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Poetry competition CLOSED 26th June 2015 1:47pm
WINNER
Atakti
Atakti
macabre [&] beautifully grotesque ~
Anonymous
Poetry Contest Description
make it pretty-ugly
no hearts & flowers [unless you're keeping both in a vase] please ...
... give me entrails, bones and exquisitely gaping wounds.
~ new or old entries welcome
~ one per customer
~ two weeks
~ no collabs
... give me entrails, bones and exquisitely gaping wounds.
~ new or old entries welcome
~ one per customer
~ two weeks
~ no collabs
Lay Myself Bare
A slice up my arm, I see it now,
and inside my bone. It lies bare.
Isn’t that the phrase? The words
lie — a biological impossibility.
Unless they mean after, between
the funeral and the dust.
If someone dug them up, my bones
could lie bare. If someone took the trouble
and shined them up real nice
and laid them out all tidy on the
ground, gleaming in the sun…
There, are my bare bones.
Except that is the long way
around. It would hurt me a
lot less, but who cares enough
to wait? Go ahead, ask me.
A slice up my arm, I see it now,
and inside my bone. It lies bare.
Isn’t that the phrase? The words
lie — a biological impossibility.
Unless they mean after, between
the funeral and the dust.
If someone dug them up, my bones
could lie bare. If someone took the trouble
and shined them up real nice
and laid them out all tidy on the
ground, gleaming in the sun…
There, are my bare bones.
Except that is the long way
around. It would hurt me a
lot less, but who cares enough
to wait? Go ahead, ask me.
heart of darkness
hideously un-beautiful, I stalk the night.
duplicitous monster, who by day composes love poems that
invade the unsheltered hearts of spinsters living their amorous
desires vicariously thru my delicate sonnets.
my house is dark & dolorous: house of no mirrors, that long
ago shattered as my reflection itself died in the terrible presence
of my scarred masque.
lurking in the shadows of a deserted street, I hear the clicking of
her heels as she approaches, returning from her encounters with
men. she has taken their gold & burning bits of their souls, to
sustain her own worthless existence.
I gaze upon shiny stilted shoes, white ankles, glorious legs that
excite me. short skirt trying desperately to conceal magnificent
buttocks. leather halter restraining ripe breasts that I must suckle
and gnaw.
where is her guardian angel to shout: frail girl! run!.....run away!
I almost offer my own prayers to encourage her escape from
my leprous intentions.
quickly I grab her, covering her trembling lips with my claw, squeezing
her throat. in moments, she ceases her struggling, her eyes close, her
breathing ends. I carry her to the alley, resting her gently on cold
cobblestones.
with surgical hands, I remove her clothing, and gaze in rapture upon her
unblemished nakedness. and I weep over beauty that never was meant
for this desolate world.
of a sudden, my hunger overtakes me. I feast like a starving wolf upon
her freshly fallen form, tasting the sweetest flesh, and blood of a proper
temper and blush…
with the sun, I will be inspired to emote a scene of rustic delight: silken
flowers in bloom, singing doves floating in an ambient sky, lovers caressing
on a hillside, vowing eternal bliss.
hideously un-beautiful, I stalk the night.
duplicitous monster, who by day composes love poems that
invade the unsheltered hearts of spinsters living their amorous
desires vicariously thru my delicate sonnets.
my house is dark & dolorous: house of no mirrors, that long
ago shattered as my reflection itself died in the terrible presence
of my scarred masque.
lurking in the shadows of a deserted street, I hear the clicking of
her heels as she approaches, returning from her encounters with
men. she has taken their gold & burning bits of their souls, to
sustain her own worthless existence.
I gaze upon shiny stilted shoes, white ankles, glorious legs that
excite me. short skirt trying desperately to conceal magnificent
buttocks. leather halter restraining ripe breasts that I must suckle
and gnaw.
where is her guardian angel to shout: frail girl! run!.....run away!
I almost offer my own prayers to encourage her escape from
my leprous intentions.
quickly I grab her, covering her trembling lips with my claw, squeezing
her throat. in moments, she ceases her struggling, her eyes close, her
breathing ends. I carry her to the alley, resting her gently on cold
cobblestones.
with surgical hands, I remove her clothing, and gaze in rapture upon her
unblemished nakedness. and I weep over beauty that never was meant
for this desolate world.
of a sudden, my hunger overtakes me. I feast like a starving wolf upon
her freshly fallen form, tasting the sweetest flesh, and blood of a proper
temper and blush…
with the sun, I will be inspired to emote a scene of rustic delight: silken
flowers in bloom, singing doves floating in an ambient sky, lovers caressing
on a hillside, vowing eternal bliss.
Viscisitudes
Visceral
voluptuous
venemous
A scinntilating picture of poise
and presence
As you walk across the room
jaws drop, hearts ache a thousand second hesitate
it's death in heels
Platform, spikes
big enough to squish a mans head
if you could lift them that high, that is
You're not there
but you are
for me
I can't see
yet your all I see.
Carrion, carrion, carrion
I can almost smell the stench
oh wait, that's your deodorant
A seductress
praying on the weak and the meek
catching insects in an attempt to make them pray.
Hey, whatever blows your hairback
miss corpse
Maybe short of a corpse
too mobile
bring bring, bring bring...
I'm sorry I'm not here but you can leave a message
an another an another an another
and I will never get back to you.
Visceral
voluptuous
venemous
A scinntilating picture of poise
and presence
As you walk across the room
jaws drop, hearts ache a thousand second hesitate
it's death in heels
Platform, spikes
big enough to squish a mans head
if you could lift them that high, that is
You're not there
but you are
for me
I can't see
yet your all I see.
Carrion, carrion, carrion
I can almost smell the stench
oh wait, that's your deodorant
A seductress
praying on the weak and the meek
catching insects in an attempt to make them pray.
Hey, whatever blows your hairback
miss corpse
Maybe short of a corpse
too mobile
bring bring, bring bring...
I'm sorry I'm not here but you can leave a message
an another an another an another
and I will never get back to you.
Necro-romantic
Her beautiful eyes, like oceanic worlds of cobalt and emerald swirls, have been meticulously placed into dry, empty sockets
Realigning optic nervousness they twitch with every stitch
Inch by inch they're pinched and cinched
He knew the sky would fall
And he knew that she would crawl
From beneath the ashes of the moon
Piece by piece
She rebuilds that night
A perfect muscle structure set atop her frame of bone gave her the shape of his desire
So slick they slipped throughout his grip
Off hot meat fresh blood dripped and scalpels ticked from tip on tip
All the Stars came raining down
Pounding loud upon the ground
She lost her lover
Piece by piece
She rebuilds her knight
Her perfect skin which shrouds his necromantic patchwork of sutures and staples now show only scars
What was once ripped and stripped then cleaned and clipped
Now feels the itch to cleave and stitch
His sickly wish
After every planet broke and shattered
There were pieces truly scattered
She knew exactly what she wanted
Piece by piece
He awoke leaving death behind
Her beautiful eyes, like oceanic worlds of cobalt and emerald swirls, have been meticulously placed into dry, empty sockets
Realigning optic nervousness they twitch with every stitch
Inch by inch they're pinched and cinched
He knew the sky would fall
And he knew that she would crawl
From beneath the ashes of the moon
Piece by piece
She rebuilds that night
A perfect muscle structure set atop her frame of bone gave her the shape of his desire
So slick they slipped throughout his grip
Off hot meat fresh blood dripped and scalpels ticked from tip on tip
All the Stars came raining down
Pounding loud upon the ground
She lost her lover
Piece by piece
She rebuilds her knight
Her perfect skin which shrouds his necromantic patchwork of sutures and staples now show only scars
What was once ripped and stripped then cleaned and clipped
Now feels the itch to cleave and stitch
His sickly wish
After every planet broke and shattered
There were pieces truly scattered
She knew exactly what she wanted
Piece by piece
He awoke leaving death behind
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/images/uploads/poemimages/207452.jpg
- - - NECROMANIA - - -
She bloomed before me
Like a dark red rose
And teases me
Oh, so, sweetly
Eyes peer intently
Her mouth laid open
A silent scream
Is music to my ears
So close to cumming
In festering flesh
Penetrating the putrid decay
I feel her body
Her entrails and all
We consummate eternal love
Ragged incisions
When I carve the meat
We celebrate
With festive shades
Of crimson and gray
Matter and splatter
And salivate
Lick the juices from her corpse
Can't you see that I need you
For midnight fuckings and beyond
The veil of death remains
A mystery, callous and cruel
My art is honed to precision
A morbid fetish
Among many others
Fucking you after death
The ticking clock
Of rigor mortis
Maggots crawl across
My cock
Yes, I am in love
With rancid meat
She used to be
So beautiful
Flies sing lovely songs
We begin to feast
I wish I could
Fuck you dead one last time
Skull fucking to silence screams
Godless endeavors are sublime
Enticing, romantic
Fantasies straight out of my dreams
Necromania refined
The jizz is running
From every hole
God-given and others blessed by me
You are somebody
With entrails strung high
A tribute to our eternal love
A morbid fetish
Among many others
Fucking you after death
The ticking clock
Of rigor mortis
Maggots crawl across
My cock
(c) 2015 Frank Green
Tea Time With Nipples
the nipples, I bite them like raisins
and spit them in alphabet soup
nipples go good with gravy
you'll grow new ones, you'll regroup
your booty hole, I lick it
and you clench, tightening up your anus
I bite your booty meat like two angels
I punch you in the clitorus
your vagina is black and blue
I don't mean to be meticulous
but I'm not done with you
blood is not required for you to be hired
but pain,
pain is what I desire from you
I suck on your labia, tongue deep in your g spot
shivers and shocks, your body is an electric fence
you come hither and you definitely come hence
I Jane Austen your vagina without sense or sensibility
I confuse you with subtle eroticism and tireless frivolity
I rub my erect monument on your throat like a fiddle
conjuring up a throat destruction symphony
in A major disaster for your body, you shall speak softly
henceforth, I often find women who have a lot on their mind
enjoy having a lot more in their mouth
Oh Vagina, a hole that expands to embrace all of a man
but what if I only danced around your beckoning orifice
and never entered?
what if I left you uninjured, would you call me paltry
and deflate my narcissism?
Oh Vagina, you are leaking with anticipation
of a thrashing and a hating
you shall have to wait and steam in your own stew
for it is my tea time and I enjoy a hot brew
you are free to go and find another casanova
one that is willing to give you a fine drilling and filling
as for me, I only wanted nipples
I'm no Don Juan, I just like biting off women's nipples
the nipples, I bite them like raisins
and spit them in alphabet soup
nipples go good with gravy
you'll grow new ones, you'll regroup
your booty hole, I lick it
and you clench, tightening up your anus
I bite your booty meat like two angels
I punch you in the clitorus
your vagina is black and blue
I don't mean to be meticulous
but I'm not done with you
blood is not required for you to be hired
but pain,
pain is what I desire from you
I suck on your labia, tongue deep in your g spot
shivers and shocks, your body is an electric fence
you come hither and you definitely come hence
I Jane Austen your vagina without sense or sensibility
I confuse you with subtle eroticism and tireless frivolity
I rub my erect monument on your throat like a fiddle
conjuring up a throat destruction symphony
in A major disaster for your body, you shall speak softly
henceforth, I often find women who have a lot on their mind
enjoy having a lot more in their mouth
Oh Vagina, a hole that expands to embrace all of a man
but what if I only danced around your beckoning orifice
and never entered?
what if I left you uninjured, would you call me paltry
and deflate my narcissism?
Oh Vagina, you are leaking with anticipation
of a thrashing and a hating
you shall have to wait and steam in your own stew
for it is my tea time and I enjoy a hot brew
you are free to go and find another casanova
one that is willing to give you a fine drilling and filling
as for me, I only wanted nipples
I'm no Don Juan, I just like biting off women's nipples
Anonymous
madame, ataki, miss noir,
mister feddeler, duncan, violence & hades thank you most much for your entries...
... bo if you return with less gratuitous violence simply for shock value, i'll consider it an actual entry. cheers
mister feddeler, duncan, violence & hades thank you most much for your entries...
... bo if you return with less gratuitous violence simply for shock value, i'll consider it an actual entry. cheers
- The Angel of Death -
The air is chill as ice, and the night both cold and long,
It doth seem to me that a long age hath come and gone…
I am waiting, so patiently waiting, for my soul's release,
When will the dark messenger come, to bring me peace?
That bright winged angel of soft shadows and gray mists,
Oh, when will my angel come, to offer me her fatal kiss?
The air is chill as ice, and the night both cold and long,
Yet in the darkness, methinks I hear of her lonely song…
It is both inhuman and strange; it seems never to cease,
The shrieking and wailing seem to come from the Abyss,
Could it be my dark angel, come to offer me her fatal kiss?
The night hath grown frosty cold, the air is become chill,
The strange singer is drawing nearer, her voice high and shrill…
The shadows close in around me, like great birds of prey,
The blackness of their wings seems to promise no rising of the day.
I knew that I wouldst never live to see another bright morn,
Now I am certain, for here cometh my angel, like a fearful storm!
I canst hear the rhythmic flapping of her black raven's wings,
The shadows part for her will, and by that power I canst see…
Yet, I have opened mine eyes only to behold terrible things!
She descends to greet me, her smile as beautiful as canst be…
Clothed in robes spun from darkness and from mortal fear.
Yet, for me she doth shed a single bloodily crimson tear…
The night is no longer cold; the air is no longer quite chill,
My dark musician is with me, her voice: no longer high and shrill.
She sings now the honeyed dirge as for a loved one lost to all,
And from her dark yet gentle eyes, a thousand red tears do fall!
She takes me up into her pale, supernaturally strong arms,
And to my angel I am lost, as a maiden to her lover's charms.
Her touch is beyond cold, yet it chills not my dead bones,
The whiteness of that angel's flesh, so luminous and so pure…
Her face is so youthful, yet strong and aged like the stones,
The stones of Cairns, the stones of graves that line every cemetery shore.
Like the sands of the beaches that lie close to some great dark sea,
Like the pebbles in that sand, they doth now seem as to me…
I am most fortunate indeed, for she is not oft this kind to most.
She usually sweeps the soul from the body with her terrible scythe,
That she may steal away with their very spirit's immortal ghost.
She has laid aside her scythe, to be kind this night for me alone,
She has laid aside her terrible scythe, for there is no evil for me to atone.
I learned that day, so surprising to me that only the wicked so pass…
Or: those who hath yet to fulfill their destiny, those of a lesser class.
Her touch is no longer so chill, her flesh is no longer so very cold,
It seems that so much time hath passed, and my flesh feels so old!
I hath not so long to wait, for my immortal soul's final release,
For in the arms of the angel of death, I will be delivered unto peace…
Her pale face and her white hair are now stained with her bloody weeping,
And into my heart, a longing for my Heavenly Home was creeping.
Take me home, sweet angel, for my time hath come at last,
There is naught for me that I should so linger any longer here…
Nothing binds me to the present; nothing binds me to the past.
She moves to kiss me and I am glad, so glad that those lips draw near,
The kiss is like a passionate lover's kiss, and for a moment I feel aflame…
Then, I feel naught save endless bliss, and gone is my body's pain.
She lays my bones down upon the earth, my soul in her arms like a babe,
Her face now the image of a grinning bloody skull, her flesh withered and thin.
Yet with all the love of a mother, she carries me off into mists and shade,
Unto the heights of Heaven: where my eternal existence may truly begin.
Then, scythe in hand she will fly off away into the waiting night,
In search of more souls, that she may escort them beyond mere living sight,
In the service of neither the Darkness of evil, nor goodness’s Light.
The air is chill as ice, and the night both cold and long,
It doth seem to me that a long age hath come and gone…
I am waiting, so patiently waiting, for my soul's release,
When will the dark messenger come, to bring me peace?
That bright winged angel of soft shadows and gray mists,
Oh, when will my angel come, to offer me her fatal kiss?
The air is chill as ice, and the night both cold and long,
Yet in the darkness, methinks I hear of her lonely song…
It is both inhuman and strange; it seems never to cease,
The shrieking and wailing seem to come from the Abyss,
Could it be my dark angel, come to offer me her fatal kiss?
The night hath grown frosty cold, the air is become chill,
The strange singer is drawing nearer, her voice high and shrill…
The shadows close in around me, like great birds of prey,
The blackness of their wings seems to promise no rising of the day.
I knew that I wouldst never live to see another bright morn,
Now I am certain, for here cometh my angel, like a fearful storm!
I canst hear the rhythmic flapping of her black raven's wings,
The shadows part for her will, and by that power I canst see…
Yet, I have opened mine eyes only to behold terrible things!
She descends to greet me, her smile as beautiful as canst be…
Clothed in robes spun from darkness and from mortal fear.
Yet, for me she doth shed a single bloodily crimson tear…
The night is no longer cold; the air is no longer quite chill,
My dark musician is with me, her voice: no longer high and shrill.
She sings now the honeyed dirge as for a loved one lost to all,
And from her dark yet gentle eyes, a thousand red tears do fall!
She takes me up into her pale, supernaturally strong arms,
And to my angel I am lost, as a maiden to her lover's charms.
Her touch is beyond cold, yet it chills not my dead bones,
The whiteness of that angel's flesh, so luminous and so pure…
Her face is so youthful, yet strong and aged like the stones,
The stones of Cairns, the stones of graves that line every cemetery shore.
Like the sands of the beaches that lie close to some great dark sea,
Like the pebbles in that sand, they doth now seem as to me…
I am most fortunate indeed, for she is not oft this kind to most.
She usually sweeps the soul from the body with her terrible scythe,
That she may steal away with their very spirit's immortal ghost.
She has laid aside her scythe, to be kind this night for me alone,
She has laid aside her terrible scythe, for there is no evil for me to atone.
I learned that day, so surprising to me that only the wicked so pass…
Or: those who hath yet to fulfill their destiny, those of a lesser class.
Her touch is no longer so chill, her flesh is no longer so very cold,
It seems that so much time hath passed, and my flesh feels so old!
I hath not so long to wait, for my immortal soul's final release,
For in the arms of the angel of death, I will be delivered unto peace…
Her pale face and her white hair are now stained with her bloody weeping,
And into my heart, a longing for my Heavenly Home was creeping.
Take me home, sweet angel, for my time hath come at last,
There is naught for me that I should so linger any longer here…
Nothing binds me to the present; nothing binds me to the past.
She moves to kiss me and I am glad, so glad that those lips draw near,
The kiss is like a passionate lover's kiss, and for a moment I feel aflame…
Then, I feel naught save endless bliss, and gone is my body's pain.
She lays my bones down upon the earth, my soul in her arms like a babe,
Her face now the image of a grinning bloody skull, her flesh withered and thin.
Yet with all the love of a mother, she carries me off into mists and shade,
Unto the heights of Heaven: where my eternal existence may truly begin.
Then, scythe in hand she will fly off away into the waiting night,
In search of more souls, that she may escort them beyond mere living sight,
In the service of neither the Darkness of evil, nor goodness’s Light.
Anonymous
thank you so much for your entry, Jessica
My boney hands wrap around the coffin.
Skin grey to the touch.
Hair is now the food for the worms.
Blood has run cold.
But the fun has just begun.
I AM BACK BITCHES!
The coffin opens, as I gaze around the blood stained earth.
All have left now , oh if they thought they were done they were mistaken.
Pocket knife in hand.
Oh at my command they will be gone.
Crawling to them oh there going to pay.
Gonna beat them until they say their sorry.
Gonna rip their spines out once they do.
Pull, pull, CRACK!
1 and 2
There goes a few little fingers
3 and 4
I'm going to scare them to their core
5 and 6
Gonna strain their blood in a chive garden.
7 and 8
With all my might, I'm gonna rip off their di*k
9 and 10
Your going to turn up dead.
All these thoughts looming.
As I open the church door and see him standing there.
In a his little priest outfit.
I walk up, nobody can see me except for he.
Oh yes, he saw the mess he made of me.
He sees all my fantasies and tries to awake from them.
Oh, MERRY CHRISTMAS!
This is what you get, when you kill your wife.
This angry bitch is after your life.
Skin grey to the touch.
Hair is now the food for the worms.
Blood has run cold.
But the fun has just begun.
I AM BACK BITCHES!
The coffin opens, as I gaze around the blood stained earth.
All have left now , oh if they thought they were done they were mistaken.
Pocket knife in hand.
Oh at my command they will be gone.
Crawling to them oh there going to pay.
Gonna beat them until they say their sorry.
Gonna rip their spines out once they do.
Pull, pull, CRACK!
1 and 2
There goes a few little fingers
3 and 4
I'm going to scare them to their core
5 and 6
Gonna strain their blood in a chive garden.
7 and 8
With all my might, I'm gonna rip off their di*k
9 and 10
Your going to turn up dead.
All these thoughts looming.
As I open the church door and see him standing there.
In a his little priest outfit.
I walk up, nobody can see me except for he.
Oh yes, he saw the mess he made of me.
He sees all my fantasies and tries to awake from them.
Oh, MERRY CHRISTMAS!
This is what you get, when you kill your wife.
This angry bitch is after your life.
pact
i want your blood
pressing into pale skin
staining the freckle spangled expanse
of my back with
you
the heat of beating heart
against cold cheeks
one salty tear
stinging the open wound
of this clandestine
afternoon
i freely
expose my throat
inebriated by your thick,
red liquor
eyes spark life
but escapes through tapped veins
against your open chest
sharp steel writhes in
draining hand
hand in hand
iron scorching tongues
“let us be gone.”
i want your blood
pressing into pale skin
staining the freckle spangled expanse
of my back with
you
the heat of beating heart
against cold cheeks
one salty tear
stinging the open wound
of this clandestine
afternoon
i freely
expose my throat
inebriated by your thick,
red liquor
eyes spark life
but escapes through tapped veins
against your open chest
sharp steel writhes in
draining hand
hand in hand
iron scorching tongues
“let us be gone.”
of peaceful soul
charming smile
body so fragile
mind determined
and bright
journeyed halfway
round the world
to study and learn
the language of scientists
who made
Grandma`s city burn
devoid of vengeance
she just wanted
the incredible
personal freedom
of being able
to globally earn
Kaoru
whose kiss
planted a seed
to reminisce
we had only
a handful of trysts
yet certain lips
after briefest
intervals
leave deep imprints
that evade
time`s tricks
Kaoru
a few years my elder
brought up well
to protect fruits
of her gender
played baseball
different than
girls from America
a superb catcher
no matter how
hard I tried,
I couldnt
get past second
Kaoru
in truth
not as beautiful
as her name
her allure
was in her
mysterious gaze
she trusted me
let Yankee hands
roam
Nagasaki frame
her supple flesh
an unusual shade
her body parts
not quite
the same scale
I`m haunted by the last time
she walked away...
with a hint of a limp
slightly mis-shapen
exquisitely lame
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/images/uploads/poemimages/91453.jpg
