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jeffrey robin Sep 2010
we left amerikkka
when?

and
we might also ask
why?

but we are gone

and now it shall be
a bloodbath

and nothin more
than
a bloodbath

little child

COME WITH ME

little child

THEY HATE

purity
innocence
and
love

COME WITH ME
-------------

NOW
_

PLEASE
__

we left

one step

ahead of the police

but
the phoney patriots

had already
gone

seeking

GOLD

we left because

we knew

IT WOULD BE A BLOODBATH
A BLOODBATH
BLOODBATH

------

we left amerikkka
we left

we stayed in america

all alone
Lucy Tonic Nov 2012
In the bloodbath of a dream
I went sleep-walking into Eden-
It was burnt to the ground
I smelled the charcoal, tasted the flames
While in a cloud was a huge forked-tongue
That got me thinking of the letter M…
I hopped around to other worlds
Perceiving the events with a cautious schoolgirl nature
I watched chemicals and stars do their ****** dance
Twirling endlessly into each other-
Creating a carnival of colorful exploding death and rebirth
I felt the ghosts in their fortresses eye up the hourglass-
Wondering when time will be broken and they’ll be set free…
There’s blood on a rainbow down by the waterfall
It stained my soul and put my thoughts to rapture and ridiculousness
How far will they go, the demons of this world,
When a measly human breaks their code,
Smashes their hologram mirror,
And realizes that everyone everywhere has always been alone
Everyone everywhere is their own god-
And everyone else, with their dark interiors,
Is there only to torture the blamed
For a mistake they can’t remember…
Lost in the remnants of a dream
I unlocked the gates to hell
And realized that life on earth is purgatory-
There must be a heaven on another astral plane,
A dimension without pain-
Of all the universes in existence, I hope that one bleeds through
Before I wake up to a world where God is dead
An angels fall like shooting stars that wish to remain unseen-
Extinction.
Autumn Jul 2016
Bloodbath of the Dark Lady

Black butterfly wings cloak me within deception,
I, just a shadow, that sees all,
And pretends to know not a thing
Of the days to come, while etching a plan in blood
On the skin of my victims from other eras and realities.

They say I have a touch that brings death,
But yet…. It is not entirely true,
My touch doesn’t do all the work
Of fires and bloodshed and pain, I do,
And I quite enjoy it.

I have a loyal pet, who sends out warning,
Its slick feathers shining for all to notice,
As it calls out the sign of my coming
In exchange for fresh meat after the bloodbath and love.
The raven cries like the last stroke of twelve,
A sound of restlessness, fear, and warning.

And then I come, invisible to the eye,
My nails scraping the skin off the living,
My loyal pet stealing their gift of sight from them,
My voice saying the things they dare not speak aloud
And handing them their rope of death,
The air I exhale spreading disease that eats away at whatever is left.

The sun sees me not,
And she shall burn in her own demise
Along with the selfish moon, her orange blood
Raining down as bright flames
And burning her victims where they stand
As my nails claw the stars from the sky.

And the last cry you hear comes from me, in delight,
A cry to shake the bones down to the marrow
As the last sign of light vanishes on the last day,
And I stand, licking the sweet blood and flakes of fried flesh
Off of my long fingers as I smile at the destruction.
what the apocalypse would be like as a person
Wednesday May 2014
I have sharpened my teeth ready to rip and tear
like soldiers and their swords

I am listening to the sound of the rain on the roof
while you fold your clothes to sad song about madness and memories and it is quiet in the house with the same kind of finality of
a lock clicking of
a door slamming of
a finished book

like a knife slicing through a teen on a Chicago city street at 1 am
no streetlights
no police
no gunshots

just this skin
this blood on asphalt
on sidewalk
on boy
on knife

just blood on the roof of this house like a warning
something wicked resides here do not come near
something that says dangerdangerdangerdanger

Never look back.
Never look here again,
there is something about you that keeps me coming back for more
like you are selling crack ******* on the street corners and
I am an addict panhandling

I know you will leave me when I am hopelessly in love
I know I will not be able to breathe without you.

Without the weight of your body and breath on mine
you will leave me peeled and gutted, spineless.
Every dream crushed like a body thrown from the 40th floor.

You will leave me like tsunamis leave islands,
like hurricanes leave cities,
like tornadoes leave houses

utterly destroyed from the core out,
and you?

You will leave like a bird from a nest.


Weightless.
NV Mar 2015
I JUST WANNA BE THE KIND OF BLOODBATH YOU CAN BRING HOME TO MOM.
Wednesday May 2014
They say the grass isn’t greener on the other side
but it has been raining for 3 months straight and
it looks dew blessed to me

sometimes staring at you through windowpane hurts
like there is something in the way the glass glares
in this seemingly ever beating sun

one day you will leave me,
this I know already.
I am already preparing myself for the inevitable to happen.

Hurts my soul and sets my organs on a slow burning roast
acid washing my heart and
pinpricks in my jugular

I try to see you in the darkness
in the light
in the way your brow crunches when you think
in the scar on your dimple.

I tell myself you do not love me like I love you,
regardless of if that is true.
Kush Jan 2016
Oh, how the alarm clock goes
I flex my arms and curl my toes
The night air creeps through an open window
I feel the chill of it funnel into my room and grow
I am the harvester of vitality
Reaping the seeds of death that I sow
They lie on their beds with unignited fright
They are a disease to my crops, an unwelcome blight
I strike them off this field of light
Seeing the gore drip, I just have to laugh
This is my yield
A 2 AM bloodbath
cable news video brilliantly captures
the blood washing Parisian gutters
glittering in City of Lights sparkle

images of carnage coagulate in my mind
clotting my heart with searing resent

in desperate need for release
from the abject scorn
that boils within my veins

I flip the channel to
watch a Predator marathon
but light entertainment
fails to satiate my restive soul

I turn down the volume
and click back to News

My iPod is audio ready
to soothe the savage beast
with some righteous death metal
I blast my earbuds,
Culture of Death's new CD
prepares me for real action
  
ever at the ready
digital recreation
has me *******
my controller
mustering up my
Call of Duty
comrades

I am a recognized
high score battlefield hero
taking out godless apostates
in the global war on terrorism

I'm usually eager to
baptize Iraqi jihadis in a
Holy Ghosting
bloodbath
but tonight
Black Ops kills
fails to thrill
my controller and I
stand down

opening the gun case
I cradle my Bushmaster
the smooth barrel and rugged stock
feels so right in my hand

it pleasures me to know
I am one of the good guys with a gun
I relish the fear and respect
I garner during open carry
troops to McDonalds
the hairs on the back of my neck
sometimes titillatingly rise

one day I hope to
take out an active shooter
at a movie or the supermarket
that would be way cool

I place my Bushmaster
back into the cabinet
and carefully rearrange
one of my Glocks

yet even with this
considerable armory
I still feel insecure
it may be time
for a trip to Walmart
to secure another Glock
*** more ammo

my heart recovers a bit when
I think about tomorrows recon trip
to my tree stand in the Jersey Highlands

Bear season starts soon
for the past few weeks
I've baited the area with
Dunkin Donuts and bacon grease
I've detected lots of bear ****
can't wait to drop one of those suckers
I visualize one in my gun sights
should be easy pickens

my CD ends with
some real raucous ****
removing my earbuds
I turn up the volume
on the News

footage from last summer's
Black Lives Matter demonstration
runs in continuous loop
members of the
New Black Panther Party
are yelling into the camera
a woman in a black burka
her eyes squinting angrily at me
from underneath her cover
sends shivers up my spine

when we take our country back
they will be served some
Second Amendment justice

News flashes Ted Cruz
condemning Muslim
refugee resettlement,
in a Christian Nation
only Christians should be
allowed in...

News breaks back to footage
from the concert venue
highlighting the
blood stained mosh pit

News flashes ISIS Jihadis
riding in Humvee's
routing the fleeing
Iraqi army once again

News highlights a smiling Putin
firing off Caspian Sea cruise missiles
into the bleeding Levant
examples of decisive leadership,
if only Obama could grow a pair

News flashes to a Rose Garden Obama
bragging about killing Jihad Johnny

the drone strikes and
active bombing campaigns in:
Syria
Iraq
Libya
Somalia
Nigeria
Mali
Yemen
Sinai
Afghanistan
Kenya
Congo
and other unspecified locations
are working says the Muslim Prez

By the looks of Paris
any real American Patriot
would think not

we need to send a message
a quick strike fix
some major shock and awe
to placate a nations troubled soul

if that offends any Christian
turn the other cheek
wimp, so be it

I say go
Old Timey Testament on their ***
let our vengeance is mine God
**** them all
**** them all
**** them all

Culture of Death:
Cystic Dysentery

Barry McGuire:
Eve of Destruction

The Doors:
The End


jbm
11/17/15
Newark
lots of hate going round since the murderous tragedy in Paris....
let cooler heads prevail.....
be still and know that I am God....
Styles Sep 2014
Playing with me is like, playing with ur life
Cut you down slice by slice, no knife
Make you a sacrifice, then slap you back to life
It’s a full on scrap when I rap,
You wasn’t ready for that,
I went straight to hell, after I made contact,
Battled in pitch black, now they won’t let me back,
how many MC you know, is rugged as that,
I’ve been to the unknown, and left an impact
I kept my pride, it’s all mine, fully intact,
I’m on my shrine, come from behind, ain’t no going back
If ur verses really nicer than mine, that’s fine – now rap.
My scripts, so wicked, they flip manuscripts with one rip,
I’ll tear you in half, my warpath is your bloodbath
You’re a joke so I just laugh, at this simple task
Terrorizing ur ***, the terror rising in your eyes
You shouldn't have ventured down this path
I’m wearing a jason mask, sipping a flask
Anyone else jump in, Freddy slicing his ***
My writing is brash,
If your a titan than clash,
If not, your just trash,
So I, Hulk smash,
Then wipe ur blood off my mask, and relax
And get back to stretching cash like yoga class.
cause I could care a lot less, about flows that's so monotonous
It just shows you’re a hot mess, Your raps blow so much you success
You are too slow, to keep up with my progress
my style been buck wild since I was a child it sounds like you are much less.
Julian D Aug 2018
Blinded by the sunlight that shines so brightly,
it proceeds to massage my spectacles,
rinsing the grime away from my eyes,
there lived mankind, buildings, plants, and animals,
but where was I, unaware of the planet I saunter,
I look in amazement, unborn to what to forecast,
but then I distinguished the dark side, somber and bleak,
impoverished skeletons walking hunchbacked, desperately
scrambling for silver, as so to purchase a bottle of liquor and a burger to indulge his vacancy that absents him,
as I trek my way further into this metropolis,
I hear a sudden commotion arising from the right direction,
it begins to steer me that way, luring me in deeply there was a mass of onlookers chanting on, of what seemed to be two individuals pummeling one another into a bloodbath, but then it escalated, the crowd began to all partake in the beating and it caused a mayhem, that was uncontrolled, I bolted the scene, protecting my mask from getting dismantled, as suddenly I hear a very deafening noise, it was a four wheeler wagon, that speedily amtrac it's way towards the locus in which we was in, everyone scattered the scene, as the people who dressed in uniform annihilated the scene, putting an outright stop to the madness that occurred, forestalling future procreation from the participants, my heart shriveled and I gasped for air, I ran aimlessly into a town that was lively and sunny, as I saw mankind playing sports, clubbing, riding nice convertibles, homes were futuristic, plants were vegetated, smiles and giggles were infectious, everyone was cheerful and amused enjoying this utopian I discovered, it was care-free, as folks walked in suit and ties, formal dresses, luggages entering and exiting, dialect as clear as caribbean sea, friendly animals chaperoned by their owner, "where am I?", "what was this strange but yet interesting soil I embark on?", ..... I don't know, but it closes me in like a maze and I'm forced to live as they.
Max Neumann Jul 2021
stuck between pride and ****** mood
lurid lights, laughter, ladies, lively lips
we are 96 souls away from the magic
and we nevah wake up or get up, nope

i swear on my momma's grave and pray
may she rest in peace with good ghosts
wise man told me to wear a black suit
me, tho', forgot if i did so, can't help it

was i trippin from dawn to dusk again
probably but ya gotta triple that time
and consider the weirdness of my speech
dem words stumble other words upon

meanwhile me and milly made luv to luv
luv laid back like rasta villages, jah songs
she's spreading her legs and licking
13.8, worship the fountain, that's basic

gangsta poetess & burglar, membah 108
while meetin milly, i imagine her naked
64 minutes later, lolling on silver satin
the lips such big perfect matches

by the end of the day we float over glaciers
our months vanish within a few days
hihaho, tickling trip, totally toony, truly
milly and tizzy equals eccentric & woozy

steering dreams, mysterious mixtures
golden goblets, served on light tables
we falling into the floor, a voltgreen maze
wondaland's gardens, we reach 'em

frozen loops of yummy yearning, yeeeah
all dem blankets and pillows, hundreds
in a bed spacious like a football field
a quarter of milly's back is my tattoo

parking lot at 4:16 am, 24 k bracelet
gotta look at it under the light of the sun
reminds one of eazy legs & adorable greg
we come, observe, read, blast and leave

stuck with mental blankness, in limbo
block party of creation 96, 2056 souls
oh my, sweaty forehead, i'm so cold
burning bloodshed, beasting bloodbath

marriage of mystery and skyline tales
sparkling are the eyes of yayo vampires
8 days awake, bangin in sky dunes
schmock, dinosaur, sole talker
Shipwrecked* heart
Sea of *betrayals

Misconceived idioms,
Blindly enslaved.
Was it really worth it anyway?
Fighting with hope;  a lost battle.
Fallible carcasses on a wooden platter.

Poisonous Ivy in my veins;
silent heartbeat bursting into flames.
Time is a thief,
buried beneath the sea.
Was it really worth the wait?
Fighting for love; a lost cause.
Permeable holes in an empty cup.
Troubling nature, impatient thoughts.

Infected,
Standing aloof.
Leveled indifference,
taciturn blind goof.
Lost chance; misleading poker glance.
Arms twisted, magnificent ache.
Ashes corroding the mechanical brain.

Bloodbath,
besieged wound.
Abrasive torture,
revealing the truth.
Cursed fortune; insensitive to pain.
Piercing a bullet through the soul,
expressed disdain.

Adamant rapture
with no return.
Imprisoned belief
with no more fire to burn.

By: Michael M. De La Fuente
An attempt at spoken poetry.
Thus, shifting to a more metaphorical/vague write than the usual rythmic verse.
Natasha Sep 2015
in a world that
fights to stay fighting

wins to lose more than before

gnaws on bare gums- still teething  
and starves to keep feeding

tell me, my dear
will we ever stop bleeding?
Aaron Salzman Aug 2014
A drab drop drips
Downed casualty
Down casually.

A sulfuric gust cycles
In three fly-by nights.
A gust hoping,
A breeze yearning to dab a wet tear off a moistened spring cheek.
Floating by on a wisp of breath,
Breathed once by the blessed. Now irreparably tainted, then incomprehensible anew:
Treated by the respirations of the perspiring, expending breath on czarist ears, aspiring;
Cured by the tongues of the insatiably dying
And by those primary soothe-ers, invisibly crying.
Alveoli gripping that sine qua non of civilization
Until they must release the once-oxygen into the hills of Kyivan Rus.

A first breath and second
As much as a penultimate and final.
And witness to the chronology that led to such a
Bloodbath-blessed blast
As this.
I’ve been listening to a lot of Willie Nelson lately,
A bootleg copy Outlaw Willie’s “Greatest Hits,”
Permanently inserted into the CD-player of my Honda:
An automobile preference,
An immediate dead giveaway,
A tag better than a license plate,
Useful for identification purposes,
Distinguishing friend from foe,
In this case a rolling, conspicuous enemy of
Detroit & rust belt environs.
Like other zombie-American consumers,
I **** the livelihood of my countrymen,
Once again, selling out friends & neighbors,
Doing my bit for Capitalism,
Exporting another job overseas.
I do my bit to help the 1%
Pay Labor back for the
Capitulations of the 1930s:
Unions winning concessions
In the street, pickets & strikes,
Boycotts & violence,
Largely mobbed-up violence.
Willie does a nice cover of “Heartbreak Hotel,”
Different, yet raw like Elvis,
And rocking.
But I digress.

So I’m thinking about the HOA Board,
(HOA: Home Owners' Association)
Local Thanes of Cawdor,
As if people over-55,
Living in gated lunacy,
Actually needed a 4th level of government.
The HOA Board turned down my landscape modification again.
Of course, they are just busting my *****.
They know I’m a hothead,
A deeply anti-authority type,
Forged in childhood in the street,
Through ringalevio & stickball,
“Your Mother” taunts,
******* contests,
Belly bumps,
Bones of contention,
In short: Brooklyn 101.
Retired now & for awhile I think
My problem with authority retired with me.
Just when I'm thinking
My lessons are finally done,
I realize there’s one more report card.
And Citizenship is a Grade:
“Plays Well With Others”
As it was for boys,
The measure of a man,
“It’s a community we have here,”
The HOA Doge & Ministerial Cohorts,
Conspiring to provoke
The sociopath in me, a fit description
For any would-be antagonist,
For anyone challenging
The Restrictions & Covenants,
Openly arrived at, in secret.
My neighbor,
Good Citizen Bernie
Reminds me that a community is
Entitled to know whom it’s dealing with.
The price of real estate not always
Effective for screening out
Potential psychopaths.
A determined caste-climber &
Boat rocker slips through now & then.
Insecure & angry because of it,
The schoolyard **** gone grey,
Yet hasn’t figured out the object of life is
To win friends & influence people.
Retirement: a Carnegie Deli &
Serenity Smorgasbord,
“Plays Well With Others.”
The HOA leadership has the right,
Has a duty to distinguish
The merely eccentric
From the clearly a present danger.
So they bust ***** about rules broken,
Code infractions, sordid violations,
Community norms transgressed.
Better you flip your wig
Under close observation & preparedness,
Than go off spontaneously.
One more massacre;
Another random bloodbath.
Nevermore Jul 2014
After countless battles,
We've finally gotten married.

Ours was not a lengthy engagement
If there was even one to begin with.
A long courtship, though.
Skirmish after bloodbath after slaughter
Fighting trolls and giants and the undead
We were comrades
Brothers in arms.
And then a quick confession
A purchased home
That was it.

Now we sleep in on weekends
Slowly wake to the cool darkness of the room
Make love with sleep still frosting our eyes
I serenade you in the cold evenings with my battered lute
As you tend to the crackling hearth
Before tending to my gashes and bruises
Earned from the day's clashes.

This must be what Valhalla feels like --
Coming home to you and a hearty stew
After a long day of fighting
Covered in blood
(Some of them mine)
Loaded down with loot.
Doing this for a lifetime seems preferable
To being High King for eternity.

Dragons may be razing the northern wastes
Savage tribes holding sway in the mountains
Rebels and imperials clashing in the plains
But in here
It's just you and me.
Nothing and no one can enter our sanctuary.
Like you said,
Brief as life can be here,
We have each other.

I may be the Thane of your hold
But you are the Thane of my heart.
For Lydia.
I play too much ******* Skyrim.
Cody Haag Dec 2015
Intrepid, a boy strode down the mountain path,
Into nature's unchanging wrath;
The dust stirred at his feet,
The sun kissed his back, fiery heat;
He thought of the bloodbath.

They'd told him to run,
And he did, under the heat of sun.
Now, he'd slowed to a crawl,
Heading away from the desert brawl;
On his waist, he still had his gun.

He came to a stop,
Sat on a rock,
Ran his fingers through his hair-mop.

He should have known not to settle,
It always took a toll.
A L Davies Mar 2012
howling idiots (myself) who
spat on store windows ****** & still half-drunk,
leering strangers in cars & stars
creeping from the sky to show teeth in wry grins
while
balancing nimbly on balcony railings
gazing thru heavy curtains to watch                     russian
                                                         ­                girls
******* on cold leather couches
shedding bulbous slavic tears which
ride crests 'f ghostly, high cheekbones &
at th'same time off some
where in drumheller, alberta
                                                             skeletons of ancient
kingly lizards rise & rattle like
                                                            ­ 1000 triassic maracas
recording spanish mariachis in
                                  bloodbath bullrings.
this will eventually be a part of something else
Annick Gray Dec 2015
You’re up in that big window,
out of sight and out of mind
Everybody says this isn’t
supposed to be right.
And there’s this big dance tonight.

My name isn’t on the list,
I’m just looking for that kiss,
so take my hand and seize the sin
from my lips.

We’re a modern Romeo and Juliet,
stuck like Montague’s and Capulet’s.
Masked opportunities arise
to catch you out of nowhere and make you mine.

What exactly is a name?
I can’t help but to refrain
but a rose by any other name
would still smell the same.
Our parents are so ****** deranged.

There’s a bloodbath in the streets.
I watch my best friend die on his knees.
I’ll avenge his death, you’ll fake yours.
To my belief, I’ve settled the score.

We’re a modern Romeo and Juliet,
stuck like Montague’s and Capulet’s.
Masked opportunities arise
to catch you out of nowhere and make you mine.

You drink the poison,
I’ll take a dagger to my heart.
Maybe then they’ll realize,
they were wrong from the start.

We’re a modern Romeo and Juliet,
stuck like Montague’s and Capulet’s.
Masked opportunities arise
to catch you out of nowhere and make you mine.

Never was a story of more woe
than this of Juliet and her Romeo.
Spin-off of Romeo & Juliet. Also a song that I wrote.
CyRhen Sohngs Jun 2011
As we hold our tongues in our heads, like nuclear threats, we are sure that those three words, that simple three word voice command, will be the end of us both, in a beautiful bloodbath, *** like war.

Two entities struggling for power and satisfaction, an atomic blast that is sounded with a sigh and an arch. The aftermath, sheer destruction, nothing anymore dominant than the next, everything melting into itself and one another. An overwhelming lump of calm and submission.

A skirmish for primitive power and oneself. The treaty of two bodies, silent, secretly sweet, and sullen. A whitewash of disdain where passion had just been.

*** like War
Anger is an Aphrodisiac
Hate is fuel for Passion
Love is and Instigator

We couldn't hate enough to love.
Bob B May 2018
While American and Israeli officials
Clink their champagne glasses and schmooze
At an embassy in Jerusalem,
One thing is barely making the news:

Over one hundred twelve° Palestinians
Have been killed at the Gaza Strip
Since March 30 by Israeli soldiers
Demonstrating their marksmanship.

Over 13,000° have been
Injured, having wounds that consist
Of large, gaping holes in the victims--
Bullet holes the size of a fist.

The bullets shot from high-velocity
Weapons on hitting their target explode
Expanding and mushrooming inside the body.
Israeli cruelty à la mode?

People from all walks of life gathered
To demonstrate and express their frustration
For living conditions in their Gaza prison--
An abominable situation.

Conditions, in fact, are among
The worst that the world has seen.
May 14 was the bloodiest day
Since the strife in twenty fourteen.

Israelis call it "self-defense";
It's really shoot-to-injure or ****.
Are snipers keeping track of how many
Palestinian coffins they'll fill?

One uncle never imagined
That he would need a body bag.
He carried home his 8-month old niece
Wrapped in a Palestinian flag.

The people want a place that's home.
But while negotiations stall--
And marginalized by circumstances--
They live inside or outside a wall.

-by Bob B (5-19-18)

°Based on a report by journalist Sharif Abdel Kouddous
Nicole Fraser Dec 2013
Shorter skirts and lower tops,
They're doing anything to get noticed.
Smoking and drinking to fit in
To a world that has changed forever.

Increasing teen pregnancy
And teen dads that walk away.
Fifteen has become the new twenty
And kids aren't kids anymore.

What was once cool became lame
And girls became more and more shallow.
Caking make up on their faces,
Pulling duck faces at the camera.

As we are more connected
We interact less.
Technology ensures seeing people less.
Getting to know someone face to face
Will soon become non existent.

We live in a world that's evolving backwards,
By caring less about others and who they are.
Popularity has become a bloodbath
And people are shallower then the sink.

It would be nice to live in a world
That was evolving forwards.
JJ Hutton Feb 2012
Anna and I leave Jesus on the cross, on the jumbotron.
The blood pooled. The blood cooled. The bloodbath cleansed the flock.
I watch Anna from the passenger seat.
She's silent and salvation.
Rain falls in diamonds on the windshield,
bouquets of streetlights turn the transparents
to rubies, to emeralds.
She turns off the headlights.
Running half-blind on abandoned interstate,
Anna's silent, Anna's grace, Anna's forgiveness.
No more lamps overhead.
No more exits to be found.
Only Anna and I at peace in the void.
Anastasia M Apr 2013
She just wants to be loved,
To feel loved and accepted.
So she pushes away the people she loves most,
Tests their strengths and abilities;
"Whoever remains in the end", she thinks,
"Deserves my love whole".

Foolish girl,
You seek a bloodbath,
A war for others to fight,
To devour your shadows of insecurity.
No one will be there at the finish line,
No one can outrun your fear.
You will **** them all.
Goddess Rue Aug 2023
Black Dahlia tears,
Beckoned beneath the crimson,
Bloodbath gleamed garden.
Dear white dahlia,
Flushed with extremity,
Desire to wound,
With a wounded heart,
Restlessly witnessing,
That guilty presence,
Of now Black Dahlia,
Plaguing me.

I detest this infestation,
It manifests hues of blues,
As I stood there tearing,
The garden I cared for.
Morgan Mar 2018
Anxiety
I wish it would go away
But instead it decides to stay…

You feel your pulse race
You try find a safe place
To curl up and cry
Because all you want is to fly
Away so no one has to see
How unhappy you may be

You walk into the room
Someone asks “hey how you doing?”
You start some small talk,
but to your shock
You get irritated over something small
Uh oh, here starts your downfall

You lay down and try to sleep
But don’t worry, it won’t be deep
Your mind will start to run
It’ll make sure to have fun
While it tears you apart
And rips out your heart

You try make new friends
Maybe even tie up other loose odds and ends
But you let your mask slip
And start to lose your grip
They think you are mad
But really you’re just sad
You try to explain
But it turns out vain

You start some meds
Because everyone says
Your mind is unstable
And if you take these you might be able
To start on a new path
That won’t leave you a bloodbath

You start to feel empty
And think “why has everyone left me”
You feel all alone
Like you’ve been thrown
Aside and forgotten
Like something that's gone rotten

You begin to wonder
As you start to go under
Why you feel the way you do
If only you knew
There is a variety
Of ways to be attacked by anxiety.
my daily struggles
Cut into her skin to see what she’s made of

    Her bones shake with noise

    Her heart beats a rhythm

    Her blood flows to a melody that escapes

        with every slice of her vein

Though they say she’s beautiful

They don’t see the scars of battle

    There is no peacetime in this war.

She’s tired.

They say “keep fighting”

    but they don’t know

        that she gave up long ago

You see, there is a monster that can’t be killed.

It will win in the end

No matter how much she puts in.

This is no fight.

It is a bloodbath

    There is no coming back.

Capsules unload down her throat and her eyes close

She’s tired.

She swallows the poison with no hesitation

    and lays on her bed

        whiskey by her head.

She never knew the appeal of the drink

    but figured it would do the trick.

All she ever wanted in life was the sleep when she was sick.

They told her she was born with illness in her mind

    and too much compassion.

They said she should look out for herself

    so she looked into her heart

She saw the exhaustion and knew what to do.

She fell asleep and will never come to.
Feedback would be appreciated.
Evon Benjamin Aug 2018
Aching hearts or burning bridges?
My mind races as quickly as your footsteps run amok in my sanctuary.

No peace of mind resides, so peace, I have to leave you behind. Love is all you need, what a fallacy. Trust builds real love. If it flees then love is but a drug, numbing senses, dulling intuitions, instincts,
If it smells like rotten eggs, it stinks

Pleadings and pleasings,
Return to sender please.
Wrong address because you’re not ready to please my mind, ease my mind. Don’t want to me to see the last seen.

Foibles, fumbles, stumbles,
Reminiscent mistakes are daggers to my heart.

Yet, out of the bloodbath comes no effort made to ease the ache of a heartbreak, only sorrow and pain left in its wake.

The struggle continues, solitary soldiering, destined for a peace longed for to ease a troubled mind.
I find it you know, that peace I was looking for.

But nothing is free, oh no Siree,
Especially, not peace.
Aaron LaLux Jul 2016
Who is this H.P. Lovecraft,
was he even a poet,
this whole industry’s a bloodbath,
I’ve got four aces in my hand and I’m willing to show this,

to who’s pleasure do I owe this,
how can I be the greatest,
when they’ve got me battling ghost,
in this never ending matrix,

I ate the red pill and the blue pill,
maybe that’s why I’m so confused,
plus THT1 should be #1 for real,
but right now it’s sitting at #2,

I’m behind a dead man,
Mr. H.P. Lovecraft,
fck that,
fame is a deathtrap,

who is this H.P. Lovecraft,
not even alive some random published his book,
now he’s at #1 and I’m at #2 worldwide,
for real take a look!

I just published a new book,
take a moment to check it out,
all profits go to charity,
to prevents child abuse and ****** assault,

so not only are you getting an epic book of poetry,
but you're also supporting a good cause no doubt,
because I believe we can change this world for the better,
but we have no time to waste so let’s start now!

Here’s the link to the new book: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01I4621OE
For real...
I'm a tool pondering skyscapes.
Fondling a memory
Left behind
On sunset marquees.
It raced into the horizon like
A toad on the road.
A neon dream waving farewell.

Exploring mindsets:
An act in caressing
Bloodbath tesseracts.
A roundhouse rollercoaster,
Spinning at velocity of perfume
Hitting nasal perforations.

Core memories surface along spine cutlets,
No longer intrinsic
Doubt.
I'm settling for more.
A bathed blue baby is a moment
Too long to endure.

Hindsight is
A parson's lake passage;
A mad monster yet to be tamed;
A grain of salt to a fresh wound made;
Moments of grace from a fake great ape.

Blue morons slide
Into Mormon jovial footsteps.
Derided ice forestry into
King's cloaked ancestry.
Which makes family the
Opposite of attraction.

And yet here I am
Talking to you,
Eyelight through obelisks
In hotbox barricades.
Hiding behind
A past of newspapers.
Headline reads 'ONLY DEVINE'
'TRADE REIGN WARNS JEWELS'
'PRINCE THREATENS ECONOMY
... AND CROWN.'

Wipe the frown,
Draw the sword.
Don't be ignored anymore.
Lysander Gray Jul 2013
She is the shadow that hangs around my door,
who's memories are counted in wine bottles
dressed by the winter sun.

She is sweetness and pain,
both beautiful and broken
both complete and incomplete
in her beauty.

And I surrender.

Her deepest desire,
her happiest Herod that dwells in
crystal coves and voluminous virility
now spun as golden spiders webs
where my love lies, sterling.

There, in your grass a
personal criminal writes a
holocaust to culture.
He spins the Atomic clouds around
mycological skeletons
who hold constellations in their
time scarred jaws.

And there we were, the seekers of a golden dream
my mouth fell on yours, and you took me in.

Humanity is a bloodbath,
that takes you in.
The realization takes you by surprise
and we kiss
****** roses.


She is the shadow that hangs around my door...
David Adamson Jun 2019
I stand at the flagstone fountain in the park and gaze across the street at the red brick bungalow where I lived as a child. Am I supposed to intone something? Summon a spirit? Or perhaps I’m the one who’s been summoned? Ghost of myself.

Set into the steep hillside, the house faces west. A boarded-up plate glass window makes it blind in one eye. In the summer, from that window, I watched postcard sunsets. I also learned watching there that the world was TV.  You watched it. It didn’t see you.

On the opposite wall, on a sofa, our family watched on a 15 inch portable Sears black and white with the collapsible rabbit ears men first walk on the moon.  We welled with pride in the space program. I ate Space Food Sticks and drank Tang.

Around to the side, behind the rose bushes, through that small basement window was my bedroom when I was 10. A tiny square of sun on the brightest summer day was all the daylight that ever got in.  There I first felt inside the base of my spine a small hard coldness. The night before, my three best friends had slept over to celebrate my 11th birthday.  Tonight I was alone.  The coldness grew.  It tendril’d into an icy tingle that radiated up my spine and through my arms like a metal cage of disappointment.  

Years later I learned the name of depression. But then it was just  cold inside my spine. And the cold spoke to me. “Davy, this is how it’s gonna be. It’s just you and me. Make room.” “You’re wrong,” I said.  “You’ll see. I’ll meet Ruby Tuesday.” I turned up the transistor radio and pulled the music close to me.

Through that bay window just above, the dining room table, my father and draft-age brother late on summer nights had it out over Vietnam.  

“Immoral, unnecessary, we should not be there,” my brother said.
“You know what happens if we’re not there?” says dad. I was in Korea. When the communists took over, in came the guys with the clipboards. Anyone who spoke English or taught school or owned a business was lined up against a wall and shot.
Yeah, well, we should not be … dying … bombs…bloodbath…reds.

Drowsing I no longer heard the words, only rising and falling pitch, a duet of bitterness, anger, wistfulness, probing for connection And into the night as darkness took hold and the voices merged with the rising and falling rhythm of cricket sounds, harmonizing like sleep.
Pearson Bolt Feb 2017
Seraphine wields her dagger like a torch
to illuminate her path—a figure at once
youthful and monolithic. Mother Earth
caresses her as flowers bloom amidst
the bloodbath. the old skulls of dead
fascists rest in silver platters. three arrows
plunged into the hearts of charlatans,
an Iron Front, disrupting decorum.
the celosia petals burn like a bonfire
around Seraphine as her nāgī coils
like an ouroboros, slyly smirking.
Seraphine works the blade back and forth,
sawing through the ****'s neck, smiling
while decapitating the demagogue.
This poem was inspired by the cover art and content of "Against the Fascist Creep." I intentionally chose a Hebrew name for the poem's protagonist.

https://www.etsy.com/listing/287421267/against-the-fascist-creep-poster?ref=pr_shop#

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