Best Maliciously Poems
The Internet or cyberspace needs you to trust it, even though embarrassing vulnerabilities will reveal your lack of wit.
Tech savvy users, ciphered chatting and risk calculus, reading the terms of service, as it could be the catalyst...
To consented digital surveillance, data-mining and analytical buffoonery, who can you choose to be if you are truly not free?
Cameras are everywhere, in the sky and in our pocket, accessed through transmission control protocol sockets.
The clear net is the internet minus the deep and the dark monikers, you can get high off your own supply of virtual encrypted liquors.
Download an app from any store and your identity may be stolen, by pirates with bad intentions, a wolf in sheeps’ clothing.
A sheep in wolves clothing, is software maliciously exploited, with he intent of hurting developers, hoping everyone will avoid it.
Now here comes the patches, updates and recommended use, just like substance abuse, addictive qualities will be produced.
It’s Christmas Eve; there’s someone at my door!
But with the horrid sound outside my window,
I wonder who is knocking and what for!
Midst violent wind I see a surreal snow!
Within it’s haze, there is a grotesque sight -
gigantic and so out of place, I quiver!
A snowman leers at me, and frigid fright
goes through my bloodstream like an icy river.
Again, the knock! Whoever could it be?
This morning I wished Christmas would be gone!
A premonition now is telling me
that nothing good is out there on my lawn.
My friend had warned me that I really ought
not curse this season. Oh, what have I done?
More pounding at the door, but I cannot
go near that door; there’s nowhere I can run.
I look out at the snowman. He is more
enormous than a tree, and now I hear
a sound like laughing elves outside the door.
I stand as thought I’m paralyzed by fear.
That movie! There’s a movie I heard of.
A boy hates Christmas, wishing it away.
A storm brews suddenly in skies above,
heralding a deadly Christmas day.
A Shadow Santa comes. This wicked soul
is known as Krampus, and he brings with him
an evil that can swallow people whole.
If I have summoned him, my fate is grim.
The storm keeps wailing; now there’s a new sound
of scratching on my roof, but there is no
more knocking. Oh, who’s walking all around
my roof? I run out to the blinding snow!
At first I can see nothing till my eyes
are drawn to where a great big bag was put
beside my door. What’s this? More Santa lies?
Though filled with dread, I push it with my foot.
There jumps out from the bag the strangest thing -
A tiny man; he’s made of gingerbread!
He laughs maliciously, and starts to sing,
“Before the night is over, you’ll be dead.”
Out on my lawn, I see beneath the snow
there’s something creeping fast and right toward me!
What creature slithers underneath the snow?
I can’t escape, so back inside I go!
I shut the door and bolt it, then collapse
Upon my sofa near the fireplace, when
I hear an eerie sound above. It taps,
taps, taps. It’s something on the roof again!
Past Christmases with family go through
my frantic mind; I cower there and wait.
It’s Krampus, and he’s up there in the flue,
and soon to be delivering my fate!
Written Dec. 24, 2015/ Inspired by the contest of TAMMY REAMS
and the current Christmas horror movie Krampus.
A Stone’s Throw
A change in the river by only one stone
in someone’s life maliciously thrown.
Chain reaction, stillness disturbed.
Like ruffled feathers peace is perturbed.
The mirror broken by life's quick blow,
a second of altering the current's flow.
Cause and effect, fluid undulations
making tiny waves in tense situations.
All is calm. Then comes a thing.
Eyebrows make frowns. Water forms rings.
We are the water. Fate is the stone
breaking the surface, quite unknown.
Troubles soon fade into life's trifles,
as a stone sinks fast to an endless cycle.
8/26/17
“Nobody likes a clown at midnight.” Stephen King
CLOWN AT THE ABYSS
Darkroom abscessed
with neon blush and black-blood —
sunken eyes look surprised
to find oneself in a dank dungeon.
Fecal stench, not humorous,
screams on each bold painted-on face.
“Are we dead?”
“When did I die?”
“I didn’t want to take along this honking nose! It never quits!”
“These humongous shoes, like flippers, so cold they grip!”
The clowns, their smiles and frowns,
continue to gripe in the big tent abyss.
The epic fail of their lives an applause
from the demons who have them in grip.
Like fools, they suppose, they can feel their way out.
They march in one straight line with clanging chains,
chortling, “Heigh Ho! Heigh Ho! It’s off to work I go!”*
You see, they can’t help being funny - never could.
So on they march clinging to claustrophobic walls.
Yet they, one by one, begin to notice no floor exists.
Squalid birds, their chains rattle and roll,
with cheap jokes that never cease.
“Take my wife…please.”
Rings through the air. The demons cackle and boo
their despair, occasionally deflating the roof of the tent
on their heads - it sticks to their gooey faces, causing
them to run out of hot air, go limp, confine their space
even more - no audience to exploit. When the roof rises
each one finds water caterwauled at their faces, then
strapped to a chair as sufferable makeup - acidophil -
leaks behind their eyes, into their pores, maliciously.
Clown at the abyss digs his nails into the soil, climbing
a mountain of ill will, always failing...falling, and then
the jokes hammer again...over and over, head over heels.
...head over heels,
with no end…
2/27/2020
Clown at the Abyss Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Kai Michael Neumann
*Disney’s Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs
Demons drown the desire;
proudly persecuting patiently.
Evil erupted entities;
maliciously mangling me.
Satan states the severity;
of corrupting his command.
Ferociously framed in fire;
horrifically at his hands.
Dreams died decades ago.
Slaying sins set out;
to traumatize the innocent,
on a rancid, wretched route.
Blood bath beginning;
Demons delightfully dote.
Abominations are appreciated;
take the knife to her throat.
The trials are terminated;
Judgment Day is just.
A lifetime with Lucifer;
all in the name of lust!
By 3 a.m. he often would awake
I’d feel the bed shake. . .
shake. . . shake. . .
He’d say my name and ask:
Are you awake?
I knew inside he quaked. . .
quaked. . . quaked. . .
He could not sleep, so nor could I.
The essence of his being ached. . .
ached. . . . ached. . .
I only could console; I could not kill
that awful pain that rakes. . .
rakes. . . rakes. . .
The snake invades one’s brain to
poison sleep. Maliciously it waits. . .
waits. . . waits. . .
until the darkened morning
when it creeps.
He’d weep, and for his sake
I’d pray. . . for day.
Written about my husband when his depression/anxiety were very bad at one time.
Axe the old Don, a trump peter n piper
of incredulous hellish crud - be gone
ha air brushed pompous ****
Sunkist in Macy's window
then like a jackal hound, he doth run
after public outcry yelps
for his hide leaving
proletarian discord re: pyrrhic victory won.
Donald Duck Trump ™$ - a pompous ass
makes war with his big brass
knuckles and bucket of crass
maligns vis a vis character assassination
while kissing thing kith
darting forked tongue sharp as bro kin glass
inciting banal deathly hallowed
expletives toward lass
sees – especially Fox Television
news anchor woman Megyn Kelly
(quite so many ill mannered indiscretions ago)
inducing said personality
to bear the brunt of brutish mass
of vitriolic n vile insults sacrilegiously
maliciously, noxiously, opprobiously
incriminating, hellaciously,
desecrating opportunistically as hiss oh piss
so…NO amp pull VOTE of confidence from me
(thus far ohm host halfway to 2020 election
toward such a volt char quite rude, snooty
arrogant simian with sass.
I van (terribly hard pressed)
to describe while sitting on me rump
how he oh bomb in lee rages
gnashing false teeth
Wilma backside doth slump
still blasting Democratic nomination
(pa hill a reed) as sham –
from special interest bro and sis turn pump
he, the epitome of
crass bloviation, a malignant lump
whose rants,
sans presidential outcome a shame
bullying with his millions beds this,
that and another woman to bareback jump
disseminating gene pool
birthing more Quakers
and additionally doth hump
the mass media as some foolhardy charade
and caricature of a frazzled grump
this arboreal clothed ape erected Taj Mahal
phallic symbol, where players dump
and gamble away hard earn cash
for his kitty, as if that cachet
to grind and bump
lambasting with maniacal
like "Stormy Dan" yells
leering oafish ill pout
while hair rum
(of red follicular) bulls ad hocks
atop his bulbous aerosol sprayed locks
resemble a flock
of bronzed sea gulls mocks
heady measly shaped Muppet Ox
dis eased cranial hologram shocks
of a cretaceous, facetious tocks
(sic) exogenous, insidious, and obstreperous vox.
BEING HUMAN BEINGS
Some people are evil.
Maliciously.
Some people create drama. Monstrosities..
Some people have ulterior motives. Intentionally.
Some people have remorse.
An apology.
Some people have profound words. Poetically.
Some people are tree huggers.
Organically.
Some people have no common sense. Stupidity.
Some people are real religious.
Spiritually.
Some people are inmature.
Mentalities.
Some people die in crashes.
Fatalities.
Some people are ignorant.
Their just to blind to see.
Some people have a sixth sense.
Let's call it telepathically.
Some people feel sorrow for others.
Some would call that Sympathy.
But when people understand sorrow for others.
It becomes empathy.
Some people are real chill. We'll say Copacetically.
Some people are plain fake. AKA...Artificially.
Some people are solid.
Its called Solidarity.
Some people are single.
Its called singularity.
Some people take their last breath.
They are put in a cemetary.
Some people save their breath and never speak.
Monastery.
Some people are tone deaf.
They have No melody.
Some people dress real risque.
In other words quite provocatively.
Some people rise above the rest. That's what i call Quintessentially.
BUT......ALL.... PEOPLE....
Should love.
Unconditionally.
Demonstrate peace.
Peacefully.
Work.
Systematically.
Live.
Longevity.
Laugh.
Uncontrollably.
Respect others.
Diplomatically.
Throw away the hate.
Practice racial equality.
If We do all those things,
then the world we live in,
could be in,
perfect harmony.
HE IS MINE!
His navy blue eyes,
Marvelous smile,
And blonde hair style,
Tis ALL mine!
HE IS MINE!
But he doesn’t know
Because I’ve never told
That he’s in my soul
I am too shy to show
HE IS MINE!
But now he walks with ordinary *****!
He smiles to her! He holds her hand! Why?
Why I can’t be his girl? Why!?
Hogwarts has known me as divine!
HE IS MINE!
Hurry up my supreme elder wand!
This time she must be gone!
Stupefy! Be still
Confringo! Burn her hair
Giggle, I’m not that such a wicked witch
But next I use unforgivable curse
Crucio! Be unbearable pain
She screams but I maliciously smile :)
Now boy let her be
Look at me - Imperio!
You’re under MY control!
Stand by me boy! Hold my hand boy!
And repeat after me, “I AM YOURS”
But these just my daydream!
I would scream in Azkaban -
For what I have done
It will not be begun!
So, they still holding on
Their love still going on
And I still want them be torn
Again I’m not the wicked witch
But I have sworn -
HE MUST BE MINE!
MOTHER AFRICA
"This is the most difficult letter I've ever written in my life. Where do I start?
What do I say? Does she know I still exist?...She probably thinks I'm dead!
I just wish I could touch her once and feel her warm embrace...That's so distant in my mind...I wonder if she remembers my name?
Will she recognize my voice or understand the words I speak?
Oh well...all I can do is speak the truth...She knows you're lost..."
Mother Africa...Only you posses the beauty unlike any other the world has ever seen
Elegantly adorned in all of nature's grace with the equator wrapped snugly around your waist
Ancient mystical pyramids jut up from your soil guarded by the wondrous Sphinx
Mother Africa...Dry your eyes the Nile River has overflown from all the tears you've cried
Diaspora broke your heart so maliciously
All your wealth and your children were taken away...Strewn across this old earth like a tattered moth-eaten blanket...Still used anyway
Mother Africa...Surely you know we not only sing...Africa! Africa! Africa!
Your endangered offspring's have created so many things of which you can be proud
Mother Africa...Don't despair one glorious day we will return and bring the bounty back home for all to share...AFRICA!
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Sex Trafficking, It Must Be Stopped!
There are some girls who are brutally betrayed,
Ripped apart from their families who care,
Stolen at knife point, maliciously swayed,
Stolen at night when no one is aware.
Some are promised a life full of laughter,
Jobs in a new world and careers of fame,
Only to find nightmares for long after,
Bondage, torture and such horrible shame.
Some run away from parents in anger,
Thinking they know best for their future path,
Soon to be ensnared, put in great danger,
Sold, beaten, forced to endure cruel wrath.
How can we rescue these priceless pearls?
What can we do for these precious girls?
-written by Kathi Preston
My parents complain of a mythical pest,
Infesting our house since the 7th of July,
Devouring the snacks, desserts,
delicacies and everything hot, spicy or sweet,
Determined to find the beast,
Fattened with food meant for me.
with a magic wand and on a broom to hunt
set out may it be a lachupakabra or a lepricorn,
Scary or naughty and anything the creature might wield
ready with a device from my dad given to me with a grin
the device, the compass, the guide to the beast
was a mirror reflecting its scaled skin scarlet red
staring at me with cat like blue eye
fierce and mighty.
Not a pest but is a mythical beast
Omega and almighty! It was me
Perplexed, gave up the hunt.
now feasting on poisonously, maliciously, dangerously
in sugary syrup gulab jamuns soaking.
I am the epitome of my existence
I do my own thing unlike others and thats what makes me different
If u dont like what u are hearing then close your ears
but if you do then listen
Because i may be spittin something that you are missing.
SOme are waiting to rise
while i have already risen
and i have dealt with the scars from your inflicted incisions
NOw i spit many bars and some say i spit prisons
My regurgitated
words are rated
far worse than curse words are stated
and if you dont like my verse' words then hate it
because my complex verbiage make the mind feel complicated
Complexly rated
Maliciously compensated
now my thoughts have congregated
My knowledge grade A 100% concentrated
Poetry is my sixth sense and that what makes me different
And that is why i am the epitome of my existence!!!
A
Bewildering
Catastrophe,
Disastrously
Expanding,
Falsely
Guides
Hereby
In
Joining
Killers
Living
Maliciously,
Nefariously,
Often
Painfully,
Questionably
Regarding
Sadistic
Tenants,
Unimpeachably
Venomous,
With
Xenophobia,
Yearning
Zeal
It's Only My Opinion
By Franklin Price
8/4/2019
It's only my opinion
Of what's happening today
Many don't think much about
What we do or what we say
Mass media has sped up life
Taken time to think away
We're inclined to have opinions
React too soon to have our say
No longer are we face to face
For a handshake and a talk
We post and tweet, maliciously
Walk the trouble-maker's walk.
Comment on most anything
Whether it be truth or not
Don't take time before we post
To further stir the pot
Most everyone has cable
The internet a further choice
If we find what we relate to
We have found a common voice
There's TV now for everything
For all the major views
The pressure's on for ratings
Each is spinning their own news
Easy now for us to see
If there are others on our side
Just google and we'll find them
And they'll take us for a ride
No longer can we hide from life
Pressured now to make a choice
Can find a million just like us
To have a common voice
If we're into violence
Or predjudice of race
It will not take much searching
To find ourselves a common place
These conditions are astounding
And encourage mindless rage
We need to work together
In turning to a better page
Can't let ourselves be sucked in
By the easiness to choose
An open mind will open doors
A closed mind only lose