Overtaking Poems | Examples

Demonic Despair

The whooshing of threadbare curtains cuts through deadening silence,
while shadows on the wall toy with a hermit's sanity.
The graze of unseen, jagged fingernails scrapes against sweaty flesh,
injecting poison into subcutaneous tissue,
unwieldily setting the stage.

A heaviness of humid, stale air presses down on compressed lungs,
as maniacal laughter bounces off cracked ceilings.
Buzzing flies circle, swooping down
just to taunt—then vaporize into nothingness.

Muttering voices cling to the inside of a failing cranium,
overtaking a discarded soul, slowly stripping away morality.
Irises blacken, then return to sapphire, before blackening again.
Sitting, rocking back and forth with arms wrapped around legs,
speaking in tongues—
the transformation has begun.

A shattered will; possession seems inevitable.
Fighting feels increasingly hollow.
The smothering venom accelerates.
Chattering crescendos
until your body becomes complete chaos,
and what's left of your soul is trapped within a cage,
locked deep inside the pits of demonic despair.

Pop Can

Like a can of pop overflowing,
Pent up emotions in me overtaking,
Old feelings saturating the newest feeling,
Afraid of when the table will start turning.

Like the cola soda covering
A table in which I am patiently waiting,
I am as usual finding my feelings confusing,
This metaphor is staining my well-being.

Like the cold hard thin metal lining,
I am lost again in my own mindscaping,
Chill to the core despite my inner shining,
Thanks to the sacred herb I was smoking.

Like my favourite drinks I'm always drinking,
Always recycling every thought and feeling,
Just so I can avoid telling everything,
Yet still hoping someone sees I need saving.

My Present State

My heart can feel it, the overwhelming surge of emotion.
It grips and it tears with merciless ferocity as if it was a wild animal within my body and I can't stop it from overtaking me. 
A transformation of sorts, a lycan from the underworld. 
Born from the underbelly of my inner darkness and desolate descent into spirit death. 
And as I  decay, slowly decay. 
I leave behind me when passing by as if a trail of lingering stench. 
As if the smell is attached to the very essence of my being and human interaction.
Well maybe in my case inhuman interaction for I lost track of what mercy and belief in humanity is. 
My world is now carnivorous and carnal.
I am a hunter now, I am always ready to go for the kill with guns that shoot emotional tranquilizers that ensure my remaining humanity is sedated, captured, and eaten.
I am never full. 
Any hope of satisfaction or satiation is sedated.
Lord have mercy…..I don't remember the last time I had  mercy.
I don't remember the last time I deserved it.
Mercy me, let those who can run away run free.
Let those who can run away, run away from me….

The Healthy Eating Steeplechase

An orange takes an early lead,
followed by a melon.
Garden peas are catching fast,
so too is the lemon.

Granny Smith’s are overtaking.
Lettuces are gaining.
Kiwi’s move from out the pack.
This is entertaining.

The orange takes the lead again,
now grapes are rolling clear.
Broccoli, asparagus 
are getting very near.

We’re nearly at the finish,
and this is getting close.
Trees and soil are cheering
around the winning post.

Pears are in the mix as well.
This is a humdinger.
Yes, a photo finish,
and everyone’s a winner!

US SCHOOLS, US RULES

US SCHOOLS, US RULES

Yes, in the USA and probably some other places too
Distances are such that they still do bus kids to school
A good local service, as many would agree that’s true

But car drivers in a hurry should never act like a fool
If held up whenever a yellow school bus might stop
The law enforceable rear sign means stop, it is a rule

One never can be sure that there isn’t a nearby cop
Overtaking a parked school bus always risks shunts
Accept the fine, it’s never worth taking it to the top

The driver or monitor can’t be everywhere at once
There will be a kid, who may just suddenly appear
But if they are hit, it’s the driver who is the dunce

They say, don’t ignore the stop sign, but never fear
‘Cos we don’t do big yellow school busses over here

bed buddies

wet noses are cold 
 butted up against my face 
overtaking the bed

Those holes

Dodging one here, dodging one there,
Riding along without a care.
    Three in a row, which way do I go,
I close my eyes and curse the so and so.
    Oh! what a bang, the old van shook,
But at least it is still going and not in a ruck.
    What is that noise? that cannot be right,
I, giving a gasp of utter fright.
    Must stop, foot pedal goes straight to the floor,
And the hand brake does not belong to the van anymore.
    Coast to a stop, must pull onto the verge,
The engine roars but no longer gives the van any urge.
    Beneath the van the axle is in two,
With the stout half shaft plainly in view.
    Side to side the rear wheel wobbles,
Not what I expected for all of my troubles.
    Beware of those holes, the pot holes I mean,
Especially those that cannot be seen.
    Old NED has finally been brought to a stop,
Everything seems to be going to pot.
    At least I escaped the indignity,
Of watching that wheel coming off and overtaking me.
    Oh! what utter strife,
It is for sure, ONE HELL OF A LIFE !!!

It's a Strange Place

It's a very strange place
when in dreams I chase
phantasms,
a figmant of imagination,
or an apparition of warning
from my soul,
seeing what is hidden 
from the light
of day.

It's a very strange place
and only an illusion
of madness
overtaking all the senses,
crossing the line
of reality
into the realm of shadows
that only I can 
dream.

The shower scene

Delicate fingers gripped the slender neck firmly-
after soft, full lips caressed cold, wet flesh desperately-
whilst deep breaths were taken forcefully;
yet suffocated moans and screams pierced discordantly 
heavy silence.

The now despised and trembling cold embrace
lost its hold, thus allowed discoloured hands to bring it over the edge,
clouded head hitting the hard, wet surface - screams amplifying- 
drops from his hair falling on contorted, pale face
mingled with the infinity of pure particles and rosy paint.

Time remained in its place after the moans ceased to pollute tranquility
while witnessing the spasming body beneath
and crimson blending, overtaking and spreading into vitality;
cynical gaze never faltered.

Technology - Who Needs It

Technology controls us all over
but remember when there was none
life was seemingly so much easier
looking back why did it so turn

We like always to communicate
by whatever means we can
but is our tongue not more useful?
especially face to face with your clan

When you've got locals of friends
on your Facebook page or whatever
they're really so artificially false
failing completely to deliver

Life went on these years ago
not depending on all that hi-tech
slower pace got you there ok
even when it's a fairly long trek

So technology is alright I suppose
in its place not overtaking our time
what would our ancestors have thought?
maybe thought I'd rather be in my prime!

(Just some thoughts on the modern control upon us of technology and all things modern.)

The noumena

flow of life rolls on
in time overtaking
deluded dreams
whereupon remains
the void of silence
infinite and vibrant 
luminescent and still
defying delineation
the noumena

She Rises

"She Rises"

Inside the wound opens outwards
the music inside a heart
explodes 

obliterates the depths

she rises  
crashing into you 
like a wave overtaking 

the cool undertow 

and the heart 
kisses the soul’s mind
hypnotised 

loved drowned

baptised again
in your Blue Sky 
reflections illuminating 

the gilded cage irreverences 
her treasures possessed 
in your soothing

morning star glow
Love, like the Sun,
She rises

(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
at Christmas, 2023

Walking Through Autumn Winds

Leaf flies in the wind,
Seems like a bird's silhouette.
Coldness of autumn
Overtaking my body
As I walk down my own street.

The Journey That Never Was

I promised to be home by Christmas
To see my kid and be with my family
But i didn't know the journey ahead
Would be my last

I thought i'd eat those fresh buns by morning
Now its noon and i've not arrived
And my phone has gone cold
I'm out of service

I hoped i could beat the traffic
by overtaking the traffic ahead
only to veer off the road
As i was avoiding to hit a kid crossing

I couldn't let myself hit the kid
I couldn't brake in time either
The kid looked terrified
and in that moment i saw my own kids

It's evening and still no sign
Everyone must be worried by now
Its gone dark on my side
and there's no way to ever come home

If you get to hear me now
Its sad i never got one last time
To say goodbye to you
Not a day goes by without thinking of you all

The PO£T

Dandelions

A plethora of bright yellow flowers;
pop up in fields and lawns in early Spring.
And watered by tepid April showers,
swiftly spread, overtaking everything.

Able to transform the ground overnight;
they turn green grass into a golden fleece.
And then, morph into a magical sight
as pappi fill the air upon release.

Although commonly known as pesky weeds,
dandelions are also picked to eat.
And utilizing tufts to spread their seeds;
they're notoriously hard to defeat.

Despite suburbanite's ongoing rants,
dandelions are perennial plants.

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