Poetry competition CLOSED 7th May 2017 5:40pm
WINNER
Anonymous
Anonymous
RUNNER-UP:
UbiquitousVoid
Page:
Scare me...
Unto God….
It was the day when she at last threw off her mantle of grief, that she came alive. Three years after her husband of 15 years died of a heart attack. A sudden departure that shattered her as if she was fragile glass; she never thought that death would visit people of his age. She felt lost and afraid, as he had been her anchor since she was 20 years old, and out of the orphanage only two years.
But that morning, three years later, she woke up and for the first time saw how bright the sun shone through her window, heard the breeze rustling the leaves of the mango tree outside, and how the murmurs of leaves rubbing together sounded like a quiet gentle conversation by people unseen.
She got up and for the first time looked at herself in the mirror and smiled. She had a beautiful body, un-scarred by stretch marks and her breasts pert and proud.
She decided that she would take up her friend’s invitation to go out for dinner that weekend. Her friend had been pestering her for months to go out and enjoy life again. Go out with friends and meet new people, come on it’s been three years…her girlfriend had said, and not once but repeatedly.
She wore her tiny red dress, just a sheath that covered her from under her armpit to four inches above her knees, with a small red handbag to match. She felt free, she felt beautiful and for the first time in three years she felt alive.
She walked out of the house and sauntered towards the car-park where her friend was waiting in her car.
Suddenly, pain hit her head from behind and darkness fell.
She opened her eyes and saw a star-studded sky. She could not move, her body didn’t seem to respond to her will to get up or sit up. She just lied there, on spongy ground, screaming within but couldn’t utter a sound.
A hooded figure knelt down near her. He smelled like roses and ashes. She wanted to cry out but she could not even summon a whimper.
He spoke
It is God’s will
for thou shall not suffer
a witch to live
I still thy heart
thus thou shalt not raise
a false cry
thy hands shall not
with the wicked
be an unrighteous witness
thus, eternal sleep
I grant thee
Succour
from sinning
no more shall thou transgress
death I pay upon thee
not for mine own
but for the salvation
of thy soul
this chalice I offer thee
not for thy lips
but for thy throat
unto the gods of darkness...
Jube, Domine, benedicere
Inclinate vos
ad benedictionem
She felt the sharpness of steel on her neck and the stars showered down from the skies.
It was the day when she at last threw off her mantle of grief, that she came alive. Three years after her husband of 15 years died of a heart attack. A sudden departure that shattered her as if she was fragile glass; she never thought that death would visit people of his age. She felt lost and afraid, as he had been her anchor since she was 20 years old, and out of the orphanage only two years.
But that morning, three years later, she woke up and for the first time saw how bright the sun shone through her window, heard the breeze rustling the leaves of the mango tree outside, and how the murmurs of leaves rubbing together sounded like a quiet gentle conversation by people unseen.
She got up and for the first time looked at herself in the mirror and smiled. She had a beautiful body, un-scarred by stretch marks and her breasts pert and proud.
She decided that she would take up her friend’s invitation to go out for dinner that weekend. Her friend had been pestering her for months to go out and enjoy life again. Go out with friends and meet new people, come on it’s been three years…her girlfriend had said, and not once but repeatedly.
She wore her tiny red dress, just a sheath that covered her from under her armpit to four inches above her knees, with a small red handbag to match. She felt free, she felt beautiful and for the first time in three years she felt alive.
She walked out of the house and sauntered towards the car-park where her friend was waiting in her car.
Suddenly, pain hit her head from behind and darkness fell.
She opened her eyes and saw a star-studded sky. She could not move, her body didn’t seem to respond to her will to get up or sit up. She just lied there, on spongy ground, screaming within but couldn’t utter a sound.
A hooded figure knelt down near her. He smelled like roses and ashes. She wanted to cry out but she could not even summon a whimper.
He spoke
It is God’s will
for thou shall not suffer
a witch to live
I still thy heart
thus thou shalt not raise
a false cry
thy hands shall not
with the wicked
be an unrighteous witness
thus, eternal sleep
I grant thee
Succour
from sinning
no more shall thou transgress
death I pay upon thee
not for mine own
but for the salvation
of thy soul
this chalice I offer thee
not for thy lips
but for thy throat
unto the gods of darkness...
Jube, Domine, benedicere
Inclinate vos
ad benedictionem
She felt the sharpness of steel on her neck and the stars showered down from the skies.
THEY COME
They come in the night
Demonic army of fright
To pierce the ears
Of those that hear
And blind the eyes
Of those that see
These puss suckers
From the depths of hell
Shall rule the earth
For seven years
Those of that survive
They’re reign of terror
Shall curse that death
Did not prevail
So tonight
Consider the end
A friend
They come in the night
Demonic army of fright
To pierce the ears
Of those that hear
And blind the eyes
Of those that see
These puss suckers
From the depths of hell
Shall rule the earth
For seven years
Those of that survive
They’re reign of terror
Shall curse that death
Did not prevail
So tonight
Consider the end
A friend
Premonition
And as you're driving in your car
Too late now you've read this far
It comes to pass on a winding road
A cruising sedan and a lorry load
And as you go by you hear a shout
This is what she had been talking about
And your mind will ring your ears will pop
Have to pull over for a while and stop
Contemplating how weird life can be
On the back of the lorry a log rolls free
At Equinox
I had forgotten
All of it
Every bit of it
Now
Day by day
Bit by bit
It was coming back
I remembered,
Her email last October 1st.
Asking me - - -
Would I?
Could I?
Maybe?
Join her for a "little" celebration/ceremony on the 31st?
I remembered . . .
The meadow
Candles
Blood red wine
Star shaped white silk cloth spread on the ground
Wine sipping
Ceremonial stripping
Shivering
Dizziness
Caressing
Erect nipples
Erect penis
Lighting the candles
Lying down in the pentagram
Her body splayed to the pentagram's points
Entering her
Thrusting to the strokes of an unseen clock
Those were my memories
Now, on this October 1st
An email
Short
Blunt
A command
“Be here
On the 31st”
I write this
On a plane
To Austin
It is, of course,
The 31st
I, quite literally, could not, not be on that plane to Austin
A car pulled up in front of me at Passenger Pick-Up
Door swing open
Voice --deeper, richer than I remembered
"Get in"
She drove in silence
I stared
Barely recognized her
Longer hair, red so dark it was nearly black, hid most of her face
Breasts, my god, I am certain I would have remembered those
Pearl white skin that nearly glowed
Cleavage that showed the edge of her nipples
Her dress, also a deep, dark, almost black shade of red,
Flowed and hugged her body as if it were a living layer of skin
Her arms, covered with lace sleeves down to her fingers
Her nails, polished that same shade of red/black
The dress, slit up above her waist
Tunic style held with a silver chain just under her breasts
And, yet, the fabric stayed close to her body
Except, as she drove, her movements
Bared her leg
As if the fabric willed it so
Showing, the tunic was all she wore
Showing also,
Pearl white glowing skin and a glimpse of red/black pubic hair
An instant erection
Painful one
Pain in my balls
The ride may have been long or maybe it was short
I don’t remember
Arrived
In full moonlight
at a familiar meadow
In its center, already spread, a white silk star shaped cloth
Like last year
Waiting for us
To finish
What we started
A year ago
She whispered
"Your flight was late
It's almost time
Get ready
Quickly"
I stood frozen
Her red/black tunic flowed off of her
without any effort on her part
pooled at her feet
She looked at me
screamed
"Now!"
I reached to unbutton my shirt
She ripped it off of me
My t-shirt too
Also, my
shoes
socks
pants
briefs
The shredded pile made it clear
How quickly it had happened
Both of us naked
Nipples erect
Penis painfully so
She was already wet
I could see droplets glistening in her hair
Dampening the inside of her thighs
"Lay down
On your back
Spread to the pentagram
Like I was last year
This year, I'm on top.
Now!”
She shoved me on to the cloth, down to my knees
"On your back.
Now!"
Tears in her eyes
I rolled over, splaid myself out
Open, exposed
Penis to the sky
She knelt between my legs
Bent over
Touched the tip of her tongue to the tip of my penis
Slid her mouth down so that all of me was in her mouth
Deep enough, some of me was down her throat
As much of hurry as she had expressed
She took her time moving me in and out of her mouth
Down her throat
Once
Twice
Thrice
I was squirming
The strokes reached
Thirteen
She pulled back from that thirteen stroke
She leaned forward
Her hands reached toward my chest
Simultaneously
Using the nails of her left hand on my right nipple
Her right thumb, forefinger on my left nipple
She pinched, pulled, twisted, and lifted
Pain caused me to gasp
Buck my hips forcefully upward
She had positioned herself perfectly
The force of my upward movement
Drove my dick deeply into her cunt
The slamming pain
Of our pubic bones coming together
Caused us to jerk nearly apart
As an unseen clock struck one
Nearly apart, but not completely so
The clock struck a second time
So too did our pubic bones
Although the pain this second time
Matched the first
It had an ---
"I want more"
Obscene sexual pleasure to it
With each of ten more strokes
Of that clock
My dick drove into her pussy
The obscene pleasure grew
With it
Grew a low sort of growl
In her throat
In mine
Mine deeper than hers
More lustfully, loathsomely, raunchy
Decidedly more male than hers could ever be
Our mouths locked
Our tongues raw from each other's teeth
Our fingers nearly crushed
With the force of their interlocking grip
Our legs twisted and twined around each other
Our pelvis bones bruised from battering
Driving
Crushing
Mashing
Smashing
Against each other
While my cock squished
Drove
Slammed
Smashed
In and out
Of her cunt
Beating on each stroke against her cervix
With what must have been excruciating pain for her
It certainly wasn't love
It wasn't even sex, exactly
The clock counted off
We keep perfect time
It was number twelve we were
Frantically
Frenziedly
Violently
Approaching
The clock struck twelve
Our bodies released
Her cunt contracted, convulsed
I cried in pain
My cock delivered
She gasped at the flood
Her contractions, milked me of everything my body had to give
My discharge filled her
As my penis relaxed inside of her
Cum flowed out
A large wet spot grew on the cloth
Tinted pink with the blood of the violence done to our
Pelvises
Genitals
A seeming moment later
I awoke in my bed a thousand miles north of Austin
This time
I remembered everything
I got out of bed
Glanced at the mirror
Noticed
A deep red/black bruise showing through my dried cum matted dark red, almost black pubic hair
Dick, still red, swollen from its violent use
Nipples with red, bloody nail marks
And
Pearl white skin
From the floor
Curling about my feet
A pooled red/black cloth
Seemed to be climbing my legs
I also noticed
On my swollen lips
A smile
All this seen through eyes
Whose yellow-green pupils were more cat shaped than round
This group of interrelated poems now has reached six.
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/73509-she-was-a-witch-for-the-halloween/
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/131827-she-was-a-witch-here-is-part-two-of-the/
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/152515-t-was-a-bloody-drink-to-please-hell/
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/181254-she-was-a-witch----part-three/
https://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/240717-equinox/
Written by J_J_Jay_Jr
Go To Page
Deathbed
There you lay bed bound with erratic movement
Like a slowly dying catfish flapping and gasping
Your death rattle a cacophony of gurgling sounds
Speech escapes you but the fear in your eyes does not
You look like a man facing a firing squad or the gallows
I look at you and to be honest, I feel actual revulsion
I feel like I need to explain things to you on your deathbed
This explanation should not be taken as a sign of weakness
“You know, death is never pleasant by its very nature
No one truly wants to die; we’d live forever if we could
One thing is for sure, we all die, eventually everybody dies
There is nothing for you to fear, you die then; it’s nothing
Don’t fear heaven or hell. They honestly don’t exist
I suppose what worries you is exactly the when and how
I’ve been torturing you now for almost five hours.
Power and traditional tools up to the point that you want it
You want it quickly, speedily and as pain free as possible
Sorry I don’t do pain free and depending on your answers
To the following questions I might grant you speed
But don’t expect an apology, I am proud of my work.
this is God's own work”
Do you love me?
Do you really love me?
Do you want to be my lover?
Do you want to join my family?
Are you honoured to be my victim?
Do you love the pain I give you?
Despite me popping your eyes can you see my love for you?
Despite me burning your flesh can you feel my lust for you?
Do you love me?
Do you really love me?
I thought not
There you lay bed bound with erratic movement
Like a slowly dying catfish flapping and gasping
Your death rattle a cacophony of gurgling sounds
Speech escapes you but the fear in your eyes does not
You look like a man facing a firing squad or the gallows
I look at you and to be honest, I feel actual revulsion
I feel like I need to explain things to you on your deathbed
This explanation should not be taken as a sign of weakness
“You know, death is never pleasant by its very nature
No one truly wants to die; we’d live forever if we could
One thing is for sure, we all die, eventually everybody dies
There is nothing for you to fear, you die then; it’s nothing
Don’t fear heaven or hell. They honestly don’t exist
I suppose what worries you is exactly the when and how
I’ve been torturing you now for almost five hours.
Power and traditional tools up to the point that you want it
You want it quickly, speedily and as pain free as possible
Sorry I don’t do pain free and depending on your answers
To the following questions I might grant you speed
But don’t expect an apology, I am proud of my work.
this is God's own work”
Do you love me?
Do you really love me?
Do you want to be my lover?
Do you want to join my family?
Are you honoured to be my victim?
Do you love the pain I give you?
Despite me popping your eyes can you see my love for you?
Despite me burning your flesh can you feel my lust for you?
Do you love me?
Do you really love me?
I thought not
THE SATISFYING
The satisfying "click" of my victims door alarms me. They would most likely go to sleep after a night like this. This was the first time my "employers" gave me a job I actually wanted to do. The sound of water running now, teeth brushing. This reclusive prick better have enjoyed there last night of laughing, drinking, eating, breathing. There final night, of living. They were in the bedroom now, I was in the closet which was getting uncomfortably warm..... Just as I predicted. My victim has gone into bed without showering. Now I will begin.
I unsheathed the 16 inch knife and grasped its oak handle, which felt good. It fit perfectly in my hands, the blade was carbon steel, non serrated edge. It cut very swiftly and had a considerable amount of heft to it, But not too heavy.
15 minutes later I decided after a night like this, my victim would be close to sleeping. The scraping of fingernails on the closet door was now present, getting louder. The to-be victim stirred in his sleep. My heart burst with the impulsive desire to go savagely ballistic. I grit my teeth and slammed my knuckle on the door knob. "Who in the hell is there?!" The victim yelled, eager for a reassuring thought of it only being their imagination.
As always, they got no reassurance from me. I kicked the door open and stood there, "P-please I.. GET OUT! WHO IS IT?" They demand an answer. There was none. My stationary position turned into a slithering stroll "DON'T COME ANY CLOSER! I can have the police here before you can shit yourself!", the room was dark, but they could still see me, and for once they knew for sure that there was something in the dark to fear.
Within less than one second I leaped onto the bed and my victim screamed once, but only once. I landed on the polyester sheets and swung the blade viciously. My victim kicked and pushed but the last resort was hiding under their bunker of blankets. The blade cut through the fabric and into the flesh, multiple times. The scarlet stained sheets were torn rags.I grabbed for the throat and thrust-ed the blade into the center of the victim.
I put my ear to the mouth, and listened to the air flow out, like the blood from their heart
(i tried to write a different one but it told me i can not write so much sorry for the length)
The satisfying "click" of my victims door alarms me. They would most likely go to sleep after a night like this. This was the first time my "employers" gave me a job I actually wanted to do. The sound of water running now, teeth brushing. This reclusive prick better have enjoyed there last night of laughing, drinking, eating, breathing. There final night, of living. They were in the bedroom now, I was in the closet which was getting uncomfortably warm..... Just as I predicted. My victim has gone into bed without showering. Now I will begin.
I unsheathed the 16 inch knife and grasped its oak handle, which felt good. It fit perfectly in my hands, the blade was carbon steel, non serrated edge. It cut very swiftly and had a considerable amount of heft to it, But not too heavy.
15 minutes later I decided after a night like this, my victim would be close to sleeping. The scraping of fingernails on the closet door was now present, getting louder. The to-be victim stirred in his sleep. My heart burst with the impulsive desire to go savagely ballistic. I grit my teeth and slammed my knuckle on the door knob. "Who in the hell is there?!" The victim yelled, eager for a reassuring thought of it only being their imagination.
As always, they got no reassurance from me. I kicked the door open and stood there, "P-please I.. GET OUT! WHO IS IT?" They demand an answer. There was none. My stationary position turned into a slithering stroll "DON'T COME ANY CLOSER! I can have the police here before you can shit yourself!", the room was dark, but they could still see me, and for once they knew for sure that there was something in the dark to fear.
Within less than one second I leaped onto the bed and my victim screamed once, but only once. I landed on the polyester sheets and swung the blade viciously. My victim kicked and pushed but the last resort was hiding under their bunker of blankets. The blade cut through the fabric and into the flesh, multiple times. The scarlet stained sheets were torn rags.I grabbed for the throat and thrust-ed the blade into the center of the victim.
I put my ear to the mouth, and listened to the air flow out, like the blood from their heart
(i tried to write a different one but it told me i can not write so much sorry for the length)
Anonymous
50 Shades of Pallor
A gatekeeper
ectodermal of layers
nonchalantly soft, tender and smooth
Shades of light
infuse the sublime glow
masking shadows in concocted diffusion
Once adored and revered
a sub-particle of a mass macrocosm
sloughed in expansion of overindulgence
Now on the floor, spewed
in pallor mortis of a fine cocktail
dry and shriveled in dismal putrefaction
Detached from rest
an odorless unrecognizable decay
the rest of the organs recoil and shudder
A justifiable indignation
as hands of the clock rotate
counterclockwise, never resting on the six
Note: previously published.
Rain slammed against the windshield like buckshot. The wipers slapped in vain, simultaneously creating bands of smeared grime and the torrents that reduce them into a jigsaw of brake-lights, concrete and ashen sky. Still angered by the thought of my wife with that Neanderthal, I was unconcerned with—perhaps incapable of—focusing on the slow, incompetent drivers around me. Stopping, and going, and slowing, and accelerating. The erratic, herky-jerky motion of the imbeciles that share my world served to heighten my frustration with impatience. I cut the wheel left and right, leapfrogging the other vehicles on the freeway, traveling at a preposterous speed for the hazardous conditions. My mind was screaming. My hands gripped the steering wheel with white knuckles. When the phone lying on the passenger seat rang I looked down at it just before the semitrailer pulled in front of my car.
Although the next instant lumbered obnoxiously, I never saw the Mansfield bar break away under the force of my front end. I never saw the taillights come through the windshield. I did feel a violent stinging pain on my cheek and left jaw, and a lateral ripping sensation in my neck. But none of it compared to the dread I felt when I saw the phone and the passenger seat were moving in a counter clockwise swirl along with the rest of my surroundings, and the absolute terror of seeing above me, my headless corpse, still gripping the steering wheel, getting farther and farther away.
Although the next instant lumbered obnoxiously, I never saw the Mansfield bar break away under the force of my front end. I never saw the taillights come through the windshield. I did feel a violent stinging pain on my cheek and left jaw, and a lateral ripping sensation in my neck. But none of it compared to the dread I felt when I saw the phone and the passenger seat were moving in a counter clockwise swirl along with the rest of my surroundings, and the absolute terror of seeing above me, my headless corpse, still gripping the steering wheel, getting farther and farther away.
