Poetry competition CLOSED 1st July 2015 2:04am
WINNER
Anonymous
trophy
RUNNER-UP: ilovescarystories

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Historic Crimes and Criminals

MadameLavender
Guardian of Shadows
United States 86awards
Joined 17th Feb 2013
Forum Posts: 5594

Poetry Contest

Time to hit the history books!
Write a poem, any style, length, about a crime and the criminals or gangsters, who committed it.  Looking for historical content--tell a bit about the time period in which the crime took place, and what happened concerning the crime itself, who-done-it, etc.  

It can be something famous, like the JFK assasination, Watergate scandal, Jack the Ripper, Al Capone, Sacco & Vanzetti, Manson Murders, etc. or something not so well known, but educate your reader about your topic, with your poem.  

If it's something gory/murder oriented, that's fine, but also keep the historical aspect as well, in addition to the extreme content.  No collabs--the Webmiss is too busy, redesigning the webpage to add in additional trophies to her to-do list.  As many entries, as you want, though.

Have fun, & GO!  

ilovescarystories
Thought Provoker
United States 2awards
Joined 7th Mar 2014
Forum Posts: 159

My boney hands wrap around the coffin.
Skin grey to the touch.
Hair is now the food for the worms.
Blood has run cold.
But the fun has just begun.
I AM BACK BITCHES!
Pocket knife in hand.
Oh at my command they will be gone.
Crawling to them oh there going to pay.
Gonna hunt all the whores.
Gonna beat them until they say their sorry.
Gonna rip their spines out once they do.
Pull, pull, CRACK!
1 and 2
There goes a few little fingers
3 and 4
I'm going to scare them to their core
5 and 6
Gonna strain their blood in a chive garden.
Your blood shall be my ink, your bones shall be my trophy.
7 and 8
With all my might, I'm gonna rip off their  " private parts"
9 and 10
Your going to turn up dead.
All these thoughts looming.
I walk by this white chapel, ain't no going back now.
The past, has grown stale and now I'm back as the alpha male.
All I gotta do is send the big boss man a ounce of blood or maybe two.
1888 has now come into the dock.
Oh dear Mary, you really are a bloody one aren't you?
Oh lovely Annie, your beauty is truly uncanny.
Naive Elizabeth, don't you see? Death waits for no one.
Hello Mary Kelly, Lock up your room, hide under your bed but this thread of death is inevitable.
Oh Alice, I will take you to wonderland.
Pen, and quill I'm gonna write me a name.
                        Your humble servant, Jack the Ripper

poet Anonymous

A little background info for ya: The Red Barn Murder was a notorious murder committed in Suffolk, England, in 1827. A young woman, Maria Marten, was shot dead by her lover, William Corder. The two had arranged to meet at the Red Barn, a local landmark, before eloping. Maria was never heard from again. Corder fled the scene and, although he sent Marten's family letters claiming she was in good health, her body was later discovered buried in the barn after her stepmother spoke of having dreamt about the murder. Corder was hanged in Suffolk in 1828, his last words being "I am guilty; my sentence is just; I deserve my fate; and, may God have mercy on my soul." A book, covered in Corder's human skin after his execution still exists today.

Ol' Foxey

I guess you could say
it started and ended
with love

I loved her on the night
we first met

she was so pure,
her wild hair cascading
down the centre of her spine;
it was the first thing
her blood dyed
as it left her life

her mouth, pretty
as a gunshot wound,
the perfect 'O'
frozen in suspense
and obedience
to our cause.

I slept well
until the prophecy

the demons
nipped my ear,
scratched my skin
with retribution,
and I thought of her
under the barn door
blanketed in snow.

For years, her bones
would ring a bell,
a siren call
to where she lay
silent, and decomposing.

Even now,
as I stand in the square
a rope pressed to my throat
and her letters in my pocket,
I think of my handkerchief
tied around her neck

I think of her eyes
wilting below the rafters,
the smile across my face
as the knot was tied,
the heaviness of her legs
in that dusty sack

and I am not afraid
to die.

MadameLavender
Guardian of Shadows
United States 86awards
Joined 17th Feb 2013
Forum Posts: 5594

Great start--thanks for kicking this one off, Scary & Missy!  :)

crowfly
Tyrant of Words
United States 18awards
Joined 18th Oct 2014
Forum Posts: 29

Spring-heeled Jack

I hear the step of Long Liz Stride
An angel of the street
She says she'll give me quite a ride
And make my night complete

But Whitechapel's where I seek my prey
And where Liz trades on her back
Now she'll comprehend that Hell won't pay
And call me Spring-heeled Jack

I send her heart to Scotland Yard
Together with a rhyme
"Godspeed" is printed on the card
"And better luck next time."  

poet Anonymous

Anonymous said:<< post removed >>

Dayum, Hardallover. You write for Corporate Avenger??
These lyrics are all over the net, far back as 2001, though here it is slightly altered in a few lines.

http://genius.com/Corporate-avenger-christians-murdered-indians-lyrics

http://www.metrolyrics.com/christians-murdered-indians-lyrics-corporate-avenger.html

http://www.antiwarsongs.org/canzone.php?lang=en&id=47693

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XdkGbthcmy0

poet Anonymous

BTW, I personally like best Queen's version of the injustice to Indians .

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3qK3UTfcm_4


MadameLavender
Guardian of Shadows
United States 86awards
Joined 17th Feb 2013
Forum Posts: 5594

Yep, that ain't cool at all, but at least there's now one less entry to have in the mix of ORIGINAL WRITES, created by the competition contestants themselves, that I'll be choosing a winner from.

poet Anonymous

Now most of you will not remember
this one cold snowy day in Maine; it was 1996, just after December
when a local man, apparently psychotic, took more than two lives
let me share how the path from human being to sadist arrives

He was the son of one of the most respected merchants around
they were middle class and lived in the center of town
the boy attended catholic school and played the flute
and was quite a musician; and, as such, he marched in parades and donned the band suit

Thin with a thick head of brown hair
he was cute, and most of the local girls couldn't help but stare
With a thousand-watt smile, he was charismatic yet shy
and was an alter boy in church; an all-around guy

After high school, he got in with the "wrong crowd"
but didn't we all.  Most hide secrets under this shroud
Showing up at parties, he seemed normal enough
always asking to get high and if we didn't have any pot, he called our bluff

He had money and always bought beer
which made him welcome anywhere with cheer
Can't recall if he ever had a job, but he had started to wander around town
wearing a long black coat, and for years, he walked a lot, always looking down

Now he wasn't the town drunk or the buzz kid you'd think
he was just the son of that family who had a backyard ice rink
Somewhere along the line, when he was approaching thirty six
he sought psychiatric help and pills, and he started looking everywhere and anywhere the ultimate fix

Unable to function, he laid low and drank a lot
and most of us remembered him but then just forgot
One night, he wandered into a chapel full of nuns
and what he did to them, didn't require guns

It was the kind of home where a pastor and nuns live
where they worshipped; it was their lives that they decided to give
it was the same church where this boy sat with his family
on Sundays. There were no services this night, only a door that opened with a key

Knife in hand, he smashed the door window and he went up the step
into the path of four caring souls, who opened the door and wept
at the sight of this shell of a man
who decided to stab four of them with as much force as a possessed man can

He killed two of them, as they held out their giving hand
to help him, a lost soul, in a trance, in a forgiving land
A rampage, the town awoke to this story and were told
about the local man, who stopped his medications a few days before and now was in jail, on a psychiatric hold

Lapsed into a coma, one nun survived after being beat over the head with the very cane that she used to walk with and with a statue of the blessed
One other did not succumb but suffered injuries that had become her saving grace
as she was saved after an officer pulled him off her as he swung his knife at her face

As he was led out to the police car, his white tee shirt was bloodied and his face showed a perplexing frown
And now, after more than fifteen years, he is allowed out about town
without supervision
he is now allowed to live his life with barely any restriction

Though it has been nearly twenty years
the nuns of this parish have learned to live with their fears
This man served time in a psychiatric hospital and a group home
and is now allowed to freely roam

Let us take a minute to think about what this silent massacre brings
And what possible reason he could have had for doing such horrible things
The man said nothing as he desecrated God's home
perhaps we recognized a psychotic rage, but his truth will never be known

One thing that I know from being this man's childhood friend
is that he did not trust God's will in the end
and I think that he sought revenge at the almighty that cold windy night
revenge at his plight and his circumstances, but this type of revenge is never right


http://images.usatoday.com/news/_photos/2006/01/26/nunsanniversary-i1217.jpg

MadameLavender
Guardian of Shadows
United States 86awards
Joined 17th Feb 2013
Forum Posts: 5594

Congrats to everyone--thanks for entering the comp, and Crowfly--you also get runner up, but there wasn't room for me to officially assign it to you, but kudos all around. :)

poet Anonymous

Thank you for a cool comp, and congrats to everybody

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