Jack The Ripper Poems - Poems about Jack The Ripper

Jack the Ripper

Jack the Ripper has not mended his ways
Continuing search for unwary prey
This time around, his weapon is poison
Extinguishing lives of poor, his mission
‘The weak must perish’, Jack the Ripper says

Homeless vagrants at food bank, to God pray
Oblivious that blue skies have turned grey
Their food today, prepared by a demon
Jack the Ripper

Panic sets in as these

Jack's Choice

I've spent the evening hunting, as I'm wont to do
and choosing for tonight an older lass,
I hold the shop door open while she passes through
and as it closes, watch her in the glass

Her face is plain, no trace of paint unlines her skin,
her matted hair is gathered in a bun
Beneath the shabby dress, her frame

Whitechapel, London 1888

Wanton women of Whitechapel
Desperate and destitute
Weakened from want
Shrunken stomachs barren of bread
Dying from disease in dingy dosshouses
Selling themselves on the streets for shillings
to buy beer, a bed for the night
or a bonny new bonnet
to enable them to appear more
enticing to men with money to spend
A woeful and wretched existence
worn down by the world
envisioning escape

Evil born

Jack Speaks

Although intoxicated within ethereal madness;
bound within the chains of this soulless prison.
I'm desperately in love with this Gothic sadness;
whilst staring into a fog of disheartened reason.

Walking and stalking through dark rancid streets;
stopping for pints, now the pain's finally receding.
Through smoke and crowds; reverent and discreet.
A bottle to the abyss, now heartless and bleeding.

Watch the frightened

Whitechapel You Must Watch For Me

Whitechapel, you must watch for me.
Your streets unlit, they are dark and dreary.
Those ladies of night go passing by.
I’ve chosen my victim, the one to die.
I Lurk, I follow, I know this place.
I watch this woman, I see her face.
I View this wench as she plies her trade.
I cannot wait to show my blade.
The blood

Jack the Ripper

I Jumped up suddenly out of my bed
With Jack the ripper spinning in my head
And the word cabinet kept floating in my bed
I had a very serious message to deliver
But I don't know who to tell because it felt improper
My heart was pounding and I felt like vomiting
I hurried outside and jogged around the circle
I

Tacita Pruval Learns the True Identity of Jack the Ripper

Tacita leaned in close and lowered her voice a tad. “So tell me, Jack. What’s your real name?"

"You don’t really want to know who I am. You just think you do. Aye, the public loves its monsters – as long as we keep our distance. Nessie and me, we know the score. It’s not us

Jack the Ripper

Aaron Kosminski, you were not Jack the Ripper
 as many would have thought.
 You have not kept a dissecting knife under your coat
 as Raskolnikov had kept the ax.
 
You were not addicted to opium.
 You liked the verse, The Hound of Heaven
 and that’s Finis Coronat Opus -
 the violence did not seized your

A Real Jack the Ripper In a Small American Town

Gladys was a devote Baptist and a
Sweet old lady who never had anything
Bad to say about anybody so when this
Young man moved into the neighborhood
They said you can just look into his eyes
And see he's nothing but bad news but
Gladys said now didn't our Lord say he
Who is without sin cast the first stone?
Little did

Jack the Ripper

The man in the alley is insane.
Syphilis eats at his brain.
All dressed in black,
he is ready to attack.

He stalks in the dark of night,
trying to stay out of sight.
A certain type he wants to find.
Whores,filthy whores screams in his mind !

A door opens at a nearby Inn.
Laughter for a moment and silence again.
The click-clack of

Jack the Ripper

Jack the 
Ripper,
He walks & 
talks,
Like an 
ordinary 
person.
Is he a 
psycho 
murderer,
Or a serial 
killer,
Maybe a 
famous actor,
Or a police 
constable.
He is 
bloodlust 
terror,
One who 
possess skill 
of invisibility,
Now he is 
Legendary,
The renowed 
london 
bridge,
The place of 
unravelling 
horror,
An unknown 
destiny 
reached,
Or a mystery 
of the Ripper?
Over a 
century past,
From the first 
victim to

Investigating Jack the Ripper - the Bait

He cuts throats too, my dear friend Ramsay!
How can I sing myself to comfort,
Sing wonderfully, as my father brags,
With a cut throat!?
Perhaps the draining of my fluids shall be our killer's lullaby,
As he sleeps soundly with the soothing flow
Of my newly dead blood!

With an uncertain sigh,
I now stand alone, quaking!
Cruel thought imagining despairing fate
How could

Jack the Ripper

Jack the Ripper,
As a savage nipper,
Possibly slashed his toys,
And didn’t play with other boys.

Jack the Ripper
May have liked kipper,
But he ate a kidney one day -
Or, at least, so people often say.

For Andrea's Show me the Funny contest, Part Two
Originally for PD’s clerihew contest

Jack the Ripper

he played a dirty hand
though he washed them 
thoroughly each day.
Brilliant mind, hiding
a hollowness so dark
committing horrendous crime
on the lowly and the discharged,
those forced to feed on the grime
of sinners in bright attire.

No one would give a damn
to these despised street beggers
they would know his clever hands,
but their screams would not be heard,
their agony ending

Jack the Ripper and Whitechapel

when the knife goes in
the cuts had a sure purpose
to preserve organs

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