Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
jeffrey robin  Sep 2010
bloodbath
jeffrey robin Sep 2010
we left amerikkka
when?

and
we might also ask
why?

but we are gone

and now it shall be
a bloodbath

and nothin more
than
a bloodbath

little child

COME WITH ME

little child

THEY HATE

purity
innocence
and
love

COME WITH ME
-------------

NOW
_

PLEASE
__

we left

one step

ahead of the police

but
the phoney patriots

had already
gone

seeking

GOLD

we left because

we knew

IT WOULD BE A BLOODBATH
A BLOODBATH
BLOODBATH

------

we left amerikkka
we left

we stayed in america

all alone
Lucy Tonic Nov 2012
In the bloodbath of a dream
I went sleep-walking into Eden-
It was burnt to the ground
I smelled the charcoal, tasted the flames
While in a cloud was a huge forked-tongue
That got me thinking of the letter M…
I hopped around to other worlds
Perceiving the events with a cautious schoolgirl nature
I watched chemicals and stars do their ****** dance
Twirling endlessly into each other-
Creating a carnival of colorful exploding death and rebirth
I felt the ghosts in their fortresses eye up the hourglass-
Wondering when time will be broken and they’ll be set free…
There’s blood on a rainbow down by the waterfall
It stained my soul and put my thoughts to rapture and ridiculousness
How far will they go, the demons of this world,
When a measly human breaks their code,
Smashes their hologram mirror,
And realizes that everyone everywhere has always been alone
Everyone everywhere is their own god-
And everyone else, with their dark interiors,
Is there only to torture the blamed
For a mistake they can’t remember…
Lost in the remnants of a dream
I unlocked the gates to hell
And realized that life on earth is purgatory-
There must be a heaven on another astral plane,
A dimension without pain-
Of all the universes in existence, I hope that one bleeds through
Before I wake up to a world where God is dead
An angels fall like shooting stars that wish to remain unseen-
Extinction.
Autumn Jul 2016
Bloodbath of the Dark Lady

Black butterfly wings cloak me within deception,
I, just a shadow, that sees all,
And pretends to know not a thing
Of the days to come, while etching a plan in blood
On the skin of my victims from other eras and realities.

They say I have a touch that brings death,
But yet…. It is not entirely true,
My touch doesn’t do all the work
Of fires and bloodshed and pain, I do,
And I quite enjoy it.

I have a loyal pet, who sends out warning,
Its slick feathers shining for all to notice,
As it calls out the sign of my coming
In exchange for fresh meat after the bloodbath and love.
The raven cries like the last stroke of twelve,
A sound of restlessness, fear, and warning.

And then I come, invisible to the eye,
My nails scraping the skin off the living,
My loyal pet stealing their gift of sight from them,
My voice saying the things they dare not speak aloud
And handing them their rope of death,
The air I exhale spreading disease that eats away at whatever is left.

The sun sees me not,
And she shall burn in her own demise
Along with the selfish moon, her orange blood
Raining down as bright flames
And burning her victims where they stand
As my nails claw the stars from the sky.

And the last cry you hear comes from me, in delight,
A cry to shake the bones down to the marrow
As the last sign of light vanishes on the last day,
And I stand, licking the sweet blood and flakes of fried flesh
Off of my long fingers as I smile at the destruction.
what the apocalypse would be like as a person
Wednesday May 2014
I have sharpened my teeth ready to rip and tear
like soldiers and their swords

I am listening to the sound of the rain on the roof
while you fold your clothes to sad song about madness and memories and it is quiet in the house with the same kind of finality of
a lock clicking of
a door slamming of
a finished book

like a knife slicing through a teen on a Chicago city street at 1 am
no streetlights
no police
no gunshots

just this skin
this blood on asphalt
on sidewalk
on boy
on knife

just blood on the roof of this house like a warning
something wicked resides here do not come near
something that says dangerdangerdangerdanger

Never look back.
Never look here again,
there is something about you that keeps me coming back for more
like you are selling crack ******* on the street corners and
I am an addict panhandling

I know you will leave me when I am hopelessly in love
I know I will not be able to breathe without you.

Without the weight of your body and breath on mine
you will leave me peeled and gutted, spineless.
Every dream crushed like a body thrown from the 40th floor.

You will leave me like tsunamis leave islands,
like hurricanes leave cities,
like tornadoes leave houses

utterly destroyed from the core out,
and you?

You will leave like a bird from a nest.


Weightless.
Wednesday May 2014
They say the grass isn’t greener on the other side
but it has been raining for 3 months straight and
it looks dew blessed to me

sometimes staring at you through windowpane hurts
like there is something in the way the glass glares
in this seemingly ever beating sun

one day you will leave me,
this I know already.
I am already preparing myself for the inevitable to happen.

Hurts my soul and sets my organs on a slow burning roast
acid washing my heart and
pinpricks in my jugular

I try to see you in the darkness
in the light
in the way your brow crunches when you think
in the scar on your dimple.

I tell myself you do not love me like I love you,
regardless of if that is true.
NV  Mar 2015
bloodbath
NV Mar 2015
I JUST WANNA BE THE KIND OF BLOODBATH YOU CAN BRING HOME TO MOM.
Kush  Jan 2016
2 AM Bloodbath
Kush Jan 2016
Oh, how the alarm clock goes
I flex my arms and curl my toes
The night air creeps through an open window
I feel the chill of it funnel into my room and grow
I am the harvester of vitality
Reaping the seeds of death that I sow
They lie on their beds with unignited fright
They are a disease to my crops, an unwelcome blight
I strike them off this field of light
Seeing the gore drip, I just have to laugh
This is my yield
A 2 AM bloodbath
Styles Sep 2014
Playing with me is like, playing with ur life
Cut you down slice by slice, no knife
Make you a sacrifice, then slap you back to life
It’s a full on scrap when I rap,
You wasn’t ready for that,
I went straight to hell, after I made contact,
Battled in pitch black, now they won’t let me back,
how many MC you know, is rugged as that,
I’ve been to the unknown, and left an impact
I kept my pride, it’s all mine, fully intact,
I’m on my shrine, come from behind, ain’t no going back
If ur verses really nicer than mine, that’s fine – now rap.
My scripts, so wicked, they flip manuscripts with one rip,
I’ll tear you in half, my warpath is your bloodbath
You’re a joke so I just laugh, at this simple task
Terrorizing ur ***, the terror rising in your eyes
You shouldn't have ventured down this path
I’m wearing a jason mask, sipping a flask
Anyone else jump in, Freddy slicing his ***
My writing is brash,
If your a titan than clash,
If not, your just trash,
So I, Hulk smash,
Then wipe ur blood off my mask, and relax
And get back to stretching cash like yoga class.
cause I could care a lot less, about flows that's so monotonous
It just shows you’re a hot mess, Your raps blow so much you success
You are too slow, to keep up with my progress
my style been buck wild since I was a child it sounds like you are much less.
cable news video brilliantly captures
the blood washing Parisian gutters
glittering in City of Lights sparkle

images of carnage coagulate in my mind
clotting my heart with searing resent

in desperate need for release
from the abject scorn
that boils within my veins

I flip the channel to
watch a Predator marathon
but light entertainment
fails to satiate my restive soul

I turn down the volume
and click back to News

My iPod is audio ready
to soothe the savage beast
with some righteous death metal
I blast my earbuds,
Culture of Death's new CD
prepares me for real action
  
ever at the ready
digital recreation
has me *******
my controller
mustering up my
Call of Duty
comrades

I am a recognized
high score battlefield hero
taking out godless apostates
in the global war on terrorism

I'm usually eager to
baptize Iraqi jihadis in a
Holy Ghosting
bloodbath
but tonight
Black Ops kills
fails to thrill
my controller and I
stand down

opening the gun case
I cradle my Bushmaster
the smooth barrel and rugged stock
feels so right in my hand

it pleasures me to know
I am one of the good guys with a gun
I relish the fear and respect
I garner during open carry
troops to McDonalds
the hairs on the back of my neck
sometimes titillatingly rise

one day I hope to
take out an active shooter
at a movie or the supermarket
that would be way cool

I place my Bushmaster
back into the cabinet
and carefully rearrange
one of my Glocks

yet even with this
considerable armory
I still feel insecure
it may be time
for a trip to Walmart
to secure another Glock
*** more ammo

my heart recovers a bit when
I think about tomorrows recon trip
to my tree stand in the Jersey Highlands

Bear season starts soon
for the past few weeks
I've baited the area with
Dunkin Donuts and bacon grease
I've detected lots of bear ****
can't wait to drop one of those suckers
I visualize one in my gun sights
should be easy pickens

my CD ends with
some real raucous ****
removing my earbuds
I turn up the volume
on the News

footage from last summer's
Black Lives Matter demonstration
runs in continuous loop
members of the
New Black Panther Party
are yelling into the camera
a woman in a black burka
her eyes squinting angrily at me
from underneath her cover
sends shivers up my spine

when we take our country back
they will be served some
Second Amendment justice

News flashes Ted Cruz
condemning Muslim
refugee resettlement,
in a Christian Nation
only Christians should be
allowed in...

News breaks back to footage
from the concert venue
highlighting the
blood stained mosh pit

News flashes ISIS Jihadis
riding in Humvee's
routing the fleeing
Iraqi army once again

News highlights a smiling Putin
firing off Caspian Sea cruise missiles
into the bleeding Levant
examples of decisive leadership,
if only Obama could grow a pair

News flashes to a Rose Garden Obama
bragging about killing Jihad Johnny

the drone strikes and
active bombing campaigns in:
Syria
Iraq
Libya
Somalia
Nigeria
Mali
Yemen
Sinai
Afghanistan
Kenya
Congo
and other unspecified locations
are working says the Muslim Prez

By the looks of Paris
any real American Patriot
would think not

we need to send a message
a quick strike fix
some major shock and awe
to placate a nations troubled soul

if that offends any Christian
turn the other cheek
wimp, so be it

I say go
Old Timey Testament on their ***
let our vengeance is mine God
**** them all
**** them all
**** them all

Culture of Death:
Cystic Dysentery

Barry McGuire:
Eve of Destruction

The Doors:
The End


jbm
11/17/15
Newark
lots of hate going round since the murderous tragedy in Paris....
let cooler heads prevail.....
be still and know that I am God....
Lice H-P Mar 2017
Just humble stardust w/ a bartab like You All,
yet had mon tete been geniustwatted in the bathtub
by Cosmic Commonsense like a Hollywood dodgem?
The Light's point of view
had starpower of a simple truth,
exhorting all us Occidental folk
who aren't amenwhining wideloads drugged by driving
to revolt & deracinate the armageddaceous vegetable,
Dubya Shrub, that like some ghastly barnaclegoose
propagates slimy hawks, tho' one cannot wot
if they be eagle or cobra from cockatrice collarbone up.
& when talons blossom, a mob of Western civil heroes
should impound such deciduous warbird anti-Kezzes
w/ concrete jesses.
Likewise, the Light doth
entreat the Sheikh in the street & the haytistes of Nice
(whose Frarabic mutterings are half-Qurannish,
half-MC Solaar), & all the hajjis playing
Mohammedean Pom Pom Home - pilgrims hillsboroughing
about the Kaaba - every Muslim
w/ slipped discs of salah, from Kuwait to Qatar, Bahrain
to Bradford: permit the photoflood of Doubt to flash out
faith's fog, for it makes as much sense as Shrubya Dub!
Let the Sunna do a runner w/ the hasbeen Hadith
like the dish & the spoon ( an equally respectable belief),
& submit to a secular baraka
kindspirited as we Christkickers amongst the Kaffir.

All who accept the Prophet is Morhominid
must oust the imam of indiscrimincineration
from his weasel webs at Tora Bora.
O doeeyed softspoken pyropriest, Salafist icon
of elevensmiths, whose slaughterous forge
would only fuel 70fold
the obsidian aizles of Jaheem!
But Osamartyrsdotcom's everlasting domainname
be not Jahannam, where sinbattered
souls searing attend parole hearings
in liquefied flipflops & halters of palmleaffibres
(presiding Judge Maalik,
every finger on each hand a thumbsdown). Nor
shall it be Jannah, an eternity spent boning 72
Xray houris w/ the most boneable bonemarrow
(my source on  posthumous sexbots sahih)
- la ilaha ilvi-agra! Uh-uh, Heaven niffs & Hell smells,
elevensmiths only endup elevenses for Death
(moreish numbness for some of us who get the taste
for no appetite), not the rasping wraith, but godless gape
we giftwrap in a godshape to guard against
the departed's space
as well as our own dread departuredate.

Mushmazarded hardliner, Semtexas Shrub &
his twinned liar, Jihadliner Binliner, are tantamount
terrorwave riders, bloodbath brothersinlawlessness,
or 2 Horsemen gay dads of Baghdad's bodybags
- married by massacres, John Lewis list on bodybagtags
& oldflame S.Hussein the (body-)bagman for the Blame.  
Like the insatiable Hulk's Wasabi ****, Wahhabism
sows explosions; if kerblammo red rings
of Amerikiddies' sacrificial limbs holdinghands
aren't blastradius haram,
then Hell's moist coals are here & now halal.

& as for Shrub,
Lone Star Jesus Day-legislatin' gub,
Cheneyyank Kaiser, **** warmonger,
his patri-idiotic pout & gospeldegook
is the cackcreek credo  of the G.O.P.,
where the S.O.G. is Jesus Croesus & G-O-D
is the S.O.B. (Sun Ofa Byss) nudging Shrub,
'Armageddon, are we there yet?'
Arragheddon a bayonet
like a rag to septicephalic beast harbinging
the great Satan-contra-Shaytan ruck on Crusadescursed muck
Scripture schedules for *** yoke of the Z.O.G.
I've seen this supervillain smackdown somewhere before,
American Hordak vs. Saudi Skeletor.
Jaheem= Arabic, 'hellfire'
Jahannam = Arabic, 'Hell'
Jannah= Arabic, 'Paradise'  
houris = Arabic, the 72 Virgins rewarding the virtuous in Heaven
sahih = a hadith (quote) from Mohammed bestowed the rank of utmost authenticity
Shaytan = Arabic, 'The Devil'
S.O.G.= Son Of God
Z.O.G.= Zionist Operated Government
Julian D Aug 2018
Blinded by the sunlight that shines so brightly,
it proceeds to massage my spectacles,
rinsing the grime away from my eyes,
there lived mankind, buildings, plants, and animals,
but where was I, unaware of the planet I saunter,
I look in amazement, unborn to what to forecast,
but then I distinguished the dark side, somber and bleak,
impoverished skeletons walking hunchbacked, desperately
scrambling for silver, as so to purchase a bottle of liquor and a burger to indulge his vacancy that absents him,
as I trek my way further into this metropolis,
I hear a sudden commotion arising from the right direction,
it begins to steer me that way, luring me in deeply there was a mass of onlookers chanting on, of what seemed to be two individuals pummeling one another into a bloodbath, but then it escalated, the crowd began to all partake in the beating and it caused a mayhem, that was uncontrolled, I bolted the scene, protecting my mask from getting dismantled, as suddenly I hear a very deafening noise, it was a four wheeler wagon, that speedily amtrac it's way towards the locus in which we was in, everyone scattered the scene, as the people who dressed in uniform annihilated the scene, putting an outright stop to the madness that occurred, forestalling future procreation from the participants, my heart shriveled and I gasped for air, I ran aimlessly into a town that was lively and sunny, as I saw mankind playing sports, clubbing, riding nice convertibles, homes were futuristic, plants were vegetated, smiles and giggles were infectious, everyone was cheerful and amused enjoying this utopian I discovered, it was care-free, as folks walked in suit and ties, formal dresses, luggages entering and exiting, dialect as clear as caribbean sea, friendly animals chaperoned by their owner, "where am I?", "what was this strange but yet interesting soil I embark on?", ..... I don't know, but it closes me in like a maze and I'm forced to live as they.

— The End —