Best Evilly Poems
"Once upon a midnight Poe"
Underneath the midnight mask, I remove the makeup at last,
The moon is an anvil to my mood, mooring along the vacant vast
I lay the Gin and Tonic by the bedside asking for more,
I hear a noise, a lost voice, the echoes of no rejoicing,
I couldn't brush the light coming from the cracks under the door
I gave it some thought,
My eyes twinkle, towards the tinsel tiles on the floor
Seemingly the light seemed to be deeming the distance of resistance
Curiosity came in crawling and caressing
To sense and taste of sinful skin
Everything then grew thinner than thin
On the spur of the moment, I hear a whisper, my love is near
"Darkness there, and nothing more."
A nerve impulse hits the wall if nothing nary, nevertheless
I sadistically, stagger a sullen movement, even so
At this moment, Edgar Whispered, "Nothing more."
Many nights, I dream of demonic demons, demanding answers for
A sad --sadder voice sits and whines, with the wind
"Merely this and nothing more!"
A notary, nauseate moment, seasick, shipwreck sensation
Secular suicide spreading like gossip, sailing through my veins
Evilly and twisted, "This it is and nothing more" - remains
Tweaking and repeating, the speeding of needing
My drugs of pain and passion, to end the delusion
Of the self-inflicted - bruising from the voices of my choices
I hear the whisper, a selfish whisper, asking for Lenore
How many nights, he comes into my room, dress like A Raven
Painted and tainted like the midnight dreary
Reciting the excitement like The Bells, of Annabel, in a rush
Never, never, nameless here forevermore, in my dreams
Under my evil-doing skin, like the sum of sin is how it seems
On the nights, my soul mate does not appear,
The anchor drowns and torments me with tears
I travel up in fear, of the fear, when my ghost is not near
Rattling and trembling, by the bedside,
On the grim side of the mental moon, when in gloom
I scrape up my room, screaming at the bleeding,
From my heart, who needs a killing,
From a feeding and the feeling of letting one, go!
Categories:
evilly, allusion, devotion, loneliness, muse,
Form:
Alliteration
Life is like being a passenger on a luxury ocean liner
That is sails across a Sea of Turmoil.
Passengers feel safe by putting their faith in the sturdy construction of the ship’s steel hull.
Their senses are enveloped by the beautiful gold, silver, brass, wood that accents the interior of the ship.
There is a Spector who‘s heart is dark as black satin and as cold as an iceberg.
Who is rarely seen by the human eye, for he stealthily move under the cloak of night,
And dwells in the shadows by day.
His nature is deception and violence
His power are death and decay
He Rome’s and back and forth on the sea of Turmoil, stalking luxury ocean liners.
Sometimes He will play cat and mouse games by enoying the passenger slowly picking their ship apart with rust and rot.
Other times he will crush a ship with a title wave,
Or blow a ship apart by an onboard fire.
The Spector evilly snicker when the survivor have to abandon ship and try to tread water.
The passenger try to cling on to their strange Theologies and Philosophies to keep themselves afloat.
The Spector stirs the sea of Turmoil with his crooked finger to create great tempest to try and drowned his victims to transport them to the lake of Fire that lay beneath the Sea of Turmoil.
The passenger’s desperate out cries for help reach the ears of The King of Light.
He send His Son by His swiftest ship
To rescue anyone who will receive their help.
The Son will transport His passengers to the shores of His father’s kingdom
Where they will be made heirs with the Son.
They will dwell in the eternal golden city of The King of Light.
The King of light will forever remove the Spector of Darkness and His domain the Sea of Turmoil.
Writen by Stephen J. Vattimo
July 12, 2016
Categories:
evilly, boat, corruption, life, recovery
Form:
Free verse
I walked upon an empty step,
Where a shadowed body was kept.
The shadow was beat,
Turning as cold as winter sleet.
It had bright blue eyes,
That extended all through the skies.
The shadow was nine,
Living to be blind.
I walked to the figure,
As it would evilly linger.
People would laugh at it,
As it snarled and bit.
The shadow diagnosed with
schizophrenia,
Beating itself, the others, as if a
mania.
No one could reach out,
No one gave it water, as it was in a
drought.
I was determined to bring its colors,
Be the one to treat it like no other.
The shadow hated me,
Told me Hell is where I should be.
Not giving in,
Not creating one other sin.
I drew it pictures, wrote it letters,
Tried to blossom its feathers.
Then the day came,
When there had to be an end to the
game.
Not wanting to leave,
Not wanting the devil to its thieve.
As I was bout to walk through the
door,
The shadow came upon me, on the
open floor.
Held out his arms,
As I smiled and lowered his alarms.
The shadow had a name,
Brought about with little shame.
The shadow was a boy,
Played with by the devil as if a toy.
I played with fire,
Burning loosely like a run away tire.
But he finally knew I was there,
Someone who was willing to care.
Categories:
evilly, caregiving, childhood, dedication, faith,
Form:
Rhyme
And who knows for sure when reality fades into fantasy
What begins the sylvan slide, something so beautiful
you question the state of being true.
Everything is brighter, bolder more perfect
or,
on the darker side. things are unspeakably grotesque
evilly creepy, clawed with frightening wings that flap
across your dreams to haunt you.
Nature itself is fantasy, its breathtaking flowers
stars, shells, magnificent trees and yet it also has
the most ugly lizards, snakes spiders and insects to terrify
Because we need fantasy to understand our true selves.
Categories:
evilly, conflict, earth, nature,
Form:
Free verse
Frozen and numb
Dwelling in my cold shadows
Shivering me deeply inside
A devil I am
Finding solace In Hell
Where Love is Evilly Blind
Melted and burnt
Relaxing in my warm flames
Comforting me deeply inside
A god I am
Finding solace in Heaven
Where Evil Is Lovingly Divine
Categories:
evilly, art, baptism, beautiful, conflict,
Form:
Pantoum
Great Lakes mariners fear the “Witch of November”
Winds blow fiercely in the cruelest month of the year
The crew of the Edmund Fitzgerald would concur
If in November ’75, their ship hadn’t disappeared
Capt. McSorley made his last radio call
Saying the fully loaded ship was “holding its own”
He had no clue as to what future events would befall
The true danger of their voyage was unknown
Very soon families heard that the ship had gone down
Claiming the lives of all twenty-nine crew members
The Mariners’ Church of Detroit’s bell gave the countdown
One ring for each mate who was now Lake Superior’s
Treacherous seas take the lives of many, good or bad
And the crew reckoned their final fate with their God
“The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald” left many sad
Drowning was no better than a firing squad
Above the ship the wicked witch cackled evilly
Her victims now lying in watery graves
Old tars now know better than to ignore fallibility
It’s easy to be taken down by the wind and waves
*For Francine’s “Write Me a Lightfoot Poem” contest
Song: “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald”
Categories:
evilly, death, sea,
Form:
Rhyme
Killing the future, where is the humane values in that
poor soul your hate has an unusual way of trying to get of subject
How sad you are and evilly branding a person unjustly
firstly falsely accusing, says an awful lot about you as a person
defending the right to kill attacking is all you know
a bully of the worst kind
Your surname is not Irish firstly get that straight
I am from the tribes of the north
a true gale that holds the shamrock
this is the island of my ancestors, nothing racist about the truth
A hetrophobic attack detesting a real man
for none other than standing up for the innocent blood spilled
speaking the truth correctly cast not this fiction garbage
your attacking human life and I am a father
God be merciful to your soul I pray
because there is not a racist bone in my body
turn it which ever way you want to suit
half Irish supporting killing, says it all to me
Ripping little babies to pieces
take a long hard look in the mirror,
your ancestors would turn in their graves
I pity you with your branding irons
you really have no brain in this
life begins in the womb knowledge
has a funny way of separating opinions
what has religion got to do with it, nothing,
your beating a dead horse people can see whom you support
The dark side so filled with hate towards another human being
calling names amounts to your kind saying it kindly
if the law where doing their job properly,
you should be arrested for hurling hate and abuse
Mentally challenged talking about bottles
every word you have written, is documented evidence
we see your kind everyday attacking peaceful people
Every single word you have written comes from the fork of your beliefs
do not make a mockery of others this foolish behaviour,
because in the end your knees will bend,
you should be reported for hate speech
freedom has different values for some
Categories:
evilly, abortion, abuse, anti bullying,
Form:
Narrative
I had a dream —
different ... dark ... obscure
Mine’s wasn’t like Martin Luther King,
it was different
So very dark to the core
In my dream I saw his dream
masquerading as a fantasy
There were separate, reality TV camps competing:
radical, bellicose talk of Black Lives Matter,
and virtual, cyber walk of alt-right hate chatter
There were bone chilling sounds of
nuclear voices ... uranium saber rattlers,
and automatic gunfire arterial blood splatters
And in my dream
there was an iron-copper, ruddy king’s ring
coveted by a smiling Joker, batty as a Mad Hatter,
with an itchy trigger finger
And this nightmare of a dream snoring-ly lingered
My sleeping eyes saw a lot of marching in the night,
clashes of angry protest signs and torches burning bright
Different colored children wasn’t walking hand in hand,
hugging and kissing in harmonious unity
No, they were casting stones at each other,
hurling heavy curses and jagged profanity
In my dream, that dream that Martin Luther King seen
was a fake news rerun cancelled program broadcasting
And the interrupted voice of a moderator said:
a gunshot to the head killed Martin Luther King dead
Then there was a funeral for his dream,
with a sad procession of Obama supporters crying
I saw horror of horrors ...
dark clouds ominously began to evilly congregate,
and the fair trade winds wasn’t waving the flag
Fear merchants were selling whiskey bottles of hate,
and commemorative red, white and blue gag order rags
For some it was a festive atmosphere,
a grand occasion to sample a taste of times past
Blowing lead pellet trumpet sounds
of a shotgun baby shower blast,
Birth of a Nation music was merrily playing
Vaders celebrating the death of a starcrossed king’s dream,
opened my eyes to a rude Gentile awakening —
slumber promises begets delayed praying
I had a dream —
so different ...
That of a pauper, not of a king!
Categories:
evilly, dark, dream, society, visionary,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
She sits on a broomstick, one that’s floating
Looking at the full moon, she is gloating
She holds the fiercest lit pumpkin ever
Glowing with a demented face clever
Below is a witch near a huge cauldron
She’s stirring greatly for a large potion
Both of them cackling evilly with glee
While pumpkins shutter on ground fearfully
An owl calls his song along the long night
And the bats carry their own sounds with might
There are red blinking eyes within the tree
The witches both desire to be quite free
Free of the restrictions of Halloween
They want to go out any night between
Russell Sivey
Categories:
evilly, halloween,
Form:
Sonnet
DEAD SNAKE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE TRAIL
SNAKE! I see you!
I see you tightly curled around that rock
waiting, in your evilness
to attack a man, passing. Why?
I walk this trail, daily, almost.
It is something I have to do. I
did not see you yesterday. Were you here then,
lurking evilly to get me?
Or were you hunting, as God intended,
to secure your subsistence? Perhaps you were
enjoying Nature's radiance on a sunkissed
asphalt trail, a creature's bliss, sustained by God?
now, here you are - -
DEAD! That rock killed you. It
lay on your head, immorally thrown
by one who hates, or fears you.
It could be nothing less
that caused your death, oh snake.
Primordial fears, shaking hate
casts man into a reality of . . .
Killing snakes. Because . . .
The snake was feared,
The rock was there
and loathing man,
knew no better.
REFRAIN:
(Who else would wantonly kill the creatures of God
until the scent of their beauty, the taste of their bounty,
has dissolved into a wistful dream of barrenness?
Man, the hating antipathy of Nature's burgeon.)
Categories:
evilly, nature,
Form:
Swords clash and ignite the fire within
Fighters draw and strike again.
Draw! Strike! Draw again!
Strike him until he’s subdued!
Broken, bloody, torn and bruised.
Strike again, angry words this time fall
Forget the brotherhood and ties, uniting them all.
Victory is within his grasp
he can hear his enemy’s final gasp.
Menacingly he looks over the wounded, now walking dead
Grinning evilly, he picks up his sword to swing it over his head.
Victory is imminent;
He rushes on as he prepares to draw and strike the fatal blow.
Suddenly he notices the hilt with an ethereal glow.
“free people are brothers” is the gilded message of the now silent sword.
Anguish, grief and remorse are now his just reward.
An enemy he was not, but a friend,
Struck down, fatal blow, a grisly end.
Bonded they were in a battle long ago,when they fought for the same cause side by side
to be enslaved no more, was their battle cry, now by his own sword, his brother has died.
Hollow victory, blood stained hilt;
Now filled with sadness, pain and guilt.
A silenced mouth still with stories untold.
Forgotten brotherhood, a kinship now extinguished and grown cold.
Categories:
evilly, angst,
Form:
Couplet
The Lady Suffers
What of the slow falling of morning dew
rain that sets a cold shiver upon you
A sky that dances to yet mock anew
goodness and gentleness surely your due!
Can earth dare to ever this one reproach
promises of your sure sweetened approach
Pretty maiden of your innocent ways
sends joy into glorious summer days!
What of wind that so evilly blows
away all sacred words that you compose
Dares wickedly ruin your pretty hair
disrupt loving mood of my lady fair!
Nay, Nature careless , so very cruel
made up of harsh acts that so rashly rule!
Robert J. Lindley, 08-24-2014
Categories:
evilly, angel, beauty, devotion, earth,
Form:
Sonnet
The only happiness I enjoy today
is my complex lunacy.
What ever has become of me?
I didn't use to be this way.
I was once a happy child.
And as a kid
the things I did
were ever so tender and mild.
While laughing at one's misery is where I stop and find.
That the insanity
has demented me,
but I don't miss my mind.
Cause I like to watch the raindrops fall.
From the ground and moving up
much like the march hare's half a cup
It makes no sense at all
Now am I really here?
Or have I died
and my brain just lied?
And told me I have another year.
The things that should probably make me sad,
like being ripped of all I had
is actually what makes me very glad.
But is that really, very bad?
And I will happily
watch the tragedy
that I find your life to be.
So says the demon, who slowly is, becoming me.
So I sit here in my tower.
Looking down, while judging others
see their faces, hate their mothers.
My evil growing by the hour.
Lost in lust is how I feel
for what I see
in front of me.
As the fabric of my mind I peel.
To watch the world and see it fall.
When everything around me
is stripped of it's reality.
Such pretty colors they are all.
Categories:
evilly, imaginationme, me,
Form:
Rhyme
1.
In an ahistorical fog:
all the Ways home,
all the signposts,
treacherously hidden
by greedy men and women:
all eyes off the ball:
mere contemptible bourgeois folly.
2.
The rain is unending,
the wind howls,
the flooded river races,
its banks rapidly disappearing
in this darkness at noon.
Laid bare by the flashing, crackling
lightning, the wagon teams and
terrified, shouting horsemen
careen downstream.
Deafening thunder booms rolling.
In the swollen, swirling river,
w/ eyes wide in panic,
the horses kick wildly,
their neighing strangled and
silenced by the dark, rushing flow as
they disappear beneath it.
Both the beasts and the
men are doomed,
but for one of each.
That horseman, cursing,
desperately leaps unto the
back of that horse,
making its way struggling, swimming to the
shoreline, w/ their safety certain,
a horse changed midstream.
3.
The Robot Fighters:
savvy, Western workers
upright and true, foresighted and brave:
like the proverbial "physicians healing themselves"
they throw themselves fervently into
putting their "own house in order" first:
Toppled and wrestled under human control,
each and every evilly spying machine;
all the cruel, unheeding AI
stopped dead in its tracks;
all the poisonous tools of the trade
laid down in righteous protest,
w/ irrepressible Luddite spirit:
Alive, the fearless Machine Fighters
forced into action, wisely not waiting
for irremediable, dystopian 4,000 AD
before making their move.
4.
Greasy grasping fingers:
the fly in the ointment:
usury unchecked.
*****
Curtains, thrown open wide:
the startling, stark light of day:
usurious vampyres scatter,
run for their lives.*
*"The reason why the Persians [sic] were always slaves and always
will be is that they could never say 'No'."
--- Thucydides, ancient Athenian historian and general
Categories:
evilly, angst, freedom, political, symbolism,
Form:
Prose Poetry
CAREFUL HOW WE LOVE
We must love so carefully,
though beautifully and spiritually,
Must ever love so prayerfully,
Making sure it’s truly love.
Love should not be secretly,
but publicly and accountably,
Not destructively, but constructively,
Take care for how we love.
Love should not be questionably,
but sacredly not untruthfully
witch’craftily, or evilly,
selfishly or deceivingly,
oh it’s unbelievably,
what’s passed off as true love.
Love is not what you say,
It’s more what you do,
Behind the back love, and to the face too,
Love doesn’t harm ...or ever lie to you,
If only you knew... what I know that you do,
You would be very careful,
So much more very careful,
We must all be careful
Careful how we love.
Categories:
evilly, life, love, power,
Form:
Abecedarian