Submissions by razor_jargon (Masked_fighter)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
DARK POEM
Published
27th Dec 2012 7:10am
27th Dec 2012 7:10am
nooses
tie the noose, go on, you deserve to die
put your neck on the line,
let it rasp against your skin,
good
now let yourself fall into a moment of pain,
then black
that is my future
the rope so tight
silence to me, i bid you all, a good night
*sounds of a rope creaking*
put your neck on the line,
let it rasp against your skin,
good
now let yourself fall into a moment of pain,
then black
that is my future
the rope so tight
silence to me, i bid you all, a good night
*sounds of a rope creaking*
756 reads
3 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
21st Dec 2012 3:11am
21st Dec 2012 3:11am
red
red goes the light on the liquid
red goes the blood on the chop chop chopping block
red goes the fluid out of my veins
red goes the monitor, monitoring my life
red goes the man with so many names
black goes the robe that swishes with dark
chop goes the sickle that cuts out my heart.
red goes the blood on the chop chop chopping block
red goes the fluid out of my veins
red goes the monitor, monitoring my life
red goes the man with so many names
black goes the robe that swishes with dark
chop goes the sickle that cuts out my heart.
548 reads
0 Comments
UPBEAT INSPIRATIONAL POEM
Published
19th Dec 2012 3:05pm
19th Dec 2012 3:05pm
all school assignments (haiku)
eh, too much effort.
fuck, its due tomorrow, shit
fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
fuck, its due tomorrow, shit
fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.
516 reads
2 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
19th Dec 2012 2:53pm
19th Dec 2012 2:53pm
beep
down goes the blade, up comes the blood red like rubies out of my skin
The steel slips through the weak fabric of my skin, releasing the red flow of life
life pours out and fills the air with copper
stains on the fabric mark the end
of my life.
stitch stitch stitch
in goes the needle, out comes my scream.
too late. my pulse is dead.
brain dead.
beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.
The steel slips through the weak fabric of my skin, releasing the red flow of life
life pours out and fills the air with copper
stains on the fabric mark the end
of my life.
stitch stitch stitch
in goes the needle, out comes my scream.
too late. my pulse is dead.
brain dead.
beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep.
558 reads
2 Comments
MISCELLANEOUS POEM
Published
19th Dec 2012 1:30am
19th Dec 2012 1:30am
The Liar
Flowing, pouring, freely flying
Fictitious statements rage in torrential surges
Fibs and falsehoods, hoodwinking statements
Fractured lies shatter like glass, follow the injured man as he flies
Out of the door of the din and the clamor, of safety in lies,
The Liar is flung, out of the Inn
Good women desert him. Never brave Saint George,
He’s in room four.
His money has left him. Never the rich man
Cut-purses scorn his pouch
Logical fallacies caught up with the man
The Liar is lonely, left in the cold,
Flowing, pouring, freely flying.
The...
Fictitious statements rage in torrential surges
Fibs and falsehoods, hoodwinking statements
Fractured lies shatter like glass, follow the injured man as he flies
Out of the door of the din and the clamor, of safety in lies,
The Liar is flung, out of the Inn
Good women desert him. Never brave Saint George,
He’s in room four.
His money has left him. Never the rich man
Cut-purses scorn his pouch
Logical fallacies caught up with the man
The Liar is lonely, left in the cold,
Flowing, pouring, freely flying.
The...
572 reads
0 Comments
FICTIONAL PROSE
Published
19th Dec 2012 1:29am
19th Dec 2012 1:29am
Color
Stranded in a bleak world of black and white, I walk, remembering the days of color.
The little ones have no concept of color, they were born without it.
I arrive at the docks, where the boat floats, anchored to the muddy floor,
Fishing isn’t what it used to be.
No more muddy brown water, no more iridescent, shining fish, no more life in it.
I wish the color was back.
It’s the first time I have been fishing since the Event; I wonder how it will be
I step into the boat, feeling it rock as my weight is transferred.
I lose myself in the familiar sensations,...
The little ones have no concept of color, they were born without it.
I arrive at the docks, where the boat floats, anchored to the muddy floor,
Fishing isn’t what it used to be.
No more muddy brown water, no more iridescent, shining fish, no more life in it.
I wish the color was back.
It’s the first time I have been fishing since the Event; I wonder how it will be
I step into the boat, feeling it rock as my weight is transferred.
I lose myself in the familiar sensations,...
535 reads
0 Comments
DARK POEM
Published
18th Dec 2012 5:09am
18th Dec 2012 5:09am
jack the ripper
Quite late one night he sat and strode,
Slow drips of thick fell on life
Of water running, stained red.
Cross’d the street, bloody sickles
On he strode footsteps approaching.
Walking faster than wind
The woman sat in the corner
The ripper neared his find.
Windows latch, Click! The Ripper’s here!
Creak goes the door… Ripper!
Jack, why? She croaks…slice goes the knife!
Bloodied ladies slipper.
Slow drips of thick fell on life
Of water running, stained red.
Cross’d the street, bloody sickles
On he strode footsteps approaching.
Walking faster than wind
The woman sat in the corner
The ripper neared his find.
Windows latch, Click! The Ripper’s here!
Creak goes the door… Ripper!
Jack, why? She croaks…slice goes the knife!
Bloodied ladies slipper.
567 reads
2 Comments
DU Poetry : Submissions by razor_jargon (Masked_fighter)
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