Dark Death Poems - Poems about Dark Death

Milady’s Love

Milady, you were always loved
For twenty-five years, the people honoured you
They believed you were one of them
Not either royalty  or nobility
Just the same as they were
But you had someone loving you who you did not know 
No one knows anything about it
Just that it arrived on the day you were buried
Milady, it must have

Roses are Red, Violets are Blue

When roses are red and violets are blue,
each is a lovely, sentimental hue. 
But the color of blood is also red,
and now my love, as you're gone and dead, 
the color of velvet is tinged dark-blue,
and I still cry through my tears for you.

spitty splashing of pitty patter sun-washed lemons,

 spitty splashing of pitty patter sun-washed lemons,
the sun rises instead to the shade of the apple trees
Hello nuke in the sky, its an experience to say Hi,
cracking my last case of beer until ashes I'll die.......
wisdom dictates I'll be lost to the flesh as a fact,
among all the memorial moments as I pass away.
Inner

The Seed Of Fear - Cinderella

Ominous bays of hellhounds thunder in the bleak night
As a shattered glass slipper is found amongst powdered ivory snow,
The glint caught within incorporeal warping moonlight—
Leading to a blue grey corpse, mangled with frozen tears cemented in place.
Hands clenched around a copper timepiece,
The minute hand paused at one past twelve.
The putrid scent of desperation still hangs

Mandela, Forgive Us

Mandela, forgive us—
When Robben Island set you free after twenty-seven winters,
You stepped into sunlight and showed us the way.
You taught us peace when the world expected vengeance,
You offered us hope when our hearts were torn.

Your vision was a land reborn,
A South Africa dignified,
A rainbow nation rising beyond its past.
You told us to do better—
But oh,

Room for Rent

I heard
tiny terrors
stitched in between light walls
as weightless as chicken feathers
jaundiced piss, recycled adult nappies
crumpled faces leaking maggots
that ripen to dust here
the price is right
I heard

The Greedy

We have built a world—
Not for the need,
But for the greedy.

Palaces boast of fifty rooms
Where no soul sleeps.
Garages gleam with a thousand idle chariots,
While the homeless pray to wind and pavement.

One man holds
A thousand acres of land,
While millions kneel
With no soil to claim as home.

Step into the White Halls of Power—
Leaders dine in gold,
While the

Pass Away - Haiku - Tanka

The dead that now know
God's move in ~predestined~ wind
Sift through the free grass.

You must be longer
in there than I am this staid.
Above you, to leave
Where distant dogs bark, since then
My fallen soul buries rest.

Dark

So much hate.
Getting worse of late
So many crying 
Dying 
Nation fighting nation, such a bloody duel
Hate. Is the fuel
Finding better ways to kill
Not wanting to make a deal
Lives they continue to steal
Sad to see
So much violence there be
Technology of today
Changing the way
Innocents, civilians, gone in a blink of an eye
As death falls from the sky
Who

Longing To Hear Their Ghosts

I'll deafen my ears before everyone else disappears,
So I can have the most quietest peace of mind that hears their ghosts.
What would I give then for others to be their living hosts?

Dirge of the Last Lap

I

The loud, cruel laughter of dirge
besieges us so greatly in the face of
wanton humiliation.
It comes mightily, crashing our aged
city walls, unearthing the foundations of
churches,
tolling bells in pulsated grief . . .

Dirge comes with thunder,
like the trumpets and horns of
treachery common with lachrymose compositions;
when rain suddenly comes,
we fret visibly.

The events of dirge are colourless,
edgy and heartless

Carnival Nights

There was a chill in the air that night, as the taste of spun cotton candy and stale popcorn floated through the breeze. Lifeless clouds hung in the sky, moving swiftly past an ever-broken moon. Remnants of rain clung to weeping blades of grass, as a shattered heart cracked under a ribcage in disbelief. The

Night At the Necropolis

Night,
Ageless and porous,
Sang screeches of fireflies of
Crescendo-diminuendo sparks.
What hour?
In the midst of the hustles, I lost my hoursight
Different, tonight, is my eyesight, seeing even
Through the darkest foliage of gentle, but sinister
Caress sway.
On the broken, cracked slabs, squatting, dark torsos!
Pensive, broken, sad, old and so good the
Work of Italian sculptors.
Further deep in searching glare, the hardened
Mats

AWAITED FATE

a bullet transfers to your brain
it nests there peacefully
til your just a mere rotting corpse
slowly becoming birds feed
you'll be saving lives with your own

you'll love the rain
it'll wash all the pain away
til the day you stay
you'll no longer be afraid
to be the way that you were made
resting in the dark alley
another way to the gateway

A Night Beneath the Sky

Not once did I blink,
Afraid your gaze would fade at twilight’s brink,
Drowning silent in your soundless sea,
Begging the world to let me be,
Even if death walks next to me.

No past to flee,
No future to believe,
Only you — a shadow near,
Clutching time in a crystal tear.
I won’t let go of your hand,
Though skies might break and

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