Back to the Mud! (the roar of the crowd is the beasts only food)
( The Bloody Nine eyes shinin', I'm up to no good!,)
Back to the Mud! (fear starts as a trickle then you're drowned in the flood

Feel the trickle of Fear in your bones take hold,
proudly I walk with my eyes Hell cold,
to the centre-a circle o' shields in the grass,
some young buck tryin to keep the hole in his arse,
dropping straight out from under him,
no wonderin-
why? you're gonna DIE cos your mouth got blunderin'
SNAP! steel trap,cause you got me skin creepin'-thinkin...
would you plant a blade while I'm sleepin'?
now you're just a seed,and this field you'll be deep in,
hold the shields up, everybody brace up,
don't hold the line-then my blades in your face up-
to the hilt, try not get kilt,
when the Nine's off the chain there'll be much blood spilt,
its Ambrosia,Ecstasy-my mother's milk,
I'll be be swimmin' in it soon,warms skin like for you(heheheheh)-you're goin

Back to the Mud! (the roar of the crowd is the beasts only food)            
( Bloody Nine I'm Malign and I'm up to no good!,)
Back to the Mud!(fear starts as a trickle then you're drowned in the flood)

I've killed Named Men-Feared men from North and South,
a little runnel of piss runnin' off at the mouth,
wouldn't usually rouse up the beast in my chest,
but now I'm back -you'll be soon on yours gettin' blessed-
you can pray for the day to sway and go your way,
but "ya gotta be realistic" I always say,
you've less chance than a snowflake kissin' a Forge,
as I go to my work on ya-the crowds gorge
rises as one, feel the kiss of of the sun,
on your face...tick tick...time freezes in place,
(as the cold in my soul drifts out to my fingers,
it always happens to me-time just lingers)
I start remembering then I start SCREAMING,
Friends,Wife Family-Insides Steaming,
used to be man now they whisper "a DEMON"
hand in a fire don't question the Burnin'-It's time to go...

Back to the Mud! (the roar of the crowd is the beasts only food)            
( Bloody Nine I'm Malign and I'm up to no good!,)
Back to the Mud!(fear starts as a trickle then you're drowned in the flood)

Axe blade swoops past me as I fade through,
like a ghost of the mist sinnin' skin clad blue,
while yours-soon RED,then soon DEAD,
wind chimes whistle through the holes in your head,
as I start giggling you stare frightened,
The Titan inside me starts ridin' the Lightnin'
skin steamin' heat Volcanic,
channellin' Hellions as Sheep start to panic

blind terror in the face of blind rage,
Built my crew up from Heroes who march off the page
of the History books, some fell to left hooks,
the rest I tore lumps out of til they gave up...
(why did I hold my last blow those ten comrades over?
when since then I've set good friends pushin' up clover?)

I'm the Red Rover rangin' your skin as a hood,
won't be happy til someone gets lucky and puts me right BACK IN THE MUD

Obviously this track is inspired by Joe Abercrombie's First Law Trilogy and I want to thank him for the inspiration,
more Grim Dark Poetry coming soon

You're a pillar of smoke
that rises up
out of a pile of ash leftover
from a fire I thought
I'd extinguished long ago.
You're the butt of a cigarette
now smoldering
much after I've quit smoking,
and the smell of you
reaching my nostrils
brings acid from my stomach
to my throat
and I'm forced to choke for a moment.
You're the dark ring
around the tub
even after years of scrubbing,
and I hate it because
it reminds me of the rings,
dark and stubborn
around my eyes.
You're the agitated
pressure marks
on either side of my nose
from the glasses I habitually wear
although I've far outgrown them.
You're the splinter
that sits just far enough beneath my skin
that any attempt to remove it
just furthers my irritation.
I can try to forget about you,
let you slowly work your way out,
but it simply takes one rub,
one bump in the right direction
to remind me
you're still there
and I'm sore all over again.
Simply the thought of you
makes me ache.

I ache from my shins
like I did that night
you swung a metal bar across them.
And my ass.
And my chest.
And the back of my head
when I tried to roll away from your thunder.
I ache from my lips
like I used to when they'd swell
from the contact of your palms
or your knuckles
or my teeth
so I could hold back my screams.
I ache from my throat
like I would for days
after you would grab me -
I swear you'd squeeze harder every time,
and if given a choice now,
I'd happily pick a noose
over your hand any day.
But most often I ache
from my head as a whole -
my eyes,
my nose,
my mouth -
my temples throb.
I can hear my own heartbeat -
Everything tingles
like when you would box me,
pack me up with your fists
into a small package,
sealed with the stamp
of your forehead
pecked against mine
like a hammer to a nail.

But every beginning has an end,
under pressure
diamonds are formed,
and it's only after a star is destroyed
that we see it twinkle from Earth.

Every bruised eye
has made mine shine brighter.
Every fat lip
has made my smile wider.
Every tear, every plea choked back
has made my song louder.

I am now
the tree you tried to cut down
but my seeds already fell
and I'm growing again.
I am the picture
you tried to shred
but I became a puzzle
and someone else
put me together.
I am the star
you tried to black out
with your darkness,
but I became the sun
and now it's summer time.

Trigger Warning : Domestic Abuse

Boiling brews of blood gurgle,
feet becoming stepping stones.
The red consumes
broken warriors,
crystallised minds.
Something shifts in an afterlife
of its own - whimpering,
Back-pedal to the living.
listless limbs
brushing against nightmares,
dazed and sleepless
bodies rushing in their agony
to a better place.

Black language drowning me,
unheard whispers.
Delve deeper.
Feel the cracks.
Hold the shards until
death drips from your fingertips.
Laugh out loud.

You're going to hell.

~~ Loss. ~~
Mane Omsy 5d

UV straight in to our body
Heat strokes are close by
Take enough pills, feel clean
Stars flying right to the core
Woke up into a mass disaster
Hemispheres collided, hell
The grass fields evaporated
Rising out to the space
Aliens upgraded calling friendship
Brainless leaders conquered world
Dropped Mothers on each corner
Shook hands to slaughter more
Poured blood into vine glasses
Cheers, topped the death rate

Innocents waited for shooting stars
Ended up wishing at KN - 14
A smile before vanishing into air
Over suite is torn, they blamed
Named North West, they discussed
Wore glittering lipsticks, partied
Acted, the innocence deserve awards
Been up and down, never stuck there
Never rose high up to the violent sky
To wave another white flag
Inhale the poison and exhale fresh air
Wars won't end, so won't the business

The Violent Sky - tells the situation we are witnessing now. But we keep silent. They create terror and compromise for more violence. They only want to be rich and great.
Thomas Hatchett Mar 26


On a little red flag from the barrel of this pistol
pointed poignantly at my temple, 
it grazes the flesh and draws precious little blood in a rivulet down my neck.
I'm tempted to pull the trigger again,
to see if the gag is still funny,
for if the next chamber is loaded, I'll laugh.
Loneliness is like a lake under freeze,
iced over and still,
and hard as fucking concrete when you slip.


Like my head on the floor,
like the door
behind you as you left,
like the doors always in front of me.
Ones I've seen opened briefly;
enough to vaguely glimpse
the trees and sunshine on the other side waiting.
But I can't seem to find my keys.
They were just here, I swear;
they were in my fucking hand.
Where the hell did they go?
Goddamnit I'm late, I'm always late.


My fist through a wall that I wish was my skull,
or you heart.
The cracks in my bones are
the cracks in the ceiling
I study as I stare soundlessly, sullen.
I only ever express my anger in solitude,
and dark, where it can be hidden
by shadow, surrendered
and silently sequestered to my hearth.
My fire is burned low and I'm running out of fuel.
It's growing cold in the dwindling light,
and I know if I sleep I'll just freeze;
better to shiver and seize;
to survive, to hope to see sunrise...


She is rising and I'm blinded,
but I refuse not to stare directly into her shine.
She breaks binds,
brings back to life my corpse with her light.
I won't let her day slip away this time.
I was told that I would know it when I see it, and I see it
star-bright, burning brilliant in the sky.
I take aim and hold my trigger-hand high.
I'm not scared of consequences;

I'm just a little gun-shy.

Rose L Mar 20

Sludge and blood. The smell of deep red iron
filtering through the rocks and bodies bruised to the touch.
Grotesque collections of pills and broken skin;
infections and secretions and violent affections -
Spit stained fingers and dilated pupils at thoughts thick with resin.
Waking up with sickness in your stomach and bite marks on your neck
The pull of clutching hands at strands of hair and bitten lips and sweat
Pulling deeper, sharp inhale of self-done stitches
Ripped open insides and the moment his breath hitches -
aches forever. Pulsing, swollen, bleeding on the brain
Sweet and sickly, gorgeous and gorged veins
Momentary singularity in pain.

I tried to create a parallel in this between illness and sex. I hope it shows!

There are times where I wished I let you go.
No logic can hold the burden,
Taming the desire
To bathe in your presence.

A spring of lava
Warms my shell
With pain, and with

Irrational as I may be,
You inflict the wounds
That keep me alive.

Come. please.
Stab me some more.
Eviscerate me
As you will.

For I am irrational,
Void of human,
A being of lust,
At your satisfaction.

N H Nabass Feb 6

A foot on the board and a foot barely kissing the
pavement over and over,
on beat with the pulse in the roof of my mouth.
Momentum forcing me down the winding road,
knees tucked, cutting through the wind.

What if I put my foot down going
at approximately thirty miles per hour?
Aerodynamics fail, knee snapping, body
jolting against the wind before the board
flies out from under me. Disfigured limbs,
a concussion, and a quick death upon meeting
tarmac instantly.

I know how this story ends,
so why do I still feel the urge to try?

One of my most pointless poems, but I think about doing it every single time I get on my board. Oh well.
Sara Jones Jan 23

The blood is drying underneath my nails
And it's dripping off your cheek
While you stare at me in shock
That I would do such a thing













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