Sanguinary Poems

The Taste of Blood

in the arena
a sanguinary showdown ~
fierce competition

Woodpeckers in Silence

The stench of puerile self-aggrandizement wafts through the air, a noxious cloud of platitudes and pomp, as the pusillanimous pustules of pseudo-intellectualism congregate to lavish accolades upon one another. How... amusing. The notion that these self-absorbed aesthetes, ye armchair sybarites, consider themselves arbiters of taste and talent, is nothing short of grotesque. And yet, here it persists, leeches on the cadavers of real artistry, perpetuating a vicious cycle of backslapping mediocrity, as they vomit forth oozing saccharine, cliche-ridden tripe, and elevate it to the status of holy scripture. Quaint indeed. The stench of their ignominy is almost... palpable.

How does it feel to know that playing by the rules was your downfall, I said I would be the last poetess standing because I can do: abattoir hymns of crimson vortices shredding the children to rain sanguinary as viscera chunks hail from above. Sorry ai can’t touch me, it would freak out to even read that. I may not have won many contests, but oops. Hehe.

Crescent Silver

Cloaked figure approached - voice of death it spoke;
“Your moments come,” manifests scythe from smoke.
Each step bereft your pulsates, dirge of a malodorous,
bittersweet symphonies requiem of the hollow - mahogany tree;
stutter/sputter/cough sanguinary pearls hell plead,
crescent sickle moonshines through the clouds this nightmare,
ray of moonlight beam ebbs your breast beat, snuff a candlelight -                  *goodnight*

Axiomatic Sliver

statuesque thy porcelain - so bright/or pure
art thou hung as in some sacred place before
a trophy to the human form; desire paramour,
and thus, ‘twould sing sweet songs of grace, adieu.
in museums, thy pulchritude doth abide - it flys
to be viewed by those who pass by - day/night
but in thine eyes - there lies a story - hidden - within
that tells us all of love’s deep play; to an untimely end
lachrymose fountains ribbon, splatter sanguinary drop
countenance in quicksilver, snarl-like smile washes visage
some places bloodstains don’t come off, covered in spots
transcendent shots thy kiss of life, sen en met, when death stops

Specter Looms

I died the other day,
fore am but a wraith,
manipulated by creatures,
leeches of the realm moribund.

Scars etch my face from lobotomies,
artistry crafted with a silver brush,
scalpel carves sanguinary in hush,
by a blind man, a white coat.

Smoke, Lilithian billowing tendrils,
swirl my essence, telekinesis,
baleful aura emanates the dirge,
mirth to match their futile folly.

Pluck the harp, smack the drum,
turn the skeletal key,
jiggle the loose lock,
yclept maestra death incarnate.

Destiny..

Lizard Queen

Sand dunes erode away the meadows,
sunflowers turn to a shade of red,
sanguinary pool of limbs and skulls,
let’s swim here for the taste of the hue.

Burgundy pyramid upside down mini top,
spinning vortices of moon dust afloat,
the door opens, inside a hawk faced man,
he promises to tell me a story if I listen.

A large serpentine worm weaves bores,
pits on this apple of crimson skin,
a thick heavy glaze of caramel epoxy,
sold to the highest bidder in the fine coat.

Suspended I am trapped inside the terra firma,
innards flee rib cage, empty chest cavity hollow,
for my pulsate will be our guide back home,
grasp my staff waving follow me, there’s candy.

Elitist woman saw me and in that moment,
hourglass salt spun for her carrying six bosoms,
heaved for me as she moaned honey pleas stop,
I almost regretted drowning her and the twins.

Sweet Tooth

Grimoire enchantress beguiles vetala invictus, slicka min kisse, hehe just kidding, just a u’i lata spreading sugar, a sweet gift. A snarl like smile crosses my countenance as I manifest into a deity of quintessential grandiloquence on this edifice, casting thy maestra symphony to be or not to be liminal esoteric Mnemosyne velleity, but in fact a vatic edict on tantalizing your most intimate sultry.

Necromantic kissy kissy muah, to the necrobiotic, rictus lambent lament, melodious songbird choir of sempiternal complexity to make sanguinary fervid incipient lachrymose flooding the streets. Cross this lycanthropic malediction for I ventriolic assanina husks empyrean arcana dismal fates under thy hex with the depths psychopomp Yggdrasil.

Careful where you tread mortal, goddess of the nigh is here, witchess gazes through the fenestral, nocturne saucers glimmer as the siren lures you with serenades and her visage, just an itty bitty bite is how it starts, catch a sweet tooth and it will splay you apart. Velvets bear jagged fangs emptying your chest cavity of your heart, delicate if it’s eaten before it stops.

Nightmare

Fear, anxiety, and agony fill my heart.
Monsters, ghosts, beasts, and vampires occupy the scene.
Through terrifying events, minds get torn apart.
Blood-spattered sanguinary battle games are seen

Why should such heart-attacking, drastic dreams arise?
Don't God and his angels protect me in my sleep?
Why should I witness murder, bloodshed, and loud cries?
Why should, on my bed, scorpions and cobras creep?

As nature has, for everything, an objective
My nightmares occur for a set reason as well.
As a treatment, psychically renovative
Hasn't Nightmare got its curing catharsis spell?

Though, as with an unexpected death, unrest spreads,
Some warning, like a knell, rings within my shrine's core.
'Beware!', a sign alerts me to liable threats.
With conscious footsteps, my existence, I restore...

hell

hail Andramelech
	ominous overseer ~
		hefty cover charge

seductive sinning
	alluring Asmodeus ~
		raunchy romantic

black Beelzebub
	infamous instigator ~
		a fly incarnate 

unholy Vetis
	devious rhymer of speech ~
		master manipulator

treacherous tempter
	seditious sadist Satan ~
		seducer of souls

wicked Abbadon
	the angel of the abyss ~
		annihilator

malevolent motives
	sanguinary sacrifice ~
		Moloch demands youth 

vile vitriolic
	conglomerate essences ~
		demonic Legion 

mythic Cerberus 
	guardian of the River ~
		no soul survivor   

demagoguery
	tiptoeing on burnt brimstone ~
		pandemonium

Unfair Ransom

Quiescent body but a flying mind
Crave the peak, alas feet paralyzed 
Damned days darker than night
Scratch my soul sharper than knives
Burning from inside, outside only ice
Wrathful wounds with sanguinary eyes
Besieged with a legion of harms
But who fights with fragmented arms?
Crestfallen eagles surrendered to the wind
Cannot soar with broken wings
Here nightingales hunt, eagles sing
The frozen root of life tree
Hopelessly dreaming of spring
Shadow resides on the throne
Wolves dance while sheep mourn
Even Legendary dragons live in vain
So cruelly are chained with pain
Someday, not late not soon
"Hey, brother, guess we are rescued."
Night runs, day comes, sun shines
But no eye, for darkness has made us all blind.

Anubis Awaits

Anubis waits before the gates of hell,
To mummify your morbid love entombed…
With sustenance a sanguinary smell,
Despondent demonic desires consumed…

An enslaved eternal epitaph lies,
Love captured in a pernicious prison…
A cancerous confined in its chastise,
Within a duality sanctioned schism…

A passage in gold as now Osiris waits,
To search for your love in the hells below…
And thus they slowly glide the gilded gates,
Piously proclaiming my lover's woe…

For only love shall conquer great and small,
Even if you dine in hell's banquet hall.



In Ancient Egypt is the Greek name of the god of death...
Anubis is the protector of the gates to the Underworld,
Osiris replaced him as the god of the dead.


Only the SONNET form is acceptable...
14 lines x 10 syllables, 140 words


Sept.18.2019
Because It's A Tuesday 140 
Sponsored by: William Kekaula

N/A for contest

Everyone Can Think On Own Way

the wild can think of life also; 
but wildly 

a thief can think of life also; 
but in stealing way 

tyrant can think of rule also; 
but in bloodthirsty mind 

a cheater can think of life also; 
but in deceiving scheme

revolutionist can think of freedom also; 
but with a sanguinary fighting

yes, everyone can think;
but on own belief, culture, environment, and way



-July 03, 2019 Chattogram

Appetites of the Abysm

Systemic symmetries of destruction, 
gorging with thoughtless consumption…
Within the bowls of corruption,
enslaved by the sanguinary skins of seduction…
Butterflies bloom to demonic deeds, 
of the feeding frenzy that surely bleeds…
Voices that spread their saintly seeds, 
only entrapped within wrangled weeds.

Fake media the soup of the day, 
cabalistic constructing illusions they portray…
While the appetites of the abysm display, 
as the deceptive delusions foreplay…
Habitual hunger that they manifest, 
of the manic misconceptions we ingest…
For we suckle on the beastly breast, 
as they occupy the obedient oppressed.




Jan.04.2019
Food for thought
Sponsored by: Silent One


Placed 2'nd...Thank You

Self Inflicted - a Suicide Story

Ability to face his fears, gone!
Bewitched by a demon for so long.
Could not conceive a positive thought.
Doom and dread was all he sought.

Echoing hallucinating voices in his mind.
Friendships meaningful, he could not find.
‘Go ahead, end it now!’…. 
He’d hear them say.
Interdict he should live to see another day.
 
Just then, he concluded what to do.
‘Kill myself undoubtedly, then I’ll stop feeling blue’.
Longing though to change his mind.
Moods flared up, of every kind.
Never had he felt this low.
Only solution is to merely let it go.

Pick a course; blade, gun or poison?
Quickest approach, without a reason!
Reflecting nothing, he simply acted.
Sanguinary wound, self-inflicted!
Thoughts of despair as he laid there bleeding.
Utter commotion, so very misleading.

Veils of black line the chapel floor.
Weeping eyes, dry no more.
Xylophonic gizmos the performers played.
Yawning a soft sweet serenade.
Zany acts could not be predicted, resulting in death, ‘self-inflicted!’

What Went Wrong

In twilight,
the noose tightens-
and shadows start walking
towards you; to reclaim
your anonymity-
and declare in deadpan manner:
the author is dead.

Your smallness goes
on sale. You are subjected
to scrutiny by the small print, but
the truth escapes from lidless eyes.

A private punishment.
There was blood on the knife.
Why did you write a
sanguinary poem for your savior today ?


Satish Verma

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