Poetry competition CLOSED 17th May 2018 9:34am
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IcarusVStheSun (Gypsy Witch)
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Tumultuous Darkness

poet
Madbuttonhatter
Ryan R Morgan
Twisted Dreamer
United States
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Joined 19th Apr 2018
Forum Posts: 44

A Dog Eat Dog World pt1.

The ashen planes were scant and barren. Sand, sand, fucking sand everywhere, what a dull lifeless hellscape.  I remember when there were trees and plants and metal towers.  It’s bizarre to think children are born in this world who’ll spend their entire life never witnessing a single tree, or gawking at zebras in the zoo.  Now everything is composed of sand, dust and human remains, or whatever is left of them by the time the raptors slurp up their carcasses.  It gets monotonous after a while, even when I dream all I see is sand.  Sand in my goggles, sand in my rifle, sand in my veins, sand in my DNA.  Technically, sand comes from cliffs that slowly chip away, crumbling into teeny little dust particles.    
 
Typically I imagine the dust spawning from human corpses though, or decaying animals, probably both.  Maybe it’s comforting to think that my childhood dog and my parents are still with me, scattered somewhere in this infinite sea of dunes.  I likely swallowed their ashes and shat them out blissfully unaware.  Ash is difficult to decipher from sand, ash becomes tiny specks of black dust when it’s carried by the ceaseless winds of the waste.    
 
 I still carry a teeny stuffed Zebra in my back pocket, a memento to remind myself of better times.  A time where we slept in cushiony mattresses and guzzled warm stew for supper.  Like a butterfly fluttering through the desert, disappearing in a flash.  I clutched the zebra tightly as I patrolled the outer edges of the dunes, scanning the area for my prey.  It may come across as juvenile, but that ragged little zebra was the only token separating myself from the remainder of savage beasts that scour the wastes looking for prey to hunt.  Squinting in the blazing desert heat, I witness two dots clustered on the horizon, drifting towards me with considerate speed.    
 
I hadn’t observed anything sprint like that in ages since oil was a rare commodity in the wastes. The duo was kicking up sand clouds as they traversed the expanse.  I estimated them to be roughly fifteen yards away, flashing a mirror in my direction.  It was an old fashioned method of communication that utilized an even more archaic language called Morse.   Either these are some real naive motherfuckers, or they’re coordinating a trap to disguise their foul intentions.  Either way, they're fucking with the wrong predator.    
 
Two confirmed, one scouted was a rather plump fellow riding shotgun,  probably a recent catch owned by a wealthy trader, or vice versa, the guy’s a roaming warlord who owns the wealthy trader.  That dynamic seems more probable.  It sounds so appealing, Almost hypnotic in its belligerence.  The only thing packing on that much fat amounted to however, was a giant target on your back for wasteland predators like myself.  Those are the rules around here, kill or be killed.  If you’re one of the two percent of individuals who manage to stumble across an old hydroponics farm, consider yourself lucky.    
 
The odds are even slimmer to come across a hydroponics farm that hasn’t been depleted of all its contents.  If you come across one, there’s a good chance it’s already filled to the brim with desperate vegans who refuse to accept a good day’s meal when they have the opportunity to do so.  
 
The cliffs surrounding my peripheral vision were steep and smelled like rotten pussy, back when pussy was in high demand on the meat trade.  Speaking of which I remember my first time smelling a dead body, it filled me with all manner of horrendous nightmares and existential dread, couldn’t sleep at night, had to crawl in bed with my mother.  But then I remembered… she ate my dad, and it seemed likely she’d devour me as well.  I was a generously fed kid after all, just like this fatty hitching a ride on some hippie’s motorbike.  Two shots was all it took.  My mom didn’t have any real composure. The bullets rattled in my hand like loose change in a girl’s pocket.  “Be good Jennifer, don’t steal, don’t be a bully, be a nice girl.”, my parents told me.  What a crock of shit that was.    
 
My dad bought me my first hunting rifle when I was 15,  an auto targeting rifle that could murder an entire flock of geese in a matter of seconds.  So satisfying, that thing ate through gas like a starving marauder, but god… could it shoot.  Funny, it’s been a long time since I’ve said that word… God.  Reminds me of the old times… when religion was still a thing… when I had that damned VR device and practically worshiped animals.. Like Gods...  
 
“The Lioness stalks her prey as she roams the serengeti, prowling for her next meal.”  
The narrator exclaimed in a prim English accent that exudes authority.  Tinny speakers rattled as the lioness emitted a ferocious roar that made my skin crawl and nearly forced the internal audio device to combust in a tunnel of flames.  Sure, I owned a defective model, yes there was a likely possibility that it could burn down our entire apartment complex, endangering our lives and those of our neighbors.  But I mean, fuck it, it was worth the risk.  The headset was such a thrilling novelty, a moving portrait of a world I could scarcely remember from my youth.  
 
 These sleek and stylized VR goggles themselves, were an astounding feat in progress.  NatureArchive3.0, as they were called, was the latest virtual reality model from Apple INC, the only tech giant remaining firm on the stock market, if merely by a singular pinkie toe.  The aging CEO was like a sagely wizard who delivered spectacular speeches that roused the crowd bused in from various nursery homes.  Even then, it was a dying market seeing as the elderly were well… dying at a rapid pace that far exceeded the rate of newborn children.  Investors viewed Apple as an aging dinosaur, just like its audience, a luxury brand that enthralled it’s viewers with precious nostalgic, appealing to the aforementioned elderly folks and upscale clients who could even miraculously afford the hefty price tag and keep their own head.    
 
Speaking of the elite wealthy class, they were being massacred in waves, perhaps it was karma for the systematic greed and suffering they had inflicted on the earth, on the ecosystem, and on society.   As malevolent as the intentions of the uppity bourgeoise may have been, reflected by their darkened attire and condescending scowls, their public execution were a difficult sit.  Some civilians delighted in chaotic scenes of savage protesters raiding billion dollar estates, ransacking cathedral sized refrigeration units and swiping any available produce they could wrap their grubby paws around.  
 
The most harrowing spectacle however was witnessing, men, women even children strung about their necks, hanging against ostentatious balconies, manipulated with strings like some deranged puppet show from hell.    
 
After the exploding popularity of these grotesque public performances, the eyes of broadcast company CEO sparkled with the glow of elevated profit margins.  Studios began constructing sets with the specific intention of filming these shows, writing elaborate melodramas set in fantastical worlds.  It was difficult to scan through TV stations without skipping over at least one of these garish programming blocks.  Sometimes the puppeteers would encounter technical difficulties after the head of a puppet plummeted from its neck.  Normally the camera would cut before the accident could be seen by vulnerable children, but occasionally studios would purposely neglect to do so, marketing the broadcast as an early Halloween special or a similar excuse.  These shows were like the fruit of temptation, minus the snakes… because most snake species were extinct.
 
I preferred watching my lions, my tigers my mongooses and everything in between.  All the creatures humanity had senselessly exterminated.  They held an aura, their souls were pure and unfiltered a premise that was non existent in the contaminated and filthy hearts of humanity.  Animals were simple creatures, they lived off the land, never bit more than they could chew and their values weren’t subject to bigotry or superstition.    
 
My VR goggles were precious to me, the pair of which were purchased by my parents after several years worth of preserving any remainder of money in an airtight vent customized with locks to prevent theft from any intruder.  It was only a symptom of my parent’s paranoia though, money was becoming as valuable as dirt in the survival economy.    
 
The National Geographic special blared throughout our tiny apartment.  I was staring directly into a time capsule.  The animals were dying, as hunters poached any remainder of life present on earth, stripping them for fruitless monetary gain and devouring any edible portion of their meat.  Species were climbing into extinction at a rapid pace, faster than a drunk driver at a crosswalk.  It began with the exotic animals, Jungle dwelling creatures, certain fish populations, and then the endangered species list grew to include deer, skunks, possums, raccoons… and eventually humans.  
 
  A team of the world’s leading scientists, now looked upon as mystical prophets for their efforts in attempting to convince the international community that the human race was locked into a kamikaze spiral, scrambled to keep pace with the rapid decline of animal populations.  They also attempted to preserve any remaining species of vegetation, which had also been declining at a rapid pace alongside other carbon based lifeforms.    
 
The Earth was dying, and as humanity encroached upon a new harsh landscape, wrought with fierce competition and brutal conflict, some desperate, primarily isolated individuals began resorting to… what was then considered a taboo method of maintaining sustenance.  When the animals had all but vanished, with the exception of minor grubs, insects, arachnids and such… there was only one animal left.  And the crumbling remnants of civilization merely developed a tolerance for the taste of that forbidden delicacy… no longer regarded as a delicacy… but a primary food source.  
 
Twenty years later, life is a constant struggle.  The predators devour the prey, and in turn I have become a lioness, eternally prowling for my next meal through the desert wastes.  
 
I never really contemplated the purpose of my existence.  All that existentialism seemed like inane bullshit to me.  Even when humanity had the leisure to conjure philosophies and discuss moral quandaries, it was all futile.  What good are morals in a world where the strong devour the weak like spiders entrapping flies.  Humanity had a penchant for developing new and powerful weapons, each iteration more devastating than the next.  A peace concord between all major powers drafted by some stupid ass twigs in tailored suits sought to alter that dynamic.  The council promised an end to any future conflicts, imprisoning those who contradict the new age doctrine.  It was all in the name of some archaic philosophical tenant called world peace.  This was an idea associated with a time period that my highschool teacher called the “peace and love era”, where dope fiends consumed a cacophony of mind altering substances, whined about a war in Vietnam, and smelled like rotten potatoes.  Come to think of it, I likely smelled fairly similar to a hippie.  
   
After all I can’t remember the last time I bathed, I can’t even remember the last time I found a watering hole large enough to submerge my whole body into.  Most are guarded by fellow predators referred to as “crocodiles”.  Back when animals stomped across the earth, there was a creature by that very same title.  The creature would pretend to be a floating log and snap its mouth onto any poor sucker who wandered in its general direction.  The tactic was adopted  in a similar fashion by the crocodiles, and their uncanny patience garnered them notoriety in the wastes.    
   
With apologies regarding that tangent, the world rejoiced at first glance.  No longer would humanity pledge servitude to a world where a mother and a father, or a father and a father, or a mother and a… you get the picture, would be dealt a dreadful hand after military servicemen appeared on their caller ID.  No longer would warlords desecrate villages rape their women and kidnap children to serve as new recruits.  No longer would overzealous fanatics fly passenger planes into skyscrapers and spur two devastating wars in their wake.  However, as the doctrine was debated among pseudo intellectuals, a growing consensus drew enormous scepticism from the treaty.  Most deemed it was utterly naive, nearly all companies from talking head on CNN,  to Jim from the office down the hall completely scoffed over the U.N.’s ability to maintain such an ambitious proposal.    
 
The world was a violent place, stocked with varying ideologies, hostile governments, and a general fixation with violence that seems second nature to humanity.  And… well it continued to be like that… only with a global police force encouraging individuals to massacre animals instead of their fellow human beings.  
 
And here we are now, the world ran out of animals to butcher, so now we’re butchering ourselves instead.  Everything came full circle, just like the circle of life.  I guess since the ecosystem was dismantled by humanity, humanity was forced to take up its reigns.
Written by Madbuttonhatter (Ryan R Morgan)
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poet
shaniadittee7
Avengers
Strange Creature
Bangladesh
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Joined 29th Jan 2018
Forum Posts: 17

Darkness Into The Light

Hello wisp, my old friend.
What took you so long to reach me?
Were you lost & forgot the address?
Eager to hear what you missed?
Okay,then briefing the days.
 
The north star was not directing.
Miles & Miles to walk;
All the houses'd become unexplored,
All the breathes'd become unknown.
 
People forgot to light up,
Like the fire has not invented yet.
People forgot to laugh,
An advertising smile covers the face.
People forgot to sing,
Like the harmony was never there.
People forgot to cry,
Two drops are worthy to shed.
People forgot to dance,
Like the steps were never with the rhythm.  
People forgot to live,
Just flesh, blood in the vein & body.
People forgot to hope.
Darkness becomes you, wisp.
 
Now you are here, my old friend.
But darkness has become my best friend.
Black petals covered white rose.
People buried anger everywhere.
People seeing light,
But are not watching.
People hearing your melodies,  
But aren't listening.  
You've touched people's heart,
But they aren't feeling.
You're painting colors,
But they aren't caring.
Aren't you feeling a deep hole in you?
 
So will you be a mirage again?
& let the darkness come?
If wisp stay...
Darkness; My best friend.
Will my faith lose you then?
"Shadow."
said Darkness, my old friend.
Written by shaniadittee7 (Avengers)
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poet
_Me_
Twisted Dreamer
United States
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Joined 4th Apr 2018
Forum Posts: 134

Mentions: AEMelia564 (Y)
If a bit of other cracks your whip though, check out cloventongue89's too, if free-verse is your style. Just a bit or two (2cents) of the recent.  

Well, because I can, and here is as good of place as any to put it. I hope you see between the lines, so obviously:

"Check Out"
 
Walked up to check-out,
thought twice, went back.
Said to self, “I’ll give me slack;”
today I will avoid that rout.
Keep my key, put here alright,
think I’ll Stay another night.

Back again, in the mourn,
right there at the granite;
reconsidered, I took for granted,
since my room so adorn;
I guess it came as no surprise,
not yet this journey’s demise.

All packed and ready to go,
I walked out to return my key;
same thought occurred to me,
think another night this key I’ll stow;
I’m free to leave when I may,
I think I’ll stay another day.



[Heh, In case the question arises, I am not part of my own competition, just giving you part of my soul here.]

Also, I give these re-reads (aloud, it should be)
more I get, from art and such poetry.

Edit:
I appreciate the submissions, though don't forget that, the winner will be chosen by the stated rules:

1. The best will be crowned by Me.
2. This is not a battle, so no points for knocking down another.

3. Imagery, rhyme, meter, originality.

4. Five poems you may submit.

5. Relevant to topic: 'Branded by Darkness.' There is also light to be had here if you're creative. Though, I think (at least for me) the things that brand, are the ones that hurt the most.
Prove me wrong!

poet
Chris_Pleasures
Chris Pleasures
Twisted Dreamer
United States
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Joined 25th Apr 2018
Forum Posts: 23

The Boy

He who hid in plain sight; full of smiles and laughter yet driven by pure loneliness. Afraid of extending his company to others, not willing to give open arms. Paranoid that those so-called "friends" will just cause more harm.

Disconnected from the world and all who embodies it. Wanting to speak his mind but people don't seem so fond of it. Not taking a listen, To him it's important but all they hear is "Tisk" "Tisk" "Tisk" so called pure ignorance.

The Boy is a "shadow," he has no appearance.
The Boy is alone, no one has the time to hear him.

And before you know it; The Boy is dead.
Gone and non-existent.

Watch the world and his so called friends say, "I wish I would have listened."

But it's too late.

The Boy... His name was Christian
Written by Chris_Pleasures (Chris Pleasures)
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poet
Chris_Pleasures
Chris Pleasures
Twisted Dreamer
United States
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Joined 25th Apr 2018
Forum Posts: 23

Vibrations

He sold you a false dream didn't he? Told you shit like he'll be your King and you forever is Queen. Steady playing a role to limit your doubt just so he don't have to hear everyone's mouth. Sworn he was different and better than your last; said," that little boy couldn't keep up, come mess with a man and see whats up." Hell you were vulnerable so you believed his ass especially since he got the easy pass. Now you're stuck. Where is he ?? Oh yea he never gave a fuck. I mean everything he promised sounded appealing so how were you supposed to know??? But that's how snakes pick their prey you see he just wanted to get in them cheeks, been plotting on the low slithering his way into your heart for weeks. Plans of lust from the beginning, I  bet dude smiling like he winning. Gave him something sacred and he left yo ass feeling desiccated. Heart in a shell asking why? Believing in the word🙏🏾, you thought it was time. Questioning if the word that you heard from God was a lie. But God has other plans and trust you'll soon see why. Give it time and you'll understand. So I ask of you beautiful, don't you cry. Wipe those tears from your eyes, everything will be alright. Because in the end dude gon get what he has coming. A feeling of pain that has not yet stricken. Just you wait and I bet while your living posting on the gram of incredible sites he will be left in deep regret praying for one more chance and one more night... In the arms of a good woman.
Written by Chris_Pleasures (Chris Pleasures)
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poet
cloventongue89
Nathaniel Peter
Fire of Insight
United States
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Joined 18th Sep 2017
Forum Posts: 360

Thanks for the mention :)

poet
Madbuttonhatter
Ryan R Morgan
Twisted Dreamer
United States
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Joined 19th Apr 2018
Forum Posts: 44

The Onryo

Hair as dense and impenetrable as a foggy night  
Eyes piercing like blades of obsidian  
gazing, stalking, visage consumed with fury  
Ceaseless anger, a woman violated and scorned  
Cruel misfortunes of innumerable souls  
Damned to hades
by a hand not of their own  
 
A man with no fortune to abuse or lose  
A night, peaceful, calm as a stillborn child  
No voices, no squeaks or creaks  
Like the infant of his wretched defeat  
Mother and son passed very fast  
Police confused, a killer on the loose  
Atmosphere tense, a chinook carries ominous whispers  
As Stringy fingers caress a self-made widower's pane  
Gasping, wheezing, their lungs like hot potatos  
 
Ashen strands and ragged kimonos  
Encompassing his tortured visions  
 
A crimson glow consumes his meager abode  
Eyes faintly bursting from his skull  
Skin crawling across his starving flesh  
a wriggling bucket of worms in coitus  
Slithering across the bamboo floor  
As he initiates rigor mortis  
 
An unforgettable face  
Lips that exude nostalgia  
Memories of unsettling violence  
Visions of past altercations  
 
The desecration is prevalent  
Scars of jealousy and aggression evident  
Closes his eyes, kisses goodbye  
As the fingers enfold across his broken features  
 
A fate inevitable, a fate eternally sealed  
The Onryo strikes with vengeance  
 
A new victim is collected.
Written by Madbuttonhatter (Ryan R Morgan)
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poet
nostalgic_hue
theodyssey
Lost Thinker
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Joined 5th Feb 2018
Forum Posts: 17

DEATH LUST.

I want to bleed and weep
i want to bleed red rivers and shed blackened tears
to fill the soulless void
where once my heart was hidden
i want to drown in burning lava
red hot bubbling magma
in the sulphur lake
of my past mistakes
as my wiry hairs
go up in flames...

i want to run away
from the condemning lights
flee far away
from this condescending faces
run into the darkness
into holy sweet loneliness
i want to dive deep into oblivion
where only infinity can find me
i want to look up
and see myself
spread across the skies
in wisps and clasps
transluscent,transient.

i want to walk away
run, let go
i want to forget
i want to sleep
and wake up
to a new world
where no pasts haunt me
where i am the hero of my own story
no one to judge me,betray me
a world that knows no emotion
i want to walk out of the door
of living
walk out of life
into boundlessness,freedom
be one with infinity
i want to take that leap of faith
into darkness
into eternity
i want you.death.
Written by nostalgic_hue (theodyssey)
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poet
_Me_
Twisted Dreamer
United States
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Joined 4th Apr 2018
Forum Posts: 134

Great turmoil and darkness you all have presented me.

Though, remember that I'm well versed in how the dead rose in the night.
Don't forget to tell me, like the thought between these two lines:

Diamonds, sparkling so bright
A conscious (I'll have) not so light.

He he, between the lines the winner I will find.

poet
24601
John Brady
Thought Provoker
United States
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Joined 21st Jan 2017
Forum Posts: 71

Medusa

She wears black holes
starlit in ribboned distress
as she kneels by the couch
whispering all the things  
her heels allow her to say
 
because there’s something  
about her pain that makes  
all the hairs on my body
stand to attention  
 
as this feral creature
tiptoes the shadows
of my broken lamp
laid bare before my gaze
mosaicked in misery.
 
I want to take her tears
and paint her canvas
with a deadly kind of art,
stretch her bone easel
into an A-frame  
in the middle of the room
 
I want to spit her violence,
crucifying her stare to the floor
to fill the gaps in wood  
with her matted hair
lashes
blood
 
instead, I stare  
into the abyss of her cunt
knowing she’s worth more  
than this writhing mass
she denies
Written by 24601 (John Brady)
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poet
slipalong
Twisted Dreamer
United Kingdom
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Joined 1st Jan 2018
Forum Posts: 80

edge

from the edge of darkness they looked out
they could not touch the things they loved
a silent scream like Edvard Munch
the void was just to far to Jump
a man child is that what we are
just water carriers from here to there
vessels walking full of dreams
deaths great chasm welcomes us
its brink crumbles beyond our toes to dust
the cosmos calls the black emptiness appalls
to sell your soul dark side reveled
the tarot card with skull detailed
Darth Vader presence in your dreams
a spectrum that remains unseen
a cuckoos nest that's your dark web
obituary remains unread
James Bond villain wins the day
fortune cookies with tidings dread
a mine where only black diamonds shine
Pentangle spell my bride tonight

 
Written by slipalong
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poet
Michael_Goodridge
M_Goodridge
Twisted Dreamer
Trinidad and Tobago
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Joined 18th Feb 2017
Forum Posts: 64

W R A T H

I am that Nigga you should be afraid of.
Grave Digger grim reaper call me God's karma.


In the end When everything is gone in the split of splitting second
Bury you above your child right next to your mama with all your family members
Alone in the mirror still living in denial
Fucked with The God The one The Holy child
I am but the hand of your unholy demise
The pain the sword that cut you shorter of a swift trial.

Ever wonder where life would be if you didn't fuck with me where you go after you die?

Shivers deep in your soul, you didn't even see it coming
Lost in this world, broke cold and having nothing
Face the facts dawg you all amount to nothing
Like a curse my rage quietly descended upon you
I let you live just to strip you of everything you ever tried or amount to
Bury you alive in the rain can you hear the shovel
Look at me as you scream yes your life is over
The 1st shovel of dirt hit the casket and the glass gets covered.

Ever wonder where life would be if you didn't fuck with me where you would go after you die?
It's almost over now...





Written by Michael_Goodridge (M_Goodridge)
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poet
Michael_Goodridge
M_Goodridge
Twisted Dreamer
Trinidad and Tobago
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Joined 18th Feb 2017
Forum Posts: 64

DARK REFLECTION

Bleed, kill, evil deeds demon possession, dark reflection, sinner inner demon, soul reaper, skull cup of blood, devouring souls of dinner psycho general lethal killer infectious relentless instigator, the bringer of all wrath, the ultimate punishment, merciless cold-hearted, emotionless, The one and only, the I am, the sin within, the indescribable light in hell, the most high God, the demon inside, the alpha and omega, the faceless, the unseen, the creator of the created, beware you are me. The karma, the envy, the pain the frenemy, the danger, the night the agony, the pain, the reason the lights went dark, the hunger, the lame, the sufferer, the funeral, the coffin, the wakes.  Lucifer, the angel, both one and the same, the love you cherish, the venomous rage, cross me and be nailed to the cross holy grace.
Written by Michael_Goodridge (M_Goodridge)
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poet
Michael_Goodridge
M_Goodridge
Twisted Dreamer
Trinidad and Tobago
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Joined 18th Feb 2017
Forum Posts: 64

What Love has made me

Lost in the blist of just a fucking fantasy
love has hurt me most of any
life couldnt be worst till the day I fell in love and she left me
being completely alone and being lonely is the worst feeling to feel
Love relased the Devil in me
Satan was a joke compared to me when I became to creator of evil
Fuck all girls became hoes to me
fuck love fuck you your mom cuz after all your all whores
romance was a joke suck dick
when it was over I didn't dosposed of the rubber
used it over and did the entire squad
pray to your god none of you whores had a vaginal flaw
cuz I just gave it to you all
Lost my mind to the love when I gave it my all
Broken never to be whole again
quick to kill
Instigate to break everything
no mercy for your bullshit slip and I ended it
never had a relationship 100 so anything less ended in death.
Written by Michael_Goodridge (M_Goodridge)
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poet
Michael_Goodridge
M_Goodridge
Twisted Dreamer
Trinidad and Tobago
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Joined 18th Feb 2017
Forum Posts: 64

Alone and lonely

Alone and lonely
Michael_Goodridge (M_Goodridge)
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