Hello Poetry is a poetry community that raises money by advertising to passing readers like yourself.

If you're into poetry and meeting other poets, join us to remove ads and share your poetry. It's totally free.
Anne J 5d
Chattering yet still
Frozen and wrapped by venom
Decayed by sharp fangs
I'm a junior in HS, but I take a senior class. One of the seniors recently got a tattoo of a snake, said snake's end tail erasing around a skull. The tattoo quickly made me in a mood for a haiku. I shall end my period on haikus for now on this eery 3 stanzas
The blind
and broken
seek a way
But they
don’t know
they’re
far away
The path
of glory
will never
fade
But darkness
takes them
Bodies laid
I am
a symbol
Of fear and hate
I am
the legend
I am
your fate
I’ll hunt
you down
Until you
die and
you’ll try to run
But
my sword
will find,
The gun
Is swift
And the sword
Is sharp
Even though
your pain
Is
my golden arch
The skull
Of death
Your sins
In life
Till you
all are cleansed
by
****** knife.
Chicken Oct 22
Headless Chicken,
Headless Chicken,
Oh boy,
You lost your skull.

... and in return,
You get to know,
That you ain’t lost nothin’ at all.
Nothin’ to lose, nothin’ to gain :]
Greed and sin and fatigue possess our flesh,
we wear the richest quartz
to wash away our stains.
Like a pet we feel the guilt,
our tears lull us to remorse.
We sink into a pillow of a million writhing worms,
too stubborn to move,
Each day our Free mind will **** and kiss vapour
We’re discontent to show our secret streams of captive cries
Into the stinking pit of Man’s Will,
& turn back to our woeful design,
each day we offer vows of faith and
charms to each other,
but turn to filth to flow into our lungs,
A tormented art,
A banal fate,
As we deconstruct passion,
A solitary riot,
A shrivelled nerve,
A flask,
A phantom,
A Madonna skull.
A dozen white maidens in ivory silks
Grip the rich tissue in your tempered skull.

I hide from them in my own clinical whiteness,
A kind of peace in prayer,

For what once was a promise of decadence and excitement,
Is now a character of lavish leather lilies.

I'm sorry that I hurt you so
With my actions, words, or mind.

I am but a child
Stood in grass-stained whites.
RBWhite Jul 31
The Final Sacrifice begins,
Punctures of blood all over the seiling,
Eight mementos of her own pain crawl all over dark walls,
My Goddess is here,
And Her Demon too,
Pretty words leave a cave of skin damped skulls,
And she lays down now,
Ready for heavy blows,
Remembering the vows she wished she forgot long ago.
Spiders are a never ending inspiration...
Take off your skin and
Dance around in your bones
Lay in the web of the
Black spider
He wants to use your
Skull as a bowl
He never knows
What time it is and
He can't pass a
Rorscharch test but
He does know
How to have a good time
Fact is more terrifying
Than fiction
But it's the other way
Around and the
Blast from a
Triple barrel sawed off
Will make you think
Twice about putting a
Feather in your hat
So tread lightly on
Widow's webs
Drunk on wine
Wearing boots
Unless you carry a
Big gun
©James Dennis Casey IV
Paul Carico Jun 22
From the eternal reach of sky flung stars eclipsing
The multiverse afar,
To the deepest depths of oceans unseen sights
No man may venture to seek a beauty
Like that of a women so divine.
Defined by the product of genetic perfection,
The picturesque quality of evolutionary design:
Of the moons gibbous glow,
The inner aura of your fluttering eyes
Bring me comfort on a cold winters night.
With skin, soft as silk
Tanned by the suns golden light,
Your flesh melts me back to life.
Like the lapping waves and wisping winds
Along the sands of an islands ocean shore
Your soothing tone of foreign tongue
Caresses my aching skull.

Beyond the chisel of mans mortal hands,
No surgeon may sculpt the flesh with so tedious a design:
An anatomical hourglass
Of Immaculate form,
Unseen among the flaws of humanities mistaken design.
Rambo Apr 14
I don’t know that I trust myself
To keep my brains like a raw egg
When the time comes (when I’m supposed to know what to do)
And not to ***** my skull,
See my brains drip into the bowl,
Mix them up for a broken yolk,
And then pour them into the pan
So they can scram(ble.)

Sometimes I wonder
If I’ll have to salt them
or add any pepper
or just dig in.

Sometimes I hunger
To know everything
Sometimes I feel so engorged
I’d rather know nothing.

The worst part is not knowing
That the worst part is knowing.

I want to hate my own guts
But that’s--that's utterly nuts,
For it’s never the guts
Should be disdained—
It’s the yolk in my egg, or
The stuff in my brains in my head.
Next page