Ill Will Poems - Poems about Ill Will

true love ...

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I didn’t expect this – it came quickly, without warning I couldn’t hide. It left me with no choice – but to go to war, battling the deafening poison, the affliction feeling like the deafening crash thunder raging, pouring out its fury I didn’t ever imagine this would come to be, silencing the courage that I’d once felt, giving my plans a...

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Wake up. If you can. Or just lie there, blank-eyed, Listening to the ceiling rot. Time is fake. Clocks are arrogant. Let them tick for someone who matters. Forget food. Hunger is just the body begging To feel something. Anything. You know better now. Scroll until your bones rust. Doom is infinite. Your spine will curve to match the screen— A digital prayer To no god in...

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Oh, what pale imitation now is this? My train of empty carriages which held A score of lovers, harem of my flesh, Now emptied of those who within me dwelled. These rails since lain to waste, just fractured tracks In rows like tombstones, each besides its mate A massacre of fellows, myself cracked, My new friend, false as shadows, in...

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The lack of common sense makes nonsense easy, things that should make sense, slip through, unchallenged. Yet common sense itself makes the absurd unbearable, forcing logic upon the illogical, struggling to grasp the uncommon. To live without it is to drift through chaos, unbothered by contradiction. To live with it is to wrestle with reason, forever questioning the senseless. ...

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That which is ill-begot will love you not, but pull the strings of a heavy heart....

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As I heard a sad story of a woman named Elysée, I am standing to tell the entire world about it. The woman who knows her value. As some mercenaries called M23 entered her house around a day and foced her to lay on the ground while looking at the sky. She listened to them and...

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enough! i'm calling your bluff all of us can see so true, yet so hidden from you and these stupid conclusions you cannot make them filled with confusions are you under some illusion? look! you're bruised, this isn't delusion do you really want to turn us to dust? allow our sweet rays to rust? oh.. now i choke on distrust and this new found lust say you...

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27/7/2024. Close to the 45th anniversary. Still no idea where to go. Should I leave it to fate? The more I know you, The bigger the gaps in every aspect. Just like every body, You could not keep your promises. Well, I hate surprises, What you did was as predicted. In a way, it was OK, But, somehow, I did not like any bit...

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Like a ghost ship idly mooring Cleaning your own mess is totally boring Sorting other people’s stuff is fun however Why don’t we switch houses in cold weather? I’ll sort yours and, you sort mine. We might both have a really fun sorting time. How difficult could this trade of services be? I just have to find someone as messy as me....

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Jill just can’t sit for one minute still; In everything she wants some thrill! One rainy evening she climbs a hill; From there she slips making a shrill! This results her fall straight into a rill; She swallows water a gallon at her will! As her belly swells, she falls critically ill; The quack there tries on her every pill! It costs...

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The Ill-fated after the bombing  dead children everywhere like an exploding dollmaker's factory Tomato sauce and noodles  a parade of the inhuman Presidents are helpless their country is helpless while they slept all power lost A chorus arises, and songs  drown in thunder  We are the masters we were the chosen Cumulus clouds will ask we see and hear doomed humanity Shivering, we wait for the last bomb to drop  ...

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start out sedated when it had been ill fated eradicated...

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Beneath the everyday attire, the spirit falls ill, dormant, In the monotony that seems an eternity of silver smoke, contingent. Boredom weaves its fabric between walls of flesh, walking dead, Many beings live this pseudo-existence, in slumbering cages. They slowly make their way to offices, in convoys of rusty machines, Immersed in the deep sea, where words become unwritten stones. They...

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As I fall into the buzzing altar of heavy metal shifting sand, maw, swirling sheets, illness drools plus plus halcyon? drawn too many wrinkles obfuscating drooling sticky long second lunch fool the maelstrom of too deep damned pools of return. Mis-grand invitational, undirectional grab of gravitational...

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