Most Wicked Poems - Poems about Most Wicked

What's up miss popular? People know about your greed Ya, got the text. The "Hey, dotard, don't talk to me freak," The average joe, and those silly electronics" Please, Click Itch, labeling others as the smelly geek So many countless hours cushioning in luxury Preparing to feed your lust, her dinner platter ...

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Do not whisper secrets to the wind, for the wily wind, is a blabber mouth. It howls around gravestones, listening for old rumors to spread. It slithers through cracks in walls and minds, It hears your moans, then steals your dreams. It shakes them loose like brittle leaves, Then carries them off to stir up a scream. Wind is never...

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of what use is poetry if insipid it borders on wicked words can lift the heart restore the soul ~ or drain the hope-supply ...

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Where am I? Don't tell me I'm in Nigeria Did I tell you I want to be born here Is this wickedness or something. Where am I? Why Africa why not the world? Why subject me to the colonial masters Why making me a slave to westerners. Where am I? Why the world why not Heaven? Is this mere wickedness or Ignorance? Why bring me to...

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There was once a Queen Who sat on her throne Behind closed doors Giving orders, abusing and casting spells The staff rebelled and chucked her in hell Where she remains still spitting poison. ...

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Cinderella had fun at the ball with her Prince charming, handsome and tall. It got late and she would run home fast as she could- but one slipper fell off in a fall. The Prince found it and let people know he must find Cinderella, although her glass shoe needs to fit- those that don't, he'll omit. The contenders did soon come and go. Not...

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Orchestrated they succumb onto her board scene ~ As success thrills the ordained Queen of mean—poet Once upon a time, there was a Queen with a magic flute in her throat Beknownst to all the villagers as the P i e d P i p e r e s s Without losing...

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The cupboards were bare. The stepmother said, “There’s not enough. Leave them instead.” Into the woods with crusts of bread, they were left to starve or end up dead. The world was cruel, the fire cold. But children learn to grow up bold. The witch was hunger in disguise. They saw the truth behind her eyes. They lit the fire. They found a way. Two kids came back— but not the same....

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Altho' it's not E=mc squared, Albert was heard to theorise when he declared, "Carrots are relatively good for the eyes, it's a fact they'll make you see well and look good too, I'm blinding you with science, it's not hoodoo or a voodoo act." He then asserted, with a wicked grin, "It only hurts when you put them in." ...

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As the man walks alone he sees the joy from the counsel that has become the Pharisees. They have given the oath of rituals that pertain to the past and not for the future. Looking at the actions and expectations, he sees them like the corrupted Phrarisees. What they have done is go against the Edenic beauty of...

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In twilight's hush, where shadows play, A paradox reigns, in endless sway, The good perish, while the wicked thrive, In this land, where virtue's brief, and vice survives. Patriots fall, like autumn's leaves, Assassinated, poisoned, for their noble deeds, Their voices silenced, before their time, As darkness feeds on justice's prime. Bola Ige, Barnabas Igwe, Marshall Harry too, Ogbonnaya Uche, Ken Saro-Wiwa, and more,...

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Eyes of black - Heart of cold He was the missing piece of my soul He entered my world dressed in leather and lookin' mean He was a delicious scream within' a dream The Nevermore of Forevermore - a cut that never bleeds He was it - a renegade stallion - menacing and powerful Mystical and magnificent Just the sight of him...

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Black ice beneath fresh snow. To the shop I must go. I slither here and there And now I really fear. What if then I should slip Land on sciatic hip? But I shall persevere For I’ve run out of beer So to the shop I go. Black ice beneath fresh snow. ...

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How can you continue a story That God has finished in all His glory What can they add that will make it well After we spent years under it's spell How can they touch the poetry or drama Of that created to be a diploma From where does this charismatic claim That they are characters with the same names From where dost come...

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Out of a dusty, destitute, monochrome world, kindness is a technicolor yellow brick road. Its pavement winds through perilous forests and fields, leading to a glittering promise of hope and home. Making the lengthy journey requires kindness to others, and being able to truly be kind requires certain crucial components. Kindness needs a heart for compassion, without which no kind acts would happen. Kindness needs...

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