Best Malice Poems
no more splitting hares
white rabbit's clock is ticking ...
stop passing the buck
03/03/20
……….gale force winds announce the doom
…………………..portent of a dark and deathly gloom
…………………………..a maddening shriek of raging wind
……………………….howling terror the frightening din
………….rips great trees from the ground
….tosses the structures all around
………….raging malice haunting fright
………………twister spinning in the night
……………………….darkened clouds surging
…………….wind and rain merging
…..funnel of mighty hell
..tolls the death knell
…………terrors bloody ride
…………………..nowhere to hide
…………spinning away
…….from all that
…………..used to be
……..what we
…………called
………..this
………..life
Malice weaves its web
Faint-hearted men entangled
Compassionate pass!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
18 August 2015
I long for the end of perverse MAGA malice
Led by the immoral, they are cold and callous
They have caused such disdain
Since Trump's menacing reign
While he sits inside his Mar A Lago palace
How daft the man to assume he owns everything
Documents and White House dishes he chose to sling
Ketchup thrown against the wall,
Trumpty is ready to fall
Shot down by his arrogance. Ow, how that must sting
He's such a libertine, and wickedly corrupt
When not getting his way, his temper will erupt
But now he's gone too far
According to Bill Barr
But Dumpy Trumpty will never ever fess up
I hope he won't have need to don that damned red tie
An orange suit he may not wear, and I'll decry
He should be an inmate
Enemy of each state
And more loathsome than the insect, we call 'fruit fly'
Some of you make fun of Biden's slips due to age
I prefer that man to an ogre filled with rage
One who defies the law
has a deep-seated flaw...
The Republican elephant on a rampage
Oh say, people, please tell me why you cannot see
how politician's lies have become so beastly
Don't bite Trump's baited hook
Stop believing that crook
He's the cause of conflicts on a family tree
Can't forget the man from Malta, Paul Callus
In his poems he shows absolutely no malice
Once in a while
He turns on the smiles
Girlies are all competing to live in his palace
© Jack Ellison 2015
See the owl in swift silent flight,
Surfing the darkness of the night,
In control of its black domain,
Its prey killed quick, no time for pain.
Don’t be outraged when its victim dies;
The owl’s not a mugger of the skies,
No malice shown when it hunts for meat,
It leaves alone what it cannot eat!
The esteemed guests streamed into the candle lit
Foyer and dissolved into a sea of idle courtly ritual,
Landowners, majors, magistrates, slender maidens
And fair matrons all slithered into the modestly gilded hall so
Discreetly adorned by understated gluttony. Their lofty manners,
Their shield ; their feigned courtesy, disguise for icy hearts.
Only a thin veneer of silky decorum coats their acrid tongues,
For them, honest men are but emotional beasts to be
Snared and skinned by slander most gleeful and vicious,
Leaving in their wake their perverse masterpieces—
Hollow shells that would make a taxidermist proud.
Petaled confetti is set adrift upon powdered faces and intricate wigs lost in Laughter, Chatter, and the Clatter of soles ; and as Measured gaits of the Minuet Mingled ‘Mongst The Music and Morphed into the Milieu, well bred ladies politely pricked with veiled Slights of envy, and the men indulged their ornery humor, turning giddy at the sight of Misery, their openly secret delight.
Meandering through the dense meadow of decadent masters are the servants who carry Silver platters of pheasants and plum wine. Their obedient stony facades hide hearts That lust after larceny. Birds of the same feather, separated only by station.
Alas! Heaven cries as it looks down to judge…….King Yama lets out a sigh and asks:
In this hall of monsters, who is modest still?
In this world of wickedness, who is upright still?
In this land of lies…..who is honest still?
Poem released into Public Domain
Original published on my blog: purelandsutras.wordpress.com
I felt his weight on top of me;
I tried to move and wriggle free.
He had me pinned I couldn’t breathe,
Too weak, I couldn’t help but seethe.
His face I could not see because
His hands pressed on my eyes like paws.
All I perceived was his dark form
As he his evil deed perform.
Hot tears welled up, flowed down my cheeks
In long and crooked violent streaks
But still this savage beast from Hell
No soft entreaties can repel.
And so I silently gave up,
And yield as he with malice sup;
My head was filled with muffled scream,
I prayed that all was but a dream.
March 20, 2023
Among 3rd Place
Pick-a-Title, Vol 35 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
Your barque blocks the orb which steers my muse;
change course, you are an intrusion. Captain Wahn.
Intimidation brands you a martyr,
mere threats have no place herein.
Alter your own path. Skipper Twain.
Seems a knot has you both anchored;
choking, challenging your journey.
Old grudges you have harbored will send you
back to your docks on a gurney. words from Urania.
Fate obstructs the view
when ships align with the moon.
Urania smiles.
Hidden underwater shelf
will cut short the daze of malice.
Your words become a tattoo, a cliche and a curse
Heart first cracks then shatters but at least I know it works
The truths I were so sure of, decaying with the doubts
I didn't want to hurt you, but things are different now
I want you in a state of barely concious, just alive
Where your last breaths are wasted as you beg for suicide
And all the scars of malice that came bursting from your seams
Will be sewn with threads of mercy, though no one hears your screams
I'm sure I sense relief as you release a final sigh
I want to be the last thing seen behind your faithless eyes
Guilt danced with desperation, they implode as they collide
I guess today's your lucky day, your last chance has arrived
I'm scared to sleep, 'cause I'll slowly creep
Deeper & deeper into a frightening world
Where Alice is Malice & Wonderland is Underland
Where your nightmares come disgustingly alive
They'll claw your skin & tangle your hair
They'll scream & chase - they'll push & race
Just to have a reason to be in your face
The disgrace you'll feel, when it becomes real
A sizzling slap in your head
The whiff of a fiery dragon's breath
There's no more solace you have left
Driftin' & dancin' - Honeymoon romancin'
A reflection of what you want to complete
A ghostly white face in the sheets
All the lights are on, but I still fall asleep
Falling, crashing, & tumbling down underneath
Understand you're falling & twisting to Underland
Petty-ness, politics, posh & peculier to me
A little girl thrashed in bloody sheets
Chasing a Cheshire Cat through the tangled trees
A MERE HINT OF MALICE
paprikash chicken…
sweet dish...sink your teeth into
...careful of the host
his eyes hypnotize…
delighted to wine and dine
...hungry for Harker*
single baying wolf
under your satin window
...salivating dreams
4/30/2018
*From Bram Stoker’s Dracula
Is it because life pleads with love
Or love keeps longing for life
I still live on
Even as the hearse waits
Leaning on my gate
Is it because I flock
With doves of your bosom
And harvest poetry
Zealous scalpel scarifies them
Leaving wounds resembling a clown's grins
And I see a hasty autumn
Plucking away your wayward curls
From your mane's nights
Locks after locks till your face is
Only an empty moon on a purple pillow
I find myself in a dream
In a deserted garden
Under a thundering sky
Chipping away lumps of frozen tears
From the bust of Venus
And I see eyes of the goddess
As blank as fate's promises
When I wake up
I see you in deep slumber
Like a ripening ear of rice
Swaying in gentle lullaby of lazy winds
And I wonder
Had it not been for the mutinous cells
You would be dancing in the rain by now
Sprinkling on my face drops of wet laughter
Letting your rain-soaked tresses loose wildly
In sweet drunkeness
Somewhere in the mountains
But then
Hoping for the days
Where cicadas dream to whisper like snow
Where pine twigs burn like incense in bushfires
Where sparrows tell stories to pumpkins on thatched roofs
Where cows return home in gold dust of a bronze sunset
Where before the sun drowns itself in the red river
You once raised
Hem of your dress above the blue veins on your ankles
And waded in foamy waves carefreely
I'm left with nothing
But to curse the uprising bluntly
With no malice to crabs
Time for Holy Communion and chalice
Not one for Methuselah-old malice;
You ought to have dumped it at church entrance
To sought redemption give the fullest chance;
Holy Communion with spiritual police
Watches the terribly upset Alice,
Who is right now doing an asked Lord’s Dance
With a rock of a heart and concealed lance.
We all can guess your lame consolation,
Times without number man’s desolation:
“Cord God’s superabundant mercies
He makes sure He applies to all cases.”
This is nearing the chalice with malice
By one sure malice can withstand chalice.
A dance of death, a greedy chore
Trapped inside these creature comforts;
A chance of life may become a bore
Outside this pleasantly right hurt.
But, soft and fair, though, of the skin,
In flesh a silent malice lies
Dormant, unnoticed, not used in
Context. Still, touch me as day dies.
And you, a ghost I cannot touch
By reaching out to Heart or mind,
Caught up in this sweetly rush-
Jaded: Nothing else left to find.
Superfluous and flushed, we breath
In gusts, unable to be free.