She needed to express her words
Have them reach out,
Spoken upon the page
Words,
Syllables,
Sentences
Needed to mean something
But with each one wrote, anger consumed
Each burnt as if never mentioned,
It was though her thoughts ignited
Then became ash.
Needing to evoke the words they had to
Bleed,
Meaning,
Stained
On a page of flesh, This was her defining moment
Who to choose, who to witness her words,
Homeless were a thought, but never questioned
Her words were not trash, she needed not to be write
On skin with words that showed there own pain.
Words needed freshness, flesh of the innocent,
"Her first"
"Her cutting of life"
"Her mistakes upon this delicate flesh"
Inaccuracy, left rage as she slashed
At the words,
"Muffled screams"
As the living felt her words as she had cut
But that voice silenced.
Trial and errors correct instruments wielded,
She perfected her motion the living had to be still
For words were
Perfection,
Fulfilment,
Perfection
Of her word it felt so good so many pages ruined,
As before with  paper they were burnt to ash
She signed each upon the parchment
Names carved in to throats
"Poetic Death"
But now she cuts the pages out in to her
"Book of dead paper"
But the words still seen
When bodies found. Her destiny was calling,
To carve upon purest  flesh,
To let her words  bleed out.
They sacrificed there life, to further her words,
She was Poetic death, fear her, for her words meant your **death.

As blossom fell to the waters
Red settled upon
Diluted,
Purified,
Life
Was washed away, I sent you
As others, upon the waters to
"Cleanse you,
"Of what I had done,
For with each cut a branch of life
Bled,
Seeped,
Amber
Of red where cuts not deep,
"But in spring,
"When life came forth"
A balance had to be meet.
The circle of creation had to be cleansed
with offerings of death,
Lacerations,
Tearing,
Sculpturing
The moments, now cleansed
Upon the flowing waters,
Blossom was drained from branches,
"Washed away,
Purified, Taken away.
I had bleed the bud of life,
I will for each day that life grows anew.
Take one  & drained,
"The crimson wine of life"
And blossoms will fall upon the waters absolved
They float away death and life,
Cycles each year kept in true harmony each **cleansed.

Christmas is upon the masses
The white flakes fall, but
Hanging
Swaying,
Dripping
Upon the crisp white
A puddle frozen of crimson red,
Baubles of the deceased
Upon a branch, eyes bleed
Baubles,
Red,
Sightless
Eyes, cracked within, as blood
Drips between the cracks,
He hangs them with tinsel rope
Glistening in the sun,
Inscribed,
"Merry Christmas"
Still fresh from the cut
Blood like a leaking tap
Drip,
Drip,
Drips
Upon pristine snow,
"He is the tinsel hanger"
He waits until the white covers
Then he begins his
Christmas list,
He thinks them naughty in is eyes
So they now sway above the ground,
There is not always one,
For what is a tree with but
One
Bauble
Hanging,
More must adorn a single tree,
"Happy Christmas"
"Died Smiling"
"Jolly Dead"
Were his trademarks upon dead flesh,
Birds perch upon limp shoulders
Pecking, upon the dead,
The last things heard,
As he records his crime,
"Please don't **** us"
"Have a heart"
"A heart"
"A HEART"
Pleeeasss....
And then there is but muffled sound
"Thump"
Lifelessness now upon the ground,
Another Bauble
For him to hang with tinsel
Above the freshly powdered ground,
He is the Tinsel hanger
He thinks the white gives purity
To his twisted deeds
Pray* that your not just left
A Christmas bauble,
Hanging,
Swaying,
Lifeless
Above freshly white snow, because
You'll not be alone this cold night,
Family will also be hanging around, tinsel  shimmering off *moonlight.

He attends the graves, a tear is shed
As he prunes the weeds that grow forth
Names,
Dates,
Year
Of there death,
Freshly dug, not long for this world
He buries them alive
He watches there eventual time past
Life,
Death,
Choosing
The last breath they take,
He sheds a tear upon each passing
"A wooden plague"
Hammered deep to their passing
He looks upon fresh earth,
Handfuls smothered upon his self,
He cries through dirt drenched skin, these
Tears
Are
Purity
That fall upon now dead earth
He gazes upon the many plagues
That read of each moment they are now past,
He sends families the paper of passing
A  picture,
A  moment,
Frozen
In families eyes, The passing he let breath
Breathe its last,
He is the grave digger,
He has many plots  fresh  for the living to die
He will shed many tears that pass In his graveyard
Of the living, and the now **dead.

He had a blackened beard he was
Out of his face,
On his sledge adorned with the
Flayed  skin of those on the
Naughty,
&
Nice
List, those deemed unworthy for
The gifts to bring this night,
Those houses with no
Cans,
Bottles,
Mince pies,
To line his stomach, from the offerings
Of 40% alcohol that fuelled his laughter,
Vomiting induced from heights, over
Gardens,
Roofs,
People
Killed from frozen missiles of *****
From above high,
He would sneak upon those
Deemed unworthy,
"In the eyes of children"
He would never harm an
Innocent,
Young,
Cradled
With love, but the naughty list
"Wasn't of children"
It was parents unjust,
Cruelty
Neglect,
Violence
"Against those unable to defend themselves"
He was the protector
Of the innocent ones
The elves would hold the parents down
As Serial Santa
Shouted out the charges, so each was heard
Ears bleed as his voice pierced sound,
He would be the
Judge,
Jury,
Executioner  
"For their time was coming to an end"
Some begged,
Screamed,
Spat in his face,
He would go in his black bag
And from nowhere,
"A sound proof room for justice"
Was to be served as children
"Where not to be disturbed"
As parents screamed out,
He had finished flayed bodies
Disappeared within his black sack
"The odd finger picked up"
Used as a toothpick to get
Flesh stuck between teeth out,
"But what about the children you say"
"They were fine"
"Never woke, slept in peace"
"I don't ****** parents for fun"
"Ok"
"I get a little satisfaction"
"From them coming to their deserved end"
"Thousands in these hundreds of years"
"Dispatched in to the bag, still not full"
"After so many kills through the years"
"Cloning is the way forward"
"Been pioneers in this for hundreds of years"
New parents for a new day the best present
A serial Santa could give,
H A P P Y   C H R I S T M A S   P A R E N T S
Prey that your nice, for I **** for the
Children, they deserve *better in life,

"Let me introduce my self"
"I'm Mr Dev-Ell"
This is a class on words
Power,
Thoughts,
Manipulation
Of those around you, why not, others
Do it, so do it to them as well,
"HELL"
I do it everyday its my job,
Power
Is what you make it,
How you use it, power isn't
Money,
Land,
Diamonds
May be a girls best friend, but
Without the words there just
Dreams sitting on a fluffy white cloud,
Thoughts,
Can be dominated, with so *few
Syllables, make their  thoughts yours,
To after a time control,
Manipulation,
To make those who's thoughts have succumb
To your whims, do all that you want
Good,
Evil,
In-between
What is wanted, stand back and watch the show,
Now here is your homework
I want all done that which is wrote
I want all completed with silence
I want you to
Listen
To the
Sound
Of my
Voice,
You wish to have power over people & words,
"Yes"
"Then into the night"
As each leave's I whisper in their ears
I am Mr Dev-ell
If any one asks, say i whispered the words,
That night, I sit waiting with  
A smile upon my face,
"News is coming through"
"ZND News"
"There have been numerous killings"
"On the streets tonight"
"Each was heard screaming"
Devil gave me the power"
Devil gave me the word"
"Six  people were shot by  police
"Five died from their wounds"
"This brings the death toll too"
"Twenty Five"
"Wait a moment the sixth suspect is in custody "
"Why sir, why did you do this"
"Dev-eel made me do it"
"He whispered secrets in to my ears"
"You heard it here first
Dev ell smiled,
He had killedso many, with out raising a hand,
The power of word was indeed strong
Specially when spoken softly by
Mr Dev-ell
His words were like ******* for thoughts
He spoke, people listened,
And with out knowing did his ***** work,
A master at what he did,
He was Dev-eel and his whispers
Could make you **** or **worse..

Sitting in line, my dolls all still
Figurines sitting dressed up features
Frozen in that moment
Placid
Stagnant
Soundless
As all lips sealed with a sewn kiss,
"Never do they speak"
"Silence is there skill"  
Death seeps from staring eyes,
"They are the perfection I killed for",
Never would I wish for such perfection
But it only lasts so long as all flowers
Wilt
My dolls I hunt for, not anyone will do
They have to be a
Height,
Weight,
Beauty
Instilled, for me to appreciate them,
But those that fall, damaged in some way
Not as pristine,
"To the dumpster they must go"
I am called the "Doll Maker"
Perfection of eternal beauty Is my goal,
Features must be symmetrical
Not any face will do,
I will search for those of
Beauty
Exquisiteness
Symmetry
Is my model of perfection, those
Unsightly
Repugnant
Proportions
Not to my qualities, have no fear
You are beneath my view
Only the beautiful I seek,
"I Love My Silent Dolls"
Dressed sitting quietly still,
I am the
"Doll Maker"
For beauty & perfection I am willing to ******

I would show them their seats
Each had there own, painted faces
I would greet,
Sir,
Madam,
Sit
Upon the table surrounded by friends
But too quiet as they sit still
"No movement"
Temper flares
"You are dead to me"
As I throw them out,
"I relinquish these friendships"
Bodies now burn on a cremation of death,
"I am better without you all"
New friends to meet, to keep,
As  I speak to many in the following weeks
"Would you like to be my friend"
"Why not ye"
"You seem like a  nice bloke"
sealed is there fate with but one word
YES
They wake up my friends of solitude
In rooms kept safe
For each will sit at my table,
I am there only friend needed
"Till we must part"
They should know the rules
As another bonfire of the forgotten will
Light up the night, departed friends
"Missed so much"
Sit,
Smile,
Friends
In chains, some cry with joy
One screams obscenities,
"Pardon"
"What"
Silence
Follows, as all around now smile
He will sit again painted face in silence,
They compliment my food,
I don't like the look one gives,
"a silent one"
"Now never breathes again"
The quiet ones consume
Till the last,
Bleeding upon the floor
Tears stream
She says quietly,
"Burn in hell"
Then face plants the food, I worked
My fingers to the bone,
"No respect"
I don't waste time
Silence is a killer among friends
So the bonfire burns
Bodies now burn on a cremation of death,
So many friends lost to silence,
"Will this struggle ever end"
"NO"
Third time lucky,
I will never be alone like before,
I will **** to have the perfect friends
**"HI WOULD YOU LIKE TO BE MY FRIEND Y!!!!!"

"I am the spirit of the dead,"
They talk through me
Death,*
Whispers,
Clearly,
The living must walk the halls
Life* is the wrong
All must
"Sing the song of silent breath"
Essence of warmth is a sacrilege,
All must be cold in
Stillness,
Serenity,
Tranquillity
Will not be found, all must release themselves
From the torture of life
"Only death is eternal"
I have taken many,
"I am telling you this,"
There is a
Beginning
&
End
You will sleep in persistent peace
Like the rest,
So many immortal in
The halls, each have a place,
"Do"
"Not"
"Worry"
"The missing are never to be found"
Prey with relief, when I release your burden
"I Am The Spirit Of The Dead"
Life is fleeting the only comfort is in death
Invisible like the spirit never known or seen,
You don't even realise I'm out there, culling the herd.
The spirit speaks through me, all life ends cold.