Details |
Lori Hopkins Poem
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"
Copyright © Lori Hopkins | Year Posted 2013
|
Details |
Lori Hopkins Poem
long and rigid
in hand
strokes command
plunging in
fluid spills
creation begins
*inspired
Copyright © Lori Hopkins | Year Posted 2013
|
Details |
Lori Hopkins Poem
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
Copyright © Lori Hopkins | Year Posted 2013
|
Details |
Lori Hopkins Poem
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
Copyright © Lori Hopkins | Year Posted 2013
|
Details |
Lori Hopkins Poem
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
Copyright © Lori Hopkins | Year Posted 2013
|
Details |
Lori Hopkins Poem
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
Copyright © Lori Hopkins | Year Posted 2013
|
Details |
Lori Hopkins Poem
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.
Copyright © Lori Hopkins | Year Posted 2013
|
Details |
Lori Hopkins Poem
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
Copyright © Lori Hopkins | Year Posted 2013
|
Details |
Lori Hopkins Poem
On a dark and stormy night
A ship hit a rock
Out of dread and fright
Passengers cried “what the fock?”
Bodies went flying
To and fro
Some were dying
As you probably know
But there was a boat
Over the side
Standing afloat
30 made it inside
The boat was made for seven
Cpt. Tossabout had to choose
Who would go to heaven
You know, who would loose
He had to think quick
He had to think fast
He had to pick
Who would be first, who would be last
He brainstormed a bit
And he thought
“this is it”
“I have a shot”
All eyes fell upon him
As he cleared his throat
He wondered who could swim
As he looked around the boat
“Simon Says is the game we’ll play”
“And the winners will stay”
To this everyone agreed
Cpt. Tossabout said “I’ll lead”
“Simon says jump over board”
Amazingly each body soared
They all went to Davey Jones’ locker
Cpt. Tossabout was a smart motherfocker.
Copyright © Lori Hopkins | Year Posted 2013
|
Details |
Lori Hopkins Poem
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
Copyright © Lori Hopkins | Year Posted 2013
|