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the lost girl Dec 2016
Memories
Are still so clear
would you like to listen?
Cause it's hard to deal
With all of these alone
The scars would heal
What about my broken heart?
Would you ever care
about what I feel
Cold walls would only know
About my fears
You can ask them
About voices I hear
But what is about to change?
You always disappear
You think I'm mad
But can't u see my tears?
You think I laugh
If you only see my mask
Then you must
forget about past
I'll keep this memory
I'll walk down the same street
And watch our glory
That probably would be dead
You'll be the murderer
And it will be
Alive in my sheets
Shannon Delaney Sep 2016
Take the gun from off your back and shoot down the wild birds from the sky
They come easily if you wait
If you wait
When my ankles swell with the storms
You carry me over your shoulder like the corpse of a Canadian goose
I am your prize
You've blown a bullet through my aching bones and I am your prize
Anne Aug 2016
Peel off your skin.
Look at you.
Your mind is gushing from every vein, every slit.
Your fears are being milked from the exposed flesh.

This is you, my friend.
You have been disfigured and morphed into something you don't recognize.
Scabs are cracked open to reveal secrets only you could be selfish enough to cover.

Your blood drips off the tip of your nose at a steady pace;
As you, my friend, watch your face melt into a sink.
You are disgusting but this is you, and
You
Are
Alive.

Friend, you are perfectly honest;
No carbon copies made.
You let yourself bleed and flood this house,
Because that's all you've ever wanted.
You've finally escaped the cage of bones and skin that silenced you.

You alive and you are free.
Pauline Morris Aug 2016
I was very cautious
I knew if I wasn't what it would cost us
I made sure the bedroom was perfect
I wanted MY romantic affect
I hung the plastic, then the curtains
Bed exactly in the middle, I had to be certain
Lit a few candles
Then sliped on my dress, and my sandals

I cruise the street
For my baby to meet
I pick him up at the corner
My heart beats faster, my body warmer
We go back to my house
Where we start to mess about
I lead you to my bedroom
We'll be making love soon

To my bed you are shackled
You have no idea of my feeling of hackles
Straddling you, and ridding you like a horse
All the wail your loving it of course

With you still in me, I bring out my toys
They are only for my collection of boys

They are bright and shiny
I will not treat you kindly
They are so sharp they can split a hair
And in their refection you just stare
You can't believe what you see
As the look on my face is pure glee

You body starts to convulse and thrash
Then with my blades I start to slash
I plunge my toy in
With the evilest grin
I love the squirting gushing sound
It's all so profound

I have loved all my men
That's why I let no one chase them
Forever in death they are mine
I'm one of a kind

I slash him to ribbons
It's as fun as the dickens
He's still alive
And feels every vibe
Covered in blood
Our bodies fit like a glove

I slowly climb off top
And lop of his part
Blood sprays the room
Death will be here soon

I'm so happy I made it romantic
And taped up the plastic
I am the Black Spider
I **** all I desire
Amanda Woolley Jul 2016
Mr Peeler, Mr Peeler, why do you creep into my room at night,
and feed nightmares into my brain to give me such a fright?
Didnt your mommy ever tell you its naughty
to scare a little girl like me?

Mr Peeler, Mr Peeler, why do you hide in the shadows of my room
and why is there a stench of doom?
Why, once you've pulled my eyelids from my face,
do you run away as if you are in disgrace?

Mr Peeler why, with my eyelids did you make pretty butterflies
once you had ripped them from my eyes?
Why mr peeler did you have to be so cruel
and never let me sleep at all?

---------------------------------------------------------------­-------------------------------------------
Okay so when i originally wrote this poem it was because i couldnt sleep very well and i had just remembered a grizzly tales for gruesome kids episode i once saw. (for those who dont know what grizzly tales for gruesome kids is, its a cartoon that aimed to scare children into being good by saying stuff like if you refuse to go to sleep mr peeler will come and rip off your eyelids because he thinks you dont need them.) . Out of all the characters I saw on grizzly tales for gruesome kids I liked Mr Peeler the best. Which leads me nicely back to my poem. I wrote this as if I was a little child who didnt want to go bed so Mr Peeler ripped off her eyelids. Let me no what you think, also i'd be interested in knowing who else has heard of Mr Peeler before now.
The world today is as it's always been, filled with greed, death and war.
I sadly reflect that it get's worse and worse and through my heart it tore.
Soon everything must come to an end and so must the pain, blood, and gore.
I hope someday Christ will come and take away the pain the earth cannot stand anymore.
People are greedy and vile and I weep when I see them befoul the earth, stop it! I implore.
Alas! With a heavy heart I realize they will not, but ignore.
Elizabeth P Jun 2016
Flowing steadily, dancing on skin-
Losing control, darkness consuming-
It drips, drops, pooling on the floor-
Scent of sin stinking and bruising...

Hemorrhaging, scratching profusely-
Shades of beautiful crimson red-
Open scars from stitches undone-
Prolonging agony and pain...

Satisfying the blood lust within-
Stingy smell of primal needs of man-
Nothing beats the euphoria felt-
Flesh opens and gore gushes out...

Regret comes only after it's done-
Washing the red stains off shaking hands-
Is it regret? Satisfaction?
Either way the deed is long done...
*written in a rush after watching Maroon 5's Animals Music Video
Steven Forrester May 2016
A cold winter draws near
Darkness lives here
As snow whirls around
There comes a booming sound
War approaches
Like lightning, so quick
An enemy encroaches
A land, prosperous and thick
Archers and swordsman
Join the fray
A cavalry of horsemen
Clashes here this day
Death is a venerable vintage
A wine of blood and gore
A variable incentive
For the hoards to go to war
(c) Steven Forrester- From Diary of an Ominous Mind
Saint Jimmy May 2016
I sit in my perfect elysium,
A beautiful world, full of happy faces.

I dream of my perfect life here in paradise,
I look around at the happy faces,
Of people drinking tea and children laughing.

I look around and see them in this life of pandemonium.
I see the red puddles on the floor, the uneaten food, the scavenging vultures and the families.

And I smile,
At least they're happy. At least they are with their families.

With their slashed open faces to create leering twisted smirks of the living undead. With piles of rotten corpses and tortured survivors.

With the cries and cruel laughter of the children of my underworld.
Standing with shadows and blunt blades,
Awaiting the chance to shed blood.

It looks like they fell down the wrong rabbit hole.

One does wonder how they are still falling,
Visiting the beautiful Alice, with her chest ripped apart and flesh hanging from her wounds.

But then again,

Wonderland has never been so pretty has it my dear Alice
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