Killer Poems - Poems about Killer

It was a funeral for myself And I still haven't buried her yet The sky opened up and released its anger Rained down in grief and sadness The only other witness to her multiple deaths The world built her to break It was too late to save her For she was now unrecognisable In a casket crafted from pain...

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they wheeled me in like a busted fridge metal bolts, the stink of bleach my hands were calm for once— you'd think I'd scream, but I'd already done all my screaming. a priest mumbled junk at me— I asked for a cigarette, he gave me god instead. the guards were kids shaking like leaves they strapped me tight like I was gonna run. I looked at the...

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Hopelessness When your body and mind are disconnected When your falling in a sea of darkness and accept it When the silence is loud you can hear your heartbeat It's the feeling of a deep pit In your stomach All the contents of your stomach being Consumed by it Replaced by the feeling of sickness Leaving a...

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he didn’t blink when the light caught his face— just stared like a dog too long in the rain. no prayers, no cries, no family on the concrete bench. he killed for sport, like swatting flies— and still the world made room for him. the guards were tired, the chaplain bored. death smelled like disinfectant and steel. he coughed once. then again. then silence. nobody wept— not even the devil. ...

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True, a taste of tomorrow is bitter sweet in minds eye, or even in sleep but is it truth, or is it lie only you 'll know, when you search for the why But know this, when love, it is found there are no reasons left, the truth profound its a peace, a calm, a beauty absorbed its the inner voice...

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I'm born to kill. My name betrays brutality in each grim ton. I'm all my moniker portrays. I'm born to kill. But can I stop what I've begun as my great appetite obeys a blood urge? Can it be undone? Will once I learn to change my ways? Will I break through to see the sun, so, my genes won't say all...

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Calm entity entered in disguise, silence before the scream, walked in flesh and clotted blood. No empathy, no sympathy— only rage and a ticking bomb. Each slay, barbaric despair. Each pulse, a metronome of fate. Each breath, a ticking alibi. Invasion. Foul play. Mind occupied, inquiring around— an art of silent prayers no one understands. Lucifer commands, all in delusion. Garnished trophies to remember the names. No fumbling, no rambling— only mind-twisted monsters, carved...

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Deceit is a silent killer Yet so many wear it well They master the art of pretending And call the mask a shield. Like her She crowned me with tender lies Draped in robes of sweet illusion And I, the fool, saw no disguise. I was blind To the poison in her touch Too drunk on the way she smiled Too far gone to feel the...

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To Be Sung to the Tune of Man on the Silver Mountain in the style of Ronnie James Dio with Rainbow I compute, I compute I'm a meticulous brute you can't stop me from filing Cause I'm no fun, I'm no fun But I get your tax done The new tax code I'm learning I wear bland attire and lift your refund higher Someone's...

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they don’t walk like the rest of us— there’s a rhythm, yes, but it’s off-beat, like jazz played in a padded cell. it starts early—when the dog barked too loud and nobody hugged them after. the world lit its fuse, and turned the other way. they grow quiet in the corners of rooms, watching how the meat falls off the bone, how people talk...

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A bedroom door that never locked, Footsteps heavy like thunderclocks, Mother's wine glass, cracked and red, Words that bruised more than fists ever did. A closet full of whispered screams, Apologies lost in fevered dreams, Father's belt, a sermon preached, Love, a language never reached. A dog buried in silence deep, Secrets traded instead of sleep, Schoolyard eyes like hunting knives, Laughter echoing butchered lives. The smell...

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He had a killer of a smile But his mind was a blank He could run a country mile Though he was built like a tank He got married eight times But each bride soon brought him back Rejected for his pebble-sized brain My sweet smiling Uncle Mack...

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The famous killer seven the great... I killed seven mosquitoes All of a Sole Played I turned hero immediately,... ! A HERO NOW I AM......

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I abhor the way that you’ve silently stalked me in my house I have begged you to leave But you steadfastly refused I’ve just found you in my bedroom I’m rooted to the spot in terror And yell so loudly my son rushes in Help! I scream. My son looks At my white face. He bravely squares up, corners the intruder then pounces like a cat. “Gotcha”! He says in...

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Originally published in Out on a Limb, An Anthology for Friends June 2020 “There is not a crime, there is not a dodge, there is not a trick, there is not a swindle, there is not a vice which does not live by secrecy.” - Joseph Pulitzer There is something that few recognize, But is transparent to...

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