Long Serial killer Poems
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Where does one find humour?
Everywhere one looks... at least I do
Others may not see it like me
But maybe I'm just built differently
I was blessed with an oversized giggle gene
It's certainly not a bad thing I guess
Could have turned out to be a serial killer
Often thought I may have missed my calling
But I guess I'm a wee bit old to be starting a new career
So I'm really sorry, youse guys are just going to have to suffer
“Did you hear the latest one about...”
Sorry! I promise to make it more sophisticated
And only post hoity toity type humour like
“Didst thou heareth the most recent humorous episode chronicling...”
Holy crap! That'a really snotty!!!
THE DAY LITTLE LUCY DISAPPEARED
A serial killer is killing and still not caught,
And the victims he's believed to have killed,
Weren't found, till the day Little Lucy been sought,
As our story unfolds, "KILLER FOUND" as billed,
Little Lucy was playing out in front of the house,
Dad in the garage was fixing the car,
Mom in the kitchen peeked and saw her yellow blouse,
Suddenly a car pulled up in front, was rather bizarre,
Then little Lucy's curdling shrieks of mercy and pleas,
Of parents cries "STOP!" to a car that spun out,
That raced down the road and opportunity ceases,
The family car couldn't start, time lost all doubt,
911 was all over the house and highways searching,
A dedicated force whose vulnerability is now showed,
Time runs out as a serial killer is out there killing,
While a yellow ribbon is pocketed, deed, he felt goaded,
When a bit of luck, the obtuse murderer was found,
A yellow ribbon was given to parents in their house,
The killer, a case of psychiatric help for been unsound,
Parents cry, "Where's our Lucy, this goes with her blouse!"
Date: 09/01/2019
I awakened 2am to the horrid sound of cackling an uninvited entity entered my space desperation my husband sound to sleep voice’s chirping one stood out I’m shivering the voice boldly chanted when you see the entity enter your room we’re going to need you to wake up your husband clearly the entity said his name I won’t here show yourself I calmly said as I looked out the window to my surprise all the homes stores businesses were gone the empty plains drew near face to face with darkness a giant cross resemble a scarecrow of sorts sackcloth’s lay sparingly and then the cackling began to come closer I glanced around the darkness of my room a strange sound coming from my closet door it opened to a broken down porch very old across the lake revealed his home of death another dimension exposed a serial killer earthly hell on earth he paced back and forth my body frozen I can’t scream my blinds on the windows were rolling fiercely fast uncontrollably a stench of strange flesh entered the space as this old gruesome killer from hell turns and made eye contact I grabbed my rosary beads and pointed my finger and said you are from the dark place you are not allowed to cross over here I am holy woman of god what ever you did in your living life to keep you there is not allowed within my space return to the dark place flee from me now the entity crawled back into the crawl space behind my closet back across the lake into the wilderness I lay still chanting in the name of the father the son and Holy Spirit for the sake of his sorrowful passion have mercy on us and on the whole world
I awoke at midnight - the image was dark and bright.
Innocence in a Shirley Temple dress, twirling
like a wind chime, singing like a songbird:
Did you ever see a dream walking? Well I did
Did you ever hear a dream talking? Well I did
The hot breath of death is lurking at the door.
Unseen hands, rip, jerk, lift the comatose ghost.
Witness to the girl’s woebegone shriek is Frankie,
balled up tight in the corner of the school’s coat closet shelf,
his halloween mask over his frightened face.
The other witness is the mammillary moon,
growing brighter to expose a serial killer.
I awoke at midnight - the image was dark and bright
as I curled up,
blanket to my chin,
and let the moon shine in…
9/20/2019
Tania Kitchin’s Haunted Poetry Contest
Movie: Lady in White
Song: Did You Ever See a Dream Walking
written by: Mack Gordon/Harry Revel
A fly flew through the kitchen window, I was frying,
He was big, fat and very black,
He nonchalantly settled on the drying rack,
No doubt had followed the aroma of food, uninvited prying,
With tea towel and fly swatter, was armed and eyeing.
Flew closer to the gas burner, unafraid of dying,
Both of us ready for deadly battle,
He would certainly not live to tattle,
There got you, but as hard as I was trying,
He was edging nearer to the liver I had frying.
Searching with his compound eyes, he found an aperitif filler,
A small onion, his taste-buds now craving,
My anger now increasingly scaling,
Then with the prowess of a tactical serial killer,
Lashed out with the tea towel, wiped out the critter.
A fictional facility created in mother’s memory
by Amadeus Arkham in an island off Gotham city coast,
Arkham Hospital is a unique asylum
for the criminally insane supervillains.
The asylum has a long and vicious history,
a part of which is dominated by Batman,
the comic book superhero at the top of physical ability,
having an agile expertise in various forms of martial arts.
He faces several mentally sick desperado inmates,
like enraged Bane and serial killer Victor, and finds
way out of hallucinating nightmares created by Scarecrow,
counteracts the nefarious designs of the formidable foes.
A fictitious leading institution for psychiatric research,
the asylum has special cells like the extreme isolation,
that accommodates a wide variety of insane evil patients,
whose wicked plots are dexterously wrecked by Batman.
______________
January 14, 2023
Contest : Arkham Asylum
Sponsored by : Robert James Liguori
"I'm hearing images, I'm seeing songs no poet has ever painted
Voices call out to me, straight to my heart"
Cold, emotionless, and her nature, defiant
Hard to connect with as well as unreliant
A boarding school for outcasts such as Wednesday
Revenge for brother, brings on her sinister way
Dysfunctional families—ivory towers make wagers
Enrolled are lost souls and morbid teenagers
Like Arkham Asylum, a long and brutal history
Medieval mayhem come to life again in her story
Nevermore Island, Romania’s Nevermore Academy
Unconventional practices become their enemy
Designed for students with extreme personalities
Who don’t think their practices convey abnormalities
Is an all American coming-of-age supernatural
Tangled in spider silk or it’s web, which is factual?
And there it is the unscrupulous psycho-therapist
A principal’s shapeshifter and her sorceress rapist
Forcing thoughts back into some semblance of order
Werewolves, vampires, gorgons, and sirens who boarder
Are the architectural texts with applications ubiquitous
And the requisite archaic desperate mass exodus
Dark long tresses, paints it black in gothic dresses
Many who are romantic interests she addresses
Rises to an ovation with a most clever shadow dance
Sanity, reason, balance, rationality, and much arrogance
Behind the smiling facade of normality where lie derelicts
There lurks a psychopathic serial killer, and other convicts
Beyond their control, declined their world of decadence
Insanity, lunacy, madness, the outcasts show no evidence
Highly severe psychological and physical illnesses?
Or real paranormal abominations and alien devises
Guiding her are messages from the beyond with passion
Her lecture combined intellectual lucidity and compassion
Like those undertakers, I have nightmares
Death wanders through my memories
Too many scenes of horror in my regrets
I prefer solitude to the hypocrisy of those vultures
I will end up in a black coffin to taste the blessings of my hell
I have suffered like those souls sensitive to freedom
The carcass is scarred and the heart traumatized
I am sorry for all those sins
I have tied up my demons and gagged my ghosts
If I listened to my fantasies, I would be a criminal with the pedigree of a serial killer
I carry the hatred of a Gazan trapped in the body of a descendant of slaves
Since I learned to walk, I have never had the courage to bow before the eschatological chimeras of a slavemaster God
I hate war, but I know how to handle weapons of war
I recognize all the hideous faces of misery, even in the darkness
Their negrophobia thickens the dignity of my Africanness
I will never submit to their deity
I have already embraced the spirituality of my ancestry
Their slanders and cruelty will never massacre my convictions
Keeping a clear mind, even against the mockery of the angel of death
I roam this cursed planet like a pandemic
I do not believe in humanity
I distance myself from humans who speak of loyalty
No trust to grant to those viper tongues
War is the compass of these madmen
From the atomic bomb to the black bomb under the eyes of the cradle of humanity
Forget those warnings from the FBI
If you hear a baby's cry outside
In the dead of night - don't go out there.
Sure. That's going to be easy to ignore.
The second I hear a baby’s cry
I will not remember it could be a trick. I am going out there to save that baby.
I have read this is how serial killer get their victims out of their houses.
I don't care! The second I hear a baby,
I will run outside, in the dead of night, in my pajamas.
Without any thought of myself.
If there is a serial killer out here,
He can rest easy. He has his pick of the litter.
There are six women out here searching for that baby.
Hating all noise and inane tv violence,
a young man sits home cringing and weeps.
Talk of a serial killer pervades the news:
how one finger of his victims he keeps.
Looking for peace, the young man goes to fish.
So glad that he finally has gotten away,
he sets up his tent to camp in the woods,
till a stranger then comes and ruins his day.
The old burly guy has a barking dog,
and he’s endlessly pounding in stakes.
The young guy tells him: Please quiet your dog.
How much more of your noise must I take?
The bothersome man refuses to budge,
so the younger man finds a new site
but finds the old man won’t leave him alone
and has camped right nearby him that night.
By dawn, the man's dog lies dead on the ground.
How the sobs of that older man linger. . .
Last straw for the young man! As he drives away,
on his seat lies a new bloody finger.
Written 5/29/13
for Roy Jerden's Enter the Poems to keep you awake at night Poetry Contest