Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
IPM 1d
My bones are turning
dry,
       breaking,
on the silver rope.
My flesh decaying
dry,
       cells,
blackened dirt.
Foul meat
drops,
        beneath,
the hounds hungered long.
n 4d
Recoil. And recoil fast.
She was of simple taste so He shattered her veiny lungs with his spit almost effortlessly.
Under his weight she was stunted, her limbs frozen by the constant of his blarring audioporn.
At every touch she had to brace herself for his embrace.
n Jan 14
He tasted dry,
When licked with sour spit.
His scent was foul.
Broad hands rejected
Curling feet.
Met by scowling eyes,
He criticised me with love.
Ken Voltaire Oct 2018
In some twisted way,
I almost feel happy.
My body is tense,
My breathing rapid,
My mind skirts the edges of insanity.
My conscience hangs by a mere thread,
Dangling precariously over the edge.
In some twisted way,
I almost feel whole.
The dark that rapes me holds me steady,
It fills in the spaces otherwise unoccupied.
There are unexplored oceans,
Haunted by ghostly ships,
Rising high on the crest of the evening tide.
A beautiful, terrifying event to witness.
In some twisted way,
I see black as a colour.
The speck that grows in a distant corner,
Nearing its full force,
Is elegant.
Ever so gently, it drains my free will.
It absorbs my ambition, my desire to accomplish,
The very air in my lungs is anything but my own.
I am the black, just as the black is me.
In some twisted way,
I feel powerful.
The disdain I feel for myself,
Cannot be outweighed.
It moves, breathes death,
And with a mind of its own it consumes me.
Until, I have been overcome,
And the grass is grey,
Birds shriek in terror,
Waves crash violently against jagged stone,
Laughter turns to mockery,
Food is poison,
Sleep is a crypt,
Life is a tomb.
Rajinder Sep 2018
You, the ashen alyssum
homing in on dark bushes
breeding maggots
feeding on flesh.  

You the fetid parasite  
carrion, the rotten stink
a toxin laced tongue
devouring pith.

You, the stench of
malignant blossoms
a venomous creeper, you
had to attract snakes.

You live among the graves
the poison pollinator,
a corpse floret
of foul odour.

You the venin
cloaked in smirk
a shrew, spiked with malice
must be crushed,
must die.
Poetic T Aug 2018
Wounds were never
             afflicted with
repercussion of syllable lesions..

No quite the opposite,
       Unfamiliar tastes on the
       tongue, cleansed improper tastes.
Washing ones mouth out with salt clears undue tastes..
writer omsy Apr 2018
Till her scream faded
Inside the temple walls
She had cried o'er a week
And she tried to get help
They came and *****
Tore her cloths off
And never came kindness
She was mere eight
Yet they tore her apart
She was choked
Beaten to death
After they satisfied themselves

Her body was dropped
On the side of the road
Bribery shut the cops
They never talked about it
Let the days fade the scent

Did they ever know?
The world would know the truth
And when it does
It'd be their doom
RIP Asifa
Justice for Asifa
...
Her screams weren’t heard outside the temple. For more than a week they abused her, tortured her and ***** her, violently. Still the authorities failed to save this little young girl from Jammu Kashmir. She didn’t survive. They choked her to death. There was still an inch of life left in her before they cracked her head with a rock. There were several ‘beasts’ who ***** this poor little eight year old Asifa. They are still breathing the fresh air over there. They are walking freely like they have served their religion. But, unfortunately, they ought to be hanged even if the constitution of India save its words for consolidation and mess it up again for the safety of women in India.
This was never about the girl. They hated the religion her parents were devoted to. They wanted to show how cruel they can be if they still stay in this country. This country will never achieve to be a democratic, social nation until the illiterate leaders on the top of the seats get the **** out of there. No more partialities, no more violence, no more religious troubles. We expected it to be a great country while the new prime minister won out of promises he can’t keep. When will it ever be a country without racism and cast partialities?
The convicts must be hanged. In fact, the ones who tried to cover the story should also be put in trial. They must be punished at least with a life sentence. This horrifying incident that occurred a month ago was buried under by the one and only authority who were supposed to arrest these pathetic *******. The police were bribed. But that wouldn’t have stopped them from arresting them if it was their baby girl. Enough with mercy, they must not walk on this soil unless the country is filthy enough to bear their actions.
What are the aftermaths of this terrible ******? If it was a ****** that could be hidden by the skilful media now-a-days, it could’ve been easy for them to walk away from the court. This little innocence was destroyed when they pierced through her private parts with their vicious filth. Not only they kept her captive inside the temple, they starved her until she lost the energy to scream later when they constantly used her to fulfil their thirst. Her face will never be forgotten from the minds that has a little amount of humanity.
We mourn her death and must avenge her against the weak Indian laws which give more importance to wealth and power. Laws must change. More security and extreme punishments for those who neglect certain laws meant to protect the citizens of India.
Next page