Pitchforks Poems | Examples

Cali Practices Necromancy

Cali is a descendent of Babylonians
She practices necromancy
conjuring spirits of her ancestors
her rituals and spells are world-renown

bullies who misunderstand despise her
they fear her visions and insights
she often foretells what comes to be
This terrifies those who cannot

Ignorance often courts violence.
Cali’s spiritual guides warn her of the bullies
She escapes their ignorant pitchforks
Praying for their spiritual enlightenment

Your Own Personal Demons

they show up at 2:37 a.m.
not with pitchforks,
but with your mother’s voice,
your boss’s smirk,
the girl who left in '89.

they don’t knock.
they seep in through the cracks—
in the plaster,
in the bottle,
in your goddamn spine.

they light cigarettes
with your regrets,
spit beer on your dreams,
laugh like old men in a losing bar.

you feed them
every time you say yes
when you mean get the hell away.

they sit on your chest
like a mortgage,
like cancer,
like love.

and still—
you buy them a drink.

The Real Monsters

The Real Monsters

We are afraid of fire breathing dragons and scaly lizards.
Things that go bump in the night. Shadow creatures
who live under our beds and in our closets. Yeti
and Big Foot. Pale ghosts and poltergeists.
Chupacabra’s and vampires. Blood red
demons with pitchforks and horns.
Imaginary monsters that
can do us no real harm.
Why do we fear
them. 
What we should be afraid of are people who chose evil.
MS13 and coyotes that traffic in human misery.
Corporate media giants that censor speech. Corrupt
politicians who sell us out to foreign countries.
School boards that label parents terrorists.
Dictators that oppress. Political correctness.
Murders, abusers, gossips, embezzelers.
Wars, hatred and genocide.
We should fear these. For
they are the
real
monsters.

Hades In Flames

The Angels
have gone
Only devils
are left
Clouds
die infested  
With fire
beset
Pitchforks
are glowing
Coal burning 
the harps
Grace lost
in the smoke
Tomorrow
— is dark

(Dreamsleep: September, 2024)

the subject is rain

to rain on someone's 
parade ~ is spoil ruin someone's
fun joy happiness

saving for rainy
days ~ are when good turned bad and
you're ready for it

raincheck ~ simplify's
life scheduled prupose arranged
sequentially yours

charge it to the dust 
and let the rain settle it
 ~ just pay or get out

come in out of the 
rain ~ it's a losing battle
wake up to the facts

it’s raining pitchforks
British to rain stair rods ~ is
to rain heavily

In a World Where I Do Not Exist

If I so much as to disappear
The demons will go back to their fiery tower
And let me rest in my harmony

The butterflies will celebrate in flight 
That the gangstalking evil which I felt 
Will no longer be 

The deep state will need to find another victim 
To hold close to their pitchforks
As I would be free 

But will I be remembered 
Will anyone focus on my plight
Or will it all be in vein 

The darkness cannot take me
For I am too angelic
I fought the demons hard and fierce

So remember me my dear souls
Let peace surround your beating hearts 
For I will be in Gods embrace

WITHOUT PARENTAL CONSENT

music to kids ears
Pete carried on with his flute
without parental consent

his larynx engaged
as his footprints leave their clues
there would be scars over soot

townsfolk grab pitchforks
multilingual torches mad
with fear and grief chase down thief

find kids in a trance
listening to final dirge
and piper’s mocking laughter

parent takes the flute
second silence in forest
breaks the jester’s tool in half

Peter Piper’s dust to dust

Simply Put, Touched

"Simply Put, Touched"

Simply put,
nothing is ever 
truly simple 

from the get-go
the process 
is complex

Love 
or 
not

in between 
the middle road
of black and white

the colours 
like codes
turned on, fire up

the frequency 
needs to be 
finely tuned

the lessons 
heard hard
on the inside

learned 

without 
the constant 
external braying 

of trolls 
their silver bullets 
and bloodied pitchforks

solace 
is discovered 
inside the reflection 

of pools 
their drowned
broken treasures

discovered
along
unknown paths

their rippling surfaces
like bodies of shining satin 
touched

under gaze 
of guarding 
emerald forests

shining canopies 
held
touched


(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)








"Gotta get away, we live in a realm
Still I gotta break up and out of this hell
But, man, that frequency's so low
Damn, that frequency's so low"








touched.
v. to touch.
adj.
feeling gratitude or sympathy; moved.
adj / informal
slightly mad; crazy.

On the Eve of All Hallows

Glowing jack-o’-lanterns
Greet me by the door
Orange faces grinning
Or grimacing in horror

Night perches like a raven
Upon a twisted tree
While on the moaning autumn wind
Withered leaves fly free

Little ghoulies wander
Up and down the streets
Armed with brooms and pitchforks
Seeking tricks and treats

The air is filled with something
More than scents and sounds
Fresh-carved pumpkins, crumbling leaves
And children’s laughs abound

Black cats slick as shadows
Darting here and there
Growls and groans arising
From some creepy lair

The colors of the sky
As the day fades into dusk
Are the same as those of candy corn
Within a giant husk

A witch I am again this year
But the best I’ve ever been
Is the child that I am inside
Who still loves Halloween.

The State of Confusion

Fears of wizards and witches
That place the spells
and puts you in stitches
Angels and demons
That makes you yell
With swords and pitchforks
To keep you in hell
Kings and Queens
Unlimited power 
Cruelty begun for untold hours
Lawmen and criminals
But here’s the pun
Verses our mortality 
They both have guns
Priest make the sacrifices
Rabbis tell us why
Mothers loving children
Fathers discipline make them cry
Daughters raised in fashion
Away from the passions of the sons
Judges playing politicians
Lawyers lying for cases won
Time is a gift of the living
Where death is the deadline begun
Freedom is worth beginning
If risk is worth a son
The law once protected
But now we regret
The law we once loved 
Has now become a threat
What happened to the paperwork
The Magna Carta and Constitution
Where is God 
in all this disillusion
A new heaven 
And new earth
Are His only solution
To end this mess
and all this confusion

Wish You Were Here

what is the appropriate postcard to send
When you land in hell?
Or have you remained self-centered still?

Would your mom want pitchforks from her dear?
Better yet one that says “wish you were here”.

No, send that to the ex-wife.
You know she’ll be coming along any time.
With her crazy habits, and her annoying whine.

Do you send one to your boss?
Why not? He is an obvious contender.
Another buyer makes a quick choice, a regular sender.

Someone hits you in the back with a pitchfork hard
Come on you idiot! Choose your mama’s card!

Scorched Earth Social Policing

a thousand tragedies paned
onto the community headlines
slashes the idle spirits

the wound enrages them to
seek out sadistic glee for the sake
to title themselves as  'woken.'

pitchforks and torches raised
looking for the guilty farmer
with swift words and stories

all the crops seared in the name
of the mindless chase for "justice."
“no god or jury; only us”

the next day arrives new tragedies,
sprouts new farmers to fight, 
old pitchforks and  torches to light 

burning all but ideas
immortalised by martyrs made
from setting the flames

not one man asks for
the purpose of the hunt or be
branded as “the problem”

they walk the same burned soil
refusing to admit that they are 
only casting flames on scarecrows

to the new age cult
criticism is blasphemy
indifference is hatred

The Denialist's

2 Timothy 4:3-4:4
For the time will come when men will not tolerate sound doctrine, but with itching ears they will gather around themselves teachers to suit their own desires. So, they will turn their ears away from truth and turn aside to myths.


The practitioners of “The Big Lie”
Election results, one must never decry

Let us examine some history
By which we’ll note the hypocrisy

Al Gore in 2000, Hillary in 2016
Stacy Abrams in Georgia did scream 

How does one discern what is truth
The good book says examine the fruit produced

Thirty-two million for Mueller to investigate
Months of media claiming Trumps a reprobate

What did this produce folks 
It was all a Democrat and media hoax

Impeachment over a phone call to Ukraine
No high crimes or misdemeanors was plain 

Hunter’s laptop called Russian disinformation
January 6th labeled an insurrection

No guns, no bombs, not even pitchforks
Capitol Police acting as escorts

If you are unable to see rotten fruit
Providing more evidence is simply moot

Just know that Paul foretold it all
We need a revival, or America will fall

First Speak

The devil whispers his hellos
and I enter into his hellish realm

I'm greeted by pitchforks pinching my sides
and the screems of those who have sinned

My eyes burn from the crimson fire 
and my hair goes totally ablaze

Next comes the pain of heat pouring through my veins
with my tears evaporating as soon as they form

"I don't want to be here!", I shout
followed by the devil's laugh

But for me, this will be home
for all eternity

Into the Darkness of Hell

Into The Darkness of Hell

In the darkness of the underworld,
Where screams and cries are oft unfurled,
The flames of hell lick at your feet,
As you traverse the fiery street.

The air is thick with acrid smoke,
And through the flames, the demons poke,
With their pitchforks, they prod and pry,
As you writhe and scream and cry.

The stench of death pervades the air,
And all around, you hear despair,
The wails of lost souls fill your ears,
As they're tormented through the years.

The ground is hot, the sky is red,
And through the flames, you see the dead,
Their eyes aglow with endless pain,
As they suffer through their endless reign.

The devil lurks in every shadow,
And in his grasp, you'll surely follow,
His laughter echoes through the air,
As he delights in your despair.

In hell, there is no hope or light,
Just endless pain and endless fright,
A place where souls are doomed to dwell,
Forever trapped within its hell.

So beware, oh mortal soul,
For if you stray from the righteous goal,
You'll find yourself in hell's abyss,
A fate much worse than death's mere kiss.

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