.2019
Pick A Title, Vol 4
Haibun Poetry
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
4.) Pound of Flesh
Placed 1'st...Thank You
Categories:
diabolically, death, life, love,
Form:
Haibun
Illustrious? Too sophisticated.
Advanced? Sounds too modern.
Awkward? Not in the mood yet.
Animalistic? A nice ring, bereft of a special ring.
Will consider it for later though. Jotting it down now.
I could cut up some onions. I got up early to cook a roast right?
I get up from the chair, and my muse bops me on the head,
A light smack. I know, I tell her. I will be back in two.
It is actually ten minutes later. I had to cut up the onions and the roast.
Antiquated? Too prissy.
Profound? Dharm it! You already use profound in every other poem.
Pollutive? Is that even a WORD?
I will set the crockpot on high.
Trixie gets out her machete and leers at me, really mad now.
If you use that, I will not help you at all, I warn her,
So she files it back in her knapsack, and starts stomping up and down the paper.
She is storming angry when I return, I know because the paper is torn into
Teeny, tiny bits, I pull it back together, trying to read it again, as I recopy it.
Plain? Too plain.
Demonstrative? Circle that one. I like that one.
Delectable, delightful, deliriously diabolically, do-able.
The D words are here, and they are dancing and prancing.
Discerning. Where did that come from? Trixie helps me scratch it out.
Hey! Were you going to put the meat into the crockpot?
INSTANT brain stop.
We come to a screeching halt.
Dhramn!
I take Trixie to the kitchen where she hammers on Joe’s head with her axe.
Unfortunately, he does not feel it.
No one else here can put roast into a crockpot?
Categories:
diabolically, writing,
Form:
Free verse
Cubism is my favorite art.
I love making silly blockheaded people, pretending
Ignorance as to why I would have drawn certain
Wonderful people in this manner.
I grin diabolically as I cartoon them with cubed heads,
And uppity squared off eyes, looking shifty.
Blocked noses high in the air, looking square-pigged snooty.
My grin gets bigger and bigger as I draw…
I think I started to do this in third grade, as a defense
Mechanism when Ms. Smells – not her real name, but her real attitude
Was too superior to help us in any way, angry if we did not
Understand the concepts she galloped through at a sixth grade level.
It is just something that came to me, I said innocently,
Presenting her with her caricature with a flourish,
Pretending this was a wonderful compliment.
She seemed pleased, not realizing the extent of the insult.
So at the ripe age of eight, I accidentally discovered
I can get in my licks, even against haughty grownups, in the name of art,
By seventh grade I did not always remember to do it with a smile,
So it did not work nearly as well.
But this in no way wiped out my love of cubism.
Categories:
diabolically, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Free verse
One more year before the wild bird flies her coop.
Not bad. Bravo. Wise one.
You are more than enough.
Your optimism shines throughout your poems.
You know yourself.
Any idea how rare that is?
There are seventy-year olds who have no idea of themselves
They live a life set down by others
Follow a path
not their own
They do not realize there was a choice
No one said it
Whether miserable or barely happy, they do not complain
Knowing no better.
One more year before you leave the family nest, my friend
Your words will carry you to great heights,
You will write poetry to help save the others
It will come more naturally and completely
as you sleep in a nest of your own making
With pillows you choose and a comforter that
makes you feel safer than you had ever dared dreamed.
A mere 365 days until you can be fully, utterly, diabolically you.
Live spontaneously! Enthusiastically kick around your joy.
Take risks. Love people no one else ever would or could.
Bring home stray puppies. Dance your dance. Sing your song.
You are on your way. Only 365 days. I am so proud of you.
I see the optimism and enthusiasm in your poetry, and I smile
realizing you are heading toward the biggest adventure of your life.
I love this for you. Take risks. Have fun. Fear no one.
Enjoy yourself like you have never enjoyed yourself before.
Happy birthday. It is almost time....
Categories:
diabolically, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Free verse
In this world that I live in, man has lost over and over again.
He can’t win from his sins and he is damned.
He formed a country for his freedoms, but he enslaved people and
oppressed the origin and now he negates another.
When will he learned that forgiveness is not known.
That his tomorrows are his troubles for what he has done.
Hello (from) the other side.
I know I ruminate the mind.
Within the statuses of man, life is prominence to the power he has.
His significance is that of enslavement and oppression.
His freedoms he demanded brought him to our shores.
That of North America.
Once vacated, he manifested his vision.
His mission has become tainted and his life is unchained to do more evil.
Hello from the outside.
Your reflections - described.
Rune descents pit.
Symbolizing terrific fits.
Massive to suicide as they take lives.
Focus is occult.
Terror diabolically sought.
Will it stop - Will it stop now?
Hello (from) the other side.
A mind - revived.
Caucasoid
White boys
Who I speak of?
What is wrong with this world -
No true religion?
Are they atheist – non-believers?
Hello from the outside.
Harbinger of time...
A free thinker personified.
______________________________________|
Written January 16, 2016!
Categories:
diabolically, character, conflict, dark, fear,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
"Radio"
Snippets of classic jingles ring diabolically in our brain
Converging good tunes for bad products
Their repetitive nature send shoots rattling and ringing
Over and over again, gee, have a little music with you commercials!
Morning shows ruled by the man/child
With bleeps and buzzers assisted by stupid honks
The horns that we hear on the road are secondary to this drivel
All good things must come to an end, but the bad things seem to live forever
Prattle comes to propose what they got is better
While their mothers actually cringe from embarrassment
Sensationalism is at its best as we hear it with frequency
Why can't they shut their damn clap traps!
Sipping our coffee, listening to the latest and greatest
Please hit me upside the head, yes, that's what I said
As DJ's can't play it enough, they are broken records
Or Disfunctional Jerks
The AM propagandists scrabble for words as well
Floundering for babble their mouths never go static
It's shameful to hear such political trash, too often recycled
Influential to the old folks who want to vote every day
I thought in many years of past, the radio was supposed to be harmonious
Giving choice singers the chance to put out euphonies
And pieces of dreamy pleasures in classical, operatic and such
Pianos in pianissimo, to revel in the somnorific sweets of Chopin
All I here nowadays is a bell
The one that tolls for them to stop
Because chatter and blather rule the air waves
I turn the radio off
Categories:
diabolically, slam,
Form:
Free verse
A seriously sad seventh son of a soldier entered prime prejudicial puberty
With love and luxuriously liberal thoughts in his hyper hallucinating heart
He was set on dating a diabolically darling daughter of a serious celebrity
So should he go to Hollywood? Hail a bus? Hire a taxi? Where to start?
Where to start? Where to start?
Categories:
diabolically, love,
Form:
Rhyme
I'm going for an alley-oop, dunking on your head like "Shaq"
Home court advantage here on the soup, and I'm ducking and dodging your wack
attack!
I'm spraying you with a "fade-away jumper," kinda like "Kobe."
You are trash that belongs in the dumpster, just like your poetry!
dakarai look up at the score board, my slams out number yours 3 to 1!
I've sliced and diced with my poetic sword, now I'm hitting you with my poetic gun.
Rat-a-tat-tat, bullets tear through your flesh and bone.
As your body hits the mat, give back your poetic skills you have on "loan!"
You have no meter or rhyme, and yet you continue to want ammo; For what?
Why waste your time? You must like this spanking across your butt!
Are you a "beat-freak?" Even our fellow soupers think you enjoy pain!
I know you're sweating my technique, and I have you addicted to my poetic cocaine!
Why do you look to battle on this particular site? There are other poetry sites ya
know.
You thought you could win an easy fight, but surprise, I'm the great great grandson
of Edgar Allen Poe!
That means dakarai, it is in my genes to be one of the best.
I've mastered this art, and so your heart I'm ripping out of your chest!
You were not born a rhyme slayer, so why challenge me?
So go ahead and say a prayer, because I'm leaving you an amputee!
I may seem obscene, but I'm diabolically mean like North Korea.
Before you feel my poetic guillotine, I'm injecting you with gonorrhea!
Note: I would like my fellow soupers to follow me and dakarai cobbs battle - dakarai
needs to know who is "PS slam champ" - This is my 3rd slam for him;) can a souper
please tell dakarai it is no contest. He is like one of the many hopefuls who audition
for American Idol truly believing they can sing - when they really can't! lol So dakarai
comment "openly" on this slam - letting me know "I'm P.S. slamming champ" J.A.
(The Poetic Warlock)
Categories:
diabolically, dedication, fantasy, slamslam, me,
Form:
Rhyme
My poetry is utterly deadly, it effects people in so many bizarre ways.
It is like a demonic medley, leaving the reader in a drug enhanced haze.
My poetry is hypnotically unique, it takes readers places they've never been.
I have poets sweating my technique, and wanna taste my corruptive sin!
My poetry is diabolically insane, it was created in the very bowels of hell.
The couplets left a trail of bloodstain along the corridors of Satan's fiery cell!
My poetry will catch you on fire, burning you from the inside out.
My words will wrap you in barbed-wire, leaving scratches like you've been in a
twelve round bout!
My poetry journeyed beyond the bottomless pit, searching the worlds atmosphere.
My adjectives make a reader vomit, leaving a stomach tumor for a souvenir!
My poetry will incinerate your mind, and leave you for buzzards to eat.
Metaphors stay locked and confined, which makes me the highest paid poetic
athlete!
My poetry will be remembered as "legendary," so engrave that on my tombstone.
This stanza is not ordinary, and I will remain on my diamond encrusted throne!
My poetry is like a drug overdose, this poem is unlike anything you've ever heard!
With this couplet, I'll bring this poem to a close, so never forget my diabolical words!
Categories:
diabolically, fantasy, slamleaving, poetry, drug,
Form:
Rhyme
Writhing, wriggly slimy maggots
weaving through her hair,
her black heart the embodiment
of repulsion and despair
A malevolent wicked demon,
many tales do foretell,
she’ll ravenously stalk you Halloween night
and drag you down to hell.
No-one knows her identity
but surrendering to fear,
most turn off lights and keep doors locked
when Halloween is near.
The blood of fresh kill gushes
as she’s feasting on her quest,
she’ll devour your brain, pick your bones
and throw away the rest.
.
She’s diabolically deceptive
her look she will disguise
this vicious, raging evil will
paralyze you with her eyes.
So when venturing out on Halloween
Best keep her in mind
beware, take care... you never know
what mask she hides behind!
Categories:
diabolically, evil, fear, horror,
Form:
Quatrain
The Wandering Witch of Halloween
Writhing, wriggly slimy maggots
weaving through her hair,
her black heart the embodiment
of repulsion and despair.
.
A malevolent wicked demon,
many tales do foretell,
she’ll ravenously stalk you Halloween night
and drag you down to hell.
No-one knows her identity
but surrendering to fear,
most turn off lights and keep doors locked
when Halloween is near.
The blood of fresh kill gushes
as she’s feasting on her quest,
she’ll devour your brain, pick your bones
and throw away the rest.
.
She’s diabolically deceptive
her look she will disguise
this vicious, raging evil will
paralyze you with her eyes.
.
So when venturing out on Halloween
Best keep her in mind
beware, take care... you never know
what mask she hides behind
Liz Labadie-Reilly
Categories:
diabolically, evil, halloween, scary,
Form:
Quatrain
There is one in every family.
Someone determined to be mad.
Not diabolically crazy or fun-loving or whimsically mad.
Angry, hateful, grousing, pouting mad.
Ours is named Louisa, and she is a professional.
She attempts to ruin every family dinner.
Storming off, yelling, screaming, sometimes hitting us on her way out.
It doesn’t matter, Grandpa says “as long as she leaves”.
But sometimes she comes back.
Climbs in the window so she can make another dramatic exit.
“Save your drama for your mama!” someone yells.
This always stirs her up, because her mama is dead.
If they forget to yell it, I do.
It would not seem like family without this.
Categories:
diabolically, family,
Form:
Narrative
How strong is your faith,
In these Race days of Religions?
Do you believe in the righteous one,
The “divine” who exists in everyone?
Tragically, the world has turned into a fireplace…
Forlornly now; there is rage in every face.
Obsession with destructions,
Happy when lives are lost,
Don’t care what the world has to say
Oh, these beasts would never stop!
Don't think beyond their narrow view,
Don't care about me and you,
Even though it's us who always bear the cost.
Military suicides, welcome to the mass grave,
Humanity’s genocide, born to die as slaves.
All the talks in the peace process
Rolls on without effects,
They preach about justice
Holding guns into our faces.
Wonder what's it gonna be, revolution, peace
Or the devour of the dead?
Or maybe, the feast of Nuclear instead!!
Politics and economics,
And all the mockery of democracy,
With blood dripping down from every horizon
History writes the legacy.
Dirty claws of the war
Ripped our souls apart,
Fake complications of the dirty politics,
Won't give peace a chance to work.
Double faced dirty leaders,
Just opposite they way they appear,
Lives on the corruption
Aided by pet criminal and the liar.
Diabolically wrap up the whole world
With their cruelest of intentions,
Just to be on the CHAIR!!!
(C) Obaidur Rahman. Published in the poet’s debut book of English poetry titled “The Mystic Inferno” in 2012.
Categories:
diabolically, political,
Form:
Ballad