Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
STLR Nov 2016
Criminal Arson, lyrical Spartan

All coming from the dark abyss
of my apartment

I'm Aiming for your cartilage
Heart attacks happen often

Watch your ****
watch your next step

Slip up, to get surgery
like open neck

Don't expect
this **** to be progressive
nor a lullaby

I've been non-aggressive
for the longest time

I deserve some credit
for this overtime

I have reached a point
where I'm disrupting lives

Cold bars
see we're living in some chilly times

Every day I cross the street
yet I'm negligent of the signs
if I get hit is that ****** or suicide?

I see it as do or die
that action is to defined

These words move faster
For people with slower minds

This accent is Anglo-Saxon,
to massive yet to disguised

I write in the form of acid
too drastic for you and I

Avoiding all of the masses
by acting like I am passive

When really my minds a passage
That leads to actions erratic

Most people are systematic
Calculated by habits
Always missing in action
Due to lack of a passion
Distorted by forms of havoc

Armageddon again, again and again

Tell this message to your fam and a friend

Famine, no salmon nor small m&ms;

This is the end
counter clockwise is this demonstration

in the form of verbal detonations  

Professor X with a hex that will stop all ovulations

So that the idea of having a child
will only exist in imaginations

This is future annihilation
instinctual termination

Nuclear concentrated

enough to change all that's physical, the removal of hair follicles  

So visceral, diabolical cynical
my methodical rituals

Render foes
to their minimal state

I trust as far as I can throw you
What's you physical weight?

I'm hoping to take,
this **** to the next level

So I pulled out the Weegee board and had a chat with the devil

He made me a solid offer
I simply couldn't refuse
There was one thing that I had to do

I dipped a dreidel in a bowl of holy water, then spun it on top the altar, father took a turn but it seems that his luck had Faltered, broke was the man, so in turn, the church had to offer a bundle inside a basket
Which cradled a couple dollars
Ginelle Nov 2016
they say the scariest things are
witches, werewolves, ghosts and ghouls;
but they never discuss the demons
that crawl into your mind just 3 hours after midnight.
so what should really scare me on hallowseve?
Nickols Jul 2016
Black eyes,
Deep and endless.
Shines a light,
Bright and timeless.

A kind smile,
On a gnarled face.
Handsome in his
own way.

A lost virtue,
In this wasteland
We call home.

Smoke drifts
from a parted mouth.
Escapes into the
nothingness of the
green-tinged sky.

"Moments like these,
I know all that karma
stuff is all bull."

Those are your words.
Not mine.

"Because no one like me,
should be this lucky."

There is no one like you.

A man out of time,
in stolen red duds.
tricorn hat tipped
to the side.

That smirk,
that damnable,
smirk, plastered,
forever to your smug mug.

Your ruddy hand
reaches back.
Open palmed
full of scars.
To grasp my mine.
Much smoother skin.

"Come on love,"
you say,
with your voice
full of gravel.

*"Lets get this freak show
on the road."
(I think I just went full on Fangirl!!)
Paul Gilhooley Apr 2016
I’d like to tell a tale so grim,
Don’t pray for hope, mere foolish whim,
“Beware to all who enter here,
The trees themselves can sense your fear”

A place where ghouls and goblins wait,
For lonely travellers to seal their fate,
A place where hope has long since gone,
And eternal darkness lingers on.

I would not suggest you stop and rest,
March on my friend, I think that’s best,
Danger hides in every tree,
You doubt my word, just wait and see.

An unearthly stench wafts through this wood,
The demons sense your rich warm blood,
I urge you not to pitch your tent,
Heed my warning, it is well meant.

No sweet spring blooms will greet your path,
Anything of beauty incurs such wrath,
No sound of birds to fill the air,
A joyous song, they would not dare.

There is no sun, nor gentle breeze,
You won’t find safety among these trees,
The air is still, the air is calm,
With creatures here to cause you harm.

You feel the cold, your icy breath,
As in your footsteps follows death,
He’ll strike you down without a thought,
Tread carefully, this path has dangers fraught.

These woods are thick, their area vast,
Travellers stare, afraid, aghast,
But do not stop, no do not dwell,
For this could be a living hell.

The creatures here have but one goal,
They want to claim your very soul,
To bring an end to your miserable days,
They’re able to do this in a myriad of ways.

So heed both my warning and the sign,
Turn back from here while you have the time,
The reason they call it the Weeping Wood?
No weep of willow, but travellers’ blood.
Julie Grenness Apr 2016
Explain the rules,
All you callous ghouls,
What are rules?
Power games for you,
One way traffic, you see,
Why are you exploiting me?
Why can't you get someone better?
Write me your rules in a letter!
So, you callous ghouls,
You explain your rules,
Maybe there are no rules,
You made it up to suit you,
You write down your rules!
Feedback welcome.

— The End —