He slips the noose around her slender neck
Cloaked and masked with heavy breath
He can't help but be obsessed
All the dolls hangin' around - pretty little lies that make not a sound
The poison of passion imagined as they are undressed.
The dead in their eyes is magnificent
Ivory skin - chill to win
Realm of the dark, lips apart, he just has to do it - again and again
The equinox of evil with the essence of sin
Is it vanity or insanity - his dressing up to lure them in
Disquiet Devilry and a sip of gin and the perplexity of the evil twin.
The morbid beauty of death and dying
The lovelies I have twirling in the twilight
Death has changed my life - the quiet peace holds the ladies and - I tight
The divinity of debauchery - death is not treachery
It's like an estuary of decadent innocence.
Dainty damsels dangling Breathless but fabulous
Envisioning slitting their throats as if they were flowers
Heinous and horrific the macabre abounds
A carousel of corpses, a ballet of cadavers, a symphony of death
Dazzling
The eloquence of the end-of-life - exquisite and eternal
His masterpiece just hang'in around.....
He slips the noose around her slender neck
Cloaked and masked with heavy breath
He can't help but be obsessed
All the dolls hangin' around - pretty little lies that make not a sound
The poison of passion is imagined as they are undressed.
The dead in their eyes is magnificent
Ivory skin - chill to win
Realm of the dark, lips apart, he just has to do it - again and again
The equinox of evil with the essence of sin
Is it vanity or insanity - his dressing up to lure them in
Disquiet Devilry and a sip of gin and the perplexity of the evil twin.
The morbid beauty of death and dying
The lovelies I have twirling in the twilight
Death has changed my life - the quiet peace holds the ladies and - I tight
The divinity of debauchery - death is not treachery
It's like an estuary of decadent innocence.
Dainty damsels dangling Breathless but fabulous
Envisioning slitting their throats as if they were flowers
Heinous and horrific the macabre abounds
A carousel of corpses, a ballet of cadavers, a symphony of death
Dazzling
The eloquence of the end-of-life - exquisite and eternal
His masterpiece just hang'in around.....
So sharp and sinister
Scratching claws at your throat
Slitting open your veins
Spilling your rich red blood
Setting your very life
Seriously at risk
Suffering a bad end
O’friend who lurked in your path to undress you?
And bound your hands with threads of sorrow anew.
To shatter hopes with sickening lies that blends,
A dreadful cloak that flails the joy your life tends.
Who can find rest when goodness is shoved away,
Replaced by sadness settling with a heavy sway.
We all are victims, dare to face your fears trailing,
Lest would rend your hopes with spears, wailing.
Have you ever been thrust your nerves in the night,
Alone on that bed, sleepless and immersed in plight,
Doubt and pain heavier like it’s a tide we all feel,
And before you budge in despair, to God appeal.
For every lie that sought slitting our hearts apart,
Shall fall as truth begin mending the wounded part.
Copyright 2023
Slitting of the wrists
Mental help is wanted now
This is suicide
At all women was he looking with a leer,
So evident too true and clear
You can this verify from A seer…
Even at women no longer near
And ones their hating eyes could spear
All of them passing off as “His Dear”
Save one he’d reserved “My Deer”
And would eyes into her sear:
A knife neatly slitting a pear;
God’s Seventh Law denying fear:
His sharpest lust The Engaged Gear.
I was asked why I always
Give kids on my streets few shillings
Even though
The street has no memory
It will kill me when it needs
It is really selfish
I answered
They have held it together
That’s better than I would
I recognise I am a day away
One bad day away from
Waking up covering my face going to a bank and robbing you
One bad day away from
strapping up and blowing myself in a mall
One bad day away from
buying a gun and shooting the whole lot of you
One bad day away from
Removing your eyes because I did not like how you looked at me
One bad day away from
Slitting your throat at night because I feel like you took from me
One bad away
From becoming a monster used to scare kids to be good
To keep it short
The compassion is to keep me safe
Maybe this street kid is one day away
Elvania queen of the warrior elves entered the jungle
As a cat, with glowing eyes, hypervigilant and aware.
Her keen senses smelled Barley Root, a sure sign of the Slothers.
They had been here, and recently. Her nose picked up their scent.
With every pore, she listened, hearing another’s breath.
There was something close by; animal or Slother, she knew not.
Her bow and arrows were ready. She felt them twitching for a battle.
A tiny Hemancer came out to get a drink from the pond.
She did not release her hold on her knife, listening.
The elves were about to crucify the Slothers, and they were aware.
A scared Slother was a dangerous Slother. Her senses intensified.
So many sights and sounds in the jungle, but she was ready.
The Hemancer gave her a snort and paraded back into the tall grass.
No idea how capable she was of slitting his throat in seconds.
Her comrades joined her. Any sign of the Slothers?
Take a whiff, she said. The battle was about to commence.
Slinking silently through the night
on tiny tipped toes, claws withdrawn.
He mustn’t sleep until daylight’s dawn,
prudently prowls, avoiding light.
Clever, cunning crones craft a spell
to purloin his priceless powers,
control them in Eve’s evil hours,
condemn powerless prey to Hell.
Hither, fine ferocious feline.
Soulfully sing your sacred song.
Whiskers hoary, lavishly long
subtle signs of ancient bloodline.
He will not succumb to witches
who wish to control, to command.
Here he makes a substantive stand
to thwart wicked witches’ wishes.
Cruel claws render stinging slashes
slitting through wrinkled, withered skin.
They shrilly shriek their dying din,
melting ghoulish, gray-green ashes.
Weird Writing
I'm beginning to form some kind of complex of some sort...feeling distort from time to time...visions of slitting my wrists stays on my mind...my last resort...though I wanna show what makes me me...it's not easy...never being free seems to stop my clear vision see....these words I love the most...my pen my weapon...my mind the host...my thoughts the free spirited ghost of weird writing teeth gritting lip biting....abiding by the rules to write left to right never scribbling the words that are dribbling dripping from my pen ink...I think it's time to show a few lines of mine you know...alphabetical clouds won't disappear though I hear the invisible poets fear a poet like me...dark...writing free as air...I don't care..I mean what I write it with stands my sight beyond sight...my critical thinking word blinking eye lids...
A Decade Ago
In a few hours it will be a decade since
I saw they did to their so called pal
Putting 2x 9mm Parabellum slugs into the ex dealer
He ripped off his 2 ex mates of 17k worth of Class A drugs
And they took his life and got time inside
For they were crap criminals who got caught
And tried to commit suicide by taking tablets,
By slitting their wrists with a broken cup
And by jumping into the Manchester Ship Canal
‘A long story,’ they told the medics
After a decade inside do they still laugh and joke?
Like they did in court after their trial
What of the murdered ex dealer’s wife and 2 kids?
Is she still in grief?
Her dead husband had it all including his life
A good job, a car, a house and a family
All taken away because he wanted more,
Met the wrong pals,
Did the wrong thing
Let the whole world know that guns and bullets are not the answer
I saw what I saw a decade ago in my crap home town
The before and after...
Cobblestones hold silent steps on damp reflections
Boots echo soft with lightning strikes ahead
A hidden knife in jacket comes to life
Still pillowed under fog to crack the night wide open
Gray silhouettes set into dim imaginings of action
There where the sleeping ships sink into comas
Someone comes out from under shadows back
Up from behind a buildings mold ridden bricks
To overcome the unsuspecting victim by the river
No time to scream in agony in pain or prayer
Escape is now impossible under muffled sounds
Slitting throats must stay a secret bleeding out
Floods are expected according to reports
The weather is less predictable by the docks
Commingling crimson in cold waters is odd
A dingy takes the criminal away to safety
A getaway planned in advance for this occasion
Well before the weather report came out
To forecast the condition red in place of rain
Two artists
Two girls
A single song
Slitting our wrists
We watch together as life unfurls
Taking in short and long
We smiled
We laughed
We love
Together we life beguiled
Together we took up the aft
Together we sat above
Rhapsodies wrapped reality
Encompassing the light
In came the dark
We didn’t understand such physicality
So used to the light
Not the song of the lark
My song was not the right one for you
We could not overcome the shadow
Our symphony was wrong
And we were the wrong thing to do
And soon we knew it to be low
So we loosed into the throng
Bitter the parting
Of songs intertwined
Wreckage of harmony
But that is the thing:
Why continue the bind
When bent is the key?
Will you
Savour every inch
Of my vexed irate?
Will you
Kiss every precise incision
Slitting my heart?
Will you
pour every drop
Of my saline tears
Into the wine glass,
gulp it down
Forever?
Will you
Not seek
The cocquettish feminine
In me,
Sing lullabies instead
Until I sleep?
Will you
Make me
The paramount
Of your thoughts?
Will you
Stay awake
At the dead of the night
Counting stars,
Deciding funny names
Of our unborn child?
Will you
Pull all my sadness,
Plunge it
into the oblivion?
For love,
I don't need
Your brisk
feverish love.
I don't seek for fairies
Sprinkling pixie dust
Over my parched soul.
All I need
Is to be loved,
Not for the sake of love.
Caress me,
Fondle me..
With your innocent cravings.
Stitch my tattered spirits
Evanesce all my pain.
Will you?
red of wrath
dusk jams
the light,
her teeth
gnashing
from wrath
pierced by
deceit...
rage bangs
on walls;
cut-glass
slitting
inside
vile mouth
lashed with
falsehood—
his lies
about
lust’s tryst
masked, hushed...
she pants,
tongue’s fire
explodes
just like
boiled veins
curdling
until,
raw flash
growls on,
“YOU SCUM—
wolf for
harlots!"
torn wife
bleeds red.
~
Duplex Contest
For Jan Allison
11.08.2016
Sub Categories
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