Best Murder Poems
last thing I remember is the look upon his face
shot him dead right where he stood then left without a trace
killed a man while robbing his white castle for some change
if I could I'd take it back my life I'd rearrange
(chorus)
as I lie here on this prison bed I look up toward the sky
His Word says He still loves me though I can't help wonder why
the man I am today is one He pulled up from the mud
I've put my trust in these three things
the spirit, the water, and the blood
growing up I never knew the man who caused my birth
the only dad I ever knew destroyed my own self-worth
the day he beat my mother was the day I thought I'd die
I swore it'd be the last time this young man would ever cry
as I lie here on this prison bed I look up toward the sky
His Word says He still loves me though I can't help wonder why
the man I am today is one He pulled up from the mud
I've put my hope in these three things
the spirit, the water, and the blood
(bridge)
looking in this broken mirror I see a man redeemed
my newborn faith in God above uplifts my self-esteem
the One who sent his Son to die forever set me free
these bars that keep me locked up now will soon no longer be
(I'll pay the penalty)
the time has come the needle waits I find myself at peace
today's the day to pay my dues before I find release
forgiveness I have begged from Him for causing so much pain
my hope is He remembers me and that I'll live again
as I lie upon this bed of death I slowly close my eyes
his family's all gathered 'round no need to wonder why
the man I killed's dear widow helped to pull me from the mud
(because like me)
she's put her faith in these three things
the spirit, the water, and the blood
Why oh Why
A Collaboration between Seren Roberts, Tim Smith and Arthur Vaso
Poem inspired by Seren Roberts
Each poem written from a different view
The Murderer
The Murdered
The Mannequins who witnesses the crime
Why of Why
Lovers Die
Mannequins Cry
Sat, with his head in his hands
Remembering how love had once been,
Now, because of his stupidity
He was on his own, solitary again
Remembering, how love had been,
Behind the bars he now calls home
He was on his own as before and again,
Realizing, he was such a petty bitter fool
Behind the bars he now calls home
His mind, aflame with tears of regret
Realizing he was an utter fool,
To have stabbed her to death in a bloody pool
His mind aflame, with deep regret
Why... did he buy a knife that day...why?
To have stabbed her to death
Cause she had given love another try.
Oh how he wishes, its he that had died
Lovers Die
I linger with the scent of flowers
cascading over what was once spring showers
Your red hands drip passion
long since cooled
darkness surrounding you has lifted
and only I can see the light
Why couldn't you leave
a girl clamoring to be free
dressed in a burnt orange skirt
driven to the stake with your hurt
Words were written on the wall
but all you did was erase it all
Twisted as the knife turns
in a cell your hell burns
Mannequins Cry
We have no faces
We have no voices
You think we have no feelings
You see us as objects in commercial spaces
We saw the hidden knife unfold
We saw the young ones stabbed so bold
Pain is the emotion that frightens us all
Mannequins crying, tears running as we see her crawl
When the blood flowed
When the redness of hate showed
We with no faces
Shed tears at the human disgraces
Such young love so brutally robbed
By the jealous and lonely one, made us all sob
He regrets I am sure the hate that overflowed
Life's so torn it can't be sown
Sounds of a Day in the Past
Cherry Creek was a thriving small town
Children played on swings up and down.
They screamed with delight and why not?
Today with no school, so homework forgot.
How they laughed and frolicked and ran,
All cares forgotten, catch me if you can!
The swings were well-oiled and so no creaks
Could be heard, but happy they enjoyed their leaps.
Not far away, parents and singles formed a march
Protesting against chemical factory built beyond the arch.
Sounds of a Day in the Present
Cherry Creek is now a ghost town
And all the rusted swings are down.
The chemist factory spoilt their fun.
Children in Cherry Town were none.
So many died from deadly fumes
All protests covered in all newsrooms.
But to no avail, for protests fell on dead ears.
Parents left to other places shedding tears.
The only sound you hear is the wind
No swing moved, empty all rust lined.
But I forgot the sound of money,
The factory simply insults me.
Finally
Doctor, it's been 7 months
The MEDs aren't kicking in
My dreams are getting stronger,
The blood remains to run code red
It's getting harder and harder to get out of bed
Dark images keep taking place inside my head
The voices - The voices, are not all right!
I no longer lay laughing
The screaming never stops
In irons, my mind rattles
Theses thoughts are all I got
In slow motion, my mind plans the perfect plot
Finally, I realize the sanity of this is perfect
Counting every single second on the clock
At first, I could not breathe
I felt, I was left alone,
Broken down --- Incomplete
In your eyes, the schizophrenia spoke loud
In my eyes, everything is dark and gray
Doctor, now listen closely, open your eyes
While the walls slowly close in on you
I have my hands around your neck
Finally, I feel my arms, the needles are gone
Finally, I realize the sanity of this is perfect
The tightening of the chest is clearing
Today I possess a little more than yesterday
Knowing exactly what needs to be done.
DOC YOU AREN'T LISTENING!
Was it all for nothing, the bloody wrist?
The faucet constantly dripping every night
The voices I call my friends
Deep, deep down,
I'm still a child, painting bedroom walls
Setting fires after my mother's death
A crazy peril in its most threatening state
Doc, here you are again,
No longer will I allow you to waste my time
With your fetish lies, trying to make me better
The problem is not me, it was always you!
Painting pink butterflies and white skies
Finally, I realize the sanity of this is perfect
Don't you understand she's dead!
Pills aren't going to bring her back
Padded rooms aren't going to help me,
Help myself --- grieve the proper way!
Straitjackets aren't going to restrain me,
--- from wanting to hurt badly!
Psychologically, I'm perfectly sane
Expressing my emotions a different way.
Doctor, you're not saying nothing
You're not moving,
You're just sitting there pretending to care.
Doc, I hope you aren't mad?
The voices explained it had to end this way
How else could I make you listen?
Finally, the impulse is gone
Finally, I'm going to be alright
by: Pd
Strangers are attacking me;
ruthless men seek my life—
men without regard for God. Selah
Psalm 54:3
GOD SEES THE COURAGEOUS AT WORK
Wild-eyed disregard for God —
The mocking tone, the spittoon.
The leering eyes —
they’re tiger’s eyes.
They plop near the weights —
the courageous snakes, and
throw balls of cannon smoke.
They hope that we will choke.
The courageous throw acid
in a virgin’s angelic face.
The courageous pounds their rusted
nails into fragile wrists and ankle saints —
these innocents whose haloed guardian’s
see the illuminated face of almighty God.
The courageous divide fetus parts,
roll them like dice, put them on display.
The courageous pillage, rape and sodomize
thinking if there’s a God, he will see it as sport.
They drink deeply the heart blood and soul
but none can escape the Ancient of Days.
Life is a pit, a mere hole for the courageous
to drown. They’ve looked for a fiery dragon
And he’s been found, awaiting the demise
of as many curs-ed petals he can find.
Selah…
if only for a moment the dead blinked,
the light of day might have saved their hide.
The brokenhearted will feast at the King’s table.
with no need to fear when evil is deceased.
9/24/2019
*Murder most foul. Rod Serling, Stephen King or Ellery Queen?
Picturesque place on the edge of nowhere, small town American life.
Suddenly subject to media glare, reports of the mayor's missing wife!
Search parties, rescuers, all on the scene with rumors of mischief afoot.
People keep asking, "What does it all mean?" Some lock their doors and stay put.
“Over here,” someone yells, as a spotted owl hoots, “There’s something here under the brush."
The ground shakes and rumbles heavy with boots, the now gathered crowd in a hush.
As I cower in fear and stare at the scene, the victim's head's there on the ground.
The body is searched for until it is clear, they'd covered the whole flippin' town.
The mayor of the burg remarries so soon, suspicion’s on everyone's mind.
But with nary a witness except for the moon, the law stops pursuing in time. Ten years have passed and the story's still told, the horror of what we had seen. I was a kid just eleven years old, yet the images still haunt my dreams.
To this very day I've never gone back, avoiding those woods at all cost. Something transpired unholy and black, our innocence on that day was lost.
But what they don't know and perhaps never will, is the way that my stepmother died. With hatchet in hand and a thrill for the kill I swung true, and never once cried. Eleven I was and a daddy's girl too, together we made such a team. And I'm happy to say, no one has a clue- as for me, I'm livin' the dream. And if you should ask where the body's been hid, I'll tell you, but don't tell a soul...
We saw a dim light upon top of the Bell House Tower
a scream echoed out and then a dark shadow slipped
by the light, in the midnight hour.
What was that? I asked my friend, I don't know
she said, but it sounded as if something has met
it's end.
The wind was blowing with such a strange howling
and all the city lights were off making it dark for
mysterious prowling.
A loud, maddening laughter rang through the air and
stood on our arms, every one of our hairs. We ran like
crazy down the alley way and never looked back until
the light of day.
The next morning a crowd had gathered at the Bell House
Tower and every one was shocked to see it was the bell
ringer who rung the bell, hour upon hour.
Not a sign made anyone sure of what happened, but we know
what we heard in the midnight hour, mad laughter from upon
top the Bell House Tower.
(Spenserian Sonnet)
A flagrant man is Robert Brown, a swine;
his eyes glow red like ember coals of fire.
Will fate be kind or bring him bitter brine
and will his soul the evil one require?
Did in pretense he seek to prove desire
and rise to plant a kiss upon her lips?
He sliced her neck and watched his wife expire,
as blood streamed down and dripped from fingertips.
Yet rumor spread as neighbors came to grips
with horror of a murder in their town,
and newsmen raced to pen details in scripts
while lawmen flocked to chase the villain down.
I held my mother in my arms and cried;
her eyes met mine in sorrow as she died.
Beautiful Disaster
There she is
Silhouette in the night
Lights glimmer, as fame simmers
She is all of my desires
She is all of my fires
Here I am wet
Flooded with pain
There she is dry
As a desert rain
Her beauty rouge bleeding into my soul
I wash my hands
I wash my meaningless life
Of sins and woes
Alcohol in the sails
As I fade to seas far away
She at my feet
Singing her lovers lullaby
Me in the wind
Of sadness’s despair
The air soon to confess a sin
All my life, no lover in the morning bed
No future for a chance to wed
There she is now so devoted
Yet here we both are so bloated
Throats cut and floating
On a rivers dream
The hideous and the humble
Blood peppers falling snow
As world hurtles to the tipping point
Life chokes on ignited air
Wrenching love from hungry mouths
Stars fall without sound
Some weep helpless, day through night
Ever wondering how
Never knowing why ...
They kill a body and to prison go
Behind the bars with time they have to pay
A life that’s deadened with a life exchanged
So law and justice see the light of day
But tell me what of those who kill the heart
Who murder love and glibly walk on by
Incarceration is not their reward
The weight of guilt to bear, they do deny
A greater crime than this is yet to be
To kill a heart and form the living dead
Someone who walks and talks but is not real
Who shoots away the day and weeps in bed
Imprisoned they should be who now walk free
A murdered heart, a greater crime must be!
Jade Celeste
Ten is the number to begin
Early in the garden
Gathering herbs, foxglove and more
On her face casual grin
Nine are the ingredients here
Placed in beef stew to simmer
It will be tender, succulent
For his eye will grow dimmer
Eight minutes sear the stew beef
Add some herbs like lemon thyme
Pour in beef broth to simmer down
Let it stew half a day's time
Seven is the count to cook some rice
A soft bed to nestle
Colors a great contrast appeal
Beauty, aroma will settle
Six add carrots, red and green peppers
The slow simmer, leaves crunch
Perfect in shape, color and taste
He will munch, munch, and munch
Five memories of his abuse
Threats, terror, and betrayal
Guns pointed to head even loaded
To public opposite portrayal
Four ladles of stew removed
Add some oleander
To stew on range, and let simmer
Stir the pot, leaves meander
Three flowers from pretty foxglove
Maybe this stew he'll love
Hear his truck come down the drive
Everything's quiet even dove
Two ladles served upon white rice
Her's prepared set aside
Upon a plate over white rice
Stew served that she contrived
One ambulance pulls quietly away
Rushing to hospital
Entirely too late to save the day
A crime? Really Committal?
I watch TV crime stories..LOL
See the darkness that surrounds us
You are safe from all your crimes
Lift your knife
Oh and take your sweet little time my sweet
Stab me, stab me, blood flows, are we free?
Stab me, stab me, love glows, are we free?
Dance around my dead ghosted white body
Life was no better to me you see
See the knife, as I look into your eyes
All I see is dead dead skies
I try to speak of broken promises
You slit my throat, for once you tried
Stab me, stab me, blood flows, are we free?
Stab me, stab me, love glows, are we free?
Dance around my dead ghosted white body
Life was no better to me you see
Raindrops of death pour over me
Your blank stare, my blanket of eternity
My blood flows into your hate
I now am bloodless; we are of but one single fate
Stab me, stab me, blood flows, are we free?
Stab me, stab me, love glows, are we free?
Dance around my dead ghosted white body
Life was no better to me you see
See the happiness you never found?
You lost it like the my blood lost in the killing grounds
You thought you could slay my lovesick heart
I laughed and laughed as you lifted the knife so sharp
Stab me, stab me, blood flows, are we free?
Stab me, stab me, love glows, are we free?
Dance around my dead ghosted white body
Life was no better to me you see
My heart was lost long ago
When you stopping loving and bringing the rose
From then on my heart you see was froze
Exiled to your bondage, I stared at the knife
And accepted my fate
Cain killed Abel on a Monday night
Abel didn’t get a chance to put up much of a fight
Cain said, “am I my brother’s keeper?” God said, “yeah,” but Cain said, “nah”
Adam just shook his head and rubbed his jaw
And Adam said,
"Good grief, my oh my
We’ve got a Tom o’ Bedlam, get a load of this guy
Well this is not ideal, but what ya gonna do?
It’s the world we’re living in," well Abel lived in it too
Orestes killed his mama on a Friday night,
‘Cause his mama killed his daddy, not the world’s best wife
Orestes pleaded his case that what he did was really good
The Fates said, “what the heck is wrong with this dude?”
But Athena said,
"Good grief, my oh my
We’ve got a Tom o’ Bedlam, get a load of this guy
Well this is not ideal, but what ya gonna do?
It’s the world we’re living in," his mama lived in it too
Genghis Khan burned a village on a Wednesday night
The villagers begged him to put out that light
But Genghis was busy fighting and conquering the land
He had a vision for the world that they just couldn't understand
And his army said,
"Good grief, my oh my
We’ve got a Tom o’ Bedlam, get a load of this guy
Well this is not ideal, but what ya gonna do?
It’s the world we’re living in," those people lived in it too
Jack the Ripper killed some women on a Saturday night
With a couple of slashes from his handy knife
The world got around through the city of London
But everyone said, “didn’t those women kinda, have it coming?”
And the people said,
"Good grief, my oh my
We’ve got a Tom o’ Bedlam, get a load of this guy
Well this is not ideal, but what ya gonna do?
It’s the world we’re living in," well those women lived in it too
Mark David Chapman killed John Lennon on a Sunday night
After reading the book Catcher in the Rye
He saw what was wrong with the world, too many phonies parading around
And someone oughta put 'em all into the ground
And the papers said,
"Good grief, my oh my
We’ve got a Tom o’ Bedlam, get a load of this guy
Well this is not ideal, but what ya gonna do?
It’s the world we’re living in," well John Lennon lived in it too
A poem about infanticide of girls...
"Save Our Sisters!"
Many girls lost, many girls missed
Many girls lost, never to be Ms.
Strings of girls, strands of pearls,
Gone, gone, gone. Pretty, pretty, girls.
A mother's hug, a sister’s laugh, a daughter’s kiss
Lost, lost, lost. Missed, missed, missed.
Many girls lost, many girls missed
Many girls lost, never to be Ms.
Young girls grow up, become young ladies.
But for Indian girls, that’s a big maybe
Young girls grow up, become young ladies.
But for Chinese girls, that’s a big maybe,
Many girls lost, many girls missed
Many girls lost, never to be Ms.
Run, Run, Run, hide your daughters,
Run, Run, Run. Run from the slaughter.
Wake up world, we’ve lost too many sisters.
S.O.S. World, Save Our Souls, Save Our Sisters.
NoelsArt
Comments: In some parts of the world, the three deadliest words are “It’s a girl”. Girls are killed for being girls. After watching this movie trailer http://www.itsagirlmovie.com/ , I wrote the poem above. FEEDBACK WELCOME.