Poetry competition CLOSED 7th May 2017 00:38am
WINNER
wallyroo92
wallyroo92
RUNNERS-UP:
Grace
and ThaSeductress
Murder Most Foul
Poetry Contest Description
500 words or less telling a tale of wickedness. Hi, I am a lover of flash fiction and try to pack as much story into the fewest words possible in order to tell a tale. Simply tell me a murder story that grips me. I'll give an example here;
Of Cats and Bags
I awoke screaming, consumed with feelings of guilt and dread. I knew I’d killed her. I saw again the silhouette of her body sliding into the hole.
Why had the old bag screeched for her bloody cat at three a.m. every morning, waking me from drug-induced oblivion? All I wanted was sleep, to forget the horrors. But no, her sodding cat came first.
‘I’m just back from Afghanistan, I’m finding sleeping very difficult’ I’d pleaded ‘please, just buy a cat flap, I’ll install it for free.’
‘Huh’ she said ‘I know you, you’re that weirdo who sleep-walks. Didn’t the police bring you home last week?’
‘Yes, I’m having a few problems, now, about your cat......’
‘Piss off, weirdo.’
Sandra switched the light on ‘what’s up now for god’s sake? Really, Frank, I can’t take much more of this’ she snapped. She seemed even angrier than usual.
‘If you hadn’t let the spare room out whilst I was away I could have slept there.’ I said defensively.
‘Right then, while you’re at your therapist's appointment I’ll tell her to go, OK?’
I lay sleepless as dawn broke, my feelings of dread intensifying. At six I took a rope and went to the park. In the park I thought, coward’s way out Frank? At eight I went into the police station. ‘I murdered my neighbour last night’ I told them.
Detectives questioned me with a lawyer present. I confessed, telling them all I could remember.
‘And you reckon you were sleep walking at the time?’
‘I must have been.’
‘OK sir, we’ll pop you into a cell whilst further enquiries are made.’
Hours passed before they came, ‘right, Mr Williams, we’re releasing you into the custody of a psychiatric hospital, your condition is more serious than was first diagnosed.’
‘What about the murder?’ I asked.
‘You didn’t kill anyone, sir’ he said looking at me like I was an object of pity. ‘Let me explain. At three thirty this morning a Mrs Paisley rang the police to say that you and your wife were burying her cat in your garden, he looked embarrassed ‘we get a lot of these calls, we arranged a visit for later.’
‘So what’s happened? I asked.
‘We searched your garden, sir, where we recovered the body of one Miss Jane Phillips, your lodger and, whilst you were overseas, your wife’s lover.’
I knew Sandra had occasionally slept with women before we married.
‘Miss Phillips resented being demoted from lover to lodger and threatened to reveal all. Your wife was tiring of you both and saw a way of killing two birds with one stone. She slipped Miss Phillips some of your sleeping medicine then garrotted her with your army boot laces, burying them with her. During the burial you sleep-walked onto the scene.’
‘And Sandra has confessed? Why?’
‘She didn’t have much choice, sir, Mrs Paisley witnessed her digging. She couldn’t see what was being buried and assumed it was her missing cat.’
I awoke screaming, consumed with feelings of guilt and dread. I knew I’d killed her. I saw again the silhouette of her body sliding into the hole.
Why had the old bag screeched for her bloody cat at three a.m. every morning, waking me from drug-induced oblivion? All I wanted was sleep, to forget the horrors. But no, her sodding cat came first.
‘I’m just back from Afghanistan, I’m finding sleeping very difficult’ I’d pleaded ‘please, just buy a cat flap, I’ll install it for free.’
‘Huh’ she said ‘I know you, you’re that weirdo who sleep-walks. Didn’t the police bring you home last week?’
‘Yes, I’m having a few problems, now, about your cat......’
‘Piss off, weirdo.’
Sandra switched the light on ‘what’s up now for god’s sake? Really, Frank, I can’t take much more of this’ she snapped. She seemed even angrier than usual.
‘If you hadn’t let the spare room out whilst I was away I could have slept there.’ I said defensively.
‘Right then, while you’re at your therapist's appointment I’ll tell her to go, OK?’
I lay sleepless as dawn broke, my feelings of dread intensifying. At six I took a rope and went to the park. In the park I thought, coward’s way out Frank? At eight I went into the police station. ‘I murdered my neighbour last night’ I told them.
Detectives questioned me with a lawyer present. I confessed, telling them all I could remember.
‘And you reckon you were sleep walking at the time?’
‘I must have been.’
‘OK sir, we’ll pop you into a cell whilst further enquiries are made.’
Hours passed before they came, ‘right, Mr Williams, we’re releasing you into the custody of a psychiatric hospital, your condition is more serious than was first diagnosed.’
‘What about the murder?’ I asked.
‘You didn’t kill anyone, sir’ he said looking at me like I was an object of pity. ‘Let me explain. At three thirty this morning a Mrs Paisley rang the police to say that you and your wife were burying her cat in your garden, he looked embarrassed ‘we get a lot of these calls, we arranged a visit for later.’
‘So what’s happened? I asked.
‘We searched your garden, sir, where we recovered the body of one Miss Jane Phillips, your lodger and, whilst you were overseas, your wife’s lover.’
I knew Sandra had occasionally slept with women before we married.
‘Miss Phillips resented being demoted from lover to lodger and threatened to reveal all. Your wife was tiring of you both and saw a way of killing two birds with one stone. She slipped Miss Phillips some of your sleeping medicine then garrotted her with your army boot laces, burying them with her. During the burial you sleep-walked onto the scene.’
‘And Sandra has confessed? Why?’
‘She didn’t have much choice, sir, Mrs Paisley witnessed her digging. She couldn’t see what was being buried and assumed it was her missing cat.’
Dark Lover in a Camaro
Two sisters lived together in a bungalow on a hill, surrounded by trees. The huge house was inherited from their parents and as they lived on a substantial inheritance, they didn’t work. They stayed at home almost all the time.
One day they had a visitor. They actually did not want to let the stranger in but it had been raining heavily for several days and they took pity on the man, who drove in with a silver Camaro, the first edition, which looked impossibly shiny.
The sisters were quite taken with the man as he was very attractive. He had eyes that seemed to infuse warmth and happiness on anyone that he looked at. When he spoke, the sisters felt like the words were only meant for them, respectively.
The stranger who introduced himself as Nick was invited to stay overnight as it was already quite dark. The two sisters showed him to a guest room, where their deceased brother had once slept in.
The older sister went to bed and soon fell into deep sleep.
The younger sister was preparing for bed and in her nightie when Nick entered her room. She was almost ecstatic as he took her into his arms. In no time at all, their clothes had melted and were in puddles on the floor.
he did lavish love
so fine and fun that she did scream
for more and more and many in between
the leash off her maiden confine
she did enjoy
but when midnight came, he did transform
to a hideous beast he was
a cross of wolf, serpent and worm
he took her pleasure to the brim
of madness with his expertise
he mated with her without and within
and in his pleasure he burst her in
her seams all gone splattered on the wall
the gore and blood from her body
drained on the floor with nothing to pick
The man then went to the older sister’s room and upon entering woke her up. In lustful want, she opened her arms and he melted into her. She screamed with pleasure as he took her in his mouth.
lapping her up from head to toe
she was engulfed in passionate throes
oh how she cried for more and more
of the pleasure that went up and down
her supple pretty body, so unclad
for when she reached her passion extreme
he turned to beast once again
and fed on her with passionate ravenousness
Next morning the handsome black clad man drove away on his silver Camaro, looking contented and happy.
The house on the hill was silent.
Ends
Two sisters lived together in a bungalow on a hill, surrounded by trees. The huge house was inherited from their parents and as they lived on a substantial inheritance, they didn’t work. They stayed at home almost all the time.
One day they had a visitor. They actually did not want to let the stranger in but it had been raining heavily for several days and they took pity on the man, who drove in with a silver Camaro, the first edition, which looked impossibly shiny.
The sisters were quite taken with the man as he was very attractive. He had eyes that seemed to infuse warmth and happiness on anyone that he looked at. When he spoke, the sisters felt like the words were only meant for them, respectively.
The stranger who introduced himself as Nick was invited to stay overnight as it was already quite dark. The two sisters showed him to a guest room, where their deceased brother had once slept in.
The older sister went to bed and soon fell into deep sleep.
The younger sister was preparing for bed and in her nightie when Nick entered her room. She was almost ecstatic as he took her into his arms. In no time at all, their clothes had melted and were in puddles on the floor.
he did lavish love
so fine and fun that she did scream
for more and more and many in between
the leash off her maiden confine
she did enjoy
but when midnight came, he did transform
to a hideous beast he was
a cross of wolf, serpent and worm
he took her pleasure to the brim
of madness with his expertise
he mated with her without and within
and in his pleasure he burst her in
her seams all gone splattered on the wall
the gore and blood from her body
drained on the floor with nothing to pick
The man then went to the older sister’s room and upon entering woke her up. In lustful want, she opened her arms and he melted into her. She screamed with pleasure as he took her in his mouth.
lapping her up from head to toe
she was engulfed in passionate throes
oh how she cried for more and more
of the pleasure that went up and down
her supple pretty body, so unclad
for when she reached her passion extreme
he turned to beast once again
and fed on her with passionate ravenousness
Next morning the handsome black clad man drove away on his silver Camaro, looking contented and happy.
The house on the hill was silent.
Ends
Massacre at El Mozote
This story is a story that’s been shrouded in mystery,
Not told too often as it’s often done in history,
You’d have to dig through journals, electronically,
And find remnants of the cold war erased from memory.
It was in early December back in 1981,
When the Atlacatl Battalion went into the little village,
With counter insurgency tactics to flush out the enemy,
But this event went beyond any sort of pillage.
Guerilla fighters were known to sometimes dress as civilians,
The brilliance of hiding in plain sight like innocent bystanders,
And the right-wing government had gotten assistance,
From Reagan’s administration using very repressive standards.
On the tenth of December when the army arrived
They questioned anyone involved or may had contrived,
For those who may have helped or befriended the FMLN,
Had information and intel or they were just as guilty as them.
The following day they were all taken to the town square,
Made to lay face down on the ground during the sordid affair,
Then the men were separated from the women and children,
They were taken to houses, the church and the convent.
Interrogated and tortured then for no reason murdered,
The soldiers released a hell for what they were ordered,
And we can tell this account because of those who escaped,
That some of the women and even little girls were raped.
A woman who hid nearby heard their screams and cries,
“Mama they are killing us” some children yelled in demise,
Another person who witnessed said of their horror filled pleas,
They slit their little throats and some were hung from trees.
The rest of the town was then all burned down,
To hide the evidence of this sadistic extermination,
But what can poor farmers and peasants really do?
Against a government bent on communist annihilation.
The next day they went to nearby settlements and towns,
Continuing their diabolical slaughter until the sun went down,
Evil that day had shown its true face then tried to erase,
As their bodies and their homes were all set ablaze.
Journalists dared venture there to write about the genocide
They discovered charred remains and all that they tried to hide.
And the truth eventually saw the light despite all denial,
Yet in the years to come no one was ever brought to trial.
The government issued an apology some thirty decades later,
But in civil war with civilian deaths they don’t find the perpetrators,
It happens everywhere around the world, they call it collateral damage,
But the truth of it is when humanity is lost man resorts to being savage.
In all more than seven hundred lives perished or disappeared,
Some count beyond a thousand, but the exact number is unclear,
Their bodies were never identified, only the names of the lost,
Right versus left, brother against brother, but at what cost?
By no means is this an attempt to get political but it’s critical,
That we become aware of these atrocities that are so criminal,
People are stripped of their human rights when governments prey,
It’s happens everywhere, throughout history even to this today.
In the name of freedom and democracy there’s a bit hypocrisy,
When innocent women and little children are killed.
This story is a story that’s been shrouded in mystery,
Not told too often as it’s often done in history,
You’d have to dig through journals, electronically,
And find remnants of the cold war erased from memory.
It was in early December back in 1981,
When the Atlacatl Battalion went into the little village,
With counter insurgency tactics to flush out the enemy,
But this event went beyond any sort of pillage.
Guerilla fighters were known to sometimes dress as civilians,
The brilliance of hiding in plain sight like innocent bystanders,
And the right-wing government had gotten assistance,
From Reagan’s administration using very repressive standards.
On the tenth of December when the army arrived
They questioned anyone involved or may had contrived,
For those who may have helped or befriended the FMLN,
Had information and intel or they were just as guilty as them.
The following day they were all taken to the town square,
Made to lay face down on the ground during the sordid affair,
Then the men were separated from the women and children,
They were taken to houses, the church and the convent.
Interrogated and tortured then for no reason murdered,
The soldiers released a hell for what they were ordered,
And we can tell this account because of those who escaped,
That some of the women and even little girls were raped.
A woman who hid nearby heard their screams and cries,
“Mama they are killing us” some children yelled in demise,
Another person who witnessed said of their horror filled pleas,
They slit their little throats and some were hung from trees.
The rest of the town was then all burned down,
To hide the evidence of this sadistic extermination,
But what can poor farmers and peasants really do?
Against a government bent on communist annihilation.
The next day they went to nearby settlements and towns,
Continuing their diabolical slaughter until the sun went down,
Evil that day had shown its true face then tried to erase,
As their bodies and their homes were all set ablaze.
Journalists dared venture there to write about the genocide
They discovered charred remains and all that they tried to hide.
And the truth eventually saw the light despite all denial,
Yet in the years to come no one was ever brought to trial.
The government issued an apology some thirty decades later,
But in civil war with civilian deaths they don’t find the perpetrators,
It happens everywhere around the world, they call it collateral damage,
But the truth of it is when humanity is lost man resorts to being savage.
In all more than seven hundred lives perished or disappeared,
Some count beyond a thousand, but the exact number is unclear,
Their bodies were never identified, only the names of the lost,
Right versus left, brother against brother, but at what cost?
By no means is this an attempt to get political but it’s critical,
That we become aware of these atrocities that are so criminal,
People are stripped of their human rights when governments prey,
It’s happens everywhere, throughout history even to this today.
In the name of freedom and democracy there’s a bit hypocrisy,
When innocent women and little children are killed.
The Master
The stale scent of used clothes and of puffed cigars did nothing to deter the arousal of that man and woman; their sweating body glistening, their sigh of pleasure echoes and the silence of the eve gawks as it reached its crescent and rippling orgasm blinded both beyond the darkness of the moonless night.
Only the man was far from sated. Inexplicable hunger eats him from deep within and a familiar itch started rising from his gut, traveling its way to his two gloved hands. And with blank stares, in a trance, his grip tightened; watching life getting drained from his prey, lights dimming from the windows of the soul within.
“There, there, there!”
Resistance met his efforts and he found it comforting and exhilarating even - seeing her squirm, trying to free herself, scratching his arm, grasping for her dear life - breathtakingly beautiful!
“Let go... Let go... Let go.”
His caressing voice mimics that of a father convincing his daughter that a root canal is a necessary evil.
And when all is calm and serene, a smile of satisfaction adorns his face. Elation filled his hollow core. Thinking, at last he found his needle in the haystack.
"Good girl."
So good, he felt so good. For the first time, he feels complete. This is what he's been looking for all his life. The sexual gratification of inflicting terror and the power height from the fear in her eyes gives him a sensation that is beyond explaining.
His sole purpose of existence is all for these – receive gratification, cause pain, inflicting terror, relishing the pain as much as the sex.
As orange flecks paint the endless canvass above, the shovel digs a hole in the ground; hiding his trophy below the cold earth's embrace, planting daisies to adorn its resting place. Once done, he knew, he'll visit again to award her a playmate, soon.
Another day has broken and roosters are singing. With the monster within him lay asleep with the crickets, the man whistles a tune he loves but forgot that he does, until now.
Macabre visits his conscious thoughts and sings a chorus that only he could hear as loudly as a scream.
Hummming…
I like to torture and I do it quite well
kidnapped in my house
you'll think you're in hell
Your new home's a pit
in my basement floor
act up and I'll shock you
with an electrical chord
Morbid minister
he's quite sinister
in his pit you're restrained
all your life he will drain
While you're chained to my pit
you'll wish you were saved
but you can not escape me
you are my sex slave
Inside of a blender
is your gourmet meal
consisting of dog food
and women I killed.
An inspiration worth thinking.
Soon…
©Oxy2016DUP
Only the man was far from sated. Inexplicable hunger eats him from deep within and a familiar itch started rising from his gut, traveling its way to his two gloved hands. And with blank stares, in a trance, his grip tightened; watching life getting drained from his prey, lights dimming from the windows of the soul within.
“There, there, there!”
Resistance met his efforts and he found it comforting and exhilarating even - seeing her squirm, trying to free herself, scratching his arm, grasping for her dear life - breathtakingly beautiful!
“Let go... Let go... Let go.”
His caressing voice mimics that of a father convincing his daughter that a root canal is a necessary evil.
And when all is calm and serene, a smile of satisfaction adorns his face. Elation filled his hollow core. Thinking, at last he found his needle in the haystack.
"Good girl."
So good, he felt so good. For the first time, he feels complete. This is what he's been looking for all his life. The sexual gratification of inflicting terror and the power height from the fear in her eyes gives him a sensation that is beyond explaining.
His sole purpose of existence is all for these – receive gratification, cause pain, inflicting terror, relishing the pain as much as the sex.
As orange flecks paint the endless canvass above, the shovel digs a hole in the ground; hiding his trophy below the cold earth's embrace, planting daisies to adorn its resting place. Once done, he knew, he'll visit again to award her a playmate, soon.
Another day has broken and roosters are singing. With the monster within him lay asleep with the crickets, the man whistles a tune he loves but forgot that he does, until now.
Macabre visits his conscious thoughts and sings a chorus that only he could hear as loudly as a scream.
Hummming…
I like to torture and I do it quite well
kidnapped in my house
you'll think you're in hell
Your new home's a pit
in my basement floor
act up and I'll shock you
with an electrical chord
Morbid minister
he's quite sinister
in his pit you're restrained
all your life he will drain
While you're chained to my pit
you'll wish you were saved
but you can not escape me
you are my sex slave
Inside of a blender
is your gourmet meal
consisting of dog food
and women I killed.
An inspiration worth thinking.
Soon…
©Oxy2016DUP
Written by OxyMoronicMe
(G.L.)
Go To Page
Before The Blood
My Grandfather buried his victims, alive like his father before.
My Great Great Grandfather kept body parts of his victims like souvenirs.
My Father would bind and torture, while my Uncle dismembered his toys.
But I am a remove your flesh while you scream, wear your skin like a suit type of boy.
My Great Great Grandfather kept body parts of his victims like souvenirs.
My Father would bind and torture, while my Uncle dismembered his toys.
But I am a remove your flesh while you scream, wear your skin like a suit type of boy.
Written by LBV
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Becoming
BECOMING
Memories of my flesh pressed against emptiness
This is where it all began came to terms with who I am
Your creation
Daddy taught me how to kill
Took me taught me everything bleeds
Gave me the tool that I would need Begin the homicide
Impatiently as I wait for my chance to mutilate
To sever flesh despite their pain embrace sweet death yet once again
A symphony of screams excites my soul and my will to be
I’m everything they thought I’d be my father’s son becoming me
My salvation
Now I’ll do it on my own
I’ll stalk I’ll kill their pain at will
The first one had to be the worst her children watched her die
Soon their screams are silenced
The only thing I’ve ever known is violence
But now I decide who breathes
It so brand new
If you see my eyes then
You’ll feel my blade as it goes inside and
With Each kill I’ll set them free
Becoming me
I love to watch them bleed
Confess Obsessed my thing peel flesh
The more I cut the more they scream
Don’t want to let them die
Soon their screams are silenced
The only thing I’ve ever known is violence
But now I decide who breathes
It so brand new
If you see my eyes then
You’ll feel my blade as it goes inside and
With Each kill I’ll set them free
Becoming me
Committing homicide for my father’s pride
Every time they die it’s all for you
Walk away but it’s just not me
It’s in my blood to stay it’s what I do
Every night I take a knife I take a lamb I take its life
Remove the flesh to hear it scream
And free the sins it hides beneath
So much more to do continue on until my job is through
That’s the way it’s got to be
It’s just me
Becoming me
Memories of my flesh pressed against emptiness
This is where it all began came to terms with who I am
Your creation
Daddy taught me how to kill
Took me taught me everything bleeds
Gave me the tool that I would need Begin the homicide
Impatiently as I wait for my chance to mutilate
To sever flesh despite their pain embrace sweet death yet once again
A symphony of screams excites my soul and my will to be
I’m everything they thought I’d be my father’s son becoming me
My salvation
Now I’ll do it on my own
I’ll stalk I’ll kill their pain at will
The first one had to be the worst her children watched her die
Soon their screams are silenced
The only thing I’ve ever known is violence
But now I decide who breathes
It so brand new
If you see my eyes then
You’ll feel my blade as it goes inside and
With Each kill I’ll set them free
Becoming me
I love to watch them bleed
Confess Obsessed my thing peel flesh
The more I cut the more they scream
Don’t want to let them die
Soon their screams are silenced
The only thing I’ve ever known is violence
But now I decide who breathes
It so brand new
If you see my eyes then
You’ll feel my blade as it goes inside and
With Each kill I’ll set them free
Becoming me
Committing homicide for my father’s pride
Every time they die it’s all for you
Walk away but it’s just not me
It’s in my blood to stay it’s what I do
Every night I take a knife I take a lamb I take its life
Remove the flesh to hear it scream
And free the sins it hides beneath
So much more to do continue on until my job is through
That’s the way it’s got to be
It’s just me
Becoming me
Written by LBV
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Behind the story of the innocent
A girl that has never stood up for herself
Being stomped, beaten, robbed and raped...raped of the innocence of not retaliating.
Her cup overflowed with anguish, for her child was killed, killed by the only person she opened up to...
She was as bitter as gall and seeked revenge...
She went to the garden of her once beloved saw his four roses with the bitch who birthed them...she poisoned their only source of water with gramazone...
As she watched them cook, eat, drink and fuck, the cup fall from the baby's hand whilst the others gasp for air...she watched the pain and agony they went through trying to help their children, she smiled from her heart for the first time. After they took their last breath she walked over to the bitch and said " i am innocent...but this is my revenge"
Being stomped, beaten, robbed and raped...raped of the innocence of not retaliating.
Her cup overflowed with anguish, for her child was killed, killed by the only person she opened up to...
She was as bitter as gall and seeked revenge...
She went to the garden of her once beloved saw his four roses with the bitch who birthed them...she poisoned their only source of water with gramazone...
As she watched them cook, eat, drink and fuck, the cup fall from the baby's hand whilst the others gasp for air...she watched the pain and agony they went through trying to help their children, she smiled from her heart for the first time. After they took their last breath she walked over to the bitch and said " i am innocent...but this is my revenge"
Written by ThaSeductress
(Daii_Cevyn_Belladon)
Go To Page
http://sharing.power965.com/sharescnn/photo/2016/03/11/crime-scene-tape-flashing-lights-background-generic_33636171_ver1.0_640_480.jpg
Murder She Wrote
Blood red all around
no murder weapon,
no body found.
Crimson splats
left on the walls
broken glass
you saw it all.
You were told
to stay outside
I told you twice
to run and hide.
Things got crazy
we had a fight
I stabbed that fucker
with my knife
I stabbed him twice
right in his face
then burned his eyes
with pepper mace
I reached inside
my leather boot
pulled out my gun
"MOM PLEASE!
DON'T SHOOT!"
He fell right over
and hit the floor
I kicked his ass
to the door.
I tied his body
first his feet
then tied his neck
yes nice and neat.
To my truck his ride
was ready
on the back flap of my
Chevy.
Off the path
I drove all night
dragged his body
left and right.
I drove my truck
down a winding road
and stopped and dropped
him in a hole.
I drove on home
the door was locked
my child screamed
it's face in shock!
Cop lights Flashing
you must not tell,
I killed your father
now ring the bell !
Written by Zazzles (Broom)
Murder She Wrote
Blood red all around
no murder weapon,
no body found.
Crimson splats
left on the walls
broken glass
you saw it all.
You were told
to stay outside
I told you twice
to run and hide.
Things got crazy
we had a fight
I stabbed that fucker
with my knife
I stabbed him twice
right in his face
then burned his eyes
with pepper mace
I reached inside
my leather boot
pulled out my gun
"MOM PLEASE!
DON'T SHOOT!"
He fell right over
and hit the floor
I kicked his ass
to the door.
I tied his body
first his feet
then tied his neck
yes nice and neat.
To my truck his ride
was ready
on the back flap of my
Chevy.
Off the path
I drove all night
dragged his body
left and right.
I drove my truck
down a winding road
and stopped and dropped
him in a hole.
I drove on home
the door was locked
my child screamed
it's face in shock!
Cop lights Flashing
you must not tell,
I killed your father
now ring the bell !
Written by Zazzles (Broom)
Portentous
This piece is an excerpt from 'The Master (Ritual) written as entree piece for the competition, Abnormal Psychology in Everyday Life. I feel that this deserve it's own place.
©Oxy2016DUP
All Rights Reserved
In the windowless basement,
No sound would escape it.
Don't worry!
Make her scream in terror,
Let her wail in pain!
No one would hear her pleas for survival...
No one would ever care!
Three hours of torture and excruciation,
Strip her, unnerve her!
Gag her, clamp her!
Electrocute her with her feet...
Submerged on a basin of water!
Pull out her nails...
One by one with a plier!
Whip her back and mark her!
Bind her to the Rack,
Dislocate her bones from its sockets!
Slice her tits with a katana,
Burn her clit with cigarette!
Violate her rectum,
With a nine inch choke pear!
Fuck her only after then;
Deposit all of the would be children...
In a womb that'd soon whither!
Slowly drain the life out of her...
With hands incased in a pair of leather gloves;
Besotted with her blood,
Stained with her tears, sweat and urine!
When dawn comes,
And before the sun is up…
Lay her on the earth,
Where daisies bloom…
And Ma awaits underground.
They belong together,
Along with all the others like them!
©Oxy2016DUP
All Rights Reserved
In the windowless basement,
No sound would escape it.
Don't worry!
Make her scream in terror,
Let her wail in pain!
No one would hear her pleas for survival...
No one would ever care!
Three hours of torture and excruciation,
Strip her, unnerve her!
Gag her, clamp her!
Electrocute her with her feet...
Submerged on a basin of water!
Pull out her nails...
One by one with a plier!
Whip her back and mark her!
Bind her to the Rack,
Dislocate her bones from its sockets!
Slice her tits with a katana,
Burn her clit with cigarette!
Violate her rectum,
With a nine inch choke pear!
Fuck her only after then;
Deposit all of the would be children...
In a womb that'd soon whither!
Slowly drain the life out of her...
With hands incased in a pair of leather gloves;
Besotted with her blood,
Stained with her tears, sweat and urine!
When dawn comes,
And before the sun is up…
Lay her on the earth,
Where daisies bloom…
And Ma awaits underground.
They belong together,
Along with all the others like them!
Written by OxyMoronicMe
(G.L.)
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Mad Love
Blood, like rain,
Dripped down my knife,
I smiled,
Watching her eyes going white,
The eyes you loved,
Reflected her ugly soul,
So I buried her,
In that gaping hole,
The hole I have been digging,
In the backyard of my house,
Oh! I remember that melody,
Her squeaking like a mouse.
She hurt you once,
I killed her twice,
Darling I just hope,
You don’t cry on her demise.
Six feet underground,
She lays now motionless,
I really had a hard time,
Wiping off those bloodstains.
Off my dress,
Off my knife,
Off her apartment floor,
Off my car's tyres.
She makes you cry,
Now she is not replying to your texts,
How can she?
Darling, she is dead.
She hurt you once,
I killed her twice,
Darling i just hope,
You don’t cry on her demise.
She wasn’t worthy,
Of your love so pure,
She was a disease,
So I found your cure,
She couldn't move,
She was paralyzed,
For the first time I loved her,
Her expression of being terrified,
I peeled off her filthy skin,
The one you craved,
I hope she never comes back,
And remains in her grave,
She hurt you once,
I killed her twice,
Darling I just hope,
You don’t cry on her demise.
But you started crying,
You started calling cops
You never understand
But I always craved your love,
So I had to hurt you,
I had to give you a scar,
I had put you in an uncomfortable way,
In the trunk of my car,
And I really hope,
That wound heals soon,
I didn’t want to hurt you,
Because darling I have always loved you.
And now you are forever mine,
You are Forever mine,
And darling now I won't cry,
Over your demise.
Dripped down my knife,
I smiled,
Watching her eyes going white,
The eyes you loved,
Reflected her ugly soul,
So I buried her,
In that gaping hole,
The hole I have been digging,
In the backyard of my house,
Oh! I remember that melody,
Her squeaking like a mouse.
She hurt you once,
I killed her twice,
Darling I just hope,
You don’t cry on her demise.
Six feet underground,
She lays now motionless,
I really had a hard time,
Wiping off those bloodstains.
Off my dress,
Off my knife,
Off her apartment floor,
Off my car's tyres.
She makes you cry,
Now she is not replying to your texts,
How can she?
Darling, she is dead.
She hurt you once,
I killed her twice,
Darling i just hope,
You don’t cry on her demise.
She wasn’t worthy,
Of your love so pure,
She was a disease,
So I found your cure,
She couldn't move,
She was paralyzed,
For the first time I loved her,
Her expression of being terrified,
I peeled off her filthy skin,
The one you craved,
I hope she never comes back,
And remains in her grave,
She hurt you once,
I killed her twice,
Darling I just hope,
You don’t cry on her demise.
But you started crying,
You started calling cops
You never understand
But I always craved your love,
So I had to hurt you,
I had to give you a scar,
I had put you in an uncomfortable way,
In the trunk of my car,
And I really hope,
That wound heals soon,
I didn’t want to hurt you,
Because darling I have always loved you.
And now you are forever mine,
You are Forever mine,
And darling now I won't cry,
Over your demise.
Written by Miss_Lost_soul
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