dark, angry peotry competion

I don't know if this meets the right terms entirely but it is at least dark


The Hall Of The Damned         (SP Summerscales)

The scream of sheer death
it deflates your lungs
and rips out your breath  
it tears apart
the ventricles of your heart
like the demonic sounds
of a fallen angels harp
the evil flame forming faces
howl and burn mental ash traces
that lick your brain with hot pain
which lights up the dark
to show the insane
in their stark underworld  
of plughole down drain .

A soul stealing trident
Satan spiked and hell sent
tri pronged and wrapped  
in a serpent
stands arrow capped  
in an evil dominant
inside are trapped spirits of unrepent
and infinite , expirement
they ache for your
desperate , detriment
and life retirement

So how can you be here
if your not dead yet
a demon leans near and says
this is what you might get
only fear if you gamble
and lose the bet
your soul so dear
shall be speared in an eternal net

The hall of the damned
full of gone murderers that hanged  
now they're hell framed
their pictured in pain
forever tortured  
dead and inane
they cry out contorted,  
faintly my name
as I leave Satans
emporium of reign
I know after this
that I'll play the right game
and never shall I diss
the lords name ever again ,
nor dare never shall I speak it
in vain .
 

Anonymous said:<< post removed >>

Yay , thanks and you must of realised you have peotry competition not poetry ? just incase you hadn't I thought I'd better say as I also  typo  frequently but mine is due to no typing ability at all

Violence Fetish

Violence? Blood? Flesh? Bone?
Oh fuck yes!

Time to cut the flesh into pieces
After ripping out the heart for a tasty snack
The scent of blood always gets me going
How I love being a sadist
They never say no and they taste oh so good after!

Ripping the intestines and fucking it’s holes
It’s a little messy but I’m a dirty boy
Eat the brain gain its knowledge
I can’t say I don’t have zombie qualities

Rotting flesh always the funnest
The perfect texture and the rankest stench
Gets me harder than the bone I gnaw upon
As I seed the corpse white as snow

Oh and the children are divine
They are oh so delicate and juicy
And easy to obtain as well
Why people don’t do it more I haven’t a clue
But it’s one of the best feelings ever
To fuck their heart and eat their lungs

Hide behind the bushes find a sweet target
That one looks juicy let’s get em
Pull out the sharpened bone
From the last one
And slit their throat
And drink drink drink the blood that flows out
And drag them away and fuck my new toy

Flesh bone and blood
Oh the sweetness of it all
How do people think I’m sick?
I’m just havin some fun
Ever heard of the pursuit of happiness?
Who gives a fuck if a few die?
If you want leftovers I got some in my closet

Rape the corpses day in day out
Although it’s funner when they’re still alive
But that can be annoying as fuck
Cause they scream over my Cannibal Corpse playing
Then I get off beat of fucking them to the drums
Which is just how I like it

Can’t keep from eating
Them either
When broiled right they’re so divine
That grisly salty taste is better than any seasoning
That you could add to any lamb, cow, pig, or goat

Call me a freak a fuck up a sinner
I don’t give a fuck I
Have more fun than you do
And get much more action as well
Necrophilia is the way to go
And who cares about gender?
Picky motherfuckers

Crazy for flesh psycho for blood
Kill em kill em kill em
Need the feel for their body
Whilst it corrodes the longer the better

Oh God I fucking love this
Their blood everywhere
Their bones like a dildo
Their heart a vagina
And their brains a fucking meal!

I'm crying and shaking now,
lowing long, wailing and steeled.
My knuckles are cracked and bloodied,
punching nothing but the dimpled tarmac
in a pool of teeth and offal.

Saliva - mine - is rolling away,
over my grey lips and off my chin
falling silently onto her broken face.

Waves of violence course through my arms,
a crush of power visibly shakes my tired triceps
as I dutifully pound my fist again
again again again
again, through
and past her useless skull.

I pause to howl and wail,
like a battered child at Christmas.

Wiping my spit and mucus
from my neck and chest
with snapping fingers,
I move backwards
and feel the rusted, stuttered barrel
of my hundred-year-old Webley pistol
push against her bruised thighs
and the torn flesh between her legs.

With a blackened finger
on an unoiled trigger,
and my other snapped digits
wrapped around my lazy, bluntly oozing prick,
I slide the reddened steel gun-pillar
into her for the last time.

Biting my tongue
until my own filthy blood
falls from my lips,
I cry out once more,
scream at her
and start to beat my weakened chest,
as I push as much of the corroded pistol
into her as I can.

Like cattle, I bray into the air
as my gun-hand becomes wet
with blood and semen
and I begin to strike myself
as hard as possible in my bruised testicles,
waiting for some life to appear in my useless cock.

But no life comes,
and I lose interest,
turning my fingers now
to her ugly torn breasts,
beating them, as if they were drums
allowing air to escape her bent trachea
and for a while we groan together,
her - motionless and myself a broken wall.

I gaze ultimately at her eyes,
both smashed apart yet closed,
staring somehow.
Her tongue,
cut apart and black,
lazily resting between her broken cheekbones.

And with a final glance at her dessicated frame,
I squeeze my finger that's still inside her
and for one fleeting moment
the appearance of my rusted pistol
is lost in a flash
of lightness and darkness.

Sucks.  
 
I used to believe
there was no such thing
as a bad day.
 
 
And today,  
I sit at the park
on the bonnet
of my car
under the
perfect tree.
 
The
wife  
ran
away
with
 
 
my
Rope .


-x-
Written by AliP  

@FallenAngel May I enter my Trilogy? Its three poems and they are previous writes, never entered in any competitions before?

Bathory Gardens




Secrets of horror lie in the passages of history
Concealed details of a morbid mystery
Where the haunted air traps the curious
Within mystical apparitions of the delirious
Dying endeavors upon the untold detraction
Where tourist leave with an extinct reaction
In this terrain so strange and forbidden
Where no research was made and all truths are hidden
Upon the burial grounds of the blood-thirsty savage
The notorious Hungarian murderer that reigned with heartless ravage
Where neighboring fellows fear to tread
Where Elizabeth's captives silently bled

Bloody gowns sheltered their cold vanilla skin
Butchered by the Countess for her pleasurable sin
Elegant beauty so cruelly despised
Upon her evil and psychotic elderly eyes
Where the enchanted and innocent must painfully die
Amongst literal blood baths and bosoms of red wine
Kept in her dungeon of torture like screaming swine
As the blood trickles down her murderous spine
The fluids drain from the tub like licorice vines
Her lips spread for the young dying grace
As the glass embraces their sweet internal taste
Engulfing their juice while she binds them in lace
Upon these fields where she layed them to waste

Now in the shadows they appear and flaunt
With their screams and cries they appeal and taunt
Within the deadly nightshades of Carpathian mountains
The blood flows upon the growing fountains
Where the angels and demons orchestrate their trumpets
Upon the herbs and flowers that captivate like strumpets
As they execute in horror and despair
On the bleeding burials of the rooted heirs
Their blood filters through the plants
As the dead portray an agonizing dance
While the curse blossoms amongst the poisoned shrubs
Where the deceased lay their ravishing grubs
Blackened fruits filled with innocent blood
Await on the stems below the constant scud
The death cherries of the Belladonna's bring such promiscuous fright
Upon the folklore of this vampiric delight

This harrowing display lurks with lurid pain
Upon the damned and malicious strain
Where the earth rubs against this horrid stain
Amongst the mud of the devil's veins
Planted below by the slained so tearful with grief
From the rancor that lies beneath
The death of the restless shall never be pardoned
As they roam suffering and bound amongst Bathory Gardens

Red Rigor   (SP Summerscales)

Here they come
they stagger in their scum
dragging their limbs
where all feeling has gone
slipping in their skin
with a lipless grin
intestinal drooling
from the rot of within .

Menacing and moaning
a grimacing of groaning
red rigor death showing
the dead figures
are approaching .

Twisted body beetle
black fisted
dripping treacle
dead carcus
powered evil
here they come
in shells of people .

Cadavers , animate
through death
they live to take
the hours you wont awake
you cower , capitulate
the hour
is getting late
they scour ,
cerebal intake
you know it's all over
as they eat your skin cover.

Eternal Sea of Sorrow

There with the fire is an evil empire where the throne of the liar is exalted and admired



And i fear i can hear the sound of their unholy choir getting louder as the fire's growing higher glowing brighter



They conspire!

They conspire!

They conspire!



And i know that the times here

the moment of truth

But i cant seem to hold my self up straight

And the heavens send down tears

For me and for you

But some people prefer to call it rain



There is a place farther than the depths of space can trace through eternity a shining thrown of grace



And i hope there's a place up there in the air

for a poor little child ill prepared for despair



At the age of twelve the free tickets off the shelves so dont fall for the tricks of the ones who promise wealth



In exchange for your soul

Cuz they will take control



 And ill just try to survive cuz i cant affored to die when i

live inside a lie created by the evil eyes.

Break free!

Break free!

Before they come and take me

To the sea!

To the sea!

TO THE SEA!



(for eternity...)