Poetry competition CLOSED 2nd May 2014 7:38pm
WINNER
Madintellect (Mike stew)
Madintellect (Mike stew)
Page:
Not so evil?
4Ever4Gotten said:Pick A "Villian" of any sort.
Write a free form poem on your view of the person.
ONE ENTRY PER PERSON
ready....go
Kk ill kick it of..
Once upon time
Response was rhyme
To a story
Began:
Contest entry "not so evil"
Um... Good I got one....haha
Evil Peter Pan
By Micheal R Stewart®
©2014
He flies through the
Air (but instead of protect)
Never never land he hated and
wasbhoping to stick (all the children)
But not with his sword"Snorting Tink Powder Whooo!"
He said driving a Honda.Accord lol
He.got it from monster gararge
Jesse James was dead behind,
Towed like a barge!
After it became a jet boat there?
One more stop; to the "sons of guns"
So now its weaponed out on all
sides + top!
"dads in the trunk thanks.4the guns!"
With that we thought "indeed I need funds"
Pulled up to the bank.of Montreal with guns placing
o.ya it was a boat I said, but the halls encasing...
Then popped out.. Earlier when outta da water
any killed the banks customers and mayors daughter
Then he ran outside & gave 1/2 to a squater
Shit I.forgot. Bad right?
Then actualy.. That night
the bums sight?
A girnade pin was pulled
when he threw it? Boom one bright...
Massive flash... Evil people don't help.the poor
Peter pans car?
Hook was looking to.score!
He was in it.. Driving away.
And that's what happened one day
a long long time ago
The end
cheers
Write a free form poem on your view of the person.
ONE ENTRY PER PERSON
ready....go
Kk ill kick it of..
Once upon time
Response was rhyme
To a story
Began:
Contest entry "not so evil"
Um... Good I got one....haha
Evil Peter Pan
By Micheal R Stewart®
©2014
He flies through the
Air (but instead of protect)
Never never land he hated and
wasbhoping to stick (all the children)
But not with his sword"Snorting Tink Powder Whooo!"
He said driving a Honda.Accord lol
He.got it from monster gararge
Jesse James was dead behind,
Towed like a barge!
After it became a jet boat there?
One more stop; to the "sons of guns"
So now its weaponed out on all
sides + top!
"dads in the trunk thanks.4the guns!"
With that we thought "indeed I need funds"
Pulled up to the bank.of Montreal with guns placing
o.ya it was a boat I said, but the halls encasing...
Then popped out.. Earlier when outta da water
any killed the banks customers and mayors daughter
Then he ran outside & gave 1/2 to a squater
Shit I.forgot. Bad right?
Then actualy.. That night
the bums sight?
A girnade pin was pulled
when he threw it? Boom one bright...
Massive flash... Evil people don't help.the poor
Peter pans car?
Hook was looking to.score!
He was in it.. Driving away.
And that's what happened one day
a long long time ago
The end
cheers
Guess who.
lock the door
Banish the light
close the blinds
Unlit candles on the five points
Of the pentagram
This room of conjuring i
summon the dragon
The incenses
Thick smell soothe me into meditation
Lost in a trance
I chant
"the fire in my heart
Is part the fire where thy are
Answer my call"
Chanted three times
My eyes Roll backwards
I am possessed blessed
gasoline drenched me
fire fuelled me
I bare your light
They bare your name in shame
No more
lock the door
Banish the light
close the blinds
Unlit candles on the five points
Of the pentagram
This room of conjuring i
summon the dragon
The incenses
Thick smell soothe me into meditation
Lost in a trance
I chant
"the fire in my heart
Is part the fire where thy are
Answer my call"
Chanted three times
My eyes Roll backwards
I am possessed blessed
gasoline drenched me
fire fuelled me
I bare your light
They bare your name in shame
No more
VIDEO POEM: http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/159683-a-clockwork-orange---the-final-chapter/
A Clockwork Orange - The Final Chapter: Antidote for the Masses
There was me, that is Alex, and several devotchkas,
giving me the viddy up and down, thinking
I’m a grahzny ded here for some naughty pol.
We were standing in the old Korova Milkbar,
no room for sharries these days, in the mesto
where Your Humble Narrator and my tree droogs,
once sat drinking milk-plus, plus something else
for the old strobing lights before some ultra-violence.
O my brothers, no more milk-plus for Your Old Humble,
it makes my keeshkas bolnoy and pan-handle snuff it.
The mesto is full of nadsat devotchkas and malchick
dressed in outre edge of fashion, injecting drencrom,
synthemesc and vellocet into their glazz and krovvy.
I find a malenky sharp, eager for the old in-out, in-out
and drag her out by the luscious glory into the alley.
My molodoy devotchka on her knees, lubbilubbing
to her rot. O my brothers, how horrorshow she lapped
and stroked my yarbles, whilst sploshing in her neezhnies.
There was me, Your Wicked Alex, pealing off her platties,
gropping at her groodies, pounding with his pan-handle…
But it all came to an end when my devotchka got poogly
by the zvook of malchick smeching down the lane.
O my brothers, there was no more in-out, in-out
for Your Hardened, Alex. My horny devotchka
grabbed her platties and ran for her jeezny, leaving me
all on my oddy knocky. I viddy four shadows of a shaika,
dratsing amongst themselves, bustling thru my memories.
Just like Your Humble Narrator and my tree droogs,
the shaika were swinging rock and rookers, ready
to do the ultra-violence on some shivering starry
grey-haired ded. O my brothers, Bog and All His Unholy
Bratchny Saints, I was ready to snuff it, for all my strack.
The leader let out a crark, unleashing a wave of fists
tolchock Old Humble to the ground. The shaika,
unmerciful with rooks and boots spilling my krovvy mess,
they broke me real horrorshow, hell-bent to vred.
Oh bliss! Bliss and hell! Oh, it was splendorous-ness
and spoilable-tastic drippings of my razrez flesh.
O my brothers, I did not snuff it! I reached for my britva,
loveted the light of the moon and dreamed of ultra-violence.
Written by Alexander Case
A Clockwork Orange - The Final Chapter: Antidote for the Masses
There was me, that is Alex, and several devotchkas,
giving me the viddy up and down, thinking
I’m a grahzny ded here for some naughty pol.
We were standing in the old Korova Milkbar,
no room for sharries these days, in the mesto
where Your Humble Narrator and my tree droogs,
once sat drinking milk-plus, plus something else
for the old strobing lights before some ultra-violence.
O my brothers, no more milk-plus for Your Old Humble,
it makes my keeshkas bolnoy and pan-handle snuff it.
The mesto is full of nadsat devotchkas and malchick
dressed in outre edge of fashion, injecting drencrom,
synthemesc and vellocet into their glazz and krovvy.
I find a malenky sharp, eager for the old in-out, in-out
and drag her out by the luscious glory into the alley.
My molodoy devotchka on her knees, lubbilubbing
to her rot. O my brothers, how horrorshow she lapped
and stroked my yarbles, whilst sploshing in her neezhnies.
There was me, Your Wicked Alex, pealing off her platties,
gropping at her groodies, pounding with his pan-handle…
But it all came to an end when my devotchka got poogly
by the zvook of malchick smeching down the lane.
O my brothers, there was no more in-out, in-out
for Your Hardened, Alex. My horny devotchka
grabbed her platties and ran for her jeezny, leaving me
all on my oddy knocky. I viddy four shadows of a shaika,
dratsing amongst themselves, bustling thru my memories.
Just like Your Humble Narrator and my tree droogs,
the shaika were swinging rock and rookers, ready
to do the ultra-violence on some shivering starry
grey-haired ded. O my brothers, Bog and All His Unholy
Bratchny Saints, I was ready to snuff it, for all my strack.
The leader let out a crark, unleashing a wave of fists
tolchock Old Humble to the ground. The shaika,
unmerciful with rooks and boots spilling my krovvy mess,
they broke me real horrorshow, hell-bent to vred.
Oh bliss! Bliss and hell! Oh, it was splendorous-ness
and spoilable-tastic drippings of my razrez flesh.
O my brothers, I did not snuff it! I reached for my britva,
loveted the light of the moon and dreamed of ultra-violence.
Written by Alexander Case
Elizabeth Bathory
In 1560 I was born,
And many wish I hadn't been;
I treated everyone with scorn;
Ov lady killers I was queen.
The Blood Countess they christened me,
Because I used to bath in gore;
I murdered virgin maids with glee
Behind my Sarvar castle door.
My husband was a wicked one,
But he was not a patch on Liz,
Until you've seen the things I've done
You've no idea what evil is.
When I was but a child I saw
A fellow sewn up in a horse,
Since then I've murdered girls galore
With never a grain ov remorse.
Stripped naked they're placed in a cage
And stabbed most painfully to death
While I swear and blaspheme in rage -
Eat your heart out, Lady MacBeth.
You too Hyndley and Belle Gunness,
You're like a pair ov babysitters
Compared to the Blood Countess,
For I killed hundreds ov the critters.
Three centuries and more have gone
Since I died walled up in my room,
But my presence will linger on,
My evil shadow always loom,
For deep in every woman's heart
There lurks a temptress and a whore,
And a psychotic, murderous tart
Who yearns to kill and gorge on gore.
In 1560 I was born,
And many wish I hadn't been;
I treated everyone with scorn;
Ov lady killers I was queen.
The Blood Countess they christened me,
Because I used to bath in gore;
I murdered virgin maids with glee
Behind my Sarvar castle door.
My husband was a wicked one,
But he was not a patch on Liz,
Until you've seen the things I've done
You've no idea what evil is.
When I was but a child I saw
A fellow sewn up in a horse,
Since then I've murdered girls galore
With never a grain ov remorse.
Stripped naked they're placed in a cage
And stabbed most painfully to death
While I swear and blaspheme in rage -
Eat your heart out, Lady MacBeth.
You too Hyndley and Belle Gunness,
You're like a pair ov babysitters
Compared to the Blood Countess,
For I killed hundreds ov the critters.
Three centuries and more have gone
Since I died walled up in my room,
But my presence will linger on,
My evil shadow always loom,
For deep in every woman's heart
There lurks a temptress and a whore,
And a psychotic, murderous tart
Who yearns to kill and gorge on gore.
