Dark Poems

Evil poetry and morbid poems about death and horror

Settling

Published on Jan 19 2010 at 9:27 CST
Written by priya dileep (raindreams)

The windows sweated
and wept
for a hurt
that badly needed voice
and touch
to wash it down,
while outside,
the sun's beheaded torso
sunk,
a dead weight of weary nonsense
and the sea
watched it
settling
down her depths
slowly, slowly
like the final dregs
of aborted love.

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(30 reads)
12 comments

Seven Lines

Published on Jan 19 2010 at 5:11 CST
Written by Jamie Townend (CruelHandedWriter)

We shall die like dogs
sooner, or even better,
sooner.
I'll use one of my precious seven on one
word.
And even then I will be content
with the same nothng as you

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(17 reads)
3 comments

the new page

Published on Jan 19 2010 at 3:48 CST
Written by Celine (3ampoems)

i have to swallow up
my psychotic dreams
my mental self
and pretend i am
absolute

absolutely
fine.

lock
curl
clench
and don't forget to breath

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(22 reads)
1 comment

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A Funny Thing, This Death

Published on Jan 19 2010 at 3:27 CST
Written by Jack Heslop (Heslopian)

the oven calls like a lover from
it's private bed,
running one hand across each
dimpled thigh, the
face soft and supple and a
candle by the cushions, softly
beckoning with it’s intermittent
light.

final place of Sylvia Plath, small
cooking box where she died,
amidst the silver racks upon
which roasts had once been made.

her head a basted chicken, but
I don’t think that I could die
in such a way, if I myself do dare
to say.

rivers, pills and runaway buses bore
me, like the process of life...

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(23 reads)
5 comments

Quarter Note = 60

Published on Jan 18 2010 at 19:59 CST
Written by Brian Minnick (manic_inspiration)

Click.
Dancing orphans walk
tight-ropes, not in
synch, but merely…
Click.
Two blind apes in
wheel-chair, electric
shaver, four and…
Click.
Wise medicine man
dragging two-handed,
I’m running…
Click.
Don’t you touch
trust belongs
to that drunken…
Click.
Click.

Click.
I’m grown and
your filth, feces burn
in my salute to the sun.
Click.

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(16 reads)
3 comments

A Tower Rose Inside of Him

Published on Jan 18 2010 at 15:19 CST
Written by Jack Heslop (Heslopian)

a tower rose inside of him,
it grew like a demented beanstalk,
but not to ascend some giants castle
filled with harps and bread,
but rather a gray and English sky
where nothing very much happened,
aside from the occasional bird
sucked into a propeller,
or the first January suicide from
the roof of an office complex.

and inside this tower lived not
Rapunzel, or any other lascivious whore,
but rather a little boy who played hopscotch
by himself, and skimmed pebbles across
puddles which once were lakes and brooks;
he...

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(45 reads)
9 comments

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third mourning

Published on Jan 18 2010 at 15:12 CST
Written by nathan illig (noonenothingnone)

..we have a place in our heart..
..where those who have left us..
..go to when they leave..
..that.s why our chests ache and become so heavy when they first leave us..
..we have to get used to..
..the shift of weight..
..(i will be there with you in a while)..
..(thank you for spending your life with me)..

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(14 reads)
2 comments

reflections

Published on Jan 18 2010 at 14:30 CST
Written by opheliac

it's you i fear the most
you, ugly creature of my reflection

as much as you wanted to leave
the more you stay..
and you discover unconscientiously
new pathways in this tormented face
new lines that behind them lays a story
new eyes to look and be looked at..

as you go further down
you may come across
holding a magnifying glass close to your eyes
peculiar curves that shape weird enough..
are they scars..?

but then again behind
Mona Lisa's smile lies her dark beauty
behind your smile
lies...

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(15 reads)
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The Silence Inn

Published on Jan 18 2010 at 8:20 CST
Written by Brian Minnick (manic_inspiration)

The brutal wave of
rain and jealously
followed me that night
as I sipped
strong lukewarm coffee
at the Silence Inn.

Bloodshot eyes stared
back at me
and the storm laughed.

If I wanted to
the warm bosom of
Room 134
would have welcomed
a wired mind.

Yet someone
must have been in that storm
and I needed to find
who.

A mist arose
throughout the
Devil’s Playground

And then all I could hear
was the faint echo of a
child giggling.

And I laughed.

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(19 reads)
4 comments

1st mourning

Published on Jan 18 2010 at 1:11 CST
Written by nathan illig (noonenothingnone)

..if i want to talk to her..
..i.ll just put my hand..
..over my heart..
..that.s where she went..
..and time will pass..
..and there will be a time when the walls start closing in around me..
..and the gate will and seems to quicken in its approach..
..as i peer upon the darkness..
..that she has already passed through..
..and when my hand becomes too weak..
..to move itself to my heart..
..i.ll just put my thoughts..
..to my center..
..that.s where she is..
..and when my mind..
..becomes too weak..
..and starts to close in on...

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(18 reads)
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DU Poetry : Dark Poems

A Wtich's Knot

Published on Jan 17 2010 at 22:38 CST
Written by Brian Minnick (manic_inspiration)

Does the bitter blood
soaked through this towel
excite you?

I smell your lust
and its cologne is a cliff
facing the unknown.

Angels are said to
drink inked dreams.

But I must protect my
dreams
(I have so
few). Hence

The towel,
the cliff,
the blood an aching lull.

It is finished
this spell
a clotted vessel
in a witch’s knot
swims gently on.

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(20 reads)
3 comments

Blindsided

Published on Jan 17 2010 at 22:17 CST
Written by Brian Minnick (manic_inspiration)

The velvet bride,
drunk in Midnight’s sting,
yawns and welcomes eager hands.

The cold wind groom
alights in shadows, sirens blazing
and soon our
bride will be reflected on the moon.

Was it Beauty’s brush
or Fate’s dark arrow
who, in cigarette breath,
led aggression near?

Or simply Love
on an endless quest for
the one to
pay the rent?

We fantasize her final thoughts,
a bouquet of ruby tears
thrown and caught by canine sight.

And yet, no thought could
have stained her mind for

Amid...

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(27 reads)
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My Bones, My Bones

Published on Jan 17 2010 at 14:06 CST
Written by Jack Heslop (Heslopian)

like a bird with broken ankles, I
have rested on the branch too
long, and refrained from flight into
the blessed sunlight,
the run up to the leap too is difficult,
and the thought of that sun,
that yellow boot whose sole has
dried a thousand levies,
makes the soft white wings recede
for fear that they might burn,

singe and fall upon the ocean,
and me after them, with more athletic
haste than a stone, dropped onto
an ant and crushed by some sadistic
child, the terminal velocity breaking
my bones, my bones.
...

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(36 reads)
6 comments

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carly marie (to my mom)

Published on Jan 17 2010 at 8:59 CST
Written by nathan illig (noonenothingnone)

the comforter left..
long before I could sustain..
damage like that..
memory serves..
as a loyal theif..

father destroys..
becomes devil..
mother destroyed..
goes missing..

I am a clock..
turned locksmith..
some stories..
are better left unsaid..

I can never regain..
what's been burned down..
I will never comprehend..
what's been done..

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(17 reads)
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Blood Sucking Bitch

Published on Jan 17 2010 at 0:00 CST
Written by XKill Me RomanticallyX (pixxxiepoet)

Asphyxiated by rust worn razorblades as echoes intervene…
We’re attempting to overdose on antidotes while filling up on expired shots of clarity.
I can only tremble as you pull this trigger.
Disfigured now from poison filled bullets penetrating through skin as they shatter inside.
A corpse of blood running colder while spattering remains across the walls.
A life laid to waste but the body left behind to feed there necrophilia.
Dismantle me to keep the silence of how they rape us of all desire.

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(20 reads)
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I'm Not The Type To Say I Told You So

Published on Jan 16 2010 at 23:47 CST
Written by XKill Me RomanticallyX (pixxxiepoet)

Suicidal tendencies carried into nights
made to clarify the corruption of the masochistic dreams.
It's manipulation of our own cold blooded murders
with the prescriptions we fill in private
made to ease but mangle this unattainable disdain.
Just another overpriced placebo
left to soak in the hesitation
drowning in this catastrophe I hopelessly imitate.
But it's my own suicidle love that's being tested-
again my intentions are nearly hindered
once weakened with this noose
now hung up in your hate.
Razor-blade worn kisses
I'm...

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(33 reads)
2 comments

of voids and dreams (inspired by a wave of depression 2)

Published on Jan 16 2010 at 22:51 CST
Written by nathan illig (noonenothingnone)

…dear friend or devil…
…wake me from this void or dream…
…dear dream or demon…
…have mercy sufficient to wake me from this odd old slumber…
…or sing me back to a thoroughly more opaque resting…
…where i ask nothing further of you…
…and vain interrogation of existing arrests the constant unappeased…
…and prying temperamental questioning…
…by nature i die..
..neither by choice do i wonder…
…and know no better where these tunnels lead us…
…and tell me when was it that we came to persuade ourselves that this is all more…
…than a subatomic dramatized...

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(19 reads)
4 comments

burning (still born)

Published on Jan 16 2010 at 22:50 CST
Written by nathan illig (noonenothingnone)

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(15 reads)
6 comments

we were once (inspired by a wave of depression 1)

Published on Jan 16 2010 at 14:15 CST
Written by nathan illig (noonenothingnone)

…once upon a time…
…oceans of situated and simultaneously occurring chemicals…
…recalled something to the extent of…
… “you and i were children once upon a time”…
…and we were 'alone together' at the time...
...just like that song's title…
…but didn’t realize we were alone because the illusions which we built up…
…were so much more beautiful than those muted bullshit whisperings...
…but now we have grown old and died off despite our best efforts…
…and now that we see that old dumb death…
…with eyes that have gone blind to everything else…
…and can...

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(20 reads)
2 comments

i don't like eating

Published on Jan 16 2010 at 13:19 CST
Written by Celine (3ampoems)

i hate the way my tears dirty my face
and they feel horrid on the tip of my lips
but at least it was anger
not a cause of my depressive state.

i was locked in my heart's cage,
screaming for death, his hands around
my neck and i'm screaming
"kill me" -

why the fuck am i still here?

i like the idea of dying and
smiling at the pain, laughing because
the pain is the only thing that
remains real.

His slap tasted good and felt like
fireworks.

I save sundays to starve myself and I want to
twist, i want to coil...

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(16 reads)
0 comments

Dark Poems

Evil poetry and morbid poems about death and horror

DU Poetry : Dark Poems

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