Best Goth Poems
The Sussex lad, to title and land born,
An alumni, now he stands proudly tall.
In Oxford students pass at future’s dawn,
For some the inspiration was his call.
Provocative, a mighty pen his sword,
Expelled for godless view from hallowed hall.
The Baronet poet, friend to a Lord,
The Gothic king’s voice did incite them all.
His Mary worshipped at her husband‘s feet,
She held his heart tight from death’s final flame.
Did they engage in black acts, pagan mete?
A dark and often troubled soul laid claim.
Into the storm set sail to the end foretold,
He died before his talent could unfold.
Goth Girl, ebony black, manners slack, hit the sack
Gothic, Hispanic, remote chic, slick, sick
Goth Girl, non- conform, nonsense, hence
Gothic, lick lick lick, slurp, chirp
Goth Girl, tongue stud, bottle of bud, I could
Gothic, unromantic, drink quick, be sick
Goth Girl, give us a twirl, strip naked, curl
Gothic, sarcastic, bombastic, bliss, give us a kiss
Goth Girl, heart of stone, all alone, have a bone, go away, stay
Gothic, strange chic, sober, drunk, hic hic
Goth Girl, steer clear, cheers, rent arrears
Gothic, ankle boots with zip, zipperty doo dah, wheres the bar
Goth Girl, sexually free, three in a bed in garden shed, she said
Gothic, food on tick, pan non-stick, chuck a brick, night in nick
Goth Girl, nose ring, ring in nipple, bed is triple
Gothic, not the same, no shame, insane, country lane
Goth Girl, love you, love to screw, screw you, you too
Gothic, lethargic, Nostalgic, cares not, eats snot
Goth Girl, has knits, squeeze your zits, sqeeze your ****
Gothic, give us a twirl, Tobacco bag, share your shag
Goth Girl, Dark Sin, Virgin, like twin
Goth Girl, Hygiene, squeaky clean, smokescreen
You are a goth, you don't like to conform
you don't like labelling yourself
your not always depressed and
suicidal like stereotypical goths
who are people who think goths are violent
and depressed, you are not a poser,
you are you
Roses are black and violets are grey,
And candy hearts say ‘Yuck!’ and ‘Ew!’
At least they would if I had my way.
And no hugs and kisses from me to you
There wouldn’t even be hearts or ‘love anew’
Especially not pink cards saying ‘Be Mine!”
No smiles and laughter and love shining through
On my very own Goth Valentine’s.
At Valentine’s dances no one would stay
We’d slouch on the couch, all day that’s what we’ll do
We’d all yell at Cupid, “Just go away!”
Everything I say I want to be true
‘Cause the real Valentine’s Day just makes me blue
And if it’s doesn’t change soon, all the world’s goths will whine
And we will be upset that the Earth never knew
What it’s like on Goth Valentine’s.
We’d have to keep the lovesick smoochers at bay
And all the ones who afford time to woo
Because we goths don’t want to be led astray
Or we won’t be able to start the goth debut
And keep everyone from becoming as mushy as glue
Hopefully we can keep them in line
maybe we can turn them into goths too
Then they can celebrate Goth Valentine’s
Then we can make a party out of a fray
And it will all turn out fine
I hope this doesn’t sound cliche
but, have a happy Goth Valentine’s..
A flower is wonderful to have in life,
but it reminds me of a rose that is
red, that I used to have, and to hold,
all of the time I thought I was
wrong about a rose, and a flower, on
which way it will go,
it is red I know my eyes see different,
in the light blood wine light in the
light,
this sparkling lit weather of the rain,
of a red rose that I use to know,
I still do, know it, it is dark but,
I will rub it in the sun,
above all things bad including the mud,
to my dearest goth, and gothic, love rose,
To my gothic dearest gothic rose love,
I just love all flowers in general,
but only one and it is you,
Ummm, what kind is it ?,
what heart beat will it take,
what kind of gothic rose is it,
Ummm, what heart beat will it take,
I will smell it right now,
to see how it would taste,
this is a sample of how much I love being gothic,
each, and every, day, of different aspects in life,
but the same routine thing will never go
away,
I will feel the warmth breeze,
of the glowing wind stone,
Stone, wind glowing of life's wind,
will take wind airs wind, and me, there,
and that is my all orange, and separate black hair,
with the gothic cross, while standing by the
gothic cross,
the red rose that is, two different strong
things, ??? while standing by the Gothic Cross,
a simple red rose is just what I love,
it is what I love to comfort it as I hold,
while smelling the flower and it, it & the flower,
I just love the smell of the red rose flower,
to let out the breeze fresh scent,
the outside is a typewriter, I, and every, thing readable a violet,
come and take me with you,
saying this again and, and again,
until I get it, read me until the graveyard tombstone,
die as I am listening to the rain again,
while the song is playing during the day,
and the evening wind capture it, and me,
feel the heavy weight of,
the dress fall right into the, the night of mortal eye love, I am knelt rose holding down, the red rose, twinkling moon stars is in my eyes, twinkling star is in my eye, like the rain where it goes,
away,
where it end tomorrow or
today,
GOTH GIRL
Sitting beside two Goth girls;
Black hair, black clothes,
Black eyelashes,
silver studs in the knee-length boots,
pale daughters-of-Dracula complexions.
I could be in Whitby for a Goth convention,
standing on a crag
looking out on the cold North sea,
but I'm having a coffee break
from learning Swedish,
and the blonde thread running
through my thoughts
has been momentarily lost,
a shadow darkens the sun.
Sneaking a glance at her chill loveliness;
no fangs or love bite from the master
blemish her ivory neck,
and I laugh behind my newspaper,
laugh at the adult restraint
I have to honour,
laugh at the sentence,
Welcome to my castle!
She turns to look my way
but I have to get going
- Age before Beauty -
before the light of those eyes
makes me break
my thousand-year silence.
I am dreaming of a person that I will meet, one day,
maybe on morning Wednesday before the afternoon,
it is when I love to dream of him in the night sky,
molly wonder if he will be in her arms one day,
she hope, but she will see how he will come to
her,
on special days when ever the thought
come around,
he some how hear her voice because,
while walking on the side walks * by herself,
there are regular sights, going past her eyes,
minding her own business,
as molly is looking, at a rose bush outside,
she see some thing in the drass she love it so
much,
there is a square sheet folded piece of paper,
waiting for me with a rose in it, from the
boy sure, I will sure meet not later or
now, molly look forward to meeting him,
very soon while walking on the green soft grass,
the sun shine outside,
she still think about the mirror,
while walking to a mail box which,
could have love letter's in it behind,
and inside a heart,
I could have waited for him, alone,
along time time ago. . . but instead I,
could not wait,
when I finally opened the letter,
he sent to me,
molly was inside of house,
during one day while smiling,
at any thing she waited to be,
he pull her over to the side,
what ever she does it will not come
late,
as she was reading it,
her dream man finally came to,
her door step,
love coming from him do not stop,
ever,
while talking to each other,
writing to him back to back,
Jack feed her nothing but love, and
kisses,
in each gothic journal it said's,
what his personality want to express,
it is coming from deep,
within his heart,
one journal said how, and what his,
look look like,
the last one said . . . ,
it is time to meet,.
with his look traits for her
interest, in him,. Never happened.
he have light brown hair, green
eyes, and he is white, and he is
goth, like her,
they are living happily ever,
after, heart on heart,
in love, an in the same eyes,
behind today in a way,
She was the type who dressed only in darks,
a ‘non-conformist’ teen who bathed in snark,
in black lipstick her smile did hide,
row of piercings ran above her eyes.
Her family came in October to my inn,
a bed-and-breakfast in a Victorian,
early fall I made it over into
a classic Gothic house, for a scare of two.
It was a lot of fun, so said our guests,
the town said my Haunted House was the best,
but as the goth walked in, looked from her phone,
she rolled her eyes hard and let out a groan.
She went to my mummy, Ammon-Hotap,
said,”How much toilet paper went into that?”
Seeing my Dracula, she laughed and proclaimed:
“He’s been done to death, so tired and tame.”
My bell-hop dressed himself as Wolf-man,
with the family’s baggage, he gave a hand,
she went up to him as he was working,
said,”Dude, for your sake, the big box is hiring.”
I bit back a strong urge to choke the runt,
or call her a bad name that rhymed with ‘bunt,’
so I faked a smile, went to help too,
said,”Right this way folks, I’ll show you your rooms.”
After I had the parents settled in,
I asked the goth girl,”Do you need anything?”
She gave me a look, said,”Before you go,
I need the WiFi password, for my phone.”
I shrugged and said,”We won’t have internet.”
And she let out a shriek that awoke the dead!
Never before had I heard such a scream,
it was probably heard by half the county.
All the ghosts and goblins did not do the trick,
but you take the gadgets, it gets scary quick.
I guess next year I’ll have to change the display,
to reflect what terrifies the kids these days.
"He is a typical Goth. That what I think so",-
Thought the parrot, looked at the crow.
"Gay" - the crow thought, looked at the parrot ...
That why he looked such gaily, aberrant.
to sit and listen to the guitar ring in the memory
that is etched in my brain to see the men burn and the epic scream to see the light jump across the prism One to only write with the image portrayed i can only ponder and begin to feel the emotion of the bass and the melody flow within for to seal a deal with the devil for the lust of the darken soul with such a light of interest that peaks one to scream hey you but the wall remains the same knock one brick for another for one to chill the mind of a mad man with a sense of numbness for the race has been run for thousands of hours in the span of a little over two decades a glimpse a locking as the handshake of fire etched in the skin like a cattle iron of days past to tomorrows future a puzzle of a tale i spin and to nervous to piece the pattern of thinking to acting to learning to fly it has been an anthem for many but with out the winds of education the flight is hopeless for to soar we must fall but to fall and flatten is one question of time the narrator i ask for i would like to smoke a cigar of great success for a labor of love is truly a welcoming to a machine that we call the simplicity of life
Somber grey,true dismay
Abstruse plight,day is night
Assailants might,no armistice
Goth
Abatoirs full of disgorge
A world depraved,a blackish haze
Ignominous calamity
Goth
Fathomless,the abyss
Callosity,the damned to be
Feinous atrocities
Goth
Evil adulation,whole affectation
Amoral fixation,mind controlled nations
Robotic existence,lost in decadence
Goth
In my goth time to how many years I have been here,
I look to a rose,
it could be dark red or light red,
I see the beauty inside each tree and,
it is life except for the winter glow at night,
where it is alright to be goth,
to let my hair down to be a goth figure,
there is a flower lit box, just a flower,
there is alot to today, and this rose,
that I am holding in the right one,
knife knelt yellow flower down holding,
flower rose movement,
this heart felt yellow rose in the,
moon strong night vision,
my moving eyes tell me the, lie,
the truth is calling for me,
to ring the clock bell in the snow,
when it is time to go, run as fast that I can,
looking around for more trouble, and laughter,
to catch the snow flakes when they fall,
GothelecktraVampire still carries, and hold,
the gothic yellow flower rose in hand,
I am walking around stiff minded,
I love this area of being goth,
every thing that surrounds it fastenates me,
top secretly love the winter snow,
with this rose that is still in my hand,
looking at it in the mirror,
is like looking at every day life,
to remember memories in skies light,
a shooting star is in sight, beaming,
across the sky * being like this, which is goth,
feeling the heavyness day black lipstick of day's,
of feeling light day weaker winter outside time show in,
smiling forever, forever smiling I will be,
right here waiting for you of tonight,
lipstick is sight paper that can come off,
of the lips in a woman rain true truthful eyes,
to pick goth items off saying goodbye, and,
of rock hard lips in a woman true eyes,
you got my hart
and its twisted and raw
guess what?
I, wrapped it in
some bloody SPONGE GAUZE
only to serve it to
my favorite god
so stop dragging it
through the mud
do you know how
much i don't
love you
right now!
I'm going to kill you
with my love
(hook three times )
I'm going
I'm going
love you
(hook two times)
beat it up
knock it out
I'm going to
i'm going to
drag it around
(hook one time)
I'm going to
i'm going to
love you to death
(hook said in whispers - many times and one time loud)
even if it kills
you
Happy Valentine's Day MOFO
(like the song "Bad Guy)
In the bleeding shadows threading ***** and deft
Along and above corridors painted white and green,
Fluorescents flickered in their moth-brushed bowls,
And the madness and sweet anguish seethed unseen.
It was felt in the bones of the new and the old,
The creeping electric bristle of marrow and moss,
Sucking like leeches on the calcium and the blood,
Until the ligaments and plasma were nocturnal candyfloss.
Stole by the winds, the whisperings of the grave,
Uttered earthen verses, muttered fever of neurosis,
And the crowbars in the eyeballs of those who slept unsound
Soon let them dream again in a crystal meth psychosis.
Asylum gargoyles spewed their eternal gushing rain
From out of mouths wide open and torrentially agape,
Until the drains were flooding with the sewage of despair
And the land beyond the walls held only death as an escape.
In the clinic by the lamp a needle glinted in the light,
Hypodermic glowing amber, loaded with paraldehyde,
And the king of all insanity, now driven mad by ghosts,
Shot it up until the death, until by his own hand he died.
I'm going to kill you.
I'm going to kill you.
That's what I will do.
Kill kill kill kill KILL KILL KILL KILL!
I been in your back yard
I looked through your window
You better stop being so rude
I know where you live
I know where you work
I've followed your daughter to school.
I'm going to kill you.
I'm going to kill you.
That's what I will do.
Kill kill kill kill KILL KILL KILL KILL!
A selection from my collection (hey! that's a poem, a selection from my collection!) Daisy Zoo and Other Punk-ass Nonsense (Duck's-foot Tree, 2016).