"foulest" poems
*Darkness falls across the land
The midnight hour is close at hand
Creatures crawl in search of blood
To terrorize your neighborhood
And whosoever shall be found
Without the soul for getting down
Must stand and face the hounds of hell
And rot inside a corpse's shell
The foulest stench is in the air
The funk of forty thousand years
And grisly ghouls from every tomb
Are closing in to seal your doom
And though you fight to stay alive
Your body starts to shiver
For no mere mortal can resist
The evil of the thriller*
© Michael Jackson
Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 6:03 AM UTC
I hated thee, fallen tyrant! I did groan
To think that a most unambitious slave,
Like thou, shouldst dance and revel on the grave
Of Liberty. Thou mightst have built thy throne
Where it had stood even now: thou didst prefer
A frail and ****** pomp which Time has swept
In fragments towards Oblivion. Massacre,
For this I prayed, would on thy sleep have crept,
Treason and Slavery, Rapine, Fear, and Lust,
And stifled thee, their minister. I know
Too late, since thou and France are in the dust,
That Virtue owns a more eternal foe
Than Force or Fraud: old Custom, legal Crime,
And ****** Faith the foulest birth of Time.
3.9k
Look closely, do you see it?
Down below, where man has not been
A deity with roots, deeply burrowed in the earth
There lies a mighty tree
Taking warmth from the core and
in return, provides life on the surface
Thousands of birds live within his branches
Songs sung of unexplainable beauty
His base, hollowed out for
furry creatures in the colder months
Oh, how he loves the tiny animals
They make him laugh,
dropping the sweetest of fruit
Perfection it would seem, he grew curious
What goes on beyond his personal Eden?
Several branches wrap around each other
Winding and unwinding, to reveal an old man
Terra-god, in flesh and blood
Ripping out a strong root to help hold himself up,
The long journey begins
Three days he walked through the forest
But what is three days to a man
who has lived hundred of thousands of years.
Entire civilizations rise and fall,
lifetimes must feel like matters of seconds
He continues to wander along.
Suddenly he sees something not seen before,
No cover from his branches, an open night sky
He had never felt such wonder
How many stars were as old as he?
Taking it all in, he continued to walk.
Morning came as did another discovery.
A jungle, grey, concrete, filled with soulless monsters
Black thick air, foulest of all
Stacks of stolen, re-engineered earth
rising higher then any tree.
There is no life here, only man's false heaven.
Disgusted and furious at what he saw,
he cursed this domain of blastphemy,
and turned homeward
Upon walking back as time progressed he felt weaker
He began to feel time, slower, and slower
Something felt wrong, something, felt wrong
He noticed the animals wandering about, picked one up
“Find shelter little one” in a worried tone, “It will be cold soon”
As he looked up, he trembled
His home Eden, ***** and torn by man
The sweetest of fruit,
The furry animals,
All destroyed, leaving but a trunk
He fell to the ground weeping,
Withering to nothing
The age of nature has ended
Oct 27, 2012
Oct 27, 2012 at 2:22 PM UTC
Oh what is that country
And where can it be,
Not mine own country,
But dearer far to me?
Yet mine own country,
If I one day may see
Its spices and cedars,
Its gold and ivory.
As I lie dreaming
It rises, that land;
There rises before me
Its green golden strand,
With the bowing cedars
And the shining sand;
It sparkles and flashes
Like a shaken brand.
Do angels lean nearer
While I lie and long?
I see their soft plumage
And catch their windy song,
Like the rise of a high tide
Sweeping full and strong;
I mark the outskirts
Of their reverend throng.
Oh what is a king here,
Or what is a boor?
Here all starve together,
All dwarfed and poor;
Here Death's hand knocketh
At door after door,
He thins the dancers
From the festal floor.
Oh what is a handmaid,
Or what is a queen?
All must lie down together
Where the turf is green,
The foulest face hidden,
The fairest not seen;
Gone as if never
They had breathed or been.
Gone from sweet sunshine
Underneath the sod,
Turned from warm flesh and blood
To senseless clod;
Gone as if never
They had toiled or trod,
Gone out of sight of all
Except our God.
Shut into silence
From the accustomed song
Shut into solitude
From all earth's throng,
Run down though swift of foot,
Thrust down though strong;
Life made an end of,
Seemed it short or long.
Life made an end of,
Life but just begun;
Life finished yesterday,
Its last sand run;
Life new-born with the morrow
Fresh as the sun:
While done is done for ever;
Undone, undone.
And if that life is life,
This is but a breath,
The passage of a dream
And the shadow of death;
But a vain shadow
If one considereth;
Vanity of vanities,
As the Preacher saith.
3.2k
To swim the slimy seas the ocean o’er
And gag upon the rank and rotten air
Filthy with sailor’s curse and foulest swear
In search of lost and dearly loved Lenore,
To open up the inner sanctum’s door
And call (in tongues unfit for holy prayer)
Clammy Cthulhu forth from out his lair,
Will be to me most pleasant evermore.
And like a count who shuns the light of day
And moves by candlelight in chilly gloom,
Or a black witch that wears a sacred bloom
Of belladonna on her breast alway,
I live where the scarecrow spies the blackbird’s lark:
I live within the cold and rainy dark.
O.O
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 2:28 PM UTC
This dust was once the Man,
Gentle, plain, just and resolute—under whose cautious hand,
Against the foulest crime in history known in any land or age,
Was saved the Union of These States.
2.3k
The despair that you shared, the trust that you've earned, the tears of fear only the crow will know
The lives that are missed, blurred vision bliss, what lies in the distance beyond the line of sight only the crow will know
True reason brought disgrace within this place of hollow souls that walk the earth alone leaving a trace that only the crow will know
Promising everything will be alright only to be telling the lies of a thousand times, the truth only the crow will know
Lost the meaning of how a life can become whole only the crow will know
If you've lived a life of honesty or if it was an atrocity only the crow will know
The purest souls the crow will seek the foulest souls are the devils meek
Only the crow will know my true sorrow
Only the crow will know how to bring me back to you
Aug 24, 2016
Aug 24, 2016 at 10:20 AM UTC
Mind like a molecular laser
Even if you get in front of him
he always comes out ahead
His rivals dead
Evidence smashed
with "Magnets"
Chemical connect established
bringing in steady barrels
Cooking blue glass beneath circus tents
undercover of pesticide, and less pretty poison
His wife is a wreck
She's the only one who knows
Sweet Walt the chemistry teacher
Is a freon-blooded massmuderer
Keep the glass coming
Need fast cash
To get established
You can always count
on Skinny Pete and Badger
for comic relief
Albuquerque's foulest
runs every thing he sees
Its guaranteed...
He won't live to fifty-three.
Aug 13, 2012
Aug 13, 2012 at 10:02 AM UTC
Trolls may rant and trolls may rave
But they have hollow minds and little do they gain
I've not yet seen a single troll get the daily poem
Perhaps it's their ineptitude caused by stagnation of the brain
They choose a victim without conscious thought
Then attack with words of bitter bile
But then forget the Wolf bites deep
But still retains his smile
Now trolls are big and ugly
With the foulest words and breath
But, oh yes trolls remember
THE WOLVES ALL RUN IN PACKS
Jul 13, 2015
Jul 13, 2015 at 5:22 PM UTC
In Ocean’s wide domains,
Half buried in the sands,
Lie skeletons in chains,
With shackled feet and hands.
Beyond the fall of dews,
Deeper than plummet lies,
Float ships, with all their crews,
No more to sink nor rise.
There the black Slave-ship swims,
Freighted with human forms,
Whose fettered, fleshless limbs
Are not the sport of storms.
These are the bones of Slaves;
They gleam from the abyss;
They cry, from yawning waves,
“We are the Witnesses!”
Within Earth’s wide domains
Are markets for men’s lives;
Their necks are galled with chains,
Their wrists are cramped with gyves.
Dead bodies, that the kite
In deserts makes its prey;
Murders, that with affright
Scare school-boys from their play!
All evil thoughts and deeds;
Anger, and lust, and pride;
The foulest, rankest weeds,
That choke Life’s groaning tide!
These are the woes of Slaves;
They glare from the abyss;
They cry, from unknown graves,
“We are the Witnesses!”
1.5k
The Wildest Conclusion
Who are you
To tell me
My thoughts
Aren't worth being heard
I deserve
And demand my rights
I might
Shout amendments
First,
Then commence
To irregular common sense
My stability
Is retained
By the imbalance
In my brain
You see,
I can't enable
These "Cain and Able" angels
That rest on your shoulders
Because
I ain't able
Fables
Fly out the mouth
Of an astounding author
His sound
Is profound
His prowess authorized
By his copy written
Signature
Which is his style
Italicized and laid back
Now,
Crack open
Another pack of pens
And draw out
The wildest conclusions
In deep thought
Then listen...
.The world disapproves.
The extent
Of my intentions
Were wilder than I could imagine
So I didn't know
I would take it this far
The words written
Were forbidden
In the foulest belief system
I wouldn't have wrote them
If my outrageous mind
Wasn't dying
From boredom
Boarding off the monsters
That alter ideas
From beneath the bed
They reach my head
And toy with my
Emotions
Tantalize and
Taint my tender mind
Then morph it
To be the tainter!
To picture death
You'll need help
From this
Morbid painter
Why do I
Write so wickedly
Then spread like pandemics
It's
Pandemonium momentarily
Shared with you
With whatsoever
You should do
With
Evil knowledge
Is truth
Look in your hands
I say
"Vice is right"
Can I persuade?
Like a gun used to
****** a murderer
Some executions
Are executed
At the exact moment
Of redemption
How tempting
Is it for
A wholesome man
To make
A half-hearted attempt
At prosperity
Sparingly
Laying in Evil's bed
But never staying
When he awakes
Will he use the tools
Because he learned the trade
Or teach others
To not
It's hard to reach others
When all they believe
Is a happy ending
I conclude
But
The true ending
You can't imagine
Because it's too wild
For you.
Oct 4, 2011
Oct 4, 2011 at 4:03 PM UTC
Silent hill casts a shadow on the moon,
Even beauty has a dark side.
Pale face aloft in freckled night
Feeds me with random musings
As I meander along the quiet pasture.
Excavate the fertile earth and
There you’ll find sterile treasures
Outliving all that’s alive.
I stumble on my clumsiness and taste
The dirt on my tongue.
Strange how life’s ambrosia is so
Distasteful to its offspring.
Just like love, a cloying sweetness
That turns bitter over time, and
When it’s gone, an aftertaste dwells.
Still on the ground, I roll over to look
Upon the freckled night sky.
Fascinating how constellations
Are merely imposed order
On senseless disorder.
I bet the stars laugh at our attempt
To find reason where there is none.
And then there’s the moon,
Indiscriminately shining on even
The foulest of creatures, underserving
Of its generous light,
Although without the sun, it’d just
Be a tenebrous chunk of rock.
Alone, we’d be just as unglamorous.
Mar 13, 2016
Mar 13, 2016 at 2:46 PM UTC
I’d walked back home by the clifftop path,
I’d only been gone an hour,
Rounding the point, it came into view
The sight of our Black Stone Tower.
Its ancient mystery suited me then
We’d picked it up for a song,
Nobody else had wanted it,
At the price, we couldn’t go wrong.
They said that a king had built it there
Far back in the mists of time,
And soldiers climbed by the old stone stair,
But now, thank god, it was mine.
A roof to shelter my Evelyn,
Though we supped by candlelight,
And drew our water deep from a well,
Made love when the stars were bright.
But now a breeze blew up from the cliff,
Was chill, and ruffled my hair,
And something about the Black Stone Tower
Was strange, a sense of despair.
For weeds had grown where the weeds were not
When I’d left, an hour before,
And someone had painted a bright red cross
On the Baltic Pine of the door.
It was only when I had got close up
That I saw that the red was blood,
And the door was half off its hinges,where
It was splintering, as I stood,
Then shapes began to appear to me,
Of soldiers, battering in
The Baltic Pine of this ancient door
To slay the soldiers within.
There wasn’t a single sound to hear,
There should have been clash and roar,
A mighty battle was raging in
The Black Stone Tower of war.
I called and I called for Evelyn
But there wasn’t a single trace
Of the love that I’d left alone in there,
That now, most terrible place.
I ran outside to the edge of the cliff
And stared down into the bay,
And there was the foulest, evil ship
Sails set, for sailing away.
And Evelyn strode down on the beach
While a soldier pulled at her hair,
Dragging her into a longboat as
She fought and struggled down there.
But this was a different Evelyn
To the one that I’d left at home,
The girl on the beach was dressed in peach,
My Evelyn dressed in bone,
And not in a full length courtly dress
Like you see from the days of yore,
As her ghostly shadow stepped in the boat
And sailed away from the shore.
I turned again to the Black Stone Tower
And the door was back in its frame,
There wasn’t a sign of the ****** cross
That had been there, just as I came.
And Evelyn staggered from out the door
As I cried out, ‘Where have you been?’
And she said sleepily, ‘Don’t be cross,
I’ve had an incredible dream!’
David Lewis Paget
May 29, 2015
May 29, 2015 at 7:03 AM UTC
Hurled, entwined, the eyes go black,
Steel sarcophagus, demons stare back,
A glimpse so foul, of the abyss,
My life, it ends, possibility is missed,
The blood, gooey warm, and slick,
Lubrication of foulest finery and sick,
Glass shattering in mindless trance,
Thrown in the air to land on our back,
Twisted, cruelly formed, we look in oblivion,
Nothing sacred, it fits my life's ruin,
"Take me now Azrael, for I fear you not,"
Death will allow me to find peace and rot,
Worried, fearful, the gore too much,
Too little for my hands to touch,
Scalp displayed, upon landing safe,
I cry out, calming and wait,
The blood drips down upon my hand,
The pale skin turns sanguine, I find it hard to stand,
Entombed in metal, a twisted turn of fate,
She leaps to thought, I caress her cheek,
"Safe, be still, I'm here" I repeat.
I relocate my shoulder, a sickening pop
stomach turning pain, the faint I stop.
I wrench the door, and run around,
I rip hers open and rip casing to the ground,
Too shocked to cry, I gaze upon the wound,
I assess it as severe, although life is imbued,
_
CALL FOR HELP
I scream like the Devil.
My wrath for nothing but fear of loss
Drives my fury for her safety lost,
I hold a bandage to her head, and wait the eternal wait,
Speaking comforting lies, hoping they were true, and damning my own fate,
I hold her close and kiss her cheek,
I wipe the blood from my lips and realize I am weak.
"God, I'd give my life for her to heal"
Maybe it's a nightmare, this cannot be real.
-
In safety's arms, I still cry out,
I'M FINE, SEE TO HER, in doubt,
I leave my bed to wander the halls,
Searching for my name be called,
To be exhaled through the lips of a love,
To find my heart flutter, the wings of a dove,
The sight of her stabbed my eyes,
"Something so precious...", myself I despised.
I fought my way to her, and was almost placed in arrest,
I returned calm, I'm no help in duress,
I stand by her side and kiss her hand,
As my heart died, she smiled, I could stand.
May 15, 2013
May 15, 2013 at 9:40 PM UTC
we were the gods of cynicism
we embraced the dark
cheered on life
as it ****** us over
and then rooted for death
one fine day, however
your greatest dream came true
you left your bitterness for joy
and then you left me too
i only brought you down, you see
led you into the dark
i should be happier, you see
that's what i was told
so that one fine day you walked away
your suitcase packed with hopes & dreams
you told me i need to smile more
and became deaf to my deafening screams
off to manchester you took off
and empty handed i stood there
should've known i was all alone
in my land of guts & gore
i should have known i'm the only one
to intimately welcome evil
the only one to reside happily in hell
oh honey, i'm the foulest kind of devil.
Oct 24, 2015
Oct 24, 2015 at 2:00 AM UTC
~
in this place of darkness,
a quiet chill seeps deep within;
the place where light won't reach,
far below the noisy din
that floods my life above;
the noise that swallows me,
distracting purpose and resolve.
between this rock and hard place
hidden from all time,
where i feel there is no space;
though threatening in its silence,
and though i feel it’s crush;
this place that i despised,
had come to hate so much...
this rock become my cleft,
the cleft became my rock!
where i'm hidden from my foes.
from all that wish me harm,
where loss becomes my hope,
where pain reveals my gain;
where my tattered, filthy rags
are washed in water, clean and cool;
where i'm held in deepest love,
and sheltered from the storm.
as with mercy’s grace in action,
deep below within the earth,
water finds the darkest traces,
seeping to the lowest places,
the foulest air it displaces,
as it finds and fills
the needy spaces.
~
*post script.
is between a rock
and a hard place,
in reality within the cleft?
perhaps it’s all just perspective.
my hardest, darkest place
being under his protective grace.
as water always falls,
down, down, seeping, trickling,
flowing, till it pools
in the very lowest
and darkest places;
just like mercy...
and what is mercy
but grace flowing…
grace in action!*
Feb 2, 2016
Feb 2, 2016 at 4:24 PM UTC
Bedtime.
Defenses are down.
Now the only thing between me
and the Wickerwax
is Agent Ted E. Bear.
It lives under the bed,
but can't survive in light.
When you think it's safe,
he grabs you tight
and pulls you
in the blink of an eye.
Many have fallen to the Wickerwax.
Dinosaurs, ponies, a Spongebob doll
(although it was a little creepy anyways).
Agent Bear is all that remains.
I know I'll be safe.
He's escaped my grasp,
where is he?? I gasp.
Oh, he's right next to me.
Too far for comfort, just let me-
Oh no.
He's fallen off
I rush to the side to see how far away he is.
He's out of reach...
And as the room fills with the smell of rotting meat,
a lone hand stretches out from under the bottom of the sheets.
The hand is skeletal, and crudely thatched.
The fingers are thin, long, sharp, and the arm to match.
It grabs the bear and pulls him under,
its nails dragging deep veins in the floor.
I want to scream, but the odor chokes me.
It'd have blinded me were it not already to dark to see.
As my bear's last paw slips away,
I hear the faintest, foulest voice say,
*"There's not much else you can do,
but down here,
there's always room for you."*
Nov 24, 2012
Nov 24, 2012 at 4:47 PM UTC
Hang Man
Demons come from out of the shadows,
to hang us all with wooden gallows.
Our time is up, on this land called Earth,
its all we've known since our birth.
Time to pay for all our so called sins,
while we hang, they stick us with pins.
After we die, we're thrown into a giant hole,
every second, you can see another escaping soul.
Is this judgement day about to begin,
maybe ****** moved back to East Berlin.
People linked with cuffs and chains,
they burn what's left of our remains.
One by one, we're put in a noose,
not to tight, but not to loose.
While you hang and gasp for air,
they skin you like a tasty fresh pear.
The hole is consumed with fire and flames,
the devil and his silly little games.
This must be the foulest stench,
they drink our blood when they need to quench.
So much smoke it blocks out the sun,
they eat our wieners with a bun.
You can see them laugh as we all hang,
like were some part of an old wild west gang.
Our planet is still dark to this very day,
in god we trust, should be in god we betray.
This so called god, didn't even lift a thumb,
to believe in him now, you must be dumb.
Earthquakes and volcanoes, destroyed what was left,
on this Earth, we are nothing more than a visiting guest.
Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 12:11 PM UTC
Who are you
To tell me
My thoughts
Aren't worth being heard
I deserve
And demand my rights
I might
Shout amendments
First,
Then commence
To irregular common sense
My stability
Is retained
By the imbalance
In my brain
You see,
I can't enable
These "Cain and Able"
Angels
That rest on your shoulders
Because
I ain't able
Fable's fly out
The mouth
Of an astounding author
His sound is profound
His prowess authorized
By his copywritten
Signature
Which is his style
Italized
And laid back
Now,
Crack open
Another pack of pens
And draw out
The wildest conclusions
In deep thought
Then listen...
The world dissapproves
The extent
Of my intentions
Were wilder than I could imagine
So I didn't know
I would take this far
The words written
Were forbidden
In the foulest belief system
I wouldn't have
Took it this far
If my outrageous mind
Wasn't dying
From boredom
Boarding off
The monsters
That try to alter ideas
From beneath the bed
They reach my head
And toy with my
Emotions
Tantilize and
Taint my tender mind
Then morph it
To be the tainter!
To picture death
You'll need help
From this
Morbid painter
Why do I
Write so wickedly
Then spread like pandemics
It's
Pandamonion momentarily
Shared with you
With whatsoever
You should do
With
Evil knowledge
Is truth
Look in your hands
I say
"Vice is right"
Can I persuade?
Like a gun used to
****** a murderer
Some executions
Are executed
At the exact moment
Of redemption
How tempting
Is it for
A wholsome man
to make
A half-hearted attempt
At prosperity
Sparingly
Laying in Evil's bed
But never sleeping
When he awakes
Will he use the tools
Because he learned the trade
Or teach others
It's hard to reach others
When all they believe
Is a happy ending
I conclude
But
The true ending
You can't imagine
Because it's too wild
For you
Sep 30, 2010
Sep 30, 2010 at 12:51 PM UTC
Hanging on the gallows. Dry as coarse hay.
Hanging on the prison wall. A wall of shame.
Black villainous pit under it, of ill fame,
Place of ****** dark as the foulest play.
I saw that hem somewhere, one rural day,
For my mother's face had that kind of a frame,
And similar eyes I had seen on a dame:
To what a place had I been led astray!
And in her stead I jumped in that fatal hole
And with her bloodied sweat wet as a dark shoal,
As with tears, my insolent cheek I drowned.
For my sweet Croatia they hanged and disgraced,
Like a common thief, as her name is erased,
For the sake of who knows who, by lawmen in bounds!
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 10:47 AM UTC
I am an old, wooden paddleboat
Drifting across a still ocean of black,
At the slightest sign of wave
I could crack.
The inky sea surrounds me
Infinitely vast,
Alone I glide, below a moonless sky.
Dark clouds loom overhead, moving fast
I feel a ripple at my side,
In a lightning flash, I see the approaching tide.
The stillness never lasts,
I prepare for the crash.
First, a drop of rain
Falls from the sky,
Others follow, like tears
The clouds begin to cry.
Raindrops sting my splintered skin
In beads of blistering pain,
Following a rumble of thunder
I spy my foulest of fears,
Here comes the hurricane.
My oars are useless
As the storm advances,
I resist drowning
But the waves grow stronger
Lowering my chances.
Suddenly I am underwater
Fighting gravity,
Everything is a blur
As the ocean swallows me.
I break apart beneath the surface
For the thousandth time,
Submerged in the devastation
I wonder if being fragile is a crime.
Nov 15, 2016
Nov 15, 2016 at 11:37 PM UTC
She ****** the marrow from my bones.
Smacked her lips, she'd fed her fill from my blood.
I could only think of long winter nights
and found myself in terrible fright.
My instrument so amorous
I believed her lies.
How could I know
her beast inside?
It began with my lust for wine.
that fueled this madness; a helpless
debaucher now souless and dying.
I hear my wife and all her crying.
The ***** promised wine
then ****** my blood.
The feeling was mutual, familiar
and the dream was done.
You will die, I heard her say.
This **** I found in an alleyway.
This rotting corpse with no remorse.
All it wanted she got and more.
Does this mean I've lost my soul?
Dead drunk I'd laugh and not recall.
My mind was driven by autumn tides.
Drink and madness killed my life.
I sail the morrow on the morning tide.
In this casket I will reside.
The **** of ***** took all my pride.
The ****** **** not at my side.
She laughed again with no shame.
This is not a sublime disgrace.
My wife, dear wife won't touch this box.
She must go and get a lock.
Bones chained in this prison dark.
Eternity has no end...no start.
My blood flowed in her throat like a sobbing flood.
I sought oblivian in a vile ****
My blood drunk by the Devil's *****
Sorry dearie, there is no more.
My dearest wife absolved my drink.
This foulest of deeds beyond her brink.
I am a ****** soul with unbending regret.
None of it matters for I am dead.
Forgive me wife, your love was a flame.
My hideous lust your only shame.
I am a tormented cry that no one hears.
Good-bye...
Jul 3, 2010
Jul 3, 2010 at 5:44 PM UTC
Shivers, creeping down your spine
Grabbing you like a demon of ice
You are shaking, each passing terror
Gripped by the visions of the unholy
Nothing can stop these feelings now
Bubbling up like the foulest pit
Nausea like a fist, clenching inside
But nothing can be seen, nothing there
That feeling there is something behind you
Watching, waiting, ready to strike
For what can be more terrifying, my friend
Than having to face fear, the horror of fear itself
Feb 4, 2011
Feb 4, 2011 at 7:21 PM UTC