"Love seeps from curling words
into a floundering bloodstream",
We're no more two lovebirds,
Was our passion a passing dream?
I fall in an abyss,
It sucks me in and slowly drowns,
Wonder what went amiss
between us, before these meltdowns!
You hurt me with your speech,
"Your acidic tongue drips venom",
Your every word a screech,
Why have our fights gained momentum?
Random words wound my soul,
In our love, was there some shortage?
I sink in this hellhole,
Stinging terms flowing like garbage;
Have some kindness at least,
Don't hurt me if you don't love me,
Don't turn into a beast,
Let me go in peace, hear my plea;
Let us unentwine now,
with harm as less as possible,
Let us forget our vow,
And hope this sin's ignoscible.
{'Ignoscible' is an archaic term meaning 'pardonable'}
China refusing to kowtow
Trump bends over backward to bow,
Blaming ‘no good’ media
For powwow with India
Whose time in world he feels is now,
Yet, wearing horse's blinds,
He hardly knows nor finds
How his own time’s ticking somehow.
____________________________
Happenings | 01.06.2026 | American, India, political, humour, Limerick
Note: At long last it dawns on Trump that ‘India’s time in the world is now’—suddenly after downplaying the country for long-- imposing 50 percent tariff, calling it a hellhole, cozying up with Pakistan against India, undermining QUAD agenda…Why this late realization? Perhaps, after failing to get a much-anticipated warm hug from China’s XI, reality has dawned on him at last.
The boy who escaped
This boy wanted to escape life.
He was afraid he wasn't good enough.
He just wanted to curl up and fall into a never ending slumber
But he knew he couldn't escape this hellhole.
He was tired but wasn’t allowed to sleep.
He doesn’t want to be degraded.
He just wants one person to show they care
About him.
He doesnt care if your lying to him or telling the truth
He just wants to be loved
But no one listened to him.
So he stood at the sink with the pills in hand.
He left the note on his bedside dresser.
He takes the pills.
Everything goes dark.
His body falls onto the bathroom floor.
The pill bottle falls from his hand.
His body takes the last breath.
His body can now rest .
He has finally “escaped”…or has he?...
Emirati Glitterati…sold their soul
All for an arty farty party so dull
Each troll got a very simple goal
Going for gold their Faustian role
Befriend astro knoll on pretend atoll
Look at me vanity but never a lull
Narcissist fantasy look like a doll
Maybe botox detox don't annul
Tax free captivity in goldfish bowl
Not like before well war takes its toll
Rakes get the shakes out of control
Save me plea on every single scroll
Fakes & flakes on the make must cull
Hard not to laugh at whole rigmarole
Tragic they chose their Arabic hellhole
Goodbye to Dubai magic back to Hull
Mull over becoming a prole on the dole
If there was a poll would say Tres Drole
Or on insular influencer peninsula "LOL"
Where the hell am I, for God's sake how did I get here, what have I done to deserve this un-humane madness. I knew what I was doing, I had complete control of myself. It wasn't the alcohol nor be it the pills that were prescribed to me for anxiety. It was me in a nutshell, because that's who I am and that's who I will always be. I knew exactly what I was doing, when I was doing it, and why I was doing what I had done. It was a simple little piece of art that fit me to a tee. This little but meaningful tattoo of a heart showed others who I was and that it was meant for others to give them hope in life. That's all it stood for and all it was meant for. So why ask I, have I been snatched from my home like a spider from its web on your wall and thrown into this hellhole like the spider in a jar and tortured by the likes of a rulers' law. The ink that I have stained permanently on my left forearm for others to see and feel comfort will always be a part of me, like it or not you damn foolish bigot. For heaven's sake...let me out of this hellhole Satin.
the ink on my arm
the devil didn't like it
it's for heaven's sake
ai is nothing but ghostwriters,
uses words of dead poets passed,
ai is nothing but ghost writers,
using the poets of the past.
and they say it is the future,
staring into their rearview,
good £uck with that view,
progress is careening forward.
“the world is mad, this is madness”
this message brought to you by,
batwoman, batman with breasts,
left and right the helpless citizens,
poets who have made no attempts.
i don’t need help,
stay out of my way,
stacked deck is dealt,
straight hellhole, i sashay.
snarl-like grin on my countenance,
never asked, just pointed and laughed,
because i’m dark, labeled with ignorance,
have to play the game, check the pie graph.
i’m winning,
where are you all at,
sorry i move fore and don’t look back.
A skeletal smirk at the school door -
the greeter-teacher; 50 years later,
I feel his gimlet eyes at my back,
that leer is now plugged with dirt,
yet it can still be traced in the brown water stains
of mottled toilet walls.
A female slave-unit named ‘Miss,’
She never did speak directly to a kid,
only through the thin lips of her personal intimidator,
a third level teacher who lubricated nerve endings.
I am ‘put right’ by a serial wrongdoer
with a goose steeping gait,
his guppy mouth is a blubbery hellhole.
Next,
a second-tier maniac with a penchant for angry rhetoric,
his large hands flay like windsails as they
slap books and heads.
A last Piscean reflection,
a teach sporting a fish-head grin
as he opens a school exit door for me
while I gladly leave forever.
They would all hate to be in a poem like this
so tightly packed together
like oily sardines choking on the phlegm
of what they could have aspired to,
could have been.
A knotty path, woven in twine
With twists and turns like frizzy vine
With ups and downs and rugged plains
With teary tales and bloody stains
Above and below knots of square
Are damages one can't repair
For they're engraved in hearts of stone
And their hellhole reaches the bone
But time is kind for those who wait
For those who love and shun the hate
For those who tie down their burden
On the waiting halls of heaven
For time will come when chains will break
Knots will loosen for goodness sake
The knotty path will soon unfold
The sky will clear as it was told
Keep, knock, knotty poetry contest
2nd place
It was going smoothly back then until the storm swept in
People left my side, I was wondering why nobody checked in;
Things changed right before my eyes, it’s like a curse was let in
Praying to to sky with my head on my pillow, trying to hear why;
It was a long time before things starting making sense, I know
that’s a sign
The sadness felt so heavy in my heart, my eyes couldn’t stop from
crying
I’m only focused on going higher, moving away from the past
I used to think that the hellhole was always going to last
Some things still go over my head, there’s more I need to grasp
Dwelling so deep in my thoughts, it feels like I can get lost
In the abyss of emptiness, looking for something to fill for a cost
A lot of demons tried to trap me, at times I almost got caught
hell's goal is to heal
shall we evolve and swap now~
shun hell afterward
do each of those who
wish the worst for other kin~
they, too, deserve hell
paradise on earth
guess someone else's hellhole~
shield it to yourself
Written: March 27, 2023
Hell Haiku Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Robert James Liguori
Sending Love to My Papa
Underneath his multiple dark layers,
He was desperately seeking the light.
Wolves dressed in sheep’s clothing his betrayers,
Kinsman who disregarded his cruel plight.
Memories of guilt, loneliness, and shame,
Ruined and fragmented his tortured soul.
Years of misdeeds and their utter disdain,
He spiraled down an abysmal hellhole.
Tragic mother’s attempt at suicide.
Philandering father bedding hussies.
Abandoned precious children mortified.
Devastating hearts of blameless babies.
Ignored was the beauty of innocence,
Unearthed by kind love and strong resilience.
My birth name is Suzie, some say I’m a floozy
But I can’t be choosey, that’s just how it is
I’ve slept with a teacher and even a preacher
And many a doctor got more than a kiss
Don’t show me derision, you won’t go to prison
Please share me your caring and I shall share mine
Just show me your fondness for blue eyes and blondness
Sir, smile at me kindly and I shall be thine
My mother ignores me, my father deplores me
I can’t comprehend why they ever had kids
They share mutual scorn in a marriage forlorn
I guess I was born, then their love hit the skids
Next week I’ll be sixteen, that’s fifteen years unseen
Did they even once see me as heaven sent
I cook and I clean, they just watch that old screen
They don’t give a damn how I get them their rent
Just want to be flattered, don’t want to be battered
Just want to be noticed through eyes that are fond
On my bedside table, your cash will enable
me to torch this hellhole and then to abscond
So, please don't find mirth in my limited worth
All I have to offer is all that I am
Don’t think me obscene for you could have been
Stood in my shoes were you born to my pram
While as a sparkling carefree brook of gay youth
she meandered on the plateau of valiant yearning,
the precipice of destiny dragged her down
into the ambiguous abyss of no return.
Sucked by the vortex of wanton whirlpool,
she sank in the hellhole of corrupt lust.
With flesh bargained in the marketplace of perversion,
she morphed into an object of lewd attraction.
Perceiving the aberrant life absolutely undone,
and the unfeeling inert soul utterly defiled,
she compromised with her crumpled conscience,
for her usurped body was no longer hers.
When the sleazy alley winding in the mist of infamy
became dark after the red lights were turned off,
she turned into a self-seeking stalker wolf,
waiting for the full moon to rise for her early.
February 22, 2021
Contest : They Closed The Brothel
Sponsor : Kai Michael Neumann
Rise, warrior hearts and draw your sharp sword
And forever relish this timeless deed
Written by blood history will record
To fight, perhaps die in hour of need
Let the earthen floor be stained red this day
As you cut their flesh on our sacred soil
Yours, the last face seen, their breath slips away
To perish from Earth by hands most loyal
Let your arms draw strength from your iron heart
Let your heart draw strength from your darkest soul
Keep not a memory as they depart
Be the reaper of death in this hellhole
Rest not in the mist of battle, or die
Claim victory only beneath the sky
9/6/20 contest A warrior sonnet
We're trapped here.
The need to escape this Eden-turned-hellhole
is far ahead of the technology to do so.
We paid little attention when village idiots corralled our children.
For they were clever and did it in tiny increments.
Maybe we were suffering from the disease of indifference.
The end product was the premature battering of innocents.
Now the radical nest of little vampires and anarchists has hatched.
Flitting into the streets to bleed out the good people.
It's nearly a total eclipse of sanity.
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