Long Devilish Poems
Long Devilish Poems. Below are the most popular long Devilish by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Devilish poems by poem length and keyword.
With the soul blooming like a divine flower
the journey of life begins on the garden path,
the walkway lighted by the rising pristine sun,
your mind shines in the patina of angelic purity.
The light disappears behind cloud of contrivance,
you’re dragged into cesspool of intrigue of being,
the de-petalled flower turns to thorn of evil spirit
and your soul opens the door of the hideous hell.
The shackled demon of eternal damnation let loose
slithers within, darkens the lighted corridor of mind.
In the glow of receding flicker of residual rectitude
you retrieve your resolve, then the combat begins.
To conquer the devilish self, from your mind’s entropy
will emerge the power of will, the driver of victory.
June 24, 2019
So, don`t be the merry jokers prey
as he play`s his zany game of charades
upon this trickster`s holy day
never let the sunshine’s ray
turn into a dark light of shame
so, don`t be the merry jokers prey
his game don`t let the joker play
fools he will make of the sane
upon this trickster`s holy day
into the joker hand you will pay
as you play his merriment game
so, don`t be the merry jokers prey
just when you think everything is ok
is when he reveals his evil master plan
on this trickster`s holy day
he will frolic in the ridicule
while smiling his devilish grin
so, don`t be merry jokers prey
upon this trickster`s holy day
If only I could be five once more
With all the knowledge en wisdoms from distant shores
Oh what a time I would have
At only five, I would be a devilish lad
I would file tax returns just for fun
Only because I have no income
I would say five million I make
What do you think will be your take?
Let em collect from a five year old
The IRS would they be so bold?
Sure they would try, that I know
My name I would say is old Al Gore
I would eat ice cream all day
If mum said stop! Id say no way!!!!
I am only five once in a lifetime they say
So ice-cream is my right!!! For that I will fight!
I would eat cookies as meals
I am only five and not fat at all
I would eat all day and eat all night
Who the hell cares, I’ll be alright
I would fly to Las Vegas
And place bets on number five
I would date cocktail ladies
I show them five is alive
I would change my name
To Alice Cooper
And behead a few chickens
Just to be cool and scare off a few wiccans
I would buy me a bike a boat and a plane
So I could travel like Hefner and act insane
I'd have playboy bunnies, all wrapped in chocolate
Fantasies and dreams, I would swagger and strut
I would drink whiskey with cool aide cause I am only five
Happy hours I would have with hookers in dives
I would have a fake beard, so I appear six
I would listen to rock all night, ending with Styx
Donuts and Pizza, would be my daily fair
Hangovers and Playboy bunnies, why I know you’d all stare
Oh how evil I would be at this tender young age
Smoking cigars and playing the sage
Id rob me a bank for a million dollars
And spend it on Nintendo as I laugh and I holler
No way they would put a five year old in jail
Who cares anyways, you’d know I’d make bail!
Cause I would be only five
Dad could roll a cigarette
with just two fingers
and the tip of his tongue.
I saw him do this once
in a wind storm.
Magically
he would shave just close enough
to keep his grizzled face
blue by the light of a yellow moon.
He could dive easy into an engine
to capture a rattling rat,
then twist its tail with only a wrench
- a drop of oil
to make it purr.
He could blarney a partial truth
with a waggish smile,
yarn it all out to fuddle
many a cocksure scholar.
He was an expert drinker,
astounding all-comers
and never tippling over
a canny knife edge.
He controlled his bootstraps
with a devilish dominion.
When he walked in my shoes
I felt I could do magic also.
He would tell me
that I had to be a genius
to be my kind of dumb.
That was old-fangled conjuring,
a natural hocus-pocus,
I practice a little of that
myself
in his roguish memory.
Writhing and slithering, enters a hissing snake.
What a foolish court jester he would make.
Belles on his toes, an attitude of 'up your nose.'
No warning is needed when he creeps around.
His strikes aren't lethal from on the ground.
Yet, he tries to bite ankles... what a joke.
He's a belly crawler, an odious sidewinder,
a cracked egghead with a rotten yolk,
but believes himself to be a devilish bloke.
A real 'snake-in-the-grass,' and a faultfinder.
A dancing monkey working for an organ grinder.
Shaking his rattles, he's poised for a fight,
but doesn't see the folly of his plight!
Acting like a dragon, safe inside his lair,
breathing fire in vile words. He likes to swear.
Like a pig, he wallows in dirt and squeals.
Similar slimy creatures... snakes and eels.
It's time to get back inside his box. Jack
is a wind-up toy, a little boy blue, a quack
who likes to toot his own horn. Forlorn and lost,
acting like a know-it-all, the boss.
Let him try to swallow a frog as it sits on a log.
Doesn't he know frogs can leap and hop?
Let him open his big mouth like a python with teeth.
Under its breath, that frog calls him a sop.
It will laugh at his antics and call him an ape.
Catch a monkey by his tail and listen to him wail.
Maybe he's a dog who likes to chew on a bone.
Then whimper, sigh, curse and groan
when a little ol' flea takes a bite of his flesh.
Wherever comes this strange, black chill
an overwhelming desire at the brink
inexplicably drawn and curious to sink
into the abyss of an unknown cavern?
Weighty and darker than the deepest sea
from blackest ink of a moonless night
its mystery surrounds, as I take flight
under solemn layers of silent secrets.
Vision now vanishes, only touch to replace
for there are no images to embrace
nor sights to trace in this wretched place
a devilish black hole with an evil face.
Black upon black looms ever on
hemmed within slick and craggy walls
black bats shriek, the midnight hour calls
as I stumble into the black void of a forever fall.
The Vessel pt. 1 - A Blighted Vale (pt 2/2)
Amongst the dead and dying trees,
A Stygian crypt of crumbling stone
A doorway opened, not with man-made keys,
But forgotten tongue from forgotten tome
This ancient ruin with obscured glyphs,
Gently brushed clean with calloused tips
Whispered words from cracked, parched lips,
Spill forth with unhindered ease—
Like oft spoken lines from cherished poem
Through parted lips, unfiltered words—
Hang heavy on the autumn breeze
An incantation, profane and absurd,
With pressed palms and soiled knees
Then, a deafening clap like thunder,
Splits bark and stone asunder,
Unblinking, her eyes transfixed with wonder
'neath the cloak of night, something stirred,
Within the smoldering debris
Amidst the rubble, a stifling plume,
Coalesced from ash and stone
Sears the throat with each breath consumed,
Seizing muscle and aching bone
Then, a much welcomed reprieve,
Unfettering her senses and lungs to breathe
As the expelled miasma slowly recedes,
And takes on an appearance that mirrors her own
From blackened debris, this Phantom figure,
Whose form and features, to her's, akin
Its visage—a reflection, not of her cold exterior,
But tempered rage contained within
Under its gaze, —a violent shiver,
Her once steady hands, —now a tremor,
Its eyes a cauldron of glowing embers—
Set ablaze with devilish grin
I begin the day buying yogurt in a small
favorite grocery store. The clerk
a man of few pretenses was making jokes
about his wife, how they fight in bed.
Discovering the better stores in the community.
In a given day, isolated from friends,
I speak to few people. An old woman
asks me for directions to the post office
or I speak to a stranger over the phone about night work.
At home my every thought comes to the counterpoint of a dream:
a girl I love surprises me by knocking on the window.
I ply my arts all day alone.
After this silence like being hidden away in the woods
in a cabin, bored
but owing no member of society an explanation,
invitation to a party. A flow of wine and devilish drugs
and quickly I am making a fool of myself.
My new friends like me
but when they think about me at all,
they wonder.
Wandering home
through the midnight air, alone again,
free, admiring
the ghostly houses of my new neighbors
by new moonlight.
below
time entwines
as the scenario wind blow to
carbon copy history pages
a place where
a choking mist
clouds the rays
and
the future holds onto the present
the mirror reflects fantasies dreams
but the
mirror brakes
shattering
pieces
the pieces drop like rain
stabbing life force
pain
rolling thunder breaks the silence
as whirlwinds swirls
out of the dark past scars peer
white shadowed by the grey
the abyss stares back
a blank stare
of emptiness
reality tear drops falls
falling
falling
falling
to a place where
ghosts of the past haunt the future
dancing on dreams
twisting
into
a screaming nightmare
but behind the tortured screams
you can
hear the laughter
as the jokers plays his hand
complete now
his devilish
plan
"the oceans are becoming more salty
our planet is turning into a complete gas chamber"-
to someone i sound like i am a case of immediate help
who needs serious knowledge on what a religious text has to say
you see the more the merrier is not the right saying
when it is breaking the natural balance
oceans are turning salty, trapping more devilish gases
coral reefs are dying that harbors most of marine life
climate change is as real as the death and not a hoax
its real as houses burning down from forest fire
its real as your world getting flood by floodwater
or rising sea levels that will soon reach your door