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Johnson Oyeniran Aug 2022
Gloomy cloaked figure lurking in the dead of night,

Could hath sworn I saw him wielding a knife.

Is he the vile notorious killer,

Who came to be known as Jack the Ripper?
Sabika Nov 2020
One step - two stepping me,
Swirling around me in a spiral,
And I twirl,
And orbit in a cycle,
Gaining momentum,
I shine bright
As I try to catch up to your speed
And you run me down!
When did you become so sinister?

Never fixed in a fixture,
So I never got the whole picture,
Because you're constantly on the move.
So move!

Don't hold your breath
In fear that you'll never breathe again
When the difference between
Reality and a projection
Is the ink in the pen and
The lines in a book
And even then,
You cannot catch up to the speed of His

Finished before you even started,
Cycle after cycle
I am reminded.
Tim Morris Nov 2020
i wonder why that group of crows, that ******,
burst forth from the treetops
of that tiny patch of woods
next to the city park -
silent, except for the beating of

sixteen pairs of wings -
an oddity if you know crows and their penchant
for jibber-jabber.
i wonder what it was that frightened them so,
and am unnerved by their silence.

unnerved by the knowledge that something
so sinister could be lurking so close
and not hiding behind a pulpit or badge.
the sun sets earlier and earlier these days,
and the news is always on.

Dylan McFadden Nov 2020
Sadistic, sinister:

              The evil twin sister

I fight, I resist,

              But sometimes I still miss her...

From birth was a friction –

              Affliction – a blister

Now alive, I must die

              Every day and dismiss her

A poem about that ugly shadow of myself that still follows me around everywhere I go...and which only goes away when I consciously make a choice to **** IT - to "die" to it - each day.
Nolan Willett Jun 2020
Locked away, in tower grey,
For the crime of innocence;
And in the streets, disarray,
Observed from the distance
Of a somber penance:
A sinister interplay.
Radhika Krishna Feb 2020
Welcome to my phantom realm
Where smiling is a deadly fallacy
Please don't take a careless step
Because they'll **** you callously

Welcome to my phantom realm
Where the autumn leaves are always dying
A twisted peace: the result of your mind's helm
You'll find within, mystifying

Welcome to my phantom realm
Where power lies in the secrets you keep
So dark, so deep, that you start drowning
Just never let them sense your pain

Don't be scared of my phantom realm
The darkness will embrace you for who you are
And don't listen to them say they want to end your pain
Remember a favour is not them killing you

Welcome to my phantom fantasy
Together we'll build a kingdom for me
And when you feel yourself losing hope
I'll give you Pandora's Jar; you don't have to mope
eva-mae coffey Sep 2019
Pulsate your peevish pain
through every inch of me,
call it love,
your preposterous purity
pumps in my veins now,
I cannot escape your
Vice, I laugh that I once

That is a part of me now.
That same sickness satiates
Each nerve of mine.
That same slaughterous sin
sounds like the echo of
My bare bones.
That slimy sidekick that
You call sanctimonious
Writhes, sorry in my skin.

Pre-existent Angelface is nothing
But a wistful, naïve miracle!
She is chained with heavy wire,
Remains in my grains.
I believe she weeps, out of sheer
Celebration, for she is a
ferociously forgiving creature
Blind to her nature.
self reflection
John H Dillinger Aug 2019

each pocket has a purpose
church bells shatter through the surface

the worthless circus sunday service
a procession past the pickled mirthless

dispersions of persons pass pews
hoping He accepts the time served, in lieu

and thus this pocket is purposed for you

At the masqurade parade all day
That preys on insecurity

youre sure to see a bargain,
sharking, armed with curiosity

but the cost is often hidden, lost
in a forest of desire, in a silk lined pocket

and this is where they keep your wallet

search for solace in a sound structure
then ruptured synapses, flayed fluster

rebuild it all, regard life's lustre
meander melancholy with what you can muster

place them in a pocket, each respective,
one for your lessons and one for perspective

as the pickpocket of fear plays with the reasoning detective
A bit of rhyming fun here with a few feelings expressed against some aspects of life completely biased and brazen.

Sew up those pockets people.
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