My day-to-day life is pretty routine.
With the rest of the world, I blend in.
There’s a side of me that no one has seen.
It’s quite a story… where do I begin?
I know that it may be hard to believe,
But it began when I was very young.
From the start, it was easy to deceive.
I was a little hyper and high-strung.
I may have gotten away with a lot
Because I was the youngest of them all.
But to the bullies, I gave what I got.
The bigger they are, the harder they fall.
I know that it’s not much of an excuse,
But my siblings would always pick on me.
So, I learned psychological abuse
And tormented all of my family.
I would steal many of my siblings’ toys,
Knowing I probably wouldn’t get blamed.
The stuffed ones, I would completely destroy,
And I never felt the least bit ashamed.
As I got older, it did become hard
To hide what I’d ultimately become.
I buried everything in the back yard.
If they were ever found, I’d just play dumb.
But, no one ever discovered the truth.
I got away with it all of these years.
From just a little puppy in my youth
To a full-grown dog that nobody fears.
they wheeled me in like a busted fridge
metal bolts, the stink of bleach
my hands were calm for once—
you'd think I'd scream,
but I'd already done all my screaming.
a priest mumbled junk at me—
I asked for a cigarette,
he gave me god instead.
the guards were kids
shaking like leaves
they strapped me tight
like I was gonna run.
I looked at the bulb overhead—
thought of the girl in Idaho,
how she laughed
before I broke her neck.
I almost cried.
almost.
they stuffed cotton in my mouth,
clamped that steel cap down
like I was a bad battery.
somebody puked.
someone else prayed.
me? I grinned.
the juice hit—
a million volts of penance.
my spine tried to climb out,
my teeth danced,
my bowels gave up.
and still
it didn’t feel like enough.
not even close.
they don’t walk like the rest of us—
there’s a rhythm, yes, but it’s off-beat,
like jazz played in a padded cell.
it starts early—when the dog barked too loud
and nobody hugged them after.
the world lit its fuse,
and turned the other way.
they grow quiet in the corners of rooms,
watching how the meat falls off the bone,
how people talk and never mean it.
they learn that silence
can be louder than a scream,
that control is a scalpel—
and god never showed up,
to stop one.
trophies?
souvenirs from where the soul cracked.
a button, a tooth, a braid of hair—
proof that something existed
and bowed before them.
the rest of us save postcards.
they save reminders
that they were finally seen.
that someone, for one goddamned second,
was real.
A bedroom door that never locked,
Footsteps heavy like thunderclocks,
Mother's wine glass, cracked and red,
Words that bruised more than fists ever did.
A closet full of whispered screams,
Apologies lost in fevered dreams,
Father's belt, a sermon preached,
Love, a language never reached.
A dog buried in silence deep,
Secrets traded instead of sleep,
Schoolyard eyes like hunting knives,
Laughter echoing butchered lives.
The smell of ash, of plastic burned,
Lessons no one else had learned,
The joy of breaking dolls in two,
Just to feel a shadow move.
Windows rattled by unseen guilt,
Churches built where lies were spilt,
A hand too firm, a voice too loud,
Praise withheld like poisoned shrouds.
The grin he wore was not his own,
But stitched from pain he’d never shown,
And in the attic of his skull,
He catalogued what makes life dull.
Not born of hell, nor born insane,
But carved by years of steady pain—
And now the world must guess his name.
A serial doer of tasks
obsesses until he then asks:
what is it that’s next?
His old muse is vexed;
the former, the latter now masks.
Foreboding of a tempestuous storm,
it blackens as it draws near,
a cumulonimbus in towering form,
extending to the troposphere,
So cast off mooring and slacken the line,
break free while there's still time,
'cause I'll pull you under if you don't let go,
Save yourself and abandon ship,
I'll take on water and sink too quick,
in gales of winds the swells arise,
these waves will break and so will I,
Roars of thunder and screeching wind,
sheets of lightning and pelting rains,
walls of waves will batter within,
until our stability wanes,
So cast off mooring and slacken the line,
untether your heart from mine,
'cause I'll drown us both if you don't let go,
Save yourself and abandon ship,
I'm taking on water and sinking quick,
in gales of winds the swells arise,
these waves are breaking and so am I
There's always a whisper of madness,
playing in my brain as I struggle to get
loose from it's refrain and the constant
pounding me to comply makes me feel
quite insane.
Disaster brewing behind blue eyes
bits of chaos that won't be denied.
They tell me the choice is completely
mine but they don't see or feel how
I'm bound up inside.
Touch the people and watch them fall
knowing the horror to come, the pull
to cause pain, is the worse of all. I'm
the bad man says the song, but they
don't really know bad, no, not all.
©SamHarty
The great and never ending
Always pretending
To be that big f@@k of a presence
His essence too shallow
His steps too big
There's no rhythm
Just sweat
And odor
The mindless excursion
From thoughts of twisted perversion
The path is always crooked
The night is always deep
Dark and slippery
His stomach empty
He lurks…
Waiting
Broken jagged teeth
Ripped flesh and bone
Traces of life
Gone
Gone
Gone
Dramay na karya kar dramay baza,
Habibi haya haya mur ja haza baza.
A figure haunting, darkness is revealed.
The serial killer roams the silent night,
In search of prey, a deadly, chilling sight.
A mask of normalcy, a facade so clever,
Camouflaging evil, deceiving forever.
A predator lurking, devoid of remorse,
Leaving behind a trail, a ghastly discourse.
Their eyes, a void, devoid of empathy,
No mercy, no conscience, a grim symphony.
They prey upon innocence, their hearts in ice,
A dance of terror, their deadly dice.
Each victim chosen, their life's flame snuffed,
A macabre dance, a tragedy so tough.
The echoes of their deeds, a haunting dirge,
Leaving behind shattered lives, a mournful surge.
But in the shadows, heroes rise with might,
To bring justice forth, to end the endless night.
They chase the killer, determined and strong,
Seeking justice, correcting every wrong.
The tale of the serial killer's reign,
A dark reminder of humanity's strain.
May light prevail, and darkness be undone,
So peace may reign, a victory hard-won.
Appears it takes two hands
to grasp a new thing tight.
My muse, no river daughter;
she seems afraid of water.
I do not know
why I now row
but simply cannot write.
As springs’ budding blossoms emerge
the raptors glide mercilessly.
—Michael R. Burch
I wrote this haiku-like poem on 3-27-2023 after the Nashville Covenant school shooting massacre. Keywords/Tags: Nashville, Nashville Covenant, Nashville Covenant Presbyterian School, school shooting, massacre, children, kids, students, child abuse, gun control, America, United States, death, murder, serial murder, massacre, bereavement, class, classes
1.He was a Scottish-Canadian medical doctor
and serial killer who poisoned his victims.
2.He murdered up to ten people in three countries.
3.He is targeting mostly lower-class women,
prostitutes and pregnant women seeking abortions.
4.He was convicted and sentenced to death,and was
hanged on 15 November 1892.
Note.Prostitutes are also women and women are not
aliens,they are our mothers sisters and daughters.
Written by Gail R DeBole
on June 20, 2022
A texter who texted all day
When in-person had not much to say.
He lived life on his text-screen
Never ran out of text-steam
And sent messages that seemed ultra-brave.
Walking through the desert,
Scorched by the sun's heat,
Walking through the jungle,
In face with wild and ferocious beasts,
Walking through the mire,
Pushing with zeal and ardour,
Walking in the rain,
Drenched by the heavy downpour,
Walking on a winding road,
No one in sight to aid and abet,
Walking through the waters,
Restrained by its turbulent flow,
Walking on a rocky road,
Taking slow and careful steps,
Walking in the dark,
Stumbling and losing ground,
Walking in the light,
All bright and clear,
The radiant light makes all vivid to see,
Nothing is in obscurity,
All are exposed in its luminance,
I walk with accelerated steps,
I move with swift speed,
I run like a stallion,
I scale over hurdles,
My target in view,
A goal to achieve,
A trophy to receive.
May 23, 2022.
Just Write Me a New Poem Contest
Constance La France.
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