Dark Poems Seeking Honest Critique
Evil poetry and morbid poems about death and horror - Honest critique has been requested for these poems.
Training Day 6
Written by Taurek
Poem Published 23rd June 2017 8:04am
She’s in the desert getting fucked
You could be out there dead
For hours
We’re all just trying
To put off
The inevitable
Like when they tell you
No one is really evil
That’s just the Devil
Convincing you
It doesn’t exist
The eyes tell the whole
Sad story
The bitch is from
Out of town
And lying
So when I’m
Lying down
Listening to you
I’m not interested
I’m doing it
For your benefit
And all the monsters
Discovered afterwards
Are just there because
I didn’t have the...
You could be out there dead
For hours
We’re all just trying
To put off
The inevitable
Like when they tell you
No one is really evil
That’s just the Devil
Convincing you
It doesn’t exist
The eyes tell the whole
Sad story
The bitch is from
Out of town
And lying
So when I’m
Lying down
Listening to you
I’m not interested
I’m doing it
For your benefit
And all the monsters
Discovered afterwards
Are just there because
I didn’t have the...
13 reads
0 Comments
The High Priest of O.R.
Written by crowfly
Poem Published 22nd June 2017 9:38pm
The holy water sterilized
He performs his ablutions to prepare
His acolytes garb him head to foot
A crimson gown to hide the spray
The patient to be exorcised
Induced sleep, fever dreams
The priest incises, to be precise,
Probes the demons that therein lie
The patient wakens on a cloud
The pain a fading memory
He can only pray it won't return
As the high priest beckons
Expressing some concern....
Photo from the David Cronenberg film "Dead Ringers"
He performs his ablutions to prepare
His acolytes garb him head to foot
A crimson gown to hide the spray
The patient to be exorcised
Induced sleep, fever dreams
The priest incises, to be precise,
Probes the demons that therein lie
The patient wakens on a cloud
The pain a fading memory
He can only pray it won't return
As the high priest beckons
Expressing some concern....
Photo from the David Cronenberg film "Dead Ringers"
25 reads
4 Comments
The Railway Children
From rusting railway tracks,
they untangle the suicide from steel wheels.
I can see his socks, orange and blue,
as he’s folded into a body bag.
On the concourse, commuters grumble
and turn clock face to stone.
I think a hearse is gliding towards me -
but all at once, a host of commuters battle for a cab.
In the way silence enters an empty room,
death stole a son, brother and lover
Touch the rails
and touch the neurosis of an edgy City.
I wouldn’t choose to die in such socks.
they untangle the suicide from steel wheels.
I can see his socks, orange and blue,
as he’s folded into a body bag.
On the concourse, commuters grumble
and turn clock face to stone.
I think a hearse is gliding towards me -
but all at once, a host of commuters battle for a cab.
In the way silence enters an empty room,
death stole a son, brother and lover
Touch the rails
and touch the neurosis of an edgy City.
I wouldn’t choose to die in such socks.
26 reads
2 Comments
fall the rain
Written by JohnFeddeler
Poem Published 22nd June 2017 4:39pm
can fall the rain?
can rage the trees, that give a hospice
to every weary, wounded bird?
can call the birds by name?
was every road so cobbled & split
was every cloud a bruise upon the sky
was every grassy field parched & withered
was every hill so high
a soldier’s helmet is a crown of thorns
his aches, a spear thrust in his side
full of a minstrel that merely mourns
full of sorrow, but never cried
dismantle the cannon that pocks the land
rip the flag that takes no mends
a thousand miles begins a journey
a...
can rage the trees, that give a hospice
to every weary, wounded bird?
can call the birds by name?
was every road so cobbled & split
was every cloud a bruise upon the sky
was every grassy field parched & withered
was every hill so high
a soldier’s helmet is a crown of thorns
his aches, a spear thrust in his side
full of a minstrel that merely mourns
full of sorrow, but never cried
dismantle the cannon that pocks the land
rip the flag that takes no mends
a thousand miles begins a journey
a...
39 reads
4 Comments
Empty
Written by Ahrima
Poem Published 21st June 2017 8:14pm
My body feels light..
I feel so empty tonight..
I feel no love,
but I feel no hate.
I don't feel life.
But no death romes inside my mind.
I dont have a heart..
Or a soul.
I dont have a smile,
But I have no Frown.
I have no happiness,
But I am not sad.
The one thing I do have,
Is a fear...
Of the emptiness.
That no one can cure.
I feel so empty tonight..
I feel no love,
but I feel no hate.
I don't feel life.
But no death romes inside my mind.
I dont have a heart..
Or a soul.
I dont have a smile,
But I have no Frown.
I have no happiness,
But I am not sad.
The one thing I do have,
Is a fear...
Of the emptiness.
That no one can cure.
65 reads
2 Comments
Regenerate
As the heavy winds flow, drag
I feel the pain, the agony,
Like a thousand nails piercing me, going through my skin, my bones, my emptiness
Like a double-edged sword, cutting me into a million pieces,
slowly and steadily,
separating my tissues from my organs.
As the dark scorching sun shines brightly,
I feel the depth, the nought perception,
Like a fire, burning
Burning my skin, my bones, my guts, my existence?
Burning my emotions, my feelings, my being
my clothes evaporate,
my hair leaves a pungent smell.
I stand and gaze, moan,...
I feel the pain, the agony,
Like a thousand nails piercing me, going through my skin, my bones, my emptiness
Like a double-edged sword, cutting me into a million pieces,
slowly and steadily,
separating my tissues from my organs.
As the dark scorching sun shines brightly,
I feel the depth, the nought perception,
Like a fire, burning
Burning my skin, my bones, my guts, my existence?
Burning my emotions, my feelings, my being
my clothes evaporate,
my hair leaves a pungent smell.
I stand and gaze, moan,...
29 reads
1 Comment
Terrible Young People Who Are Big on Social Media
Written by Taurek
Poem Published 21st June 2017 8:55am
This is where I just
Put it out there
And you can feel any type
Of way you want
I don’t care
I just do it
I see this guy
For the clown he is
And just accept it
Why did that line
Feel just like
An 80s movie
Based in Miami-Dade?
Because I’m not sure
I wanna be around
You people right now
Because I’m an alcoholic
Right now
And I can’t look you
In the eye
Your heroes live
Just long enough
To disappoint you
And the hero
Shouldn’t be someone ...
Put it out there
And you can feel any type
Of way you want
I don’t care
I just do it
I see this guy
For the clown he is
And just accept it
Why did that line
Feel just like
An 80s movie
Based in Miami-Dade?
Because I’m not sure
I wanna be around
You people right now
Because I’m an alcoholic
Right now
And I can’t look you
In the eye
Your heroes live
Just long enough
To disappoint you
And the hero
Shouldn’t be someone ...
36 reads
4 Comments
Reoccurring
Written by mel44
Poem Published 21st June 2017 00:04am
Something there
Yet not to see
Cloaked in dreams
Vision blank
Like white paper reams
Hidden well
A low lit blur
There but cold
Loud unknown
Like secrets untold
Just beyond
Outside of reach
Yet aware
Presence felt
Like a piercing stare
Giving chase
At rate unknown
Cannot flee
Limbs planted
Like roots of a tree
Nothing heard
Cries won’t escape
No sound there
Voiceless calls
Like a scream of air
Blind, muted
And paralysed
Gasping breath
Shocked awake ...
Yet not to see
Cloaked in dreams
Vision blank
Like white paper reams
Hidden well
A low lit blur
There but cold
Loud unknown
Like secrets untold
Just beyond
Outside of reach
Yet aware
Presence felt
Like a piercing stare
Giving chase
At rate unknown
Cannot flee
Limbs planted
Like roots of a tree
Nothing heard
Cries won’t escape
No sound there
Voiceless calls
Like a scream of air
Blind, muted
And paralysed
Gasping breath
Shocked awake ...
36 reads
3 Comments
Bitter Gore
Written by Ahrima
Poem Published 20th June 2017 10:38pm
The fuss,
The guts,
Of the night,
I cry,
Blood...
Guts...
GORE...
what is this horror,
That I brought to others?
Why is my heart ripped...
Ripped out of my chest of hiddiness?
My lungs and liver...
Stung by a arrow from a quiver...
My jaw barely hanging from my head.
My tail hanging on the desk,
Of my friend,
my dead friend,
Gore.
The guts,
Of the night,
I cry,
Blood...
Guts...
GORE...
what is this horror,
That I brought to others?
Why is my heart ripped...
Ripped out of my chest of hiddiness?
My lungs and liver...
Stung by a arrow from a quiver...
My jaw barely hanging from my head.
My tail hanging on the desk,
Of my friend,
my dead friend,
Gore.
39 reads
2 Comments
f**k you Your face And everyone who looks like you
Written by Gearigon
Poem Published 20th June 2017 9:46pm
Fornication Under the Consent of the King
And you don’t have
My permission to breed
For you
Snakes in the grass
Knives in the back
And smiles with sharp teeth
But not for me
For those I love
In those
I believe
And you don’t have
My permission to breed
For you
Snakes in the grass
Knives in the back
And smiles with sharp teeth
But not for me
For those I love
In those
I believe
24 reads
2 Comments