Best Torturer Poems
Blistering my imagination
With disappointment and pain
The sand colored landscape
A silent torturer of truth
I walk quickly and carelessly
The water is my destiny
And I can’t walk fast enough
To reach the clear liquid hope
That will sooth my throat
And lubricate my tormented mind
©by Regina Riddle
In the desert poetry contest
Sponsored by nette onclaud
September 14, 2014
Categories:
torturer, hope,
Form:
Free verse
When the lights turn off,
what do you see?
Do you see your future? Your past? Your here and now?
What do you hear?
Do you hear the loved? The hated? The lost and forgotten?
What do you feel?
The contempt for your torturer? The love for your mistress? The regret of the moments that ceased to exist before you could eternalize them?
Why when we’re in the dark are we afraid?
shouldn’t we feel safe, saved from the pain, and the very temporary pleasure,
Serenaded by our most inner thoughts,
Blanketed in the knowledge that the dark only controls the moments of the night when the moon and stars are too shrouded by objects to be seen,
the knowledge of the forthcoming light saving us from cliff diving into the jagged wake of insanity,
Shouldn’t we embrace the dark
knowing its power over the soul, its ability to cleanse us no matter how dirty we are,
like a distant magnet, slowly but definitely pulling our dark away,
for it only to be brought back in small dosages to teach us of our past, to prepare us for our future.
I cling to the night
I take pleasure in the possibility of slipping into the wake,
I feel comfort in knowing the night might ultimately consume me so that I never see day again,
After all when your mind is so clouded that you never truly see the light the only insured thing is the dark.
Because at the end of it: all we know there to be is dark,
an infinite tide of shadows only seen by those who had been immersed in the shade,
by those whose vision had been adjusted to see through the light and the dark,
so that they saw the reality of it all, that none of it was forever,
that no matter how bright it may seem there’s a shadow somewhere,
and no matter how many times you flip the switch not to be awoken by light but to be greeted by more dark there was one that worked somewhere.
One that works to scare the terrors of children away, to act as a father’s scythe,
to be on and then to leave us pondering
When will the lights turn off?
Categories:
torturer, dark, depression, drug, lost,
Form:
Free verse
Our Children
What is going on, on this decade today?
It seems that our children are being abused
and murdered more and more each day. Our
children that we are suppose to love, protect
and care for are not.
What causes a parent, or an adult person to
abuse and than murder a child? Are we turning
into monsters? A child has no defense against a
a grownup, especially if the child is disabled.
Everyday we see on the news how a child was
raped, tortured and killed. Spain did away with
did away with their methods of torture. The Aztecs
did away with their methods of human sacrifice.
Well it seems like it is coming back, only this
time - they are torturing, brutalizing and sacrificing
children. I could just see the fear in their eyes, as
their torturer was coming towards them and they
wandered - why has God forsaken me?
What are we going to do? We just can't sit and watch,
what our children are going through. When will it end?
We are losing too many children to depraved men and
irresponsible women.
May God guide us and show us the way, so we can help
our children today. If we can't love a child, than we should
not give birth to one...
07/04/2014
By Lucilla M. Carrillo.
Note; I don't mean to offend anyone
it's just that everyday we see this kind
of thing on the news. when a child cries
all the time it's for a reason. Report it.
Categories:
torturer, absence, abuse, allusion,
Form:
Free verse
Ted was a proper torturer
he'd gag me after tea
he'd ram a flannel down my gob
then dangle me on his knee
A virgin when I married
my mums and dad were Mormons
home-schoolers don't do sex Ed. much
though they did go on about hormones
I thought Ted's ways were normal
it was all new ground to me
my terrified eyes would turn him on
so I didn't have the heart to flee
I got used to the violent jerking
I got used to a gob full of flannel
but I wished I'd prayed and made a fuss
when he hid me behind his panel.
S O F
Categories:
torturer, bullying, humor, innocence, psychological,
Form:
Rhyme
Maurits Cornelis Escher,
artist or mathematician?
Methinks he's more like a torturer,
sending faceless men on a fruitless mission!
NOTE: He's a sketcher who drew the famous work, Relativity (as well as many others).
http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/a/a3/Escher%27s_Relativity.jpg
Categories:
torturer, art, bereavement, celebrity,
Form:
Clerihew
Aeonia! Eve! whoever now you may be... what was it he (they) wanted of you ever to be?
"Bewitching WENCH!"- dare ye tempt the virtues of virtuous men!
Words turned to black sludge of many tongues wagging, blaming and convincing her.of sins- shadow always inviting her, giving her no choice.
Rapture Aeonia!
Rapture Aeons!
Rapture Aeonia!
Impaled upon the spike of shame, apart torn, the tiny beads of herself come together... magnetically, magically clinging together as an army of a tiny promise- once told to her, a tiny escapade... escape whispered so long ago.
Open your eyes Aeonia, after millennias untold of distaste.
Open your eyes!
Allow your sagging, savaged breasts to be bountiful once again-
breasts once compared to mountains of plenty, to celebrate!
Your blackened shell, proof of the fires of rage-
Aeoina Rise!
Aeon RISE!
Aeonia rise to the dawn of a new day!
Eviscerate the evil brought upon you by demon Man. A beast once hidden to shadows unbidden. His power is a farce!
Raper, reaper, killer, user. ****er of all things good, of all things alive and all things true. Torturer of golds, silvers and blues. Cast your shadows, cast them I say!
Faker, liar, betrayer of all things of nature and good. Gluttonous for your own selfish means.
A. Green
Categories:
torturer, angst, fear, life, loss,
Form:
Free verse
Waiting is the greatest pain,
Though most of me remains slain;
Legs propped up on iron heaters,
In my mouth spins an egg beater-
Roughly, duct tape holds it there,
Wrapped around my crimson hair-
Holding in the spinning end,
Tearing so no one could mend.
Will my torturer return?
I cry to think of all I've learned.
Even through the scars he burns,
He says there's more for me to earn.
Waiting, gurgling, and praying,
Burning, yearning, burnt legs splaying,
I can't conceive what could come after,
I resort to insane laughter.
Though I choke on blood and teeth,
Through the smell of my burnt meat,
I laugh harder, my mind flees
Closer toward insanity.
The deadbolt slides, I hear the door:
Creaking, scratching on the floor,
He walks through, I smell him now,
Expensive cologne flows down.
He leans in, I feel his breath,
Then his hands upon my chest,
He whispers one last sick goodbye,
"You won't be the last to die."
Categories:
torturer, abuse, confusion, horror, loneliness,
Form:
Ballad
Shadows in your eyes
all day long I die anew
my fair torturer.
Categories:
torturer, devotion, grief, love,
Form:
Senryu
I desperately want to fall apart
Yet something keeps me going
And the role of a martyring heart
Is not something I wanted knowing.
To me you opened up infinity of topics,
The bowl of pleasure you filled up.
I didn't want to but turned out to be myopic
And fail to explain what's in my cup.
Pure sensations of both a soar and a loss,
I fell into this long and dear dream.
The settlement is due when I wake up, my boss
Is yet again my heart, that's what I mean.
Self identity, anxiety, fairy tales,
Regret, creativity, content, euphoria of being,
You are undoubtedly the best of males!
Self worth and peace within for the time being.
Accepting me for what I am is priceless
Yet why without you it's oh so hard?
I know the power of my mind is limitless
Yet oftentimes I feel as if a retard.
I want to walk the street of life
With loving self, content and passion.
So why the dark? The damp? And knife
Of pain is choking me? My skin is ashen.
The pain abates and then intensifies again,
It'd be so nice to cry. No tears. Thievery.
Now tell me how do I go on? "Do not depend!"
It'd be too easy. But there comes another reverie...
Your face, your hands, your voice and skin,
They glow in my imagination.
We can't be a couple. We're too akin.
My brain and soul got inflammation.
I put back on full suit of armor.
I stand, I faint, try to fight the nausea
Perhaps it does not at all exist, this harbor...
Sweet pain. And I am left with my insomnia.
My dear torturer, if you are toxic,
I would for sure intoxicate myself again.
I'm oh so craving your sweet toxin.
It blurs and stirs my body up with pain.
This crazy lassitude I crave and cannot bear,
It's agonizing and therefore a bliss.
Evolution's problems land on my shoulders with despair
I search for answers - yet another miss.
I smear my life again with painful failures,
I ache but strive inside for burning ingle.
My needs and pain are elaborately tailored.
Yes I am absolutely mad for emotional tingle.
Categories:
torturer, lost love, love, love
Form:
Lyric
It is gone forever now, a swirling mote of dust,
above the hills and fields, memorial fleck of dying love,
vanishing from tear swept sight, away from the world,
oh how can life continue now, how can it go on?
In cruel desolation, such cold, numb emptiness
where scalpel sharp pain wields a wafer thin blade
daily drawn, lacerating nervous tissue and nuances of emotion,
slow, meticulous, precise, a living thing this pain.
Silvery and honed to savour each slash and each nick
with the sick sadist glee of a diligent torturer;
tears cannot be cried anymore, dried out now, Winter cold,
desert arid and Easter Egg hollow, a screaming skull inverted.
Bleeding dry, bleeding dry, a pale anaemic husk;
eyes look but do not register the living world,
fingers touch but do not feel the pulse of regrowth,
ears listen but do not hear the words to set things right.
One of the almost dead who envies the truly dead,
the truly dead for their interment to inanimate peace,
for where will my love find the object to lavish itself upon,
who will hold me now as one who did before?
No courage at all, only the curse of the craven to endure,
less than surreal, no longer human, nothing outwardly tangible
save a mass of screaming, electrifying pain
howling down the empty corridors running beneath the flesh.
The hardest of hard lessons are learned and learned so well,
taught as only a past master of deranged ardour can teach;
the loss of sanctity when expelled from the mother womb
is the outset of the clue to life's meaning.
From this point forth, the love object is a thing to be lost,
family, friends, possessions, innocence, integrity...mind,
eventually life itself, for all is ultimately stripped away,
with each love object finite and thus both fabulous and terrifying to behold.
If loss be the meaning of life, vice versa, the meaning of life be loss,
instilling life with it's value and fragility;
your trauma spills indistinction, uncertainty - the loss of the love object,
wreaking ball on my defences - and likewise my refuge from pain...
Categories:
torturer, death, life, loss, lost
Form:
Blank verse
THE ROSE IN THE DESERT
Days dragging with patches of memories of unhappy infancy
You fell on me as rain in hot summer
A traveler in desert sans company has no dreams of paradise
But collage of thoughts of imminent tragedy
Horrible flashes of father kicking mother
Tears she shed measured ocean of torture
Found no the other side of the ocean
She swam with lean tender hands with children intimidated
Home without love is hell;
Father is the devil; torturer of wife and children
Little hearts grow brooding over vengeance
Agony and persecution nourish malevolence defeating benevolence
Castaway perplexed in the desert of despondency
I saw you; the rose in desert; fountain of relief and love
Words flowed as drops of grape wine
My soul flew to a new horizon where doves hover with gentle wings
In the deepest chamber of my heart I preserved
Watered with my tears not to fade
Brighter than the brightest in the whole world
The solace and zest in the lonely battlefield
My ecstasy and partner in celebration
My love and breath; pulse of my life
The autumn of the crusader
The peace in my sleep and sweetness in my dream
You adorn the desert; wonder in the barren
A diamond glittering in the darkness
An expectation to the forsaken
Lighthouse to the ship in the storm
ASOKUMAR.K.A
12/12/12
Categories:
torturer, passion,
Form:
Verse
I need another doe-eyed Doña Lola,
a tungsten-hearted torturer of men.
I crave a further fling at love’s tombola,
to beard the lioness inside her den.
Of course, it always runs into the buffers:
their sex is unremitting, unforgiving:
but he is truly fortunate who suffers:
to be in love again – that’s really living!
She must have bags of charm, and must deploy it.
I want to give my heart, have her destroy it,
or better still, to gouge it from my chest,
for when my love is spurned, I’m at my best.
I get to pout and pose, and blue-eyed-boy it:
and if the truth be told, I quite enjoy it!
Categories:
torturer, romantic,
Form:
Sonnet
Gentle steps of night,
Creep so slowly in thy fear,
A candle shining bright,
A glisten of her tear.
Shadows shown what lies ahead,
Morose in all thy icy morn,
Till the falling night of dread,
Glimmer pale her adorn.
Hopes expire,
With meaning dream,
Wings of fire,
She does gleam.
I ignore naught of breast,
Fair woman body fair,
For in her bed she does rest,
Incense in the air.
Visions past azure sky,
Moon dreams candle set,
Magic of her face on high,
Flower divine at best.
Deep in his heart of woe,
Soul remorseful torturer,
Whence love he must go,
Trailing light capture.
Categories:
torturer, confusion, girlfriend-boyfriend, love, passion,
Form:
Rhyme
1.
Yesterday night,
To the shrilling winds of history I listened to,
Telling me tales from centuries past,
Horrifying stories of hate, suffering, and
Distraction
Of killings unending
Of tortures untold
Of pain unimaginable
Of rivers of blood
Of seas of tears,
All works, of appalling
War!
2.
I asked myself isn’t it about time, humanity
Overthrew the reign of this wrathful tyrant,
This soulless dynast of human consciousness,
This relentless torturer of loving hearts,
This destroyer of dreams and aspirations of so
Many generations of the innocent?
3.
Hasn’t the hour come yet to put an end to the
dreadfulness of war?
How many more centuries have to pass for us to
Stand up and fight this monstrous slayer?
How many more countries have to be destroyed?
How many genocides have to take place before
We ready would be to:
Bar hatred
Ease suffering
Stop the distractions
End the killings
Eliminate the tortures
Alleviate the pain
Dry the rivers of blood and
Evaporate the seas of tears?
4.
Aren’t we ready yet to SAY,
Enough to agony,
Enough to fear,
Enough to death?
But
Yes, to care,
Yes, to compassion,
Yes, to universal brotherhood?
5.
What are we waiting for to
Erect the structures of understanding?
What will it take to make us pave the highways of
Friendship?
What more do we need to build the bridges of
Love and compassion?
6.
Let us, therefore, create, NOW,
These structures,
These highways and
The bridges that will permit us to:
Eliminate our differences,
Resolve our disputes,
Find solutions to our problems,
Give answers to questions that have
Haunted humanity since its birth,
Thus, at last,
We will glorify God and Man alike
By
Establishing the kingdom of blessed
Peace on earth,
From this moment onward and into
Eternity!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
04 SEPTEMBER 2014
Categories:
torturer, love, peace, war,
Form:
Free verse
White coat, blue mask, optical
eye staring intently at me as I sat,
motionless.
Sterilized instruments of torture gleamed
at me in the pristine tray.
Numbed, knowing I was losing
a little more of myself,
I was helpless as this seemingly
normal human
was transformed into this sick, twisted,
sadistic torturer. Taking pleasure in the
misery of others. Push, twist, pinch, wedge,
pull … oops, it broke! Let me know if
you feel something sharp.
Pick, poke, prod, there. I think I got it all.
You may be sore for a couple
of days. Take aspirin or ibuprophen if
it gets bad (aspirin? Is he kidding?).
Two days later and I want my daughter
to smack my face with a baseball
bat.
I have found a new enemy … and his name is
Dentist!
In real life, I love my dentist. Just some sarcastic fun.
Please don't replace my Novocaine with water!!
Tony
Categories:
torturer, funny, health, lifeme, me,
Form:
Free verse