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Best Poems Written by Jacob Mccullough

Below are the all-time best Jacob Mccullough poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Murder Me In Morning Mist

Murder me in morning mist, 
lead me towards the dark abyss. 
Where angels cry and demons rest. 
Where hearts don't beat beyond your chest. 

I search for you among the dead, 
but all I find are broken threads... 
Broken hearts that are ever still...
Broken faith and broken will.

The dark consumes the world at hand
Greed and lust is their command
Silent tears fall on soft sand
I cannot find you in this land

I wake to find you don't exist 
and yet my body can't resist 
the thought of feeling your gentle kiss...
So... please murder me in morning mist...

Copyright © Jacob Mccullough | Year Posted 2010



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:d

To feel your touch, I must confess, 
it brings a beating across my chest. 
To look upon your gorgeous gaze, 
your eyes and smile leave me amazed. 

And in the dark your image guides me 
but I still long to feel you beside me. 
But until then, I will dream of you, think of you, and live for you... 
and when the day begins a new... it's your heart I will pursue.

Copyright © Jacob Mccullough | Year Posted 2010

Details | Jacob Mccullough Poem

Letter Bee

Filled with pride
He delivers the letter
Many have tried
But none have done better

He travels quickly across the land
He holds a letter in each of his hands
Where many have fallen our hero still stands
He is the definition of a Delivery man

Gripped in his fist
He follows a list
Alone on the road
He follows the code

Never turn back
You must see it through
For he does not lack
The courage so true

We never shall quit on a delivery
That is the job of a Letter Bee

*Dedicated to my brother Jim... RIP Bro*

Copyright © Jacob Mccullough | Year Posted 2010

Details | Jacob Mccullough Poem

Prophecy of the Possessed: Finale

You can't release! I'm too far in! Keep your hate! Keep your sin! My goal is so close! I cannot 
fail! My power is weak! My form is so frail! The darkness assumes direct control! Of hated 
lives, of darkened souls! Keep me mortal! Cling to strength! Give out your hand! There's not 
much length, between the power you seek! Your actions fail! You are so weak! This void 
that takes me back to Hell, will bring you too! In home you'll dwell...

Foolish demon, you cannot tell? That I was already dead as well? My true desire was to 
reach this Hell, so that I may confine you in this cell. I shall cleanse this world so unpure, in 
these hands I hold the cure. That's right you disease, get down on your knees and soon you 
will see what has come to be. This world filled with greed with no one to feed, it has been 
agreed, that Hell is the seed. What we are growing, I bet you'd love knowing... But for now 
let's just say, you've got Hell to pay... so don't even bother... oh and by the way... I 
brought you hot water, now you truly see what I mean, when I say I will clean you're body 
so tainted, and with these hands I have painted... a new home for mankind, a home so 
divine, and I am so delighted... but sorry you weren't invited.

*The Monk soon cleansed Hell of all impurities, sending Satan and all demons to another 
realm and making more room for the innocent to prosper, where Satans and his demons 
evacuated to... remains unknown, but we wait wondering, have we fulfilled the Prophecy of 
the Possessed?*

Copyright © Jacob Mccullough | Year Posted 2010

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Beating For You

In the dead of the night, 
I lay awake in thought. 
In the dark, out of sight, 
where all questions are caught. 

I ask all I can, 
but never hear a word. 
I can't understand 
why my questions are't heard. 

Everything's repeated, refresh and restart. 
That's when I hear the beating of a heart
My own I assume and in the dark of the room. 
I can feel the cold loom as I mimic the tune, 

I hear the sound beating, again and again. 
The tune keeps repeating inside of my head. 
I find that my thoughts can control my heart's tune. 
And that the beating gets faster, when I'm thinking of you.

Copyright © Jacob Mccullough | Year Posted 2010



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Back To the Black

Only in thought can I hold you so dear
Only in dreams can I feel you so near
See you so clear
And pretend like you're here. 

But when I wake, 
I see the feelings so fake
And I just can't take 
The pain that it makes 

I wanna go back, back to the black
The black that makes pictures of things my life lacks
So please don't wake me, please let me sleep...
Because only in dreams are you mine to keep

Copyright © Jacob Mccullough | Year Posted 2010

Details | Jacob Mccullough Poem

If Only...

There it lays on his shelf
With that blade he cuts himself
Every night he feels so cold
All alone that's all he holds

A lonely life breeds a broken heart
A malice mind leads to hurtful art
And everyone just plays their part
If only he could just restart

Hopeless he loves the dark
Loveless his soul embarks
On a new journey far away
Where he wishes he could stay

But drugs will never be enough
To wash away his life so rough
It doesn't matter if it's good stuff
Please just be strong, just be tough

I miss you and although your gone
I know that your soul has moved on
My thoughts add on and in every dozen
I think of you, my little cousin

*Dedicated to my cousin John, RIP Cuz*

Copyright © Jacob Mccullough | Year Posted 2010

Details | Jacob Mccullough Poem

Master of Puppets

The master of puppets, he sits and creates. 
The pieces he has, they fit as they shape. 
His self, his being are in the toys he makes. 
Precise and caring, the tools never break. 

He tries his best to bring them to life
He's just one man, but his work will suffice
He masters his art night after night
He sets them aside so calm and polite

He never speaks, but his toys always talk. 
His legs are weak, but his toys always walk. 
They lead the life he never could. 
He carves his soul into the wood. 

He lived and died with them by his side, 
he lived and died and his puppets, they cried
His soul has moved on from this crumbled estate
But in the attic, his puppets, they wait....

*Dedicated to my very sick cousin John... Get better soon!*

Copyright © Jacob Mccullough | Year Posted 2010

Details | Jacob Mccullough Poem

Prophecy of the Possessed: Part 1

Hear me friends, or meet your ends! The light that gloried morning sends, hides much behind! 
It's well designed! It will leave our unpure eyes just blind! Your deathly sins! What hides 
within, marks the Purge, it soon begins! Our blasphemous race! The Earth's disgrace! Our 
souls will roam through time and space! There's not much time! Repent for your crimes! We 
may just reach High Heaven, Sublime

Don't believe a word, this man is absurd, he says things so slurred, he's just a drunk nerd. 
Are you lost little bird? Well please rest assured knowing you'll soon be secured with a nice 
little herd. They all think like you, they all drink like you, they all stink like you, hey one 
winked at you. In this room and straight jacket you can't cause a racket. Take your meds 
twice a day and soon you'll be off it, and in this cell you will stay, well goodbye you mad 
prophet.

You call me mad, but I know the truth! Our deaths will be my needed proof! Alone I see His 
vengeful plan! The light surrounds to erase Man! You all are simply complete fools! You're 
sinners, haters, Satan's tools! I am the only pure of heart! I've preached this from the very 
start! I've tried to save what can't be saved! In my soul my faith's engraved! He'll see I'm 
worthy of his path! While you'll receive his smiting wrath!

Do you think you're unique? or is it attention you seek? Cuz you seem pretty weak, and your 
hope is quite bleak. You run around spreading lies, hoping people will hear your cries, but all 
along you are ignored, hoping one day you'll be adored, but a light so dim can never cast the 
words you wish would always last, and soon you will be forgotten, you're corpse left cold 
and rotten. Your mind is toxic and corroding so quick, the things that you say are delusional 
and sick. and I do not see this smiting wrath. so do us a favor and take a bath.

Copyright © Jacob Mccullough | Year Posted 2010

Details | Jacob Mccullough Poem

Red Rose

In the garden of the dead 
you'll find a rose so red, 
not red with beauty but red with hate
Withering away in a constant state

binded by burdens that forever bleed. 
Begging to bloom but can never succeed. 
Rain can try to wash away the blood, 
the crimson liquid mixes with the mud. 

Breeding more seeds to summon such pain, 
feeding the greed for personal gain. 
Soon the whole garden will be covered in red, 
but until that day I still am not dead.

Copyright © Jacob Mccullough | Year Posted 2010

12

Book: Reflection on the Important Things