Dark Hate Poems

Night Labor
by Michael R. Burch

for Rachel Corrie

Tonight we keep the flame alive;
we keep the candle lit.
We burn bright incense in your name
and swear we’ll not...

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In depths of solitude, I stand forlorn,
With shadow as my sole and steadfast friend.
By society shunned, from kinship torn,
I ponder on life's edge, its bitter...

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Words encouragement
Bounce off with no meaning
Meaningless rumors
Absorbed like a dry sponge
Torments from others
Like a raging flood
Face hidden by his hoodie
He pretends to ignore
Rumors & torments
Scarred...

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Talk to me about love
Talk to me about the mere sense of being
Talk to me about truth
For only what comes from the heart
Can we love
Talk...

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I have been forced,
to love people I hate.
I wish I had,
only loving people around me.
My ego has been cut,
cut with a very sharp knife many...

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In shadows deep, where demons dwell..
I hope you suffer, soul unspelled.
Your callous heart, wrought long by sin..
Burn in the fires of hell, within.

For deeds unkind,...

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Eyes!  Doleful and lonely as they quietly penetrate my soul

In their silence, I can hear clamorous rumblings of a tale that pleads to be...

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It’s kind of dark out…
Especially for midday.. 
And I’m feeling far out
Pushed to the sea from the bay. 
The tether is slipping, 
I’m weakened in...

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I hate your glowing window 
on the damned hill
like one of the fiery boiler in hell,
before which stretches out dark meadow
with abandoned wells,
with a something...

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Can you feel the ever fading sun,
how the cold crawls over your skin;
dark strands combine at the edge of vision?
Can you hear their serene whispers...

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Veronica Sawyer, a rebel in plaid
She joined the Heathers, but they were so bad
They ruled the school with their cruel games and lies
But Veronica had...

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I'm Trapped
Unable to escape
The torment
I feel every day
Locked inside a body that I hate
Wanting to rip the flesh
Off my bones...

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My Love awaits a heart—
To hold
As Souls are meant in pairs— 
Mere death’s lone wink 
This way finds 
My Embrace—as it fares—


Still Hate does flow...

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I hate wet socks.
I'm knee-deep with diapers floating by.
The steel stairs steps (that go up!) 
Just 10 feet from me.
Seawater pouring in from every orifice.
I'd...

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(This dark poem was written on the anniversary and in memory of the events of January 6, 2021.)

Gallows at the Capitol

By Mark D. Stucky
“Hang Mike...

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