Best Serial Killers Poems
I always believed
at some point in time
due to some hidden
moral rhythm and rhyme...
a word triggered memory
would rob you
of that tranquility
that you've wrapped
around yourself
tightly
leaving no room
for truth to touch
and remind you
of the pain I still feel
the pain you won't heal
I always believed
you'd finally come around
with no fanfare
no whisper of sound
I'd feel your presence and know
some inner longing for amends
baptized by remembered virtue
had brought you to me
and the pain would turn to glee
when I'd hear your words:
"Let all be well.
Come out from that hell"
Well...
I'm still waiting
cause the hardest lesson
I've had to learn
is that people can maim and blame
do their utmost to shame
and....have no remorse
leaving one with no recourse
with no conscience to appease
they do as they please
while psychopaths are locked up
serial killers face their dues
but serial tongue lashers
serenity crashers
get to walk away scot-free
makes no sense to me
you see...
I always believed
one day...
you'd finally
feel the need
you'd want to be freed
from the memory of wrong
and you'd finally be strong
strong enough
to ask forgiveness
of
me
am I a fool to believe?
Eileen Manassian
How is it possible, to be "awful" and "amazing" at the same time?
Please don't find me "annoying" as I ponder your "grim" and "gruesome".
There is something quite "delightful" about seeing you so "frightened"!
It is "fortunate" that we crossed paths, "finding" you is most certainly a sign.
For you I have erected a "monolith" here under the blue moon.
At its very centre I will look upon your pure white "oval" face.
I will know pleasure as I gaze into your stunning "opaque" eyes.
It is so very wonderful to see how you are "opening" up to me!
I will not "patronize" you for you will be the "pride" of my garden.
This is merely a simple "prelude" to our very precious time together.
I know removing your face will seem "vicious", but know l will be gentle.
If I'm kind you won't be "vindictive"! Instead you'll love me and I'll be "Victorious"!
For Shadow's "Make a Poem *2Contest."
I used quotes for the words because my iPad doesn't allow me to bold words on Poetry Soup.
I wrote this piece from a serial killers perspective, I guess I've watched to many episodes of "Criminal Minds".
They spied me in the sky, dropping bombs of love
on Ferguson, and bitchy women's rooms; and rednecks'
shooting range was next, the blooded boxing glove.
They spotted me in Tel-aviv and also in Tehran, collecting
Jewish kisses for the Iranian Imam.
They toasted me in the family courts, breaking hearts
I quickly soothed, and at their breakfast;Klu Klux Klan,
I spread their toast with jam.
They gifted me with patted back in Auschwitz and
Guantanamo, compassion was my hand; while Isis
and Seal Team 6, provided me a marching band.
They lauded me with accolades, the bankers and the poor,
while serial killers and the FBI, shot my name into the sky,
like Gotham on the screen.
And now I rest my head this night, beneath the troubled moon,
for tomorrow I go partying, with venerable, Ban-Ki-moon
“american psychosis”
on the road,
the dream
begins.....
the sun is burning
a fever in the sky
upon the endless serpent
a serial killers life
diseased upon the road
into the darkness
i fly.....
this is where it
all
comes together
the pure
release
of freedom's
forgetfulness.....
i twist the throttle
speed is time
time is speed
as the sun is setting
i feel the need
in the night
the shadowed coolness
neon eyes reflecting
what the day
never will see,
the american night
where our dreams
born
from valleys
to where earth
touches sky
what is
true......
early morning
in the industry
factory
where even the sun
bleary
black and white
day to day
is beyond me,
i could not be slaved,
i gas
chain smoke
sugar fix
and the road
calls
sirenly.....
every mile
a day
studied
at 80 miles per hour
then just as the past
left behind
on the side....
under a bridge
the assassin of youth
stalks
as we laugh
and curse the sun
for we can knowing
it is not death
to fear
but life.
3 days on the road......
Scientists open many bodies
to please the skeptics, like fathers proving
there are no monsters hidden beneath
the heart's sticky bed. No soul. No ghost. Just
organs in metal pans.
Serial killers open many bodies
to please themselves, like sadists proving
it is not flesh that screams, but the heart,
the soul, the ghost.
Not the organs in metal pans.
Have you lost your mind?
Can even you find your mind?
How can something unfindable die?
Ghosts are no more real than mind
and linger behind it in the same void.
Ghosts open many bodies.
9/23/2018
Ghosthunters and Spiritualists Contest, hosted by Kevin Shaw
our world is a mystery
a mystery that Sherlock Holmes’s cheeks turn the shade of blood shed in wars when it is mentioned
because he couldn't solve this case
this mystery is full of variables variables that have feelings
doesn't that make it so much harder?
variables that lie and cheat their way out of being solved
out of being put into a graph
variables that are like serial killers
they want to be caught
they want to be solved
they want to proudly show their mothers their work of art
variables that want to believe they are original
not copies
not copies that are smeared because the ink is running low
we want to believe that song lyrics are written for us and it is raining for us and these poems are written for us but we are wrong
we are not selfish.
these variables have a right to believe that these things
we have a right to hope to be noticed and to not be a copy
but when our voices join together and scream in harmony
“i am original”
it loses its meaning.
these variables are stubborn.
Triple Haiku
5,7,5 -- 5,7,5 -- 5,7,5
Evil brews, no rules,
looming witches ride their brooms,
demon eyed ghouls drool.
Potions have been brewed,
voodoo dolls alter my mood.
Serial killers.
Vampires, Ware-wolves,
Kruger and Micheal Meyers,
stalking to retire..
***Note*** This is an edit of my original Random Thoughts *49* Haiku--Tanka--Haiku...
Jared Pickett
Asavvy1
9/8/2010
Beneath the full moon's illumination, two darkly dressed
Figures are quietly digging, gentlemen collectors, of the
Cadavers of the undead, desecration's henchmen of
Greed’s loosened purse strings, murders of the dead flesh
Trade.
Grave diggers for hire, the fresher the body, the more
Coin is made, Burke, and Hare always say, cash only on delivery!
What will it be Sir Professor of medicine, or science, large or
Small we provided it all, young or old, care we not, just tell us
Your preference, money does the talking here, sir!
So what will it be than, what's your pleasure governor,
Say these the body snatchers, of Edinburgh Scotland!
Shadow hunters with clubs of diversions in hand,
Tempting the male with passions of the evening,
Alluring co-horsts, walk their living dead victims,
Into deaths pleasure zone, then flee as the fatal
Blow is struck, by their gentlemen companions!
The Doctor you see, pays better coin, if the corpses
Cadaver is still warm, smothered, bashed, or strangled,
It’s all for the betterment of Science and medicine.
These sadistic serial killers of the past, rightly
Believe, and joking laugh, in the cold evening air,
Of this city’s seeder side of the tracks,
We’re doing this for the just cause, of
Humanity’s sake, ha ha!
Criminals after all my good man, is a harsh
Word to use, is it not for the future medical
Professional’s must be taught with the best
And freshest material possible after all, right governor!
Times are hard for the working man, we have
To fed are own after all, Burke and Hare
Relate, so if one unmissed individual puts
The spoils into our cooking pot, what the ####,
Simply does it really matter!
Let the gallows swing high on their reckoning day,
For sixteen lives will these guilty men pay for,
In their dearest bloods shedding, but in an
Eerie twist of fate itself, their bodies will
Go to the same medical professional,
So you see the joke is really on them in the end!
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
This is a true story, it happened in England, and these men were
Were eventually found out and hung, there bodies were than sent
To a university for the betterment of medical research!
I was arrested this morning in bed
The evidence was very overwhelming
I was bloody and bleeding all over
In a frenzy last night
After some wine
Apparently I committed atrocities
As I sit inside this bare white interrogation room
I can tell you with a clear conscience
I feel no remorse
No regret
They all deserved to die
I crushed them
Made them bleed
Made them plead
I showed not one drop of mercy
Killer killer killer
I slaughtered them all
Every last female I could slap, slay or strangle
Dead dead dead
I am guilty as charged
By the end of the evening
My friends had to restrain me
A frenzied killer was on the loose
Although they themselves carry some of the guilt
I could not commit this crime alone as I did
Sure they killed a few here and there too
I know what you’re thinking
The Killing fields
Well Law and Order, FMD division
Was about to start their interrogation
Nothing to it really
I readily confessed
Every single one of those dam females got what they deserved
I confessed, if I hadn’t killed them
They would have surely sucked me dry
Till I was all skin and bones
Why, I had an evil smile across my face
All those famous serial killers
I out did them all
I showed no mercy
Blood and gore I slaughtered them all
Now you are all thinking
Who is this evil one?
So I say to you
I am also you
There is not one of you
Man or woman
In my shoes
Who, would not have done the same
Those darn female mosquitoes that night
Were driving me insane!!!!
Notes: Law and Order, FMD division
Female Mosquito Division
PETA, please do not protest in front of my house, this is pure fiction
thank you
Haiku-Tanka-Haiku
5,7,5 -- 5,7,5,7,7 -- 5,7,5
Evil brews, no rules,
looming witches ride their brooms,
demon eyed ghouls drool.
Potions have been brewed,
voodoo dolls alter my mood.
Serial killers,
dead become walking dead,
I feel like I'm in "Thriller"
Vampires, Ware-wolves,
Kruger and Micheal Meyers,
stalking to retire..
Jared Pickett
9/8/2010
Asavvy1
John Wayne Gacy dresses as a clown,
killing boys and putting them into the ground.
Ed Kemper had a bad temper
beheading his victims seemed simpler.
Ed Gein danced in the moonlight,
wearing pieces of women who didn't put up a fight.
Ted Bundy seeked sympathy,
then he killed and showed no mercy.
Jeffery Dahmer who was late,
finds boys for sex then ate.
Dennis Rader was a sick one,
torturing and killing til his work was done.
What makes them tick?
Is it genetics are they born sick?
Was it the parents and abuse?
No one knows how many are on the lose.
The day would pass in blissful brightness, with our brains on auto-pilot. The stories we'd tell and the memories we'd conjure up from years past, one couldn't help but think we were all running on about four pots of coffee each with the energy that was pumping through our veins. From jokes about serial killers in the woods, wondering if we were ever gonna find the lake, to the constant face-palms of: Why-didn't-we-do-this-sooner? and We-should-do-this-more-often! It was an indefinable mix of regret at having not done this earlier, and joy at the prospect of more to come.
To this day I can still recall the feeling of sitting by the shore of Hidden Lake, watching the sun set behind the tall mountain peaks that threatened to shatter the sky, knowing full well what would happen if I didn't gather wood for the fire soon. The darkness would encroach, and the temperature would drop to such that even the leaves themselves might shiver. The sun took his role once more as the proverbial clock, and the moon, his mistress, would instill within us that feeling of yearning long buried beneath decade's worth of city distractions.
Joel would be chopping sticks and logs, and Monica would prepare the sausages for the fire, while the rest of the gang (Jonathan, Brandon and I) struggled with setting up tents. Deeply knit eyebrows, tongue stuck out in deep concentration, as if anticipating future interstellar flight. It came to me shortly after, once the pegs were pegged, flaps were zipped, that if by some miracle Buzz Aldrin stepped into the woods on that fine snowy evening, he'd happily affirm my suspicions: it's not rocket science, folks.
The mirror of the lake would turn into molasses when the sun finally set. The flashlights would be drawn, cutting into the night like light-sabers or futuristic cyclops if headlamp is more your style. The rest of the crew were all huddled around a crackling fire, and I'd be changing into my skivvies not 10 feet away. Why?
Because I could.
coals smolder
a spark cleaves
to the sky
Part One:
Eva of in chanting rib
Seduces Adam to sinful ways
Beckoning him to lay in tall Field of grass were love is made
Lilith looks on with sinful hate
A cast away
The will/her to lay beneath no man born for the same dust and sand
So she fled to heavens gates to be knocked down a succubus
So Adam grow lonely with spoiling fruits
God stole his rib and Eva was born
But it was Lilith who stole her bran
The retarded child God made
Planted the seed that grow the tree to the Apple Eva eats
For ever cursed with unripe children to rain down on hell a place Adam knows well
Part Two:
It rains warm drops of due
On the shaken ground love once grow
A place that lingers in are harts
A place that Lilith hates so much
With open arms she takes the lost
Broken hearted
And
Thous to strange to love
The dead children Eve never grow
In her arms they find warmth
A place were the rain douse not fall
They wonder the mortal realms of life
Taking revenge on thous that wish them harm
Serial killers that never get tried
Not enough jury to condemn the lie
So they rome like lonely souls
Leaving moss and butterfly's were every they go
Taking in thous to lost to see that a knife is not the key
God doesn't love any of us
Even if he douse site beyond the gates of haven
Hell never manifest
Death is just Death
like Breath is life
Snakes came upon the garden bhour
waiting for the family for an hour
a long journey was faced
a curse shall be placed
upon the house in the desolate side of town
its getting closer to sun down
darkness was all around
blood started pouring from the snakes' eyes
until one dies
the house became a torcher chamber
there was demons and ghosts surrounding the house
as if someone was a mouse
it was odd that it was the Sabbath
the demons murdered all the family in the house
a note from hell was placed upon the door
written in the blood of a whore
the letter unleashed goblins and ghouls
and other horrors that no mortal has ever seen before
they started killing each other and drinking their blood
darkness crowds the old shed
an evil witch formed in the shed cursing the ghost out
then a tornado came and sucked the evil out
and now the town is in peace again
Or is it...
Songs from hell started playing from the sky
a thunderstorm began to emerge
but why?
was this the end
or something far worse
could it be that the devil himself was taking over our planet
the sea started to rise
serial killers roam free, terrorist bomb the U.S., and pollution
death oh glorious death is all over our little earth
aliens come from above
killing people and ripping their hearts out
and for what?
So that the government can make money?
there's a well inside of me
that longs for more empathy.
it starts with the creatures
man mistreats. this negative action is ceased
with the growth of the heart --
something man must fine tune like
a work of art.
we should watch out for the little ones
who mistreat their pets.
these could lead to serial killers
as studies have shown. if they like
animals, encourage them to be vets.
there's a well inside of me
that longs for more empathy.
we should watch our attitudes
towards all the divine creation.
even buddists have respect for all life --
including insects --
by not bringing them death.
"no-kill" shelters can
be the best for unwanted pets.
maybe these small actions
can lead to the end of wars,
racism, sexism, classism and violence.
plant the good grains of kindness.
there's a well inside of me
that longs for more empathy
to spread like wild flowers
in the summer among all of mankind.