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Poetry competition CLOSED 17th July 2017 4:05pm
WINNER
archetype23
archetype23
RUNNER-UP:
snugglebuck
Demonic Dolls
Anonymous
Poetry Contest Description
... like the title says
http://pa1.narvii.com/6121/c39f5cdd3d200e93212a26959588e3a37533fc52_hq.gif
un`Limited Entries
Please keep your entry Dark
New/Old poems
One Week to Enter
HEDGEHOG TO THE RESCUE
Shane and Sia, twin Barbie dolls
Loved little animals sweet and small
Then one day an evil villain
Sent them videos of him killing kittens
His name was Dr. Magnotta
He even killed people with a chain saw
The poor little Barbie’s didn’t know what to do
Till their friend “The Hedgehog’ came to their rescue
With an offer to audition for pornography
Dr. Magnotta threw aside his cloak of anonymity
So instead of a sexual audition
Magnotta is spending life in prison
Now little children
Before you dismiss me as a poetic fool
Consider this,
Everything I told you is absolutely true
http://dlisted.com/2012/07/11/gorgeous-barbi-twins-and-ron-jeremy-almost-stopped-crazed-killer/
Shane and Sia, twin Barbie dolls
Loved little animals sweet and small
Then one day an evil villain
Sent them videos of him killing kittens
His name was Dr. Magnotta
He even killed people with a chain saw
The poor little Barbie’s didn’t know what to do
Till their friend “The Hedgehog’ came to their rescue
With an offer to audition for pornography
Dr. Magnotta threw aside his cloak of anonymity
So instead of a sexual audition
Magnotta is spending life in prison
Now little children
Before you dismiss me as a poetic fool
Consider this,
Everything I told you is absolutely true
http://dlisted.com/2012/07/11/gorgeous-barbi-twins-and-ron-jeremy-almost-stopped-crazed-killer/
CABBAGE PATCH WITCH
My Cabbage Patch Kid
Bug eyed expressionless witch
Was one scary bitch
Bug eyed expressionless witch
Was one scary bitch
Written by snugglebuck
Go To Page
steampunk sluts
she's too real to be fake
and too fake to be loved...
I’d been writing non-stop for several weeks, seedy noir prose &
neoclassical pseudo-erotic poetry. my muse was tapped & I
needed to get laid. the old Victorian bordello outside of town
would serve my salacious mood.
the militant night was the thunder-storming cliché of a Bronte
novel. I fired up the Mercedes, my sinister black beast, & we were
off in pursuit of debauchery.
the ominous country manor loomed like a Sybarite’s temple in its
antebellum glory. the doorbell chimed mournfully as I pressed it, &
an androgynous figure, resembling Edward Scissorhands without
the shearing appendages, bid me enter.
I appraised the greatroom as I waited for a hostess: thick purple
drapes covered the windows. stuffed heads of boars & stags
festooned the brooding walls, eyeballing me with extreme prejudice.
and of course, an armada of mechanical clocks, bronze gears clicking
inside curved glass, languished on ancient oak tables & hearth mantles.
my maiden of the evening appeared at the top of the stairs, her darkly
circled eyes & stoic features nearly convincing me that she may have
been a key-wound doll made of springs & transistors. her outfit, a
leather corset, fishnet stockings, & brass buckled combat boots, lured
me; I brashly ascended the stairway to hedonist heaven.
in her room, she removed her strict uniform, & I was relieved &
distinctly aroused to see that she was a real girl, full curves & firm
hollows cast in Aphrodite’s own beauty. I attacked her with my usual caveman finesse, feasting ravenously on the earthly delights of her iniquitous flesh. then she maneuvered skillfully into my favorite
seductive pose: hands & knees, brazenly offering the petulant
pandora of her sex.
I mounted her embracing saddle, pulsing in harmony with the great
clock’s chime as it tolled toward midnight. beat for beat did I impale
her, in rising ecstasy, until precisely at the twelfth stroke, my lust
exploded in roaring crescendo!
and like a living sculpture, we remained in that lovelock,
my steampunk slut & I,
for the briefest eternity…
she's too real to be fake
and too fake to be loved...
I’d been writing non-stop for several weeks, seedy noir prose &
neoclassical pseudo-erotic poetry. my muse was tapped & I
needed to get laid. the old Victorian bordello outside of town
would serve my salacious mood.
the militant night was the thunder-storming cliché of a Bronte
novel. I fired up the Mercedes, my sinister black beast, & we were
off in pursuit of debauchery.
the ominous country manor loomed like a Sybarite’s temple in its
antebellum glory. the doorbell chimed mournfully as I pressed it, &
an androgynous figure, resembling Edward Scissorhands without
the shearing appendages, bid me enter.
I appraised the greatroom as I waited for a hostess: thick purple
drapes covered the windows. stuffed heads of boars & stags
festooned the brooding walls, eyeballing me with extreme prejudice.
and of course, an armada of mechanical clocks, bronze gears clicking
inside curved glass, languished on ancient oak tables & hearth mantles.
my maiden of the evening appeared at the top of the stairs, her darkly
circled eyes & stoic features nearly convincing me that she may have
been a key-wound doll made of springs & transistors. her outfit, a
leather corset, fishnet stockings, & brass buckled combat boots, lured
me; I brashly ascended the stairway to hedonist heaven.
in her room, she removed her strict uniform, & I was relieved &
distinctly aroused to see that she was a real girl, full curves & firm
hollows cast in Aphrodite’s own beauty. I attacked her with my usual caveman finesse, feasting ravenously on the earthly delights of her iniquitous flesh. then she maneuvered skillfully into my favorite
seductive pose: hands & knees, brazenly offering the petulant
pandora of her sex.
I mounted her embracing saddle, pulsing in harmony with the great
clock’s chime as it tolled toward midnight. beat for beat did I impale
her, in rising ecstasy, until precisely at the twelfth stroke, my lust
exploded in roaring crescendo!
and like a living sculpture, we remained in that lovelock,
my steampunk slut & I,
for the briefest eternity…
DEVIL IN LYN
She sits in the corner
in the shadows
A constant companion
waiting, watching
The only confidant
for my next chance
A shoulder to cry on
embracing you
In my world reality becomes one
With you, my friend, I cast a shadow
With the lightning flash I see silhouettes
Move along the wall, the sound of feet
i know you see me
but can you hear me
whispering?
lingering
at the edge of perception
Wake, dearest Devil-lyn
from the shadows
Speak from beyond the veil
betwixt the world
The malice in your eyes
and the abyss
Reflecting into mine
i will drag you down
A dying angel returning to flesh
May your curse echo through the ages
With the coming storm I can hear your voice
From beyond the void and to the grave
i can smell your skin
the sweat and the blood
hungering
sickening
on the plate for consumption
Those midnight thumps
A critter or something else
Running down halls
Left in silence after dark
What is that sound?
Like laughter at the slaughter
Sweet with malice
Gripping my innards tight
What’s this fucking darkness consuming me?
Pitiless black orbs breeding madness
Oh, you must certainly be the devil
Come home to devour my soul
i can taste you now
fear and certainty
worshiping
conjuring
mistress of dark seduction
Can’t help but to love you
nobody can
Feel your claws on my soul
my deathly kiss
No, you cannot have me
but i own you
I would rather die first
there are worse fates
(c) 2017 Frank Green
Written by HadesRising
Go To Page
My Name is Lilly
Hello, soldiers of Hitler’s Reich
My name is Lilly, the evilest
Most diabolical doll of all
Make no mistake about it
On this fact I’m right
Use me, abuse me
I’m your Aryan lass
Just whip out your cock
And fuck me up
My white plastic ass
Don’t waste your
Genetically pure cum
On a subhuman Pole
Or a disgusting Jew
Don’t degrade your
Superior Germanic soul
Fucking such mongrel hoes
When I’m the doll Hitler
Made just for you
With blond hair and blue eyes
Like the Nazi’s admire
I am the girl that should be
The object of your desire
I’m the one who will
On lonesome nights
With a snap of your finger
Put out your lusty fire
I fit conveniently in your knapsack
You can take me along with you
Whenever and wherever
The Wehrmacht decides
To invade and attack
When you find yourself lonely
Just whip out your Superman scepter
Your tool of the Master Race
Put it deep inside me
And vigorously masturbate
To the rhythm of Wagner’s
The Ride of the Valkyries
Or whilst listening
To Der Fuhrer’s rants
Over the radio airwaves
My name is Lilly
The very first sex doll
Ever made in mass
Just let me out
Of your pack at night
And fuck me in the ass
Heil Hitler! Zeke Heil!
I can even make
An SS man smile
The above poem was inspired by the true story of the first sex doll ever mass produced. Called Lilly, she was designed and distributed to German troops to control the spread of syphilis and to encourage German soldiers not to fraternize with genetically inferior women. Truly she was the evilest doll of them all.
My name is Lilly, the evilest
Most diabolical doll of all
Make no mistake about it
On this fact I’m right
Use me, abuse me
I’m your Aryan lass
Just whip out your cock
And fuck me up
My white plastic ass
Don’t waste your
Genetically pure cum
On a subhuman Pole
Or a disgusting Jew
Don’t degrade your
Superior Germanic soul
Fucking such mongrel hoes
When I’m the doll Hitler
Made just for you
With blond hair and blue eyes
Like the Nazi’s admire
I am the girl that should be
The object of your desire
I’m the one who will
On lonesome nights
With a snap of your finger
Put out your lusty fire
I fit conveniently in your knapsack
You can take me along with you
Whenever and wherever
The Wehrmacht decides
To invade and attack
When you find yourself lonely
Just whip out your Superman scepter
Your tool of the Master Race
Put it deep inside me
And vigorously masturbate
To the rhythm of Wagner’s
The Ride of the Valkyries
Or whilst listening
To Der Fuhrer’s rants
Over the radio airwaves
My name is Lilly
The very first sex doll
Ever made in mass
Just let me out
Of your pack at night
And fuck me in the ass
Heil Hitler! Zeke Heil!
I can even make
An SS man smile
The above poem was inspired by the true story of the first sex doll ever mass produced. Called Lilly, she was designed and distributed to German troops to control the spread of syphilis and to encourage German soldiers not to fraternize with genetically inferior women. Truly she was the evilest doll of them all.
Written by snugglebuck
Go To Page
Anonymous
And I didn`t have
an example poem
for this one either!
Awesome entries
all around ... Thank You
!DANGEROUS TOYS
What’s that I got?
Why it’s a little black box
A little black box?
A fucking black box!
What’s that in it?
Just a few dangerous toys
Dangerous toy?
Deadly fucking toys!
Despised in nightmares of children
Abandoned dolls and cartoonish villains
They find their way back home
As fiendish friends and brutish reptilians
To feed upon your bones
do you want to play with me?
Is someone there?
It’s just little Lucinda
Little Lucinda?
Fucking Lucinda!
What’s in your hand?
It’s just a dangerous toy
Dangerous toy?
Deadly fucking toy!
Despised by icons of children
Forgotten dolls in years long gone villains
They find their way back home
As fiendish friends and brutish reptilians
To feed upon your bones
do you want to play a game?
Bury them in consecrated grounds
Somewhere where they will never be found
Stones made of afghans and building blocks
They will rise
THEY WILL RISE
From the toy box
Despised by icons of children
Forgotten dolls in years long gone villains
They find their way back home
As fiendish friends and brutish reptilians
To feed upon your bones
do you want to play a game?
Despised in nightmares of children
Abandoned dolls and cartoonish villains
They find their way back home
As fiendish friends and brutish reptilians
To feed upon your bones
do you want to play with me?
LET’S PLAY A GAME
(c) 2017 Frank Green
Why it’s a little black box
A little black box?
A fucking black box!
What’s that in it?
Just a few dangerous toys
Dangerous toy?
Deadly fucking toys!
Despised in nightmares of children
Abandoned dolls and cartoonish villains
They find their way back home
As fiendish friends and brutish reptilians
To feed upon your bones
do you want to play with me?
Is someone there?
It’s just little Lucinda
Little Lucinda?
Fucking Lucinda!
What’s in your hand?
It’s just a dangerous toy
Dangerous toy?
Deadly fucking toy!
Despised by icons of children
Forgotten dolls in years long gone villains
They find their way back home
As fiendish friends and brutish reptilians
To feed upon your bones
do you want to play a game?
Bury them in consecrated grounds
Somewhere where they will never be found
Stones made of afghans and building blocks
They will rise
THEY WILL RISE
From the toy box
Despised by icons of children
Forgotten dolls in years long gone villains
They find their way back home
As fiendish friends and brutish reptilians
To feed upon your bones
do you want to play a game?
Despised in nightmares of children
Abandoned dolls and cartoonish villains
They find their way back home
As fiendish friends and brutish reptilians
To feed upon your bones
do you want to play with me?
LET’S PLAY A GAME
(c) 2017 Frank Green
Written by HadesRising
Go To Page
Needful Things
malicious eyes
look outward
sunken features
painted abyss
plastic taunt
rubber hands
grasping a
lifeless corpse
dancing dolls
hypnotize
artificial
existence
play things
grow real
striking fear
taking souls
childhood
memories
unraveling
needful things
broken toy
on the shelf
gathering
information
waiting
for slumber
taking back
all the love
dancing dolls
hypnotize
artificial
existence
they whisper
you forgot
the meaning
of this deal
now pain
is relevant
life for a life
bitter pill
play things
grow real
striking fear
taking souls
childhood
memories
unraveling
needful things
malicious eyes
look outward
sunken features
painted abyss
plastic taunt
rubber hands
grasping a
lifeless corpse
dancing dolls
hypnotize
artificial
existence
play things
grow real
striking fear
taking souls
childhood
memories
unraveling
needful things
broken toy
on the shelf
gathering
information
waiting
for slumber
taking back
all the love
dancing dolls
hypnotize
artificial
existence
they whisper
you forgot
the meaning
of this deal
now pain
is relevant
life for a life
bitter pill
play things
grow real
striking fear
taking souls
childhood
memories
unraveling
needful things
Eyeless Honeys
We are the dollies
we’ve come a-calling
but where have our irises gone?
Listen—we’ll sing our song.
Just pull the string and watch our heads spin,
cackled giggles, pulls you in
La La La La—here we go, now!
We’ll flick and flutter
our eyelids, shudder
for there is nothing there
but blackened, shadowed air
where our eyeballs were
(you’ll lose yours, just like her…)
La La La La—here we go, now!
Pick-a-poke
We’ll watch you choke
when our fingers crawl right in—
your optic nerves, we’ll trim
‘cause we’re the Eyeless Honeys,
we’ll be your honey-bunnies.
La La La La—here we go, now!
Blinka, blinka,
we thinka-thinka
that you’ll be one of us—
Hush now, don’t you fuss;
oh, how much you’ll see
when you’re eyeless, just like “we”
La La La La—here we go, now!
Pick-a-poke
Blinka blink
Wince and wink
Wait, don’t run—
We’re having fun!
Pick-a-poke
We are the dollies
we’ve come a-calling
but where have our irises gone?
Listen—we’ll sing our song.
Just pull the string and watch our heads spin,
cackled giggles, pulls you in
La La La La—here we go, now!
We’ll flick and flutter
our eyelids, shudder
for there is nothing there
but blackened, shadowed air
where our eyeballs were
(you’ll lose yours, just like her…)
La La La La—here we go, now!
Pick-a-poke
We’ll watch you choke
when our fingers crawl right in—
your optic nerves, we’ll trim
‘cause we’re the Eyeless Honeys,
we’ll be your honey-bunnies.
La La La La—here we go, now!
Blinka, blinka,
we thinka-thinka
that you’ll be one of us—
Hush now, don’t you fuss;
oh, how much you’ll see
when you’re eyeless, just like “we”
La La La La—here we go, now!
Pick-a-poke
Blinka blink
Wince and wink
Wait, don’t run—
We’re having fun!
Pick-a-poke
Nora 364
She's Nora 364, available now in stores everywhere
guaranteed to greet with sweet smiles and a soft stare
somewhere in the aisles between toys and hardware
come down to customer service and pull up a chair
so you can pick out her features and custom software
Then forget your ex-girlfriend, bride, deceased wife
she'll stay by your side for the rest of your life
She's Nora 364, available now in stores everywhere.
-Clockwork construction of words works it's way
through the gears of it's fears and the strings of it's life
dressed like a store window mannequin, smelling like a new toy
moves like an android trying to avoid what it is -
I'll say it again if I haven't before
upon your command she'll perform any chore
cook your dinner, clean the dishes, then vacuum the floor
and upon your demand she's your personal whore
She's Nora 364, available now in stores everywhere
-I woke in the night as a nightmare still bloomed
rose from the bed and walked out from the room
into the hallway, I faintly recall
the feeling of falling, slowing me, stalling me
There she stands and she stares at the foot of the stairs
smiling so sweetly, but I don't think she cares
and her eyes will not move from me.
-"What do you want, Nora?"
"I'll do whatever you want me to do."
-"Anything, Nora, I'll do anything for you. just tell me what you want."
"I want what ever you want me to do."
-"No, Nora, what do YOU want."
silence and her eyes will not move from me
I tried to find the key to her heart
I couldn't find it so I took her apart
nothing inside her, no soul, no inner core
and still she stares at me just as before
on the floor with the garbage at the front door
pieces of plastic I don't want anymore
new acquisition of my new diseased life
the mirror reflection of my decomposed wife
and their eyes will not move from me
guaranteed to greet with sweet smiles and a soft stare
somewhere in the aisles between toys and hardware
come down to customer service and pull up a chair
so you can pick out her features and custom software
Then forget your ex-girlfriend, bride, deceased wife
she'll stay by your side for the rest of your life
She's Nora 364, available now in stores everywhere.
-Clockwork construction of words works it's way
through the gears of it's fears and the strings of it's life
dressed like a store window mannequin, smelling like a new toy
moves like an android trying to avoid what it is -
I'll say it again if I haven't before
upon your command she'll perform any chore
cook your dinner, clean the dishes, then vacuum the floor
and upon your demand she's your personal whore
She's Nora 364, available now in stores everywhere
-I woke in the night as a nightmare still bloomed
rose from the bed and walked out from the room
into the hallway, I faintly recall
the feeling of falling, slowing me, stalling me
There she stands and she stares at the foot of the stairs
smiling so sweetly, but I don't think she cares
and her eyes will not move from me.
-"What do you want, Nora?"
"I'll do whatever you want me to do."
-"Anything, Nora, I'll do anything for you. just tell me what you want."
"I want what ever you want me to do."
-"No, Nora, what do YOU want."
silence and her eyes will not move from me
I tried to find the key to her heart
I couldn't find it so I took her apart
nothing inside her, no soul, no inner core
and still she stares at me just as before
on the floor with the garbage at the front door
pieces of plastic I don't want anymore
new acquisition of my new diseased life
the mirror reflection of my decomposed wife
and their eyes will not move from me
Written by archetype23
Go To Page
Anonymous
The Ballad Of Sarah-Jane
They had forgotten to make you
a matching pair
of those deep green eyes,
your period dress frozen in time,
the white laces on each dusty shoe
remained untied
I was once jealous
of your porcelain skin,
the lack of effort needed
to stay thin
and crinkle free
while immortality lay
effortlessly in your wake
there was no need to attract the boys
and protect your heart from thieves
who, seduced by your beauty
would revel in your timeless gaze
you just remained
attached and enslaved
maybe you were crippled
by worldly pain
became catatonic
and never awoke again
Oh Sarah-Jane,
my spiteful light is in
your one remaining eye
your teacup fists
your perfectly smooth hair
your pouting lips
and our spirits reside
locked inside
this claustrophobic world
and will forever remain
with heartfelt matching curls.
They had forgotten to make you
a matching pair
of those deep green eyes,
your period dress frozen in time,
the white laces on each dusty shoe
remained untied
I was once jealous
of your porcelain skin,
the lack of effort needed
to stay thin
and crinkle free
while immortality lay
effortlessly in your wake
there was no need to attract the boys
and protect your heart from thieves
who, seduced by your beauty
would revel in your timeless gaze
you just remained
attached and enslaved
maybe you were crippled
by worldly pain
became catatonic
and never awoke again
Oh Sarah-Jane,
my spiteful light is in
your one remaining eye
your teacup fists
your perfectly smooth hair
your pouting lips
and our spirits reside
locked inside
this claustrophobic world
and will forever remain
with heartfelt matching curls.
