Disturbed
One of the most disturbing poems I've ever read was the folk poem, 'O Death'. Presented in both song and verse, I've found myself reflecting on many times, while I've witness people fighting terminal illness. Its one of those poems you don't have to try and remember it, because it haunts your mind forever. Sadly, this American folk lamentation has been popularized by the BTK serial killer who claimed it as inspiration. The BTK Killer tried emulating 'O Death' by writing and dedicating macabre poems to his victims. But I won't submit any of his works, because this evil bastard poetry isn't worthy of our attention.
But I will submit 'O Death.' The following is a lyrical adaptation recorded by Ralph Stanley that can be heard on the sound track of 'Brother Where Art Thou'.
O, Death
Won't you spare me over til another year
Well what is this that I can't see
With ice cold hands takin' hold of me
Well I am death, none can excel
I'll open the door to heaven or hell
Whoa, death someone would pray
Could you wait to call me another day
The children prayed, the preacher preached
Time and mercy is out of your reach
I'll fix your feet til you cant walk
I'll lock your jaw til you cant talk
I'll close your eyes so you can't see
This very hour, come and go with me
I'm death I come to take the soul
Leave the body and leave it cold
To draw up the flesh off of the frame
Dirt and worm both have a claim
O, Death
O, Death
Won't you spare me over til another year
My mother came to my bed
Placed a cold towel upon my head
My head is warm my feet are cold
Death is a-movin upon my soul
Oh, death how you're treatin' me
You've close my eyes so I can't see
Well you're hurtin' my body
You make me cold
You run my life right outta my soul
Oh death please consider my age
Please don't take me at this stage
My wealth is all at your command
If you will move your icy hand
Oh the young, the rich or poor
Hunger like me you know
No wealth, no ruin, no silver no gold
Nothing satisfies me but your soul
O, death
O, death
But I will submit 'O Death.' The following is a lyrical adaptation recorded by Ralph Stanley that can be heard on the sound track of 'Brother Where Art Thou'.
O, Death
Won't you spare me over til another year
Well what is this that I can't see
With ice cold hands takin' hold of me
Well I am death, none can excel
I'll open the door to heaven or hell
Whoa, death someone would pray
Could you wait to call me another day
The children prayed, the preacher preached
Time and mercy is out of your reach
I'll fix your feet til you cant walk
I'll lock your jaw til you cant talk
I'll close your eyes so you can't see
This very hour, come and go with me
I'm death I come to take the soul
Leave the body and leave it cold
To draw up the flesh off of the frame
Dirt and worm both have a claim
O, Death
O, Death
Won't you spare me over til another year
My mother came to my bed
Placed a cold towel upon my head
My head is warm my feet are cold
Death is a-movin upon my soul
Oh, death how you're treatin' me
You've close my eyes so I can't see
Well you're hurtin' my body
You make me cold
You run my life right outta my soul
Oh death please consider my age
Please don't take me at this stage
My wealth is all at your command
If you will move your icy hand
Oh the young, the rich or poor
Hunger like me you know
No wealth, no ruin, no silver no gold
Nothing satisfies me but your soul
O, death
O, death
The following is an incantation I made up for my nephew and nieces, for when we have to make forays into the dark forbidding basement of my condo. Marching down dimly lit hallways verses are repeated to the slow rhythmic beat of our marching feet. Like all poetic incantations, it inspires courage as well as wards away evil. For we four, are the only ones empowered with the sacred knowledge of prodigious low-pressure boiler bot. If we fail in our mission to reach the boiler room, the heat may go out and countless innocent's will freeze!
So I imagine yourself, venturing into an eerie subterranean place, with children 3, 5, and 6 years of age walking lock step behind you. 'Very, very close behind you!'
Now repeat after me this immortal chant
Spiders
Snakes
Bats
And
Rats
Spiders
Snakes
Bats
And
Rats
Keep moving forward
Don't look back!
Spiders
Snakes
Bats
And
Rats
Spiders
Snakes
Bats
And
Rats
First one to cry and whimper
Will be the one attacked!
Spiders
Snakes
Bats
And
Rats
Spiders
Snakes
Bats
And
Rats
Keep together
Stay intact
Or the Devil will grab you
And cook you on his rack
So I imagine yourself, venturing into an eerie subterranean place, with children 3, 5, and 6 years of age walking lock step behind you. 'Very, very close behind you!'
Now repeat after me this immortal chant
Spiders
Snakes
Bats
And
Rats
Spiders
Snakes
Bats
And
Rats
Keep moving forward
Don't look back!
Spiders
Snakes
Bats
And
Rats
Spiders
Snakes
Bats
And
Rats
First one to cry and whimper
Will be the one attacked!
Spiders
Snakes
Bats
And
Rats
Spiders
Snakes
Bats
And
Rats
Keep together
Stay intact
Or the Devil will grab you
And cook you on his rack
I really don't know what the most disturbing poem I can think of would be... I'd have to say either Cocaine, Let's get baked, God is dead, or Just lose it. if I had to choose I'd probably say Let's get baked, many find that poem highly disturbing on AP
There's nothing here
for me to take
no memories that I could make
my life is sweet
or so they say
yeah life's a cake
let's go get baked
all day and night and dawn of noon
drift in drift out asleep awake
yeah life's not ending very soon
so like a cake
let's go get baked
yeah life's a bitch
you know I know
oh the places you could go
held back in life all of this time
like an arrow in a bow
but one day you will snap and fly
oh the lands which we shall rake
it only works if you should try
so like a cake
let's go get baked
for heaven's sake
let's go get baked
till ass is burned and shoulders ache
you know this feeling you can't shake
cause life's a cake
let's go get baked.
disturbing or interesting enough for you?^_^
There's nothing here
for me to take
no memories that I could make
my life is sweet
or so they say
yeah life's a cake
let's go get baked
all day and night and dawn of noon
drift in drift out asleep awake
yeah life's not ending very soon
so like a cake
let's go get baked
yeah life's a bitch
you know I know
oh the places you could go
held back in life all of this time
like an arrow in a bow
but one day you will snap and fly
oh the lands which we shall rake
it only works if you should try
so like a cake
let's go get baked
for heaven's sake
let's go get baked
till ass is burned and shoulders ache
you know this feeling you can't shake
cause life's a cake
let's go get baked.
disturbing or interesting enough for you?^_^
Perfection ! extreme content !
came into this world as rejected, long before it was expected.
cursed from birth devil selected all the good things i have rejected.
locked in pain childhood neglected more fuckin throwed than you suspected.
calm in danger unaffected
mind is missing dope infected
i'm a loser yeah you guessed it
the only thing that i've perfected
came into this world as rejected, long before it was expected.
cursed from birth devil selected all the good things i have rejected.
locked in pain childhood neglected more fuckin throwed than you suspected.
calm in danger unaffected
mind is missing dope infected
i'm a loser yeah you guessed it
the only thing that i've perfected
Standing on a soaking sidewalk.
Drenched straight to the core.
Watching as you pawn your pities off on some unsuspecting whore.
Collapsing into her being, listen to her sigh.
Have you felt the pain I feel?
Have you cried the tears I have had to cry?
I walk up to the front door, turn the so familiar knob.
Listening to her say your name makes my hand begin to throb against the smooth metal of the pistol.
The trigger tempts me once again.
Should I soil my still clean hands with such necessary sin?
I keep my cool as I push open the door.
I see he close in your arms, your hands caressing her body as they used to mine.
I sneek up behind you and I put the pistol to your back, I run it up your skin to your head.
All I see is red.
She screams and tries to run.
"You can't escape me, now do what you do best and get on your fucking knees."
I run the pistol to her scalp and my trigger finger twitches.
I look around at what I have done.
I put the gun to my temple, now all I see is black.
Drenched straight to the core.
Watching as you pawn your pities off on some unsuspecting whore.
Collapsing into her being, listen to her sigh.
Have you felt the pain I feel?
Have you cried the tears I have had to cry?
I walk up to the front door, turn the so familiar knob.
Listening to her say your name makes my hand begin to throb against the smooth metal of the pistol.
The trigger tempts me once again.
Should I soil my still clean hands with such necessary sin?
I keep my cool as I push open the door.
I see he close in your arms, your hands caressing her body as they used to mine.
I sneek up behind you and I put the pistol to your back, I run it up your skin to your head.
All I see is red.
She screams and tries to run.
"You can't escape me, now do what you do best and get on your fucking knees."
I run the pistol to her scalp and my trigger finger twitches.
I look around at what I have done.
I put the gun to my temple, now all I see is black.
Michael Brown’s family is beyond outraged at the devious way the police chief has chosen to disseminate piece mil information in a manner intended to assassinate the character of their son following such a brutal assassination of his person in broad daylight.
There is nothing based on the facts that have been placed before us that can justify the execution style murder of their child by this police officer as he held his hands up which is the universal sign of surrender.
The prolonged release of the officer’s name and then the subsequent alleged information regarding a robbery is the reason why the family and the local community have such distrust for the local law enforcement agencies.
It is no way transparent to release the still photographs alleged to be Michael Brown and refuse to release the photographs of the officer that executed him.
The police strategy of attempting to blame the victim will not divert our attention from being focused on the autopsy, ballistics report and the trajectory of the bullets that caused Michael’s death and will demonstrate to the world this brutal execution of an unarmed teenager.
Benjamin L Crump, Esq.
Anthony D. Gray, Esq.
Daryl D. Parks, Esq.
.:Cough~Cough:.
Oh boy, what now?
Cigars suspected stolen by Mike and his pal?
Somehow smokes linked to a story that’s
gone past foul...Oh WOW!!!
Someone must’ve told ‘em smoke ‘em if you got ‘em
But if you ain’t got ‘em then go ahead and rob ‘em.
That’s right, subject yourself to hot lead; get yourself dead
Because the cops, they’ll take aim as they aim for your head
Well, who don’t know that? That’s a known fact
Like middle of the road walking can catch you some flack
That’s right, this alleged crime in broad daylight
C’mon...ain’t that much cigar in the world
Is this how it unfurls? Blunt wrappers...Leafy toe-tappers
Possibly armed & dangerous; this sounds so strange to us
WOW, what a HIGH profile.
Tobacco felony got ‘em running wild
Gotta find a fence who trades in that style
Guess ATF* been rusty for a while; Put it on Barry
Have him start another file
But can we get a lighter with that?
The one that’s not a gat?
A story; the kind that’s based on fact?
Time and place, more exact?
50 dollars a box? C’mon now Black
It’s a dangerous shame how they twist & spin
Flipping stories around and the facts within
Shading the victim with an unproven sin
Mirroring smoke, that’s a joke where we just can’t grin
There is nothing based on the facts that have been placed before us that can justify the execution style murder of their child by this police officer as he held his hands up which is the universal sign of surrender.
The prolonged release of the officer’s name and then the subsequent alleged information regarding a robbery is the reason why the family and the local community have such distrust for the local law enforcement agencies.
It is no way transparent to release the still photographs alleged to be Michael Brown and refuse to release the photographs of the officer that executed him.
The police strategy of attempting to blame the victim will not divert our attention from being focused on the autopsy, ballistics report and the trajectory of the bullets that caused Michael’s death and will demonstrate to the world this brutal execution of an unarmed teenager.
Benjamin L Crump, Esq.
Anthony D. Gray, Esq.
Daryl D. Parks, Esq.
.:Cough~Cough:.
Oh boy, what now?
Cigars suspected stolen by Mike and his pal?
Somehow smokes linked to a story that’s
gone past foul...Oh WOW!!!
Someone must’ve told ‘em smoke ‘em if you got ‘em
But if you ain’t got ‘em then go ahead and rob ‘em.
That’s right, subject yourself to hot lead; get yourself dead
Because the cops, they’ll take aim as they aim for your head
Well, who don’t know that? That’s a known fact
Like middle of the road walking can catch you some flack
That’s right, this alleged crime in broad daylight
C’mon...ain’t that much cigar in the world
Is this how it unfurls? Blunt wrappers...Leafy toe-tappers
Possibly armed & dangerous; this sounds so strange to us
WOW, what a HIGH profile.
Tobacco felony got ‘em running wild
Gotta find a fence who trades in that style
Guess ATF* been rusty for a while; Put it on Barry
Have him start another file
But can we get a lighter with that?
The one that’s not a gat?
A story; the kind that’s based on fact?
Time and place, more exact?
50 dollars a box? C’mon now Black
It’s a dangerous shame how they twist & spin
Flipping stories around and the facts within
Shading the victim with an unproven sin
Mirroring smoke, that’s a joke where we just can’t grin
Anonymous
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Anonymous
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Anonymous
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Villanelle for the Sick
I’m driven by the voices inside my head,
I am tormented by them in everlasting disgrace.
(The answer is in the slaughtered dead)
In the dawn of night, his body lies in dread
For he was caught by death’s cold embrace.
I’m driven by the voices inside my head.
Another victim, a knife is drawn, the blood runs red.
I discriminate neither by gender nor race,
(The answer is in the slaughtered dead)
For crimson is her tomb, her bed
A look of surprise upon her pretty face.
I’m driven by the voices inside my head.
Her tongue silenced, dying words go unsaid.
Her crown lost, for I have a tendency to misplace.
(The answer is in the slaughtered dead)
I know not when this bloodlust will be fed,
I walk towards another town, another place.
I’m driven by the voices inside my head.
(The answer is in the slaughtered dead)
I’m driven by the voices inside my head,
I am tormented by them in everlasting disgrace.
(The answer is in the slaughtered dead)
In the dawn of night, his body lies in dread
For he was caught by death’s cold embrace.
I’m driven by the voices inside my head.
Another victim, a knife is drawn, the blood runs red.
I discriminate neither by gender nor race,
(The answer is in the slaughtered dead)
For crimson is her tomb, her bed
A look of surprise upon her pretty face.
I’m driven by the voices inside my head.
Her tongue silenced, dying words go unsaid.
Her crown lost, for I have a tendency to misplace.
(The answer is in the slaughtered dead)
I know not when this bloodlust will be fed,
I walk towards another town, another place.
I’m driven by the voices inside my head.
(The answer is in the slaughtered dead)
A Brief Madness
A hobo his head in the trash
looking for tidbits
snuffling down discards
from a nearby cafe
looking up and smiling toothlessly
Yellowish eyes crusted
smelling like a dumpster
shivering like a wet cat
For a brief moment
I saw a machete through his head
smashing the ugliness
in bits of bones and brain
A club smashing his twisted body
beating his gangrenous flesh
into the dirt where it belonged
stamping on it with glee
I stared at him and flinched
as he spoke in a gravelly whisper
not all you see are what they are
beauteous countenance can hide most evil
The hobo walked away
holding a half eaten burger
a tinkling bell sounded
briefly, and I knew he knew
my brief madness
visiting angels
often do.
A hobo his head in the trash
looking for tidbits
snuffling down discards
from a nearby cafe
looking up and smiling toothlessly
Yellowish eyes crusted
smelling like a dumpster
shivering like a wet cat
For a brief moment
I saw a machete through his head
smashing the ugliness
in bits of bones and brain
A club smashing his twisted body
beating his gangrenous flesh
into the dirt where it belonged
stamping on it with glee
I stared at him and flinched
as he spoke in a gravelly whisper
not all you see are what they are
beauteous countenance can hide most evil
The hobo walked away
holding a half eaten burger
a tinkling bell sounded
briefly, and I knew he knew
my brief madness
visiting angels
often do.
Antigonish [I met a man who wasn’t there]
Hughes Mearns
Yesterday, upon the stair,
I met a man who wasn’t there
He wasn’t there again today
I wish, I wish he’d go away...
When I came home last night at three
The man was waiting there for me
But when I looked around the hall
I couldn’t see him there at all!
Go away, go away, don’t you come back any more!
Go away, go away, and please don’t slam the door... (slam!)
Last night I saw upon the stair
A little man who wasn’t there
He wasn’t there again today
Oh, how I wish he’d go away...
god damn it do i hate that fucking poem...
Hughes Mearns
Yesterday, upon the stair,
I met a man who wasn’t there
He wasn’t there again today
I wish, I wish he’d go away...
When I came home last night at three
The man was waiting there for me
But when I looked around the hall
I couldn’t see him there at all!
Go away, go away, don’t you come back any more!
Go away, go away, and please don’t slam the door... (slam!)
Last night I saw upon the stair
A little man who wasn’t there
He wasn’t there again today
Oh, how I wish he’d go away...
god damn it do i hate that fucking poem...
