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Best Poems Written by Lori Hopkins

Below are the all-time best Lori Hopkins poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Death Eternal

Smith and Wesson’s cool steel kisses my right temple. I cock the hammer. The slow clicking of the cylinder’s turn is amplified through the barrel into my ear. Finger resting on the trigger; and I reminisce.
Striking that young maiden and the bright red trickle from her cheek, giving my flesh the appearance of eternal youth. How lovely it was to immerse in the warm blood of so many young virgins sacrificed for my vanity. And being left to die alone in my castle. What a waste.
In my lust for recognition I relished in terrorizing the streets of London. What a rush it was to baffle the authorities, putting my handy work on display; artistically arranging the bodies for my twisted desire. They say it was around twenty women strangled and mutilated, if they only knew the real number. But that passion weaned quickly. In my urge for a grandeur macabre I overdosed on heroine in hopes being able top that in my next incarnation.
As Feuer of an entire nation the delegation of wholesale slaughter didn't quite measure up to the ecstasy of someone else’s existence being extinguished through my own hands.
The era of free love lent to an easy spree of killings in northern California. In my need for some recognition, I teased the authorities with cryptic messages; to this day and my great disappointment they have not been able to decipher. The most that came out of it was a marriage of Clint Eastwood and Hollywood in the name of Dirty Harry.
Hugging my finger to the trigger giving it a strong, swift pull I can’t help but wonder, how do I achieve a higher satisfaction than when I delivered the Kiss of Death, sacrificing the Son of God for just a few shillings?

"Everything Halloween Contest"

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Pen and Ink

long and rigid
in hand
strokes command
plunging in
fluid spills
creation begins



*inspired

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Wendy, Darling

Wendy, Darling
	Was a wretched little wench
	With a flask of whiskey
	Clasped in her fist
	And took to a swigging
	More often
	Than the lost boys ever knew

Wendy, Darling
	Was a surrogate mother
	Who despised the reckless actions
	Of such a crew
	And it was mostly Peter
	To whom she cursed
 
nasty, dirty, stupid
boys
lost in neverland
forever
engaged in rambunctious
ploys
 
Wendy, Darling
	Decided she'd had enough
	Building a great bonfire
	With all their stuff
	
Leaving the lost
	To weep, sob and moan; for

Wendy, Darling
	Simply smiled whilst swallowing
	A swig; and
	With her last ounce
	
	Flew out of there

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Stardate 24-13 Point 6

January 8th, I am guessing. It is a Friday. 

No. It is Saturday, as midnight has already passed.

I have been trapped inside myself. How long? 

It’s been an outpatient process.  

Some days I am locked in, 

others I have leave and can mingle within 

the world quite normal. 

As of late, more than not,

more often during the hours which turn into days, 

and weeks gone by. 

Here I sit, within my own being, 

not knowing quite, what isn’t right.

So in the search of 

meaningful thought, 

genuine affection to the topic at hand, 

a raw and real, unclothed, unanticipated, unexpected…

I wholly embrace,

   I crave. And when this is the case, 

I shall be fully engaged.

Let us not banter 

anymore of the things 

we cannot change. 

Let us move forward 

into the fullness of life.


August 19th, 2013 Lori Hopkins  "STAR WARS RULES"
For the Star Wars Contest

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Immediate Cause

PART 1.
Morphine intoxication

PART 2.
Coronary artery atherosclerosis, sleep apnea

28a. 
ACCIDENT

28b. 
June 8, 2008

28c. 
17:35

28d.
Ingested prescription medication

28f.
Home

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The Secret To Eternal Youth

detach from hang-ups and the hype.
there is no regimen.
the secret is detach.
be happy,
do not follow a diet per se,
just stay away from processed foods,
don't eat fast food or drink soda,
and all carbs and naughty delights consumed are home made....
all things in moderation.
that and a bunny/dog poo mask (one a week is just fine)
and yoga.

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Winter's Breath - Clouds Contest

bouncy pale locks 
fly little legs 
pump, soar the blue

winters tide trickles 
tear streaked temples
a game of peek-a-boo 

with an intangible daddy 
playing in the clouds

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Contemplation

it's wrong
to want to kill
your muse?
 
drown it 
like an unwanted 
puppy
bury it deep, somewhere 
in the desert
where essences rot, decomposing
the way they left your soul
 
dry
arid dusting with the tumbleweed
wherever the wind decides to move you
 
then SMACK, stuck on the grill of a semi
barreling on through

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Fuel

f***ers burn 

bodies to fuel their oil 

consumption

slave trade In The Name of God, LLC

corruption

suits to take up spaces

f***ers burn

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En Vino Veritas

i have been reading the contents
via, printed correspondence
for some time now

and so it was only natural
there’d be a moment
i’d pour, to
sip the promise

when switching from merlot to zinfandel
a tipped glass need not be
shattered into shards

time only knows if; when
the chance will come to
escape to your serenity
and charming ways

visit for an eternity; or
just a few days

so until then;
let us drink a toast
to a marrying of such
savory flavors