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Poetry competition CLOSED 1st November 2018 00:49am
WINNER
Anonymous
Anonymous
SLASHERS WANTED!
Camp Arawak
I can’t sleep, something has been keeping me awake,
Weird shit’s been happening here at summer camp,
First the cook was badly burned with boiling water,
Then a kid was found drowned over by the boat ramp.
Then there are kids being complete dickheads and bullies,
Picking on smaller ones just because they like to tease,
Then there was Kenny, he was a special kind of asshole,
But they found him dead in the crapper stung by bees.
I liked Meg, she was one of the cutest camp counselors,
She dressed pretty fine and I think her family is rich,
But then I saw her picking on sweet little Angela,
Turns out that Meg’s a real Super Mega bitch.
And yet a couple of nights later Meg was found dead,
Stabbed in the back with a long slit along the spine,
There must be a serious murderer amongst us,
Then again it’s 1983, what can I do? I’m only nine.
But wait, there’s more? Close the windows and bar the doors,
Four more kids were found in the woods hacked to death,
This serial killer don’t give a fuck about children or adults,
So if you run, run for your life until you’re out of breath.
No, oh no, they’ve killed Mel the head counselor as well?
This is the stuff of nightmares, this camp is a total wreck,
Why are so many people getting slain, wait what the fuck?
They found Mel with an arrow shot right through his neck?
Oh hell no, I need to get out of here it’s too fucking weird,
This murdering motherfucker is straight up on a hunt,
He don’t give a fuck whether it’s a man or boy a woman or girl,
Great!
Now they found Judy dead with a hot curling iron up her cunt.
As I run toward the lake to escape cus I’m feeling this kind of way,
(Scared)
I see Angela and Paul, another boy taking their clothes off,
(Bare)
But then I freeze, I want to yell but my voice won’t give way,
(I swear)
Angela has a knife and that little boy is about to get offed.
But wait, there’s…
Paul is frozen mesmerized by Angela’s nude body,
She’s naughty, she’s not really innocent, it was all a ploy,
Turns out the girl had a peter (ironically her real name was Peter)
Because Angela was the killer, and she was a boy.
By the time the counselors got to the beach,
They found Angela covered in blood and naked,
All the while she hummed a tune under the pale moon
But Angela (or Peter) had already severed Paul’s head.
I can’t sleep, something has been keeping me awake,
Weird shit’s been happening here at summer camp,
First the cook was badly burned with boiling water,
Then a kid was found drowned over by the boat ramp.
Then there are kids being complete dickheads and bullies,
Picking on smaller ones just because they like to tease,
Then there was Kenny, he was a special kind of asshole,
But they found him dead in the crapper stung by bees.
I liked Meg, she was one of the cutest camp counselors,
She dressed pretty fine and I think her family is rich,
But then I saw her picking on sweet little Angela,
Turns out that Meg’s a real Super Mega bitch.
And yet a couple of nights later Meg was found dead,
Stabbed in the back with a long slit along the spine,
There must be a serious murderer amongst us,
Then again it’s 1983, what can I do? I’m only nine.
But wait, there’s more? Close the windows and bar the doors,
Four more kids were found in the woods hacked to death,
This serial killer don’t give a fuck about children or adults,
So if you run, run for your life until you’re out of breath.
No, oh no, they’ve killed Mel the head counselor as well?
This is the stuff of nightmares, this camp is a total wreck,
Why are so many people getting slain, wait what the fuck?
They found Mel with an arrow shot right through his neck?
Oh hell no, I need to get out of here it’s too fucking weird,
This murdering motherfucker is straight up on a hunt,
He don’t give a fuck whether it’s a man or boy a woman or girl,
Great!
Now they found Judy dead with a hot curling iron up her cunt.
As I run toward the lake to escape cus I’m feeling this kind of way,
(Scared)
I see Angela and Paul, another boy taking their clothes off,
(Bare)
But then I freeze, I want to yell but my voice won’t give way,
(I swear)
Angela has a knife and that little boy is about to get offed.
But wait, there’s…
Paul is frozen mesmerized by Angela’s nude body,
She’s naughty, she’s not really innocent, it was all a ploy,
Turns out the girl had a peter (ironically her real name was Peter)
Because Angela was the killer, and she was a boy.
By the time the counselors got to the beach,
They found Angela covered in blood and naked,
All the while she hummed a tune under the pale moon
But Angela (or Peter) had already severed Paul’s head.
Anonymous
Related submission no longer exists.
love
My girlfriend... in the next room.
Why are her lips so fuckin blue?
hair.. the texture of a mop, her nails, underneath, full of rot
Skin, decaying away, white flesh, rotting for another few days
micheal myers, freddy, friday the 13th,
they all mean nothing once you have have met me.
necrophilia. what does that mean?
sorry mr. fancy psychiatrist, i did not mean to make you turn green.
TELL THE FUCKING POLICE?
Now i have to carve out your spleen,
Looks like a fucking coffee bean,
SHUT THE FUCK UP, precision is keen.
i swear to satan if you yell and fuck up my work,
i will have to find your wife and carve her face into a smirk
It is your own fault, you could not see,
the monster that lies deep inside of me.
the mask is tight, i need glue to make it stay,
my insides are dust, like a forgotten ashtray
like jack, right to the bone,
fuck i never want this gist to leave me alone.
of course, it stops, always does, constantly chasing this dragon of a rush
your face looks so pretty with blush, that pale lady really made your cheeks flush
cry at your funeral, your eyes look so consumable, in my freezer, so presumable
now i can finally pay attention to my true love, i will kill anyone who tries to come between us.
My dear, why do you not speak? why are your eyes so horribly bleak?
i like you. your dead like me. i feel nothing but my heart still beats
as i enter, you feel so cold, not warm like a welcome home, cold rotten flesh,my fingers like to roam, i will never forget you choking on your own mouth foam.
my dick does not like anything alive, reminds me to much of a fucking bee hive
buzz buzz , buzz buzz, the girls, never stop making those screams,
since i was 12 the dead have been in my wet dreams. lesbians? two people fucking, sadism? none of it is for me. my only joy is to fuck dead bodies.
Why are her lips so fuckin blue?
hair.. the texture of a mop, her nails, underneath, full of rot
Skin, decaying away, white flesh, rotting for another few days
micheal myers, freddy, friday the 13th,
they all mean nothing once you have have met me.
necrophilia. what does that mean?
sorry mr. fancy psychiatrist, i did not mean to make you turn green.
TELL THE FUCKING POLICE?
Now i have to carve out your spleen,
Looks like a fucking coffee bean,
SHUT THE FUCK UP, precision is keen.
i swear to satan if you yell and fuck up my work,
i will have to find your wife and carve her face into a smirk
It is your own fault, you could not see,
the monster that lies deep inside of me.
the mask is tight, i need glue to make it stay,
my insides are dust, like a forgotten ashtray
like jack, right to the bone,
fuck i never want this gist to leave me alone.
of course, it stops, always does, constantly chasing this dragon of a rush
your face looks so pretty with blush, that pale lady really made your cheeks flush
cry at your funeral, your eyes look so consumable, in my freezer, so presumable
now i can finally pay attention to my true love, i will kill anyone who tries to come between us.
My dear, why do you not speak? why are your eyes so horribly bleak?
i like you. your dead like me. i feel nothing but my heart still beats
as i enter, you feel so cold, not warm like a welcome home, cold rotten flesh,my fingers like to roam, i will never forget you choking on your own mouth foam.
my dick does not like anything alive, reminds me to much of a fucking bee hive
buzz buzz , buzz buzz, the girls, never stop making those screams,
since i was 12 the dead have been in my wet dreams. lesbians? two people fucking, sadism? none of it is for me. my only joy is to fuck dead bodies.
Written by naturalselection42
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Weekend Getaways
Any weapon of opportunity
Is enough to bait my thrill
I’ve found enough to serve me well
during my pass through Bunker Hill
My contemporaries prefer to hide
In the habits of the eighties
a passing fad of silly masks
a trend that drives me crazy
The neglected hose of snaking green
serves a perfect means to choke
the retired man pegging laundry up
a wrinkled oval drained of hope
A Friday crime in a smaller place
allows two days without detection
the headline news come Monday morning
will capture everyone's attention
A hobby farm that skirts the town
starts a terror to be remembered
I stumble upon a morning chore
three people turn up dismembered
There are many ways to shuffle death
ecstasy rises to greet their shock
I plunge a pitchfork in a belly
and bash another with a heavy rock
I am at my most creative
if the body count keeps climbing
to conduct a symphony of whimpered cries
it is all about my timing
Men are often easy prey
mesmerized by my feminine form
an appearance drenched in fantasy
from my early days in porn
My blonde hair swinging back and forth
spurts of blood in sporadic showers
I maim them in outrageous ways
to display my growing powers
Sunday night and I've managed twelve
enough bodies to have them worried
I will hide and rest until Thursday night
before I catch my flight to Surrey.
Is enough to bait my thrill
I’ve found enough to serve me well
during my pass through Bunker Hill
My contemporaries prefer to hide
In the habits of the eighties
a passing fad of silly masks
a trend that drives me crazy
The neglected hose of snaking green
serves a perfect means to choke
the retired man pegging laundry up
a wrinkled oval drained of hope
A Friday crime in a smaller place
allows two days without detection
the headline news come Monday morning
will capture everyone's attention
A hobby farm that skirts the town
starts a terror to be remembered
I stumble upon a morning chore
three people turn up dismembered
There are many ways to shuffle death
ecstasy rises to greet their shock
I plunge a pitchfork in a belly
and bash another with a heavy rock
I am at my most creative
if the body count keeps climbing
to conduct a symphony of whimpered cries
it is all about my timing
Men are often easy prey
mesmerized by my feminine form
an appearance drenched in fantasy
from my early days in porn
My blonde hair swinging back and forth
spurts of blood in sporadic showers
I maim them in outrageous ways
to display my growing powers
Sunday night and I've managed twelve
enough bodies to have them worried
I will hide and rest until Thursday night
before I catch my flight to Surrey.
Written by Tenderloin
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HALLOWEEN TRYST HELL-ORAMA
She was a nightmare come true
Pale skin in leather and fishnet stockings
Standing by the road by the lantern light
Halloween spirits by the graveyard
Whispers in her ear to hunt the night
AND THERE I WAS
I pulled over and said, “Hi
I’m here for a good time, please step inside”
She said, “Hey, baby, looking for a thrill?”
Clove cigarettes cover eau de death
Pretty soon she moved in for the kill
By the moonlight on her godless tomb
She danced to the tune of gothic doom
She sheds her skin
O, shred my skin
And she stripped down to the bone
Gobbets of flesh falling to the graveyard floor
The Autumn chill warded off by the flames
Of Jack-O-Lanterns burning festively
Then she drags me down into her grave
By the moonlight in her godless tomb
We writhed to the tune of gothic doom
She sheds my skin
O, shred your skin
My own curse
Is loving you
In the back of the hearse
My own curse
Is fucking you
In the back of the hearse
By the moonlight on her godless tomb
She danced to the tune of gothic doom
She sheds her skin
O, shred my skin
By the moonlight in her godless tomb
We writhed to the tune of gothic doom
She sheds my skin
O, shred your skin
Pale skin in leather and fishnet stockings
Standing by the road by the lantern light
Halloween spirits by the graveyard
Whispers in her ear to hunt the night
AND THERE I WAS
I pulled over and said, “Hi
I’m here for a good time, please step inside”
She said, “Hey, baby, looking for a thrill?”
Clove cigarettes cover eau de death
Pretty soon she moved in for the kill
By the moonlight on her godless tomb
She danced to the tune of gothic doom
She sheds her skin
O, shred my skin
And she stripped down to the bone
Gobbets of flesh falling to the graveyard floor
The Autumn chill warded off by the flames
Of Jack-O-Lanterns burning festively
Then she drags me down into her grave
By the moonlight in her godless tomb
We writhed to the tune of gothic doom
She sheds my skin
O, shred your skin
My own curse
Is loving you
In the back of the hearse
My own curse
Is fucking you
In the back of the hearse
By the moonlight on her godless tomb
She danced to the tune of gothic doom
She sheds her skin
O, shred my skin
By the moonlight in her godless tomb
We writhed to the tune of gothic doom
She sheds my skin
O, shred your skin
Written by HadesRising
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Necrophilia 4
How I relished in every captive moment of the dream
a trituration of a send-off glorified by its oily sheen
his dampened damsel, I wore skin of a deathly hue
a slow death was certain as his simper gave me its due
such beauteous turning my hair and nails phosphorescent
I glowed green in dim lamplight as did my indistinctive lament
within this bunker of stones and earth-bound retaliations
so given to his thoughts into which I had fed his creations
to part with a life where I had only felt his arenaceous love
it was such a portent of what was sure to float above
in this final forebearance of his fidelitous fanfare
I had never quite known how his cretinous heart could care
grim in such portent his upshot to my corpuscle of depletion
never holding to exasperation in his wan completion
in these final moments of my melting and withering days
my cranium wracked with unearthly philandering plays
I had never meant to cause him such grief in my ways
yet I never saw his avidity for what it surely portrayed
my last and only friends were metal rings that fishtailed with chains
as he led me to his final expression of devotional games
to a place so darkened and full of electromagnetic haunt
my draping gown was laden with his musty unswept gaunt
where no one but him would ever feel my consternation
I had never wanted anyone else to caress my degradation
or hear me scream to deafen his ecstatic and hollow voracity
as I lay still immobile on a bed of thistledown lined antipathy
a myriad of peripatetic selves that honed in on my excretion
his propensity was rife with implacable probity in my deletion
his obsequious rendering of my fate rife with mollified repletion
I sunk into hibernation in his stagnant den in deaths completion
I waited only for his return to his crypt in twisted subluxation
my only last wish to fulfill his macabre indistinct gratification
notwithstanding the upshot of a deadbolt that would never fail
his espy from above was that dead women tell no tales
in final moments years behind flashed by in bitter holography
as I waited for his final reciprocating dredge of my pornography
my derma fell away into ambivalence acetic with dislocation
as he came to touch my rancorous heart and exalt me again...
a trituration of a send-off glorified by its oily sheen
his dampened damsel, I wore skin of a deathly hue
a slow death was certain as his simper gave me its due
such beauteous turning my hair and nails phosphorescent
I glowed green in dim lamplight as did my indistinctive lament
within this bunker of stones and earth-bound retaliations
so given to his thoughts into which I had fed his creations
to part with a life where I had only felt his arenaceous love
it was such a portent of what was sure to float above
in this final forebearance of his fidelitous fanfare
I had never quite known how his cretinous heart could care
grim in such portent his upshot to my corpuscle of depletion
never holding to exasperation in his wan completion
in these final moments of my melting and withering days
my cranium wracked with unearthly philandering plays
I had never meant to cause him such grief in my ways
yet I never saw his avidity for what it surely portrayed
my last and only friends were metal rings that fishtailed with chains
as he led me to his final expression of devotional games
to a place so darkened and full of electromagnetic haunt
my draping gown was laden with his musty unswept gaunt
where no one but him would ever feel my consternation
I had never wanted anyone else to caress my degradation
or hear me scream to deafen his ecstatic and hollow voracity
as I lay still immobile on a bed of thistledown lined antipathy
a myriad of peripatetic selves that honed in on my excretion
his propensity was rife with implacable probity in my deletion
his obsequious rendering of my fate rife with mollified repletion
I sunk into hibernation in his stagnant den in deaths completion
I waited only for his return to his crypt in twisted subluxation
my only last wish to fulfill his macabre indistinct gratification
notwithstanding the upshot of a deadbolt that would never fail
his espy from above was that dead women tell no tales
in final moments years behind flashed by in bitter holography
as I waited for his final reciprocating dredge of my pornography
my derma fell away into ambivalence acetic with dislocation
as he came to touch my rancorous heart and exalt me again...
Written by PoetsRevenge
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Taste of the Hurt
"In my right hand is a twelve gauge
While in the other a rusty razor blade,
"Either I'm motherfucking shooting or motherfucking cutting
But somebodies gonna get this Grim Reaper loving,
"Smoking a fat blunt laced with angel dust and weed
Playing church music while I do my deadly deed,
"Blood from the floor to the ceiling fan
Whenever homicide get here there screaming goddamn,
"Arms, legs and heads fucking missing
Reproductive organs scattered throughout the kitchen,
"The neighbors nephew stuffed in the stove
Set on slow cook so he won't get cold,
"The punk bitch had it coming when he walked through my door
Cool-aid jar to the head sent him straight to the floor,
"When that motherfucker tried to lift his head
The twelve gauge went pop! Guess who's dead?,
"Blood on the basement floor going down the drain
Somebodies eyeball sticking to the window pane,
"Flies and roaches know their in paradise
While I got a motherfuckers nuts chilling on ice,
"This teenage bitches titties hitting my face
As I'm lifting her to hook her in place,
"Shit on her ass makes me hold my breath
But that happens when you catch a little death,
"Looking around I couldn't find her head
Maybe it's upstairs under grandma's bed,
"After she got some of this hard dick penetration
I held her down and begin with her decapitation,
"When it comes to victims every race will suffer
Call it equal opportunity for all you motherfuckers,
"It eventually comes down to who's going first
Who's the one wanting the first taste of the hurt.
While in the other a rusty razor blade,
"Either I'm motherfucking shooting or motherfucking cutting
But somebodies gonna get this Grim Reaper loving,
"Smoking a fat blunt laced with angel dust and weed
Playing church music while I do my deadly deed,
"Blood from the floor to the ceiling fan
Whenever homicide get here there screaming goddamn,
"Arms, legs and heads fucking missing
Reproductive organs scattered throughout the kitchen,
"The neighbors nephew stuffed in the stove
Set on slow cook so he won't get cold,
"The punk bitch had it coming when he walked through my door
Cool-aid jar to the head sent him straight to the floor,
"When that motherfucker tried to lift his head
The twelve gauge went pop! Guess who's dead?,
"Blood on the basement floor going down the drain
Somebodies eyeball sticking to the window pane,
"Flies and roaches know their in paradise
While I got a motherfuckers nuts chilling on ice,
"This teenage bitches titties hitting my face
As I'm lifting her to hook her in place,
"Shit on her ass makes me hold my breath
But that happens when you catch a little death,
"Looking around I couldn't find her head
Maybe it's upstairs under grandma's bed,
"After she got some of this hard dick penetration
I held her down and begin with her decapitation,
"When it comes to victims every race will suffer
Call it equal opportunity for all you motherfuckers,
"It eventually comes down to who's going first
Who's the one wanting the first taste of the hurt.
Written by CasketSharpe
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Black Van
Children and pets wiggle impaled on wooden poles
Dead grown victims have fucked out assholes
While the wicked wind blows devilish cold
And my black van is parked on the side of the road
Sitting on a dead body as I use her cell phone
Convincing her daughter her mama want me to bring her home
She says she’s at school and I’ll be waiting
I jump in my black van without hesitation,
How long this been going on-days, months, years
And with this happy hobby ending is my only fear
But as long as there is life there is continued dark hope
Because torture, rape and killing to me is better than dope
It started when I was the age of ten
By killing my sister; the courts deemed it an accident in the end
Then next came my older cousin
I can still hear the bees in his throat still buzzin
Then a year later eliminating my grandmother
Injecting her with ammonia as I fingered her pussy under the cover
And my first girlfriend at a slumber party
Till this day they’re still finding one inch pieces of her body
My black van rolls up, I call –here she come
A few more steps and her limited life is done
Before getting in she ask can her friend get a ride
A two for one sale brings a tear to my eye
They have a hard time opening my van door
I get out to help, but from the early killings I’m still sore
Assisting one in-deciding who will be the first slut
Then helping the other with a firm grip on her butt
Suddenly I’m stunned as I’m knocked off my feet
And when the shock wears off I’m looking at the police
Head on the concrete as my face is embedded in the ground
Because like my rape victims they have me pinned down
I listen to their conversation as they laugh and talk loud
While I look at my lost prey staring at me from the crowd
A smile crosses my lips while my eyes illuminate a soft glow
As another black van roll past them real slow
Dead grown victims have fucked out assholes
While the wicked wind blows devilish cold
And my black van is parked on the side of the road
Sitting on a dead body as I use her cell phone
Convincing her daughter her mama want me to bring her home
She says she’s at school and I’ll be waiting
I jump in my black van without hesitation,
How long this been going on-days, months, years
And with this happy hobby ending is my only fear
But as long as there is life there is continued dark hope
Because torture, rape and killing to me is better than dope
It started when I was the age of ten
By killing my sister; the courts deemed it an accident in the end
Then next came my older cousin
I can still hear the bees in his throat still buzzin
Then a year later eliminating my grandmother
Injecting her with ammonia as I fingered her pussy under the cover
And my first girlfriend at a slumber party
Till this day they’re still finding one inch pieces of her body
My black van rolls up, I call –here she come
A few more steps and her limited life is done
Before getting in she ask can her friend get a ride
A two for one sale brings a tear to my eye
They have a hard time opening my van door
I get out to help, but from the early killings I’m still sore
Assisting one in-deciding who will be the first slut
Then helping the other with a firm grip on her butt
Suddenly I’m stunned as I’m knocked off my feet
And when the shock wears off I’m looking at the police
Head on the concrete as my face is embedded in the ground
Because like my rape victims they have me pinned down
I listen to their conversation as they laugh and talk loud
While I look at my lost prey staring at me from the crowd
A smile crosses my lips while my eyes illuminate a soft glow
As another black van roll past them real slow
Written by Beholder
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Hannibal
Perhaps you shall deliver
To me, your succulent liver
So that I may dine
On flesh so divine
Prepare you as a my feast
I am the human beast
Sipping fine Chianti
In scenes so akin to Dante
For I am in your mind
Foe, not friend, you find
My wit a corpulent flood
Whilst I hungrily seek your blood
Analyse me if you dare
You will find I’m without care
For other men are prey
As their minds I do flay
You may call me Hannibal
You may slander me cannibal
But I have tasted meat
Beyond any mortals feat.
To me, your succulent liver
So that I may dine
On flesh so divine
Prepare you as a my feast
I am the human beast
Sipping fine Chianti
In scenes so akin to Dante
For I am in your mind
Foe, not friend, you find
My wit a corpulent flood
Whilst I hungrily seek your blood
Analyse me if you dare
You will find I’m without care
For other men are prey
As their minds I do flay
You may call me Hannibal
You may slander me cannibal
But I have tasted meat
Beyond any mortals feat.
Written by Rjm
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