Best Hideously Poems
Blood Red Moon
Deep devouring passions bleed now from this solar eclipse
As black blood flows from an evil army of “undead” beings
Whose fangs hideously and cruelly pierce the veins of their
Mesmerized and unsuspecting victims who are held at bay.
In such silence burdens prowl inside deep sad heartbeats
As ghastly living shadows creep eerily in and knot the
Tortured guts of a twisted scared bloodless life falling
Under the dark macabre gaze of the Blood Red Moon.
At night uncanny black magic spells are intoned in the
Old Latin scripture as large spider webs cast a gloomy
Presence and envelope now all those trapped by them as
The misted breath bleeding hearts howl to Heaven’s roar.
Standing upon a rugged and lonely mountain crossroad
There can be no release from the devilish glare of the
Vaunted “Blood Red Moon” whose evil presence pervades
Every breath you take and casts a demonic derisive stare.
My senses are now frozen in place as a deep chill shakes
My soul to the very core of its primordial existence as I
React to the cutting cold of a dawning maleficent darkness
Invading every corner and space of my psyche and existence.
The wicked jaws of a rabid beast seek now to bite and rip
All beauty from me and all thoughts I hold close and dear
As I gasp now for life and painfully feel my tired heartbeat
Slow as my immortal soul numbs and cries crocodile tears.
I’m cursed now to walk alone forever as my spilled remains
Are cut now and my ties of human existence have disappeared
Putting me on the ground on all fours as I ponder my ultimate
Fate in the hands of a supernatural force beyond any mercy.
As the shadow of Lucifer’s Blood Red Moon passes over my
Tortured face I spy a look at one demonic siren prompting me
Now to follow her as my body is placed on a sacrificial alter
And my life ebbs away as I’m kissed by spirits of the damned!
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem
Copyright © All Rights Reserved – October 11, 2015
(Narrative Quatrain)
Categories:
hideously, dark, evil, fantasy, halloween,
Form:
Quatrain
My poetry garden of late has lain untended and forlorn.
I succumbed to shock and dismay upon entering recently, for I observed that
great disagreement had erupted and now vehemently
raged among adjoining unmade weed-filled beds of subjects and verbs.
Modifiers that had been dutifully arranged and carefully
kept in check upon their trellises now dangled everywhere.
Sentences had spilled out of their beds in fragments or running
on and on while cases of subjectives and objectives shamelessly
intermingled and were now easily mistaken one for another.
Grammar, whose care I had entrusted to first, second and third
persons, lay in shameless disarray, as if no one could tell the difference.
Gerunds casually consorted with infinitives, many
of which had split. I recalled with a sigh how many years it had taken
me to tightly bind them. [To bind them tightly is what I meant.]
Commas were everywhere, rendering those in appropriate
position practically unrecognizable, which I suppose was better than
what had happened to the capitals, now completely ignored.
No reason for the rhyme with forms confused or misplaced altogether.
My lines, unpruned, were of disparate length and hideously incompl
An unfortunate mis-spell had been cast and provoked an infestation,
such that many of my friends had departed without comment.
The contest entry was blocked, so I bowed my head in shame,
turned around and shuffled silently through the exit marked N/A.
Posted July 24, 2014
'Let the Pens Flow - Narrative' Contest
Jenish Somadas
Categories:
hideously, garden,
Form:
Narrative
Blood Red Moon
Deep devouring passions bleed now from this solar eclipse
As black blood flows from an evil army of “undead” beings
Whose fangs hideously and cruelly pierce the veins of their
Mesmerized and unsuspecting victims who are held at bay.
In such silence burdens prowl inside deep sad heartbeats
As ghastly living shadows creep eerily in and knot the
Tortured guts of a twisted scared bloodless life falling
Under the dark macabre gaze of the Blood Red Moon.
At night uncanny black magic spells are intoned in the
Old Latin scripture as large spider webs cast a gloomy
Presence and envelope now all those trapped by them as
The misted breath bleeding hearts howl to Heaven’s roar.
Standing upon a rugged and lonely mountain crossroad
There can be no release from the devilish glare of the
Vaunted “Blood Red Moon” whose evil presence pervades
Every breath you take and casts a demonic derisive stare.
My senses are now frozen in place as a deep chill shakes
My soul to the very core of its primordial existence as I
React to the cutting cold of a dawning maleficent darkness
Invading every corner and space of my psyche and existence.
The wicked jaws of a rabid beast seek now to bite and rip
All beauty from me and all thoughts I hold close and dear
As I gasp now for life and painfully feel my tired heartbeat
Slow as my immortal soul numbs and cries crocodile tears.
I’m cursed now to walk alone forever as my spilled remains
Are cut now and my ties of human existence have disappeared
Putting me on the ground on all fours as I ponder my ultimate
Fate in the hands of a supernatural force beyond any mercy.
As the shadow of Lucifer’s Blood Red Moon passes over my
Tortured face I spy a look at one demonic siren prompting me
Now to follow her as my body is placed on a sacrificial alter
And my life ebbs away as I’m kissed by spirits of the damned!
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem
Copyright © All Rights Reserved – October 11, 2015
(Narrative Quatrain)
Categories:
hideously, dark, evil, fantasy, halloween,
Form:
Quatrain
I That Because Of Your Attack, Will Never Yield.
No single tear given, nor I gift you an open field
so yes, make merry with your hatred and false face
as you pretend to be a true and great religious man,
a fraud, with your camouflage, you are a total disgrace.
I that because of your attack will never yield.
Walking through majestic flowering meadows heart singing
as an ancient soul in poetry's many pass ways
ink will set and as my poetic words I be slinging
while you slither around within your hidden dark byways.
I that because of your attack will never yield.
This solemn vow I choose to make because of hate in you
as dawn its bright glory shares, my words will your evil haunt
never are given blessings to those that wear masks of two
with this new creation, you sad wickedness I now taunt.
I that because of your attack will never yield.
Robert J. Lindley,1-23-2020
Slam/rhyming poetry.
( A wolf in hiding, smiling behind its nasty evil nature )
Note: This poem is written about the one that hides to so falsely
accuse, demoralize and try to destroy other poets. He that shall
not be named but will suffer as all such hiding villains do.
A shame and a travesty that such a wicked soul gets by with such
reprehensible charades. Surely your envy/jealousy leads you to be
a tortured and lonely but hideously wicked soul. Yet a judgment
exists well beyond the scope of mere mortal man. Consider these
words as a poetic truth that will one day see you face the judgment
of your vicious and truly contemptible hidden deeds.
Tis I, that now deeply pities an evil wretch, such as you....
Categories:
hideously, character, conflict, corruption, evil,
Form:
Rhyme
Dawn broke
The eastern pink sky
Drew across the stars
As they faded and lost to the night
I called the eagle
To guide me
Piercing whistle
That I learnt as a boy
Running wild and free
I walked in the company of men
High above, eagles flew
The wraiths are coming from the otherworld too
Carrying the angst and pain
That has no place and name
Here at Heartstone
The screeching and wailing
Increased hideously
The tattered cloaks
Scattering the scree
I stood, with the company of men
My bow ready
Arrows drawn
Arm, steady
I have trained to defend
Truth and love
Nobility
Chivalry
The wraiths gathered
The screeching and wailings
Piercing through
To our souls
We are ready
To fight to the end
To defend
All that is true
The flight of an arrow
Unleashed
Steadied by the eagles’ feather
Of brown and gold
It flew
Straight and true
In to the non existent heart
Of a wraith bitter and cold
It was this I slew
A bundle of rags fell
For it is not the metal tip
That killed
It was the feather of a Heartstone Eagle
Truth be told
That slew
A wraith, bitter and cold
The wraiths flew
From behind the mountain
The screeching and wailing
Tattered cloaks
Scattering the scree
They came in their hundreds
To fall
For, truth and love
From a feather
Of a mighty eagle above
Slew the hearts
Bitter and cold
Brown and gold glow
Flashing by
The flight of an arrow
The archers
Standing tall
The gleam of brown and gold
That flew
Deep in to the cold bitter hearts
Of stories now told
Of men of the longbow
I reached
I pulled
Many arrows to fly
Of a star
Of a longbow
Aquila am I
The longbow of dark wood
Felt my strength
As I clasped its’ bronze inlaid feathers
And reached
And pulled
Arrows of brown and gold
Deep into wraiths
Its’ purpose understood
The sky turned black
With eagles that twisted and turned
Of wraiths, slain
Felled by the longbow
Down they fell
In to their own stinking hell
The brown and gold aglow
Darkness falling
The fires lit so bright
In a company of men
That celebrated under starlight
Remember….
This day well
When the archers
Masters of the longbow
Sent the wraiths back
To their stinking hell
Of Aquila
Who slew
More than most
The flight of an arrow
That holds true
Categories:
hideously, adventure
Form:
Ballad
It might be a wonderful, beautiful day -
sun shining and sand warm and gleaming underneath your feet.
Someone turns a radio on; you hear sweet music play.
Palm trees sway as if in rhythm to its beat.
Loved ones are with you. Could you feel more complete?
In the midst of life so filled with joy and calm,
you think that melancholy never here could be.
Something changes in the atmosphere. You feel a qualm.
Thirsty for souls, death rolls in hideously. Though you flee,
the tsunami is unstoppable. Many loved ones perish in the sea.
May 17, 2018 For Broken Wing's Contest: A Poem About Death
Theme: in the midst of life
Categories:
hideously, nature,
Form:
Quintain (English)
There are two famous politicians who hold the stage,
they should be in this year New York's Halloween Parade
to attract huge crowds: they are stuttering Biden and hysterical Harris;
these two have shaped the theatrical perception of two charade clowns!
One is hideously scary, the other is theatrically funny,
America has become a battlefield, a nobody's land:
there's no impenetrable wall to protect this country;
no regard for police, no gun control to stop the blood!
It's a bad time for them to engage in a fierce battle,
this rampant pandemic doesn't discriminate;
who chooses to get the vaccine shot is saved,
who refuses it is someone to be alienated,
going home without a check and feeling miserable,
shouting their inalienable rights that aren't sacred
anymore; alas, they won't transform their fate!
Oh, turn off Fox News: it makes this house rattle!
Categories:
hideously, anger, character, conflict, culture,
Form:
Rhyme
There could be rats and snakes hiding in here.
Yes, I am talking about asps and cobras, big ones.
Hiding under the bed, no, not in my head, under my bed.
Okay, what about way back there, in the darkest corner?
Did you check out THAT corner? My voice is rising. I hear it crack.
Better take my flashlight and look hard this time. No, not in my head.
Under my bed.
Well, no the rat would not be. He is hiding in the closet.
A big gray monster with that hideously ugly pink rat tail.
He is probably under that pile of clothes. Not that pile, the other pile.
It might take you awhile to find him. He’s really sneaky.
Probably eating my new jacket.
Can you read me another story while you are here and can I have
two more cookies? What about a drink of water? I am thirsty.
And I have to go to the bathroom again. No, don’t leave, yet.
If you do, I am a goner. Please leave the flashlight, PLEASE!
Categories:
hideously, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Why do you come now?
Why do you besiege me
with your fowl unholy presents?
You are the Prince of Darkness,
the keeper of tormented souls,
you are Satan himself are you not?
Oh call me what you wish!
History has seen fit to adorn me
with many provocative names
and I detest each one of them.
For they perpetuate the myth
that every bit of the world's evil
springs directly from my loins.
Why do you come now?
Why do you torment me?.
I have been a great man of God.
I spread his word with relentless zeal
wielding the sword of righteousness
toward all I deemed evil and wicked.
Why I have come to take you home.
You have been a fantastic disciple.
Few have served our cause better.
You have made the worst sins
tolerable to the great masses.
Cloaking evil under Godly robes
was a masterful work of genius.
No! No! This cannot be?
God has spoken through me.
I have been his earthly conduit.
I am one of God's chosen people.
I devoutly followed his teachings
and actively preached his word.
You perverted God's so called revealed word
into a twisted rendition of your own creation.
You stoked the fears of the ignorant into a inferno
and reaped all you could from the true believers.
You have spawned a most delicious type of hatred.
One that will continue to bear fruit for years to come.
Evil has many faces, but none more hideously vile
than those who hide behind the curtain of religion.
Categories:
hideously, bible, evil, psychological,
Form:
Narrative
Halloween , The Undead Rise
How did darkness sneak into this room
echoes sounding of agonizing doom
Shrill sounds like chaotic dancing feet
images of stabbed and rotting meat
A dark mist hangs in this musty air
faint cries giving any soul a scare
Thumpings upon the foot of the bed
glimpses of many bloody, mutilated dead
Door opening to view another world
objects across the room savagely hurled
Ghostly apparition floating in the scene
claws so long with face so hideously mean
Wicked laugh coming from under the bed
mangled hand sliding forth , the undead
Smell of death's stinking odor so foul
fear cries to just flee but mind asks how!
Robert J. Lindley
Note: Month of the Undead.
Written for my daughter......
Categories:
hideously, dark, death, fantasy, imagery,
Form:
Rhyme
the list that was a fist
a) it is possible
b) it is inevitable
chained to a million pleasures
an astonishing compendium of compulsions
honed bright with a fool's ardor
the kind you'd wish for in a movie script
undulating at the tar pits of amor
the land rich with autographs
bruised and humiliated reciting the alphabet
backwards on the curb with Officer *****
a limited perspective but not without its ironies
blazing trails to metabolic equilibrium
using every crutch and cane there is
to seek out and embrace ignorance
in a fanciful play of medieval shadows
colliding with the grace of mosh pit elbows
and that pretty much nails it
the rest is a problem of amplification
if looking can blind you I'm blind
he seems to have a button gone missing
ripe to the skies with the stink of deduction
hell was upon us and none grieved
in statistically relevant numbers
apparently they had finally reached
the bottom of the barrel
we still wage war upon feudalism
good advice for any century or cemetery
touch something holy once in a while
and mighty Thor will wing above
ah sure right uh huh you bet
needing humor the wires tried to sing
the blades of the switch bit the anode
all is broadcast everywhere right now
on all the boogie woogie coordinates
how's that for karmic indifference
some curse some utter gratitude
may the good fairy console you
and turn the illusion of warmth
up a little higher
since it hasn't yet been made a crime
to destroy your own mind
until the foundations of the world
thunder and come apart like cooked meat
but working on the problem
is better than nothing
even if you really don't know
all that you think you know
even if hideously scarred in battle
a terra cotta bust hot from the oven
smelling of sulfur and bruises
tempted by radiance and music and poetry
which could get you jailed tonight
so pretend you have wide angle vision
under a curse with an escape clause
in varying pedantic proportions
for another illegal exit
from Average and its Law
played to hI fives all around
kindling fires of rebellion
the Metaphor League saw to it
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
Categories:
hideously, how i feel,
Form:
Free verse
There are many diseases found
in the world either widely known
or hushed up and swept under a
carpet of desperate denial.
Fear thrives even within the
names of these diseases but
nothing like Aids; intrusive
and a slow creator of hellish
emotions, it awakes every
sense I behold making them
scream in unimaginable pain.
It was once thought to be
able to infect with the slightest
touch; skin to skin.
Hideously, it opens doors
to many other viruses and
common bacteria slowly
weakening my defences; the
body begins to give in to
its destructive ways and
the pain becomes a reflection
upon my face; there is no depth
in my facial features, they are
as thin as a ghostly sheet.
As the days pass many thoughts
are stored within the mind that
strangely remains able to disconnect
from the fear and pain, even if only for
moments; life seems to be
back to normal during those
sparks of happiness.
As the bed becomes home
sleep is forever increasing;
each sunset and sunrise is
precious, like a diamond
one owns.
Slowly I drift off on a
boat that floats on the
clearest of oceans; blue
dominates the surface where
gentle waves grow.
The boat drifts off in to
the horizon trying to reach
the star of light where my
soul will be welcomed into
the gates of heaven.
Dedicated to Freddy Mercury and other Aids sufferers
Categories:
hideously, death, health, sad
Form:
Free verse
Adulterous besieging capstone damnation
exploitation foists groping, heaving
insidiously jerking
knowingly lunges
machinations notoriously nymphomaniacal
officiating penile quests
rapaciously, sadistically
tenaciously, unstoppably
vasocongested wickedness
Xerses yawped zeolously.
***************************
All throughout history of man/woman kind
ascendent civilizations extensively gouged,
impailed, kindled, murderous outrages
quashing sacred urges, women yearned.
***************************
Versatile thematic refrain punctuating nubiles
maximized looting, pillaging, raping
visited upon females via decimating fountainhead
guarding brestworks of vestal virgins,
innocent youths (little boys and girls).
***************************
Twenty first century *****Sapiens male population continue to applaud, covet, extol, gloat, invoke, kickstart, molest outrages, quest savagely thee unbridled wedded yoke appropriating coquettishly enshrined gals imposing killing mandates okaying queasy sordid ugly wretchedness yanking aborhent behavior denigrating, fulminating, harrassing, jawdropping lewdness, nabbing prized rearends, twerking, violently whiplashing, yelling zingers.
***************************
Now not a day elapses with instances women claim untoward advances, and/or forced coercion to satiate and temporarily slate the sexual thirst informing prononced picadilloes (philandering if married pompous head honcho demands appeasement of coitus, ********, indecent lowball outrageous ribald uncouth x-rated animalistic, carnal, feral, gonadal, immoral, kleptomaniacally misogynistic, narcissistic, opportunistic, pathetically reprehensible, torturously undervaluing, validating virility within Yankee Doodle, haply lambasting, proudly touting, vaunted wayfair zest.
***************************
The above meandering stream of consciousness attempted to amplify, a recent spate of accusations figuratively slapped against a male sex mongers, who specifically rule roost, and blithely, demandingly, forcefully, hideously, impishly, killingly, malignantly, opprobriously, powerfully, repeatedly, terminally, vindictively, wantonly, yearningly acrimoniously belittle, demean flagrantly, harshly insinuate keeping mindful, not publicize rabid tawdry unwanted villainous withering zeal!
Categories:
hideously, abuse, age, anger, discrimination,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
You are so tense,
cos you are so tender
Deep inside
into the melody and structure of your soul
which as a sort of translucent musical instrument
away to be fine tuned
and there’s no one else that will do
the way you do,
you will get the hints, to help you
but the final part, of your soul tuning
is up to you.. and your body senses
and no excuses
cos they help in no way
and no somebody’s else dullness or smartness
but your own flamboyant self
regardless of inexplicably shiny shadows
loosing the pace but never in forgiveness
to the piety succumbing filth of bloodthirsty altars
so think of millions of lost and found pieces
in radiance never to be completed
but always on their way
to revoke your peaceful saturation
to the one and one, or the other, but never yours
sincerely and kindly
peaks above peaks
with the coldness getting under your skin
chill of hanged love
creeping though hardly breathing
peak above peaks
master Kethmandu.
I’m the tallest
cos there’s rocks and rocks,
been thrown my way
so I could stand them up
and use the newly acquired high...
high altitude vocation to do
some power and maintenance
outspoken turbulence
as if ...in life we die
Endurance is a golden key
which opens many doors
are the passages to and from
where we will
are meant to
or want to
some of them are only to be opened
and never ever closed but less clearer
some of them by being
looked inside and closed forever
and ever to be fueled
with the greatest mysteries
that sprouted in a shroomy way
hideously laughing round
unfolding themselves, .. to him
to his overwhelming feeling
of achievement, of real work done
by a real mastery right hand
in the right sphere
under the lamp post
of collisions between
aversion and curiosity.
Categories:
hideously, anxiety, growth,
Form:
Free verse
When Truly, Deeply Lost And One Has Faith One Is About To Die
Alone and defiant I stood staring into death's icy face
On a knife thin ledge, slippery on a high cliff's so out of place
Panic stricken daring to pray for courage and hopeful saving out
At that very moment death spoke with its hideously wicked shout
Screaming, " You will die, I have you in my cold iron clutches now
I see you pray for divine help, even that field you cannot plow
Do recall in wicked nightmares how I gave you such deadly blows
Yes, sweat all the more and crying out for help, let your dark fear grow!
When truly, deeply lost and one has faith one is about to die.
Pray for mercy, pray for life, speak to that golden throne in the sky.
In my wild youth, I must have retold this story a thousand times
Some called me a liar, others said a poet with his rhymes
Yet as sure as Heaven its sweet promise vow of salvation gives
I survived, that gifted miracle proves this now old poet lives
Perhaps one future day I shall write the story of my rescue
How by faith I was given a new life and one I was not due
If ever so, this my testimony would assuredly awe and shock
Know this, death once had me in its unrelenting hard icy lock!
When truly, deeply lost and one has faith one is about to die.
Pray for mercy, pray for life, speak to that golden throne in the sky.
Robert J. Lindley, 12-14-2021
Rhyme
Note:
Composed this afternoon.
Categories:
hideously, art, death, faith, heaven,
Form:
Rhyme