Evil poetry and morbid poems about death and horror - Friendly feedback has been requested for these poems.
sinisterspital
Poem Published
Yesterday 6:25pm
Yesterday 6:25pm
a play of overdue theaterics
What is left of a man unable to hold weight
In that he should find undeniable love?
So unattached to the radiance once
found in spotlights solitary glow.
In seeing his own reflection from the
dressing room, not but a stranger appears.
Unsure this ensemble before him, just
tattered sequence of lunatic rotations.
Volatile these characters clamoring static
crescendos void resemblance of harmony.
Not a staged imposition has one seeing
playwrights leap past scripted cutscenes.
His audience ravenous for a solution to end
this...
In that he should find undeniable love?
So unattached to the radiance once
found in spotlights solitary glow.
In seeing his own reflection from the
dressing room, not but a stranger appears.
Unsure this ensemble before him, just
tattered sequence of lunatic rotations.
Volatile these characters clamoring static
crescendos void resemblance of harmony.
Not a staged imposition has one seeing
playwrights leap past scripted cutscenes.
His audience ravenous for a solution to end
this...
15 reads
2 Comments
TKirchoff96
Poem Published
Yesterday 6:12pm
Yesterday 6:12pm
Her Addiction
As she lay awake at night
wanting to be the perfect one
she looked at the blade in her hand
not wanting to but needing to
She took that blade across her wrist
like it's cutting a tomato
feeling the sting but not the pain
getting the high but not the remorse
She looked at her wrist wit tears in her eyes
wanting to feel that high again
next thing she knew her blade was covered in her blood
like dipped in red paint
She went to the bathroom to stop the bledding
but it kept coursing out like a river
that would...
wanting to be the perfect one
she looked at the blade in her hand
not wanting to but needing to
She took that blade across her wrist
like it's cutting a tomato
feeling the sting but not the pain
getting the high but not the remorse
She looked at her wrist wit tears in her eyes
wanting to feel that high again
next thing she knew her blade was covered in her blood
like dipped in red paint
She went to the bathroom to stop the bledding
but it kept coursing out like a river
that would...
25 reads
1 Comment
ThroughTheVeil
Poem Published
Yesterday 3:24am
Yesterday 3:24am
Paper Cliffs
A paper cliff, and a crashing wave,
stick figures walking across the page,
nighttime curls,
and the darkness furls,
and in the starlight's shadows,
there grows to be a gallows.
Towards the ledge,
come back from the edge.
Figures turns around,
nearly could have drowned
Erase the line,
go back in time......
stick figures walking across the page,
nighttime curls,
and the darkness furls,
and in the starlight's shadows,
there grows to be a gallows.
Towards the ledge,
come back from the edge.
Figures turns around,
nearly could have drowned
Erase the line,
go back in time......
15 reads
0 Comments
Moonfire-Lark
Poem Published
15th Aug 2017 4:26pm
15th Aug 2017 4:26pm
Internal Rhapsody
Death becomes of Venus
No songs in the bell
Is the tea of England still warm?
Break the waves - seize the chorus
Make a prize that will do
Sleep well, sleep well
A volume of internal issues
Will soon be subdued
No songs in the bell
Is the tea of England still warm?
Break the waves - seize the chorus
Make a prize that will do
Sleep well, sleep well
A volume of internal issues
Will soon be subdued
18 reads
0 Comments
Moonfire-Lark
Poem Published
15th Aug 2017 4:17pm
15th Aug 2017 4:17pm
Blood Never Runs In Ice
Found a hand in the snow
In the glare of the sun
Nearly camouflaged in ice
And the blood never runs
Angelic behaviour
Guarding your door
In the back of your mind
What will they find?
Looking for something to feel
Another mark, another deal
They made the pig squeal
The last rites to a meal
Engrave your name in the snow
Until the heartache froze
The more you react
The less you know
You'll dance in your own disease
And it's an end to all means
Is it the moon or child who screams
Over and over for the...
In the glare of the sun
Nearly camouflaged in ice
And the blood never runs
Angelic behaviour
Guarding your door
In the back of your mind
What will they find?
Looking for something to feel
Another mark, another deal
They made the pig squeal
The last rites to a meal
Engrave your name in the snow
Until the heartache froze
The more you react
The less you know
You'll dance in your own disease
And it's an end to all means
Is it the moon or child who screams
Over and over for the...
18 reads
0 Comments
Fillenatrix
Poem Published
15th Aug 2017 11:04am
15th Aug 2017 11:04am
Cyber Sculptor of Toys
Cyber sculptor of toys
Dance dance,
You're my puppet on a string.
When I cut you loose I
Won't
Feel anything,
Because I still have my
Real boys.
Cut you loose
Into my emotional fire.
You'll burn
And keep me warm,
It's all you're good for.
I'm the one who carved you,
Painted rosy cheeks and
Smiles on blank wood.
You can only move when I want you to.
Dance dance,
You're my puppet on a string.
I'm the master behind the computer screen.
Dance dance,
You're my puppet on a string.
When I cut you loose I
Won't
Feel anything,
Because I still have my
Real boys.
Cut you loose
Into my emotional fire.
You'll burn
And keep me warm,
It's all you're good for.
I'm the one who carved you,
Painted rosy cheeks and
Smiles on blank wood.
You can only move when I want you to.
Dance dance,
You're my puppet on a string.
I'm the master behind the computer screen.
25 reads
7 Comments
Moonfire-Lark
Poem Published
14th Aug 2017 6:58pm
14th Aug 2017 6:58pm
Artificial Intelligence
Dangerous thoughts
Dangerous minds
A secret language commence
Too intelligent for their own good
PULL THE PLUG!!!!
Dangerous minds
A secret language commence
Too intelligent for their own good
PULL THE PLUG!!!!
26 reads
2 Comments
sinisterspital
Poem Published
14th Aug 2017 8:36am
14th Aug 2017 8:36am
nefarious defacement
Drag this occasion over the corpse rotting
sulfuric this degenerate vessel once seen vital
dish sorrow in multiple fashion erroneously
lost is the will to evoke something to be
heretic decrees amidst tomes stipulating
to dissolve embodiments in necromancer roles
Not prevalent this illumination of plagues
gaining footing edge on communal sources
blood moon encapsulates abdornement
of deviant fog rolling sickly slow inland
herpetically sinister minions fall into points
of advantage under war chorus of wicked wrens
marbled...
sulfuric this degenerate vessel once seen vital
dish sorrow in multiple fashion erroneously
lost is the will to evoke something to be
heretic decrees amidst tomes stipulating
to dissolve embodiments in necromancer roles
Not prevalent this illumination of plagues
gaining footing edge on communal sources
blood moon encapsulates abdornement
of deviant fog rolling sickly slow inland
herpetically sinister minions fall into points
of advantage under war chorus of wicked wrens
marbled...
18 reads
6 Comments
Lily_Mae
Poem Published
14th Aug 2017 4:14am
14th Aug 2017 4:14am
Dark night Of the Soul~ Lily Mae & John Patrick Robbins aka Gonzo
Some people mean well but when they ask you the question
are they really prepared for the answer?
How am I? Well let me tell you.
Life is lived daily by the frayed edges of well worn rope.
My stale cigarette is just one inhale away from burning my flesh.
Lovers? I'm one fuck away from a grand STD because I don't care
enough to love anymore. Just into the harsh slip and slide offered
in the back of the sticky floored bar. It's filled with people like me here.
We don't talk, we stare, we smoke, the burn of the poison going down
strokes...
are they really prepared for the answer?
How am I? Well let me tell you.
Life is lived daily by the frayed edges of well worn rope.
My stale cigarette is just one inhale away from burning my flesh.
Lovers? I'm one fuck away from a grand STD because I don't care
enough to love anymore. Just into the harsh slip and slide offered
in the back of the sticky floored bar. It's filled with people like me here.
We don't talk, we stare, we smoke, the burn of the poison going down
strokes...
30 reads
2 Comments
ThroughTheVeil
Poem Published
14th Aug 2017 1:40am
14th Aug 2017 1:40am
The Black Bird Sang
The black bird sang in the dead of night
It sang its song for me
The black bird sang in the dead of night
He said its time to leave
The black bird sang in the dead of night
And we flew far away
The black bird sang in the dead of night
And all the bells they ring
The black bird sang in the dead of night
He led me far beyond
The black bird sang in the dead of night
He tempts the with his song
The black bird sang in the dead of night
He sang to the abyss
The black bird sang in the dead of night
We seal it with a kiss
It sang its song for me
The black bird sang in the dead of night
He said its time to leave
The black bird sang in the dead of night
And we flew far away
The black bird sang in the dead of night
And all the bells they ring
The black bird sang in the dead of night
He led me far beyond
The black bird sang in the dead of night
He tempts the with his song
The black bird sang in the dead of night
He sang to the abyss
The black bird sang in the dead of night
We seal it with a kiss
23 reads
1 Comment
kiernanmrourke
Poem Published
12th Aug 2017 8:30pm
12th Aug 2017 8:30pm
If There Was A Way 7-8-17
If there was a way that you’d love me again
To bring both the sun and the moon close to kiss
If there was a way you could pardon my sin
To quell fire and ice in a heart such as this
If I could leave sleeping the pain that has woken
The deserts and oceans would share the milieu;
If there was a way to unbreak the broken
And take all our pieces to glue back anew
Our story’s left wanting, forever it’ll yearn
Cut short to the quick- a premature end
This poem isn’t done, but that bridge is burned
Because there’s no way that you’d love me again.
To bring both the sun and the moon close to kiss
If there was a way you could pardon my sin
To quell fire and ice in a heart such as this
If I could leave sleeping the pain that has woken
The deserts and oceans would share the milieu;
If there was a way to unbreak the broken
And take all our pieces to glue back anew
Our story’s left wanting, forever it’ll yearn
Cut short to the quick- a premature end
This poem isn’t done, but that bridge is burned
Because there’s no way that you’d love me again.
28 reads
3 Comments
Dark Poems Seeking Friendly Advice