Best Mutilating Poems
Beauty and the Beast
In the deep core of her skin
I feel a human who is no saint
Cutting out her heart, ripping everything to shreds
Leaving my prey gutless, in every form of sin (HUSBAND)
Watch the last beat of her heart as I slowly slaughter your (WIFE)
Thank you for participating as I slowly kill her in every way
Stripping her down, enjoying her birthday suit
Watch as I slice her throat,
enjoy the color red pumping out her neck
She gasp, she gulps on her blood
Gently I reach in and remove her silent tongue
I devour her deepness, for all the beauty you mistook
Detaching all her limbs before she gave God her grace
I gave her no pity while she gave one last breath
Look at the empty emotions I left behind in her eye
Staring right back, as I pound a new cavity in her chest
Laughing at her brutal cry!
Confessing, it was time to satisfy the demons within
Chuckle at the thought, how beauty up and left
Trapped by God's given darkness,
Depressing abyss no one will miss
Her mind such a waste, a hunger she left behind only I can taste
Her eyes, I will cut and burn, for allowing him to blind her way-
Her red plum lips, I have sewn shut, for never speaking up-
Her tongue I swallowed completely
I could not stand the crying of the soon to be slaughtered sheep
Bathing naked in her guts for not defending herself
Plunging out her spine, pricking my finger on her hip
My blood gushing out thick while hers flows thin
Analyzing while mutilating, myself reflected twin
A mistake was to lurk, trapping the beauty within
Putting her in a coffin, knowing this will dry up the tears
I'm holding up a guard with an unbreakable shell
My prisoner in this body of lust, forgetting the meaning of hell
The women inside is dead, I murdered her long ago
The front I put upon is colder than snow
How can I let her find her Beauty-----------(WIFE)
When she still lives with the beast----------(HUSBAND)
I know her only secret,
That will give her life and brighten her glow
Give her a delicate rose and you will see!
The ugliness will melt, and reveal her true identity
*Thank you Beast,
*For reminding me what killed the Beauty
~5/20/2010~
The folded corners and wrinkled pages
of catalogs that were tattered and ripped
From the first of October until late in December
we drooled,
we fawned,
we lusted,
we swooned and giggled
mutilating each page
until the pictures faded.
Sears and Roebuck,
Monkey Wards
JC Penny’s,
Macy’s, Mattingly’s, K-mart.
Our wish list grew long
more than one sheet could hold
tears welled up with each toy crossed out.
Until the list was whittle down
Though the likelihood of getting any was nill.
But still
That’s why we called it the book of wishes.
If wants and wishes were hugs and kisses
There would be no need
to thumb through the pictures
and dream.
Perhaps imagination was the best Christmas gift
Barbed wire seems a 'thorny' subject on which to opine,
But there arose a need for such for people and beasts to confine!
Cowpokes cussed as they worked with it mutilating their hands.
Sheepherders fussed with cattlemen as it spread across their lands!
'Tis said back in 1874 Joseph Glidden, who 'bristled' with the idea,
Was awarded a patent for barbed wire to provide a cure-all panacea!
Split-rail fencing to outline boundaries was rapidly becoming passe',
To keep neighbors' straying goats, horses and other critters at bay!
Sheriffs found barbed wire handy to enforce a judge's firm dictates,
To confine hoss thieves, cattle rustlers and other such reprobates!
Inmates trying to scamper through the wire were apt to rip their pants,
Or worse, might end up in 'boot hill', caught trying to scale the fence!
Alas, sinister uses for barbed wire were found beyond bucolic meadowlands.
'Twas used to enslave thousands of innocent souls behind its menacing strands.
Thousands of men, women and children were consigned to death at Dachau,
Triblinka, Buchenwald, Ravensbruck and Auschwitz-Birkenau.
Among its many other diverse uses it has even marched off to wars,
To protect gallant American soldiers on far too many alien shores.
Mister Joseph Glidden was doing mankind a great favor, he thought.
Were he alive today he might say, "My gawd, what hath I wrought!"
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved
The spring of healing has its own anthem,
It takes the sand and the sun to mold an ornament of time,
Glaring upon the moving mirror that floats on cold water,
Blinded by a blaze set by the sins that made silent quivers run through the chambers of this once upon a time frozen heart,
Lightnings that run through the roof of these forsaken memories,
What is it about pain that makes evils seem soothe,
That makes wicked wounds under broken bruises,
No one mentioned how mending too can be mutilating,
How the unforgiving frosts crack and pierce through the lungs,
How igniting the sky full of light takes a sigh of ethereal lanterns,
Yet they come with a handful of sorrows and compassion,
Drawn from a dream to wish upon the moon that sparkles for a night of bliss,
Let us be amongst the hope once again,
alone as a whole,
The glistening gold in autumn,
The deepest line in kohl,
Forever we can be the ocean that flow,
Without a prey nor predator,
Just the living and the specs of salt.
They gave our children mind altering
poisonous drugs to eat,
and we said thank you.
They gave our children excessive violence
and sadistic sex films to see,
and we said thank you.
They performed mutilating surgery
on our children’s' genitals, and we said
thank you.
They turned public education into
propaganda and indoctrination,
they blasphemed God and Faith,
they took away our free speech,
took away our free and fair elections,
murdered children about to be born,
telling us to bend over again
this next election --
thank you
thank you
thank you
thank you
thank you
thank you.........................................
Shift gears, shift gears, excite our spiritual peers,
they’ve lived for years… observing our generations of tears,
for Love’s sake from the limitations of egos’ innovations…
the outer self logic, the mechanic.. the mechanic, of cumbersome thought,
processes the established enemy , escape… escape the human mind,
the tangle vine…the vintage of the whore’s wine..
its rape its murder the sickness, the disease , the fleas..
of strife, the strife, the schizoid, of the void,
explored of Sigmund Freud, …
the logical ego entity … shift away infinity… infinity, the divinity,
the cup of Love’s logic awaits…
with Spiritual plates, with open gates…
unlimited possibilities…
the infinity of divinity the beginning of thee,
let us fly freely into the sunlit arms of the fresh blue skies
into the very nature of the power of life, the being of free…
out of the prisons of the self mutilating concepts of logics
flagellant human projects… keeping us bound,
away into oceans blue, Agape’s unlimited…clarity
into the fluid of faith hope and charity…
thine sacred, thine… sacred heart, Love‘s apple cart..
life… before the human concept of strife… the knife, the knife…
Oh.. the concept logical knife, the parasites, the parasites…
the makers of false love in the night… the egos up tight.
the children of the night, the human plight…
of the logical concept black as the night..
beware… beware of mechanical egos up tight…
Selah
Female lips that don’t belong on me
Can anybody sense those colors are not mine?
I cry in blue, red , yellow twirls
just mutilating body that doesn’t belong to Soul
Incarcerated in a breathing mask
I look at YOU begging to see ME
As pupils burst the deepest love
Eyelashes can not flutter free
So gracious Nymph approaching silent me
Those candid, open lips Do belong on you
I grab my hands protective of the unknown
I’m just a paper mache… melting in the rain …
copyright 2011
iolanda scripca
“What are we when we are not...?”
MAN: A malevolent master making mountains of a mindless mass...
A meaningless magician motionlessly manipulating many minds...
A mating monster majestically magnifying materialistic manoeuvres...
A Machiavellian macho muscular merciless mentor...
A mutilating medieval malicious menacing Minotaur...
A mesmerizing metamorphic methodical maniac...
Woman: A whimsical weeping wacky wasted wanderer...
A whiny weaponed weathered wedded wife...
A wicked whiskey wasteful wiggly wench...
A wintry whiplash winded wrathful wroth...
A worried weary wishful wispy wild wire...
A wretched wormy woeful wounding wolf...
March.01.2016 ^WW^ Nothing personal...lol
Welcome To The 21st. Century
(by Joan Donnelly Ellis October 22 2015)
Have you ever felt separated from society,
Through no known fault of your own,
Because there's been a decline in social gatherings,
Since messaging's increased via internet and cell phone ?
Have you ever sensed a change in home environment,
Where once true love's expressions were the norm,
And now anger lounges with anxiety and depression ?
Seems no escape from the silent, deadly storm.
Spending time alone was once a good thing,
Timeout to rejuvenate , get restored to vigor fresh,
A vacation well deserved and necessary,
Getting back into the Spirit and shedding the loathsome flesh.
But you feel your life and energy depleting , feel wasted,
From the isolation you've become a prisoner, a borderline cuckoo
Avoiding all personal contact with those once treasured loved ones ,
You at insatiable computer, while devils siphon brains and add to poisoned brew.
Do you suppose you might suffer from agoraphobia ,
Subconsciously grounding yourself to house arrest?
Realise if you persist in mutilating love and freedom.
The further from all that's worthy of your devotion you will digress.
I was around fourteen when the charms of girls began to beckon,
And I was about fifteen when I had my first date, I would reckon.
'Way back then there were certain rituals that must be observed,
Some of which left me quite baffled and somewhat unnerved!
The evening must be perfect so I wore a suit and tie.
Shoes were shined and greasy Vitalis to my hair I'd apply!
Peach fuzz was plucked and I fairly reeked of Old Spice.
The car was washed and waxed to further her entice!
This too was her first date and things must be just right.
She'd had a snit with her Ma thinking her hair was a fright!
But she looked divine in her hat, gloves and flowered frock!
Her Pa's parting shot, "You git her home by ten o'clock!"
When I called for her I daren't sit and toot the horn.
That would've heaped upon my brow her folks' eternal scorn!
So, I meekly sidled up and timidly tapped upon the door.
Met by her scowling Pa who said, "Who's this skinny boor?"
My grandkids tell me there's no such formalities nowadays,
And wearing jeans and mutilating body rings is all the craze.
I'm told a great date is to hang out with friends at the local mall.
I guess I was born too soon! I just don't understand that at all!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(c) All Rights Reserved
Entry for Frank H "First Date" Contest
When we were babes all we needed was a smile
Along with a hug that would last us a while
A mother’s aroma coming toward us with a kiss
It’s those moments in time that we live in bliss
Our dads making funny sounds and faces
With words of wisdom taking us many places
Such sweet memories of our innocence
But in time we build our world of wickedness
That smile has become our vanity
Slashing and mutilating what we used to be
That hug has become our materialistic treasure
Gold and silver have become our pleasure
That kiss has become our gluttony and lust
Satisfying appetites for our devilish disgust
Words of wisdom have become words of lies
Constructing deception of buildings shall rise
Why can’t we live our days like a child
Like floating memories we had when we smiled
Today we take what we want not what we need
For our innocence has saturated to greed.
Feb.26.2016 ^WW^
As I am here surrounded by the Numbness
of tree trunks - still and nameless in the breeze -
A Willow weeping crystals of uncertain
Bombarding a century that does not belong to me
But I AM here surrounded by the people
who blindly thrust my chest and leave the broken thorns
and no one cares when mutilating names of lovers
How hurtful is when carving in immortality of bark...
copyright@iolandascripca2012
roving black hole
devours
a misplaced life
somewhere
in the futile fog
of wandering warfare
it's baked in the cruel cake:
an ultimate deletion
is coming for us all
with groaning glee
we scratch an incendiary itch
under the hood of
a mutilating maelstrom
where cryptic terror gushes
from loose AI cannons
I fear it all
but there's nothing
to fear but
the imperfect
storm
HE walks slowly
along the engorged path
of midnight madness.
Spilling crude pain
each crippling step
of the way.
With angular eyes
a fertile grim heart and
an infinitely defective
MIND...HE
quietly steals
the innocence of
glossy blossoms
who unknowingly
sprout or roam
HIS gritty black trail...
Forever tarnishing
bushy roots
and buds once pure,
mutilating their body,
their growth,
their essence
and more.
Leaving behind Midnight Madness spores...
Lay
The season approaches,
Speeding toward us on arctic zephyrs,
but the coldness is more than air
it seeps under the skin
where loneliness begins.
Is there any other day
where solitude's talons rake,
mutilating peace of mind,
quite so much as Christmastide.
Every commercial, acid sweet,
pouring depression over wounded souls,
digs it way to the past.
Memories of brighter days
faintly gleam in the background.
The twinkle of lights are
only merry when shared.
Lumps of coal bitterness
are all that remain;
Hard Candy Christmas
without the sweet--
Not even an orange seed.
Ask Ebeneezer,
he will tell you
Bah and Hum Bug feelings
are all there are.
Until kindness reaches out,
Memories are no chrism
for loneliness--for onliness.
Solo flights over Christmas lights
No protective V to shelter
no tandem lift for spirits
even in a bottle;
just wings ever weakening;
Lifeforce ever shrinking
on this journey to the end.
One invitation--
one empathetic heart
in the true spirit
to celebrate en
mass for Christ;
hands extended heart open
turn gleaming tears
to smiles of gratitude.
Forget the gifts
except those God-given
it is they that open
the Kingdom of Heaven
"Inasmuch as ye have
done to the least of these
my brethren,
ye have done unto me."*
So open wide the doors,
invite the lonely in,
add a plate to the table
shared with kith and kin.
Embrace the coldness
of an empty heart
to fill it with riches
as you let them be a part
of a family again,
if only for a while.
Remember that neighbor
who sits on his own,
great uncle dan eating
crackers and microwave meals,
or even the couple who just moved in
or the old sad lady who lives next to them.
Christmastime can glitter
and be the darkest blue.
It's hues and lightness
vary, impacted and changed by you.
Don't know one with this face?
Open your eyes,
but peer with your heart.
If someone comes to mind,
beckon them, Come!
It's a place to begin.
* Matthew 25:40