HEAVEN or HELL-Selected Word Poem

Use All of the following words/names in a poem about either Heaven or Hell:

Frozen
Impede
Health
Mastiff
Pangolin
Clerical
Swift
Homicidal
Reform
Gin
Carcass
Fad
Interstellar
Nasty
Pudgy
Riddle
Quasimodo
Vary
Sugarcoat
Vivacious
Petty

Two poems per poet maximum.
No collaborations.
Please keep conversation to a minimum.

Thanks in advance for entering.

Strider

Anonymous said:<< post removed >>

Excellent start Madame Lavender

Heavens!Hell?

Mists cold on swirling iciness
Fly the soul up to realm
A frozen world,
A gloomy domain
Of there in the netherworld

Nothing will impede
This soul’s true travel
Weakened through health
But thought himself strong
Like a bull Mastiff

Yet  when alive, he rolled up
Liked a muffled Pangolin
Stuck in his Clerical job
Coughing his lungs out
His end was Swift indeed

They thought he was Homicidal
And wanted him to Reform
Leave the Gin, drink vodka instead
They said even as he doubled up
As he smoked his twentieth cigarettes

He did not eat animal Carcass
He did not indulge in any Fad
He thought Interstellar video games
Nasty and made gamers on smoky rooms
Look pale, sickly and Pudgy

He loved solving  a Riddle or two
Thought Quasimodo was a type
Of a squash that’s badly hybrid
and Vary from other pumpkins
so his demise was sad indeed

he died with Sugarcoat-knowledge
of heaven and its realms
for he got his information
from a  Petty but Vivacious
Little Nurse

In the netherworld, the poor sod
Looked at the frozen vastness
Sadly mourned his smokes and Gin
Rest in Peace... and shiver?

I Always Thought Quasi was Beautiful

Here, Quasimodo let's go
of petty pudgy health issues, and is
an interstellar pangolin slurping up a starry
riddle to sugarcoat his ant-bite sorrow.

But there, vivacious is never
found in the carcass of a nasty
looking mastiff creature we vary
with the homicidal eyes of a gin-fed fad.

Quasi just wanted a joyful gypsy reform
so the clerical wouldn't be so swift
to bash, and bark. The frozen-hearted
thought they could impede his flight to Heaven.

Little did they know...

.:The Ultimate Griddle:.


http://8020.photos.jpgmag.com/300615_102177_95303463b4_l.jpg


A tale to impede any of them seven sins to succeed
We’re not about to sugarcoat this story
Some might consider that a bit petty
But for sure.. we’re gonna keep in some of what’s gory.
Location? This interstellar place ain’t about NO glory
More like a place of post reform
The stock and trade beyond the norm
Health and wealth…like a fad that don’t really at all matter
Pent-Up Occupants just getting sadder & sadder
It’s quiet ironic, ain’t nobody here with the gin & tonic
But everyone here looks shook & stirred
Possibly because of what’s personally occurred
Seems everyone’s speech is noticeably slurred
And nobody, we mean nobody is standing around posing
Seems there’s a homicidal desire for anything frozen.
Some screaming they just want another…
Just one more hearing at The Court
Claiming must’ve been problems with their clerical report
Emphatically screaming, while steaming

“YO, somebody got this all wrong
I need to wake up, must’ve been that bong“

A voice puts ‘em on blast:
“nah Cuz this is where you belong…you the one who got it all wrong
You the one who was rolling in “NO Recover Error”
Running amuck up-top being that Big Time Terror
Guess now we see who’s clever”

Swift Justice then grabbed ‘em by the neck
Tossed ‘em to the side showing ‘em not one bit of respect
Waiting there was a creature looking like a pudgy Quasimodo
Him waiting there to collect, but he wasn’t there solo. There was
Pepe the Pangolin sucking up the eyeballs
They needed cleaning, then recycling for reviewing the bylaws
See this is what befalls every brand new carcass
It’s like step this way “You’ve entered the Bawl 'em Up Darkness”
This is a place wherein all the rooms vary
But each and everyone is real damn scary
Massive Mastiff looking creatures placing people in herds
Some nasty looking devils these jokers have to serve
Nothing here vivacious or in anyway looks good
Just the final abode, the end of the riddle
Some callin’ what’s befallen The Ultimate Griddle





..
photo: Mauricio Medoza

.this hades.

Frozen;
the seconds between
life; less this thing we call living
the beauty in this eulogy
are the poignant clerical errors

gin; the tonic of too many
barren evenings
attempting a solution to the riddle
whispered; in silence
everything speaks.

the wind is swift; tonight,
homocidal hearts make demands
to the sky
the clouds are unclad
I prayed, but the heavens are empty
like the inky black eyes of a Mastiff, hungry
with only carcass fragments for stars

this is the health of the nation.
lovers, lost
searching for reprieve
stuck clinging to this nasty,
pudgy, oozing, world
this fad of loving,
crusting over
like scabbing woounds
wet,
and exposed

this is our babylon.
reform this vivacious menagerie
of wonder,
this quasimodo mentality
for we are all hunchbacks
with Pangolin skin,
carving new hearts from stone

this wasteland;
of intersetllar proportion
vary the space,
the time intertwined
with
this hades of flesh,
trapped in souls left wanting,
bargaining breath
for bread.

miciela said:.this hades.

Frozen;
the seconds between
life; less this thing we call living
the beauty in this eulogy
are the poignant clerical errors

gin; the tonic of too many
barren evenings
attempting a solution to the riddle
whispered; in silence
everything speaks.

the wind is swift; tonight,
homocidal hearts make demands
to the sky
the clouds are unclad
I prayed, but the heavens are empty
like the inky black eyes of a Mastiff, hungry
with only carcass fragments for stars

this is the health of the nation.
lovers, lost
searching for reprieve
stuck clinging to this nasty,
pudgy, oozing, world
this fad of loving,
crusting over
like scabbing woounds
wet,
and exposed

this is our babylon.
reform this vivacious menagerie
of wonder,
this quasimodo mentality
for we are all hunchbacks
with Pangolin skin,
carving new hearts from stone

this wasteland;
of intersetllar proporation
vary the space,
the time intertwined
with
this hades of flesh,
trapped in souls left wanting,
bargaining breath
for bread.

ha.. mejeh mejeh!!
there she go, the bar razor : )

.
.

http://images.epilogue.net/users/abi/Soul-Reaper.jpg
Heaven hath no place for a fury like me.
Frozen in time I walk the lands,
do not think to impede my killing hand.
Health is but an illusion to be had,
as I accompanied by the mastiff hounds of hell,
seek to toll humanities last bell.
I likened to the pangolin (ant eater),
I come but not for ants as would think some,
but for your soul that I claim
with the tip of my tongue.

Foolish clerical teachers think to pray
and preach against creatures such as me,
but in swift succession I take what is owed
fore they shall reap what they sow.
My kith and kin I will reclaim
homicidal maniacs and all manner
of human harbingers  of evil in the masters name.

Reform is non existent,
repenting a futile game
and redemption a dirty
word that will get you no gain.
So I go about setting my gin, (a hunting trap)
I aim to catch many souls therein;
their carcass will feed the hounds
they delight in shredding the flesh
with zeal as garnered by the sounds.

Religions are like a fad followed by the sheep
Along with the atheist with their
Interstellar search for what they seek
both equally tasty tid bits for my canines nasty teeth.
Pudgy or thin, rich or poor, wise or not
all are equally caught in the reapers knot
fore I Riddle humanity with my rot.
Ha ha ha… the Quasi (“resembling,”) modo (manner)
in which they live their life
thinking nothing can harm them
so long as they remain in the light.

Oh… foolish is the one who fails to see
how quickly things Vary (Fluctuate)
with intent, something they cannot see;
they try to Sugarcoat the world for the weak,
thinking to lessen the horror
with positive and Vivacious (Cheerful) ramblings,
believing that with this they will
erase their petty tendencies.
Ohhh… but we see it all
know the darkest secrets
hidden in a man’s heart
and smell on your soul, its taint.

I, am Hell’s Soulreaper… Are you ready?!

Gypsy Red

I put your words in bold the same as Kriticool and Miciela to make it easier to check Strider.



Morgue Stationed.







There is no sugarcoating here
your carcass is now frozen
morgue stationed awaiting its departure
you went homicidal
too much Gin and an unstable mind



your health was lacking
reform was never a likely possibility
clerical mishaps were the reprieve you abused
and the least expecting were your playthings
you cut off her fingers with a swift blade
for her mistake



played her a riddle on your bone crossbow
and fired it through her heart
you were Quasimodo recycled with Pangolin scales
inked over your body
fitting for your afterlife in the underworld



the gargoyles had mastiff expressions
it is your turn to scream
nasty pudgy hands drag you into the fire
vivacious flames melt your flesh
interstellar dust will take forever to reach your hell
you shall never see the stars again



there will be no petty revenge
only a demand of repayment for twisted pleasure
where every impede brought about a new fad
of sinister manipulation that would vary in pain
for each victim caught in your net



from flesh to dust you shall forever scream here in hell.....

Straight To Hell



 
Frozen water hung from the dead face of a Mastiff
a Pangolin carcass pudgy from death lay bloodied
Quasimodo had been on an homicidal fad
of creature elimination because of his petty hangups


I walked out of my clerical job and walked straight to hell


'so it seems'


I took a swig of gin and said goodbye to my health
there was no way to sugarcoat the facts
I think the end of the world is here and things are nasty
no swift reform will save us now


'too little too damn late to turn it around'


it was never a riddle
the powers that be were just too ignorant to see
they really screwed it up for everyone
guess what?
there is no instruction manual on how to impede the end


we will all be interstellar
vivacious amongst the stars
then again that may vary
some will burn in the fires of hell when they explode
with the planet

I heard Heaven but they didn't hear Me

Young vivacious voices sang in the next room
A church choir rejoiced on TV 
Their singing echoed in my head as if it were hollow
But I laid there 
Frozen 

He was done with me
Shredded my loins 

Beaten
I tethered in this web bloodied and swollen
Face down 
Jeans pulled to my waist on his kitchen table 

The hungry pants and gasps for air were
No longer mine 
No longer his

It was that damn pudgy faced nasty slobbering mastiff of his,
Quasimodo

He witnessed it all
And he looked like he had seen it before 
Yet he cocked his head as if searching for 
the answer to some interstellar riddle
He was still drinking that gin
As he zipped up his pants 
He raised his glass as if toasting to my health
Walked around the table
Surveying my whimpering carcass

He stepped aside to let me go
He would not impede my departure
Be steady 
But be swift 
I can't let him do this to me again 

Again?
Did it happen at all?
He was bigger than me
Stronger
I did fight, right?
No it didn't happen

Then why was I bleeding

“Then he will say to those on his left, 
‘Depart from me, you cursed, 
into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels.
Matthew 25 41 

Television still on as I crossed his yard

"You want to report what?" my commander demanded of me 

"You're talking about your squadron leader."

"Decorated five times in three tours in the sand."

"A husband and father of three."

 'Yes sir' stumbled over my lips each time

"I'm not gonna sugarcoat this for you, 
because you know his story will vary. 
What this will do to him, and do
to you will be a quite scary."

"Yes sir"

This pangolin faced troll's only concern was
the clerical nightmare it would bring 
He wanted to dismiss it as some petty matter
That I needed to reform my way of thinking 
Hoping this fad would pass like I was some teenaged girl 

At my court martial 
I could still hear that chorus singing
A brutal homicidal act was what the judge had said
Then my life sentence was summarily read

As the two MPs started to lead me away 
My commander only had one thing to say, 

"Robert, did you have to shoot the dog too?" 

"Yes sir."

To Be or To Hell

No rhyme or reason left
to this nasty riddle
a bottle of gin lends a sugarcoat
and rosy disposition to the stiffly
frozen carcass of petty symbolism
humanities latest fad

My personal effort to impede or vary
their homicidal need to make a carcass
of life
too late for anything less than
a vivacious attempt at interstellar escape
or to reform this place, void of stars

The Pangolin sits,swinging the
symbolism of the coats we don
pudgy masses of external protection
metaphorically  set to project
strength as we march towards hell

Swift they are in their clerical calculations
summing up the health of the mind who's chosen
to pick against the choices provided
Sent away, like Quasimodo after an explicit write

To hell, I'll march
with the courage and grace of the English Mastiff
frozen permanent in my blood
no petty price to pay
off to hell
next stop, hell
Surprisingly, we aren't there yet

*apologies...I did not see the time till I posted-I am late



I've got a sinking feeling


I made swift decline
upon the escalator
holding these rails, as I died
at the top, crumpled
my carcass, left to rot
I had tried my best
truly I had, but
gin and reform don't mix
petty dealings molded
my mind to mush
what started as a fad
is truly a riddle, penchant
for the clerical
working nights at the library
thoughts homicidal, unbridled
became nasty and nagging
I'd vary in ways, follow for days
hitchhike all the way, to no end
nasty these habits, as the gin
got worse, it would impede
my course, weekly, monthly, daily
the pudgy, thin young, old, sick
I am told, there's no sugarcoat
for this, Gin slips like silk
these vivacious people
and their...
appetites.
Perfect match for my thirst
in an evening, at first
then I go for this Quasimodo
obtuse looking fellow
hanging around my health shelf
A mastiff this guy, my god
he cried, trying to impede
my thoughts...

IN MY MOMENTS NONE THE LESS

I enjoyed his torment, immensely
washed up
closed up
hit the streets of BE
like a pangolin in heat
prowling...

I didn't see the truck
till the final seconds
frozen in still stock
blinking...
next thing I know is
this escalator to Hell
well, I've got a sinking feeling
there should be coins...

no really...

A winner soon fellow poets...I'm checking off words, looking for flow and content...some great ones here!!!

Strider :D