"ghoul" poems
There’s a Devil of a night each year, the night of Mr. Haim!
When the devilish and ghoulie ones come out to play their monster’s game.
And why some would seek to trick or treat on this scary day of dead?
Careful now cause gremlins, trolls …sprites and wolves, will offer up their dread!
Quiet, shush, I hear a pack of creepy-crawly boots…
Ra’atan-Zu and the Boogedy-Boo!
And the skeleton bones, clink…
And the skeleton bones, clink…
The skeleton bones clink.
That crafty-smith of horns and hooves is spying on these kiddies,
As Ra’atan-Zu and the Boogedy-Boo are hunting strays to do their dastardly-ditties.
Quiet, shush, I hear a pack of creepy-crawly boots,
And their costumes, oh-so-foul, the evilest of suits!
And there she is, that little girl who can’t keep up, in a tasty mushroom ensemble.
And the skeleton bones clink in her path to give her quite a tomble!
Ra’atan-Zu and the Boogedy-Boo!
And the skeleton bones, clink…
And the skeleton bones, clink…
The skeleton bones clink.
And Sammy Haim, that smithy-devil, a ***** hoof -igniting ghoul’s desire,
He’s howling out, demanding now, “Put that child to the fire!”
And little does he know, no little bit, not even a small clue,
Neither Ra’atan-Zu nor Boogedy-Boo intend on giving him his due!
For once a year on Halloween they get one night to spaz,
Get down and ***** wild and crazy and play a little jazz!
That little mushroom of a girl will play a tiny fiddle,
Ra’atan-Zu and the Boogedy-Boo, a jazzy duet with child in middle!'
Ra’atan-Zu, Boogedy-Boo and a little girl too as they get down actin’ a spaz! Playin’ all night, howling to the moon and kickin’ out some wicked jazz!
*And the skeleton bones, clink…
And the skeleton bones, clink…
The skeleton bones clink.* *
Jun 6, 2016
Jun 6, 2016 at 6:31 PM UTC
I am nature
I am open and wild and free
I am the wind rushing down canyons and the hollering in banyans
I am a bird that sings
I am molecules upon cells upon bones against things
I am civilization.
The trapped, fluorescent lighting in a library basement.
The cake walks and small talks and forced conversation.
I am the beeps and hums and dirt on bums.
I’m the faraway cell phone that rings.
I am molecules upon cells upon bones against things.
I am exuberance
A child giggling loud sounds of joy
Puzzle completers and Christmas toys
Smiles and laughs and leaves of grass
The casino machine that dings
I am molecules upon cells upon bones against things
I am anger.
Tears, scares, and not fighting fair.
I am the red in your eyes as you cry.
I am a ghoul that comes out in the night.
I am the cut that won’t cease to sting.
I am molecules upon cells upon bones against things.
I am ideas
Originality through and through
Creations of my own evolve in my mind
Great sinewy thoughts searching for actions to bind
Mister Cleans and Daedalus wings
I am molecules upon cells upon bones against things
I am silence.
Quiet. Tight. Composure.
Open. Weary. Closure.
I am the stillness of being.
I am molecules upon cells upon bones against things.*
I am alive
I set Rube Goldberg machines into action
I contemplate, gravitate, and try not to hate
I breathe and I heave and I believe
I use my eyes to see
I am molecules upon cells upon bones against things
I am dead.
I’m a sideshow reflection of the man I could be.
I am lazy cold and clammy.
Hopefully I can get my heart beating again.
Then I could be me, molecules upon cells upon bones against things
Mar 20, 2012
Mar 20, 2012 at 12:05 AM UTC
she wanted to know what was underneath parchment skins and pompous words, so she became a ghoul consuming nothing but flesh and blood
Nov 2, 2013
Nov 2, 2013 at 10:02 PM UTC
There is some genie
in our house, curdling poisonously.
I stay in the house
with a freckled old lady;
we're roommates,
unlucky enough to meet each other as life abated.
He does not live in the attic,
like a ***** ghoul; or in some
rubbing bottle like an amnesiac.
But we call the spirit lady, because the genie is vicious.
She comes to the house and says we need to move
things
around.
Her eyes are circled by some creamy mascara
into these black, skin-tight, **** rings,
like absurdist ****** targets.
Things are moved,
the genie stays, gets more vicious.
The mongerer is blamed
for bad things:
broken pots, fights over rent,
**** on the toilet seat,
lost keys.
We call the spirit lady,
this time her fingers jingle with golden rings,
her wrists sing with wrought-iron rainbows,
and says rain will send that sucker running.
So, we build little smoke pits in our house,
and take the most important things:
bills, and alumni letters from my school,
and birthday cards for her,
and burn them until it rains.
The genie calls us falsifiers.
The spirit lady comes back,
a necklace of grimacing clams around her neck,
and knocks around dancing, dancing,
a frenzy, a wildness, a knee-knocking,
throat-throtlling, dismantingly,
limb-ecstasy,
until she poops out and,
breathing heavy,
saying finally:
"there is nothing I can do for you,
I don't think I ever could,
some things are just bad luck."
She turns,
walks away,
and one of her clams drops from her necklace,
it says made in America on the inner lip.
The genie left a few weeks later.
Aug 27, 2012
Aug 27, 2012 at 1:48 AM UTC
---
Once upon a time
In a land so far away
There was a wretched kingdom
Were a vampire held sway
He was very ancient
Handsome as a knave
Dressed in black and silken garb
Was said to be quite brave
But such a cruel creature
He devoured the towns
The soldiers were all petrified
Would not defend the crown
So the King of the castle
Searched both far and wide
For mighty men of valor
To defend the countryside
Finally up north
He found a daring band
Of golden headed Vikings
To defend his failing land
The company of Norsemen
Could not be laidback
They rallied their army
And decided to attack!
They put no garlic round their necks
No ash stakes did they carry
They knew not the vampire ways
And so they were not wary
But oh! What valiant men!
They made quite a sight!
Scaling the vampiric castle walls -
IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT!
The vampire, Vlad the terrible,
Made a crimson flood
Destroyed every one of them
And feasted on their blood!
It was before morning
The darkest witching hour
Vlad finished dispatching them
His countenance was dour
Then a light came streaking
From the pitch black sky -
It was a Valkyrie!
She made a fearsome cry!
"You! Vlad the terrible!"
The ghoul looked up, aghast!
"You feasted on my Norsemen -
But I am here at LAST!!!"
The mighty female warrior
Shook back her golden mane
"You've killed many villagers
But won't do it AGAIN!!!"
The brilliant armored woman
Faced off the evil lord
He laughed, "You cannot slay me!
No! Not with that sword!"
"And for all your armor
What do you suppose?
Your sweet delicious throat
Is slender... and EXPOSED!!!
The Valkyrie laughed
She threw back her hair
She let fly her sword
It scissored through the air!!!
The dreaded Vlad was impaled
But NOT through his chest
Through his very garments
The great sword came to rest
To a TREE the monster stuck
Like a fly caught with a pin
He could not free himself!
And he saw the rising SUN!!!
He struggled against his cape
He'd have none of THAT!
But Vlad could not break the sword
So he became a bat!
Up he flew to escape his fate
But a ray of sun broke through
With an arc he burnt to spark
IT DESTROYED VLAD AS HE FLEW!!!
The Valkyrie, triumphant,
Cried out, "it is I!!!
For when there is a battle,
I decide who lives and dies!!!
I decide the outcome!
Tis not by happenstance...
Won't see you in Valhalla
*You never had a chance!!!*
So ended the battle
The Valkyrie WON.
The outcome was decided...
...Before it was begun!!!
SoulSurvivor
5/6/2015
May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 11:50 AM UTC
I ******* rock it
Then I lay it down
I am not a quitter, sick spitter
**** I just flow in rounds
atmospherics an
******* stellar sounds
Lyrics of astrophysics,
like chemistry
I just shape the ground
just huddle
But do not make a sound
I crush a cypher, decipher words into crooked nouns
Instant reaction to actions,
My riddles break the crowd
I've adapted to hard labor now
Can't **** with the vision
I'm here to **** it
and change the sound
Bicycle wheel spinning, I'm grinding
I need to get around
Flow soulful, for the soul
like I'm the golden child
Y'all so so, I go super sayin
No super wild
No delaying, I'm not evening playing
You're played out
Penetrator is coming through now
Left-over flow ******* better eat their food now
2016 fiend, ***** this just a new style
I hit the restart button, say **** the hard drive, bike peddling to work say **** the hard ride, living life is easy I say **** the hard times
I'm choking the game, I'm looking to ******* hog tie
Business this
you can **** on my long tie...
Young killer
been spittin it for a long time
Past due with my ******* come up
Ain't nobody ******* with the vision I'm blowing up
Cutting all these lames like division
So I can it add up
All of the positives, at heart I'm an optimist, don't **** with my oxygen
You can't breath what I breathe, **** your accomplishments, I will squash all of them I just abolish bums
Don't **** with my vision, I will **** for what is mine
and do it with precision
All these hoes just multiply
I divided with the quickness
All these fakes just want to try
don't try cause your missing
**** all of the rules
***** I am a misfit
I am just a ghoul, no goblin, no riches
The world is full of fools
Who can't **** with my vision
Nov 22, 2016
Nov 22, 2016 at 1:19 AM UTC
I know this vampire Clarence,
He is a hippy vamp,
He never wears dark cloaks,
Or wanders like a *****
This ghoul is non confomist,
His clothes are sunshine bright,
His fingernails are azure blue,
His favourite drink is sprite.
His blood comes from the blood banks,
He files his fangs twice weekly,
His friends are *** head hippies,
And , ****** he sleeps so sweetly.
He enjoys sleepovers with his girlie friends,
And loves to bathe in milk,
His coffin looks more like a scoobydoo van,
All covered with pink silk.
Im looking forward to halloween,
His parties are the best,
We boogie, all liquered up,
So next day, we can rest.
Sep 30, 2010
Sep 30, 2010 at 5:05 AM UTC
god gives glory in defeat and
i search through that darkness that
excludes and gives light to
heavy hearts.
darkness that is contradictory in its ways because
it gives birth to lux in secrecy and
play, then allows you to succumb to better things.
like an evil queen he hides her up in a tower,
veiled by turbulent, tumultuous clouds that thunder and roar
to drown out her screams for rescue.
as i trek on i tell myself,
**** a demon today, face the devil tomorrow.",
but i have been in hell too long,
and i can no longer tell the difference between
feathered wings and ghoul kings.
on stone-paths, i hear the angels of mercy sing.
their notes lead the way,
but somehow i get caught up in the stupor.
i search through darkness to find the light.
light shone on darkness and
darkness did not come.
yet i still wear his helmet.
Feb 12, 2015
Feb 12, 2015 at 11:19 PM UTC
Zombies are waddling toward their door.
Witches are cackling, black cats are scratching,
And the ghouls want brains and more.
But Brig and Ophelia aren’t scared yet,
They’re waiting inside,
Gobbling strange snacks while they hide.
It’s bugs they like to chew and gnaw;
And they love to eat their spiders raw,
Not fried with onions, like Granda;
Or served with broccoli, like Nana.
Not boiled with worms and creepy crawlers.
Ciaran eats those,
Not these crazed daughters.
Ophelia and Brig
Eat them raw,
Alive, not dead,
With wiggly legs and sharp jaws;
And wrapped up with mosquito heads
In white sticky spider webs.
They eat Black Widows soaked in goblin blood
And wicked witch’s poo;
Made from bats and rats and unschooled fools,
That witches eat to soften stools.
They eat fat spiders
Floating in soup,
That slide and wiggle
Down their throat.
They eat them with their mouldy cheese,
Melted over wasps and bees.
The girls fork down spider stew,
They love the taste “Tres beaucoup.”
The gravy’s made from a mummy’s spit,
And sweat that drips from a ghoul’s armpit.
They like their spiders spread on bread,
A feast to feed the risen dead.
When their snack is finally done,
They’ll pick their teeth and scrape their tongues
For Daddy Long Legs they didn’t eat.
The long legs caught between their teeth.
They'll use those legs to weave a wreath,
To trick flies and bugs and lonely spiders
Into their hungry House of Horrors.
Oct 30, 2023
Oct 30, 2023 at 11:06 AM UTC
We proposed for Witches Abroad on Broadway, a costume.
As a lure to students, orange and black candy.
Dancing at the prom, cell phones caught the ghouls.
This stretch of road was full of cool cats.
Unlucky ones were left on the side as skeletons.
We swept them clear with our broomsticks.
Our guns were not as brutal as broomsticks.
Bristles hid the ******* end, as if in costume,
No flesh, just skeleton.
Like bags of orange and black candy,
They were left, full of calico cat.
Our familiars, our friends, dinner for a ghoul.
They pulled at the ghoul,
In the hands of a witch, danger came by broomstick,
When ghouls snacked on cat,
In their orange and black fur costume,
Tasting sweet, like candy.
They beat them up and down, but they find another skeleton.
Them ghouls come faster, giving birth to others, another skeleton.
Vocalizing desire for black and white, red and yellow make orange, a ghoul,
Howls for student flavored candy.
A witch lays out one, then another with her broomstick,
Removing the face mask and costume.
Them that can, holler their outrage in cat.
Your *** was revealed in orange and black on a calico cat.
Females cooled themselves of *** unwilling mates to a skeleton.
Once alive, copulating loudly, now in a death costume.
Walking upright, a neighborhood was destroyed by a ghoul.
Neighbors watched, a witch patrolled on a broomstick.
Your students were seen as human candy.
One wife beater had a juicy rind, sweet and soured candy.
At the dance, hors d’oeuvres were made of cat.
Shot forward, it can create a hole, can a broomstick.
Where stomachs used to be, a skeleton,
Death conquers all, no more ghoul.
One, now many properly attired for the Danse Macabre in costume.
I found an orange, as broomsticks cleaned Broadway of cat candy.
In my student costume and human face mask, my path is crossed by a cat.
It disappeared as if it never was, visible only to Death, a skeleton made by ghoul.
Jul 14, 2015
Jul 14, 2015 at 7:43 PM UTC
Lucifer, Lucifer
Black, rotting mind,
How can you live
With the lies that you wind?
Lucifer, Lucifer
You claim to destroy
But need God's permission
For what you deploy.
Black Lily of old,
Wrecker of worlds,
Mover of mountains,
Oil slick pearl,
The whorls on your forehead,
The horns on your head,
The eyes in your hands
As you dress your dead.
You desolate valleys
You eat up the land,
You grind a man's bones
To Sahara sand.
In my eye a beam
In your eye a mote,
The rampant *****
Of a rutting goat.
They grow in your belly
The flies that you spawn,
Maggots in multitudes
10 trillion strong.
Yes, out they spew
Through your spittle and teeth,
The lies propigated
From way underneith.
O, putrid rose,
Who has duplicate skill
To create "beauty"
To dazzle man's will.
But nothing you "make"
Is good on this earth,
No, nothing you "make"
Has any WORTH.
O, blighted star,
Constellation of hate,
Galaxy ghoul
Your strength is FINITE.
Who runs the show,
You aborted SOW?
When all's said and done
To whom will you BOW?
More sooner than late
Your end will come
In the pit ALONE.
With no one to ***
Who'll put you there,
Bound in your chains?
Why! GOD! Of course...
... for Jesus Christ REIGNS.
Soul Survivor
Catherine Jarvis
(C) February 2014
Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 9:21 AM UTC
It's the Grim Reaper
It's the Boogie Man
It's the wolf in the closet
It's the monster under the bed
It's the phantom that's chasing you in your dreams
It's the madman who dances delightfully in your brain matter
It's the poison in your coffee
Paralyzing
Petrifying and penetrating
A flesh eating
Bone chomping
Soul *******
Grave robbing Ghoul
Right within the halls of your head
Grotesque and greedy, it is
Gloom everywhere
An anxiety production line
Breeding anguish
Bleeding you out
Windpipe choking
Werewolf watching
Witches brewing
It's dreadful and dooming
It's horror at every corner
It's a newspaper dripping in disaster
It's a future forecasting fatalities
Your obituary in every new edition
BUT IT'S NOT REAL
Jan 10, 2014
Jan 10, 2014 at 11:56 AM UTC
In the dunes, the dust raises a dirge
echoing in the nooks of Qardu:
prophet of the pasts, a ghoul
who led an arc on to the mountain
singed by the daystar where now,
men cut their hands to quench infant-thirsts.
And outraged women wail into the nights.
All for this? All for this? The anguished
song in the valley in an archaic tongue
that the Spirit stands surveying
that called out a fire off a bush, leading
a nation out of wilderness. Now, who
delight in murdering children.
The emperor of the world, is busy playing ball
offering the slaughtered heads to Quetzalcoatl,
and a beating heart plucked out
of a terrified infidel does not move him
as much as the stench of oil. Black
is the song of despair whispering in the smoke
blighting the reign of K'inich Ajaw,
all for this, Marya, all for this?
And the chief of Angles is dismayed, the
spoils of crusades blow back as young men
disappear from your homes, emerging
as butchers in black baying for slaughter,
journeying to the worlds end with
Gilgamesh along the Tigris.
Aug 21, 2014
Aug 21, 2014 at 5:51 PM UTC
Antsy aardvarks all
accept ants accordingly
as an addiction
Bamboo bayonets
bought by barbaric, beastly
barons bite beatniks
Cloistered cobblers can
color candy-cane conches
concealing crooners
Daffodils doodle
daydreams down, debauchery
demons deafening
Every eon each
electric elephant eats
eleven elk eggs
For fun fantasies
file films filosophic'ly
filling filaments
Go get greens
Get grass grayer gal
goonie ghoul
Hello high hammock
how hooligans heave haddocks
heathenly hecklers
Igloos ixist in
icy islands interning
internationally
Jello jam jizzy
Jacks jostling jewels juney
jump jump joop jail
Dec 27, 2009
Dec 27, 2009 at 9:11 PM UTC
(Preta प्रेत (Sanskrit) or Peta (Pāli) is the name for a type of (arguably supernatural) being described in Buddhist, Hindu, Sikh, and Jain texts that undergoes more than human suffering, particularly an extreme degree of hunger and thirst. They are often translated into English as “hungry ghosts”, from the Chinese, which in turn is derived from later Indian sources generally followed in Mahayana Buddhism.)
The series of blurs that was summer 2006 makes me wonder what kind of evils we committed in past lives. What otherworldly desires plagued us with this need to feed upon the surging tidal wave of young blood? The days from May 16th to August 23rd were black mirror images, indiscernible. I kept the 1997 Honda Accord running, tapping my fingers to the beats of Built to Spill on the dashboard, waiting for you outside your father’s newly constructed home on ice. You would bleed forth, blue sun light reflecting off windows to face like an eight point filter. What we did with the day mattered not. It was as important to us as the script of action flicks. We were the only people that we wanted to know and we were the places that we wanted to go. The day lived and died, as the nighttime was when our karma sprung curse would take us. Turn off blurred screens, ignore details of the war, pull the hatch shaded curtains tight. We shared a bed in which we did not sleep, bodies silent, blaring alarms. The same hungry ghosts feeding and choking on ash all night. We burned out, successful slow turns into frail husks. It was then that we couldn’t get full anymore, we realized that we fit like clothes made out of wasps. It hasn’t gotten better for either, a ghoul roaming in the night, hunting for the next lay like a record skipping. We will asphyxiate on stones or have our throats burned by water. Hopefully we’ve suffered enough to respawn into more advanced forms. I hope I see you in the next life as anything else.
Oct 14, 2012
Oct 14, 2012 at 7:16 PM UTC
to wound me with an arrow
take a lurid one
you're high on the barrow
watching how scare I run
burst out of usual shadows
like one-eyed albino ghoul
only to see changing weather
by unintelligible rules
sick of Gulliver's syndrome
from living in a wooden box
where's my abandoned kingdom
I'm fed up with these rocks
so try to aim, warden
I'm not that beast of burden
Dec 21, 2015
Dec 21, 2015 at 11:04 PM UTC
MacBain splutters,
long winded speeches,
intoxicating stutters.
Whisky reeks volumes on volumes of volumes,
unfathomable mysteries on infallible fumes.
Helga looks hideously **** tonight,
the ghoul in the corner looks up for a fight.
The toilet's transforming into a white telephone,
just one last drink until the drinking is done.
Redshot eyes light another cigarette,
Shooter all round,
and a beer what the heck!
The dance floor is moving like a seasick ship,
We all feel like rock stars defining whats hip.
Jan 26, 2010
Jan 26, 2010 at 8:45 AM UTC
Lamentation; infelicity through neurotransmitters
Passing fleetly; swift but disturbed
Grids of brainwaves for the degraded
Overhead LED view is negroided
Chapter 1 Migraines;
A klaxon that grains into migraine
From there on out, strolling convulsion lane
Deriving from deception; antibodies start to lead loosely
Throe after throe I choose not to fuss
Laceration in hemikrania is conversing with the rest of my body,
Frequent as days turn nightly
I host the severe megrimly
Chapter 2 Vomiting;
A horendous bile builds up in my throat
Moaning like a ghoul; I banish the gloats
Disgorging from nothing, Heaving and heaving the dry
Although I force myself not, all the nosh turns into emit rye
Vital fluid very crimson soon came
From the cranium, I dislose, head pain
Frequent as the waves harsh blows
I host a ***** hose
Chapter 3 Tumor;
A neoplasm underneath I've found out
Unvisible but there; my flesh will start swelling undoubt
Below I feel like a mutant
All putant and disformed
Like globular liquids dripping from sewage waste
As long as I can still haste
Crescendo and surge won't ado
Frequent as traffic builds a rush hour
I host a cyst that is sour
Chapter 4 Deaf;
An absense of all frequencies
I daze everso daily;
Feeling like an earless statue; sound unaccompanied
Missing the wind's howls that ululate,
Clamors and bellows that spoliate
I can't sight the same verbiage
Without sonancy to inflicit, I see one big mirage
Frequent as birth enfolds
I host a soundless toll
Chapter 5 Brain Cancer;
A malignant fate told today
Disease spreading like a machine,
Programmed to enquire all it knows
A gruesome and hateful dose;
Withering casually away
Grown apart of, I'm the prey
As we hunt the beasts'
An invisible naked eye is poaching
Frequent as a house infested
I host a cancerous clothing
Chapter 6 Death;
A termination soon to unfold
I am as finished and ruined as story told
Biological function ending
Senescence through spending
User maat I haven't seen all wanted
Alas I am greatful for what has been daunted
Frequent as a death anew
I host a dissolution
My evolution; through.
Nov 24, 2010
Nov 24, 2010 at 7:09 AM UTC
O Reaper,
dark jewel in the shimmering sea of night
sickly flower blooming in the garden
pale wanderer of the doom-bound desert,
weave for me a tapestry
and drape it over the blinking stars.
O Death,
sweet fragrance of the morning
rapping on the windowsill,
compose for me a symphony
to haunt my ears as I sleep.
O Ghost,
gentle and geriatric in the dim moonlight,
sweep off the collecting dust
and blow it into the four winds
to carry us off on the backs
of the eagles.
O Ghoul,
your silhouette as the sunlight dims,
carve for me a juniper tree
so that I may dance around it
and welcome thee.
O Plague,
humming in the breath of the insects
crawling on the furs of the beasts,
pour for me a strong drink
to quench the flames of my disease.
O Maiden,
creeping into cronehood as the clocks stop
drifting down the clear stream into the damp
floating with the smoke to be imprisoned
multi-faced and schizophrenic,
sing for me a rhapsody
a hymn for my church of undoing.
O Glacier,
still and monumental,
melt into the sea of shining
and polish for me a mirror
to see clearly a glimpse
of mortality.
O Thanatos,
born at the beginning of time
flowering into youthful beauty
falling corpse-like in the rocks,
kiss the clouds and the trees
and write for me some poetry
to ease me into the long sleep.
Jun 25, 2014
Jun 25, 2014 at 1:15 PM UTC
one thousand shards, my crown was built.
not of thorns.
but bubblegum legos, saturday morning stuck
to the carpet
& days gone by.
crept out of fold and gut/ kid living
& watched by trees.
autumn watches us fall like leaves,
born of the belly and the mother.
mom quiet/
dad loud/
men hid behind blisters and god.
men hid behind tall towers and the bomb.
men bled for immortality,
warred and ****** resource for more, the door
to an endless life.
dad taught me how the heart and brain behold blood,
& how the body manifests it/
moves it/
follows the sun.
son follows father follows god follows ghoul.
dad taught me about the machete.
about how “our fates will dominate us blind.
so man dominates the jungle.”
he told me a story of love and more glory.
of poor men and dead men.
machete theories.
he carved wooden chairs.
built a lodge.
fished the river,
& reeled to forget the war.
harpoon the river gods.
the heart and brain behold blood,
& the body manifests it.
Nov 10, 2015
Nov 10, 2015 at 12:57 AM UTC
The Wicked Witch from Woodhaven,
It's quite an obstacle being your offspring.
Never have I been so self hating more when I listen to your heart-knifing words and unsympathetic demeanor.
Undermining my warm and graciousness as if I am some ant just waiting to be burned by sunlight through your magnifying glass,
I pray that some day you will change.
But a person so mentally unstable cannot change,
As you have passed those genes down unto me.
You have me riding some emotional rollercoaster at a carnival that Goblins should attend,
And not the normal, lively human soul.
Thankfully, I've decided to go elsewhere.
But the clowns that you call ailments won't allow me to leave.
I vow to change my ways, aiming to stand up to such an evil and love-deviating woman,
Yet your words freeze me up like your mouth is Antartica,
And your brain is scolding due to your visit to your throne in Hell.
I've suffered many tragedies inside my own mind,
Sad songs that are on repeat.
Carelessness and forgetfulness has brought me to decrease my envy of you.
You've devoured the confidence of your once favorite child for more times than he can count on both hands,
And both feet,
Twice.
I can appreciate the fact that you've raised me,
As it is nearly impossible to raise such a troublesome child.
Though wishing you had never even birthed me in the first,
I hold you responsible to why I am subdued.
Nurture has been long forgotten,
Since I had last treasured it so.
A mother's love is all that is good and holy,
But what is it worth to Satan?
You would know,
Since he is in fact, your creator.
Wicked Witch,
Stubborn *****
How awful these words sound to me.
They come out in frustration as you lead me to temptation,
And insecure I shall always be.
Crotchety old ghoul,
You've treated me like a fool,
For far too long I've counted.
Everlasting therapy is in order,
And forever you and I will be separated,
Separated by a border, That I have built,
In order to salvage some sort of a stable mind.
Kindly accept my creed to await,
The finalizing version of myself.
I've longed for such mortality,
Due to your immorality,
As guardian of my unnatural life.
Sep 22, 2016
Sep 22, 2016 at 8:10 AM UTC
I was wrong.
She became the ocean
because she was torn.
Before she fell in love with the storm
She was enamoured by the trees
The nature surrounding her
And its delicate seeds
The lake was who she was
And she hoped that would be her all -
But the storm struck her.
It struck, ****** and stole
What was left of her whole
Her innocence, her soft soul
All ripped and discarded by the swirling ghoul
Needless to say, it left a deep hole
One that would never heal, one no-one could behold
She become the ocean so it was she who would control.
The storms in her palm, the monsters of her own
Monster she became, bold yet cold
The ocean’s depths let no mercy be shown.
But what still remained the same was her soul -
It was the same water, the same heart
The same desire, the same start
The same softness, in a hidden part
She did not want to see another torn apart.
She commanded the storms, an ocean of power
Protected the weak with the comfort she showered
Under her rule, the real monsters cowered.
In the world of the bad, it was she who towered.
May 14, 2022
May 14, 2022 at 12:39 AM UTC
Empty, flatline numbness, marry me! Marry me!
Oh, jester in white inhale yourself; nothing but a fool.
Do you know your fate?
Majestic brutality, do you know your fate?
Heart beats so rhythmic, it's a brand new taste.
A white noise craze, walk along the pretty phase.
Tongue tied fantasies, drop dead harmonies and the worlds upside down.
Posiden met Godzilla, it's nothing you said it was.
Kitty cat, baseball bat ate your face, jester start again.
Ghoul, ghoul, ghoul dressed in white, take my veins, weave a gown.
We will dance, tonight, dance so pretty in the light.
Tell me, ever painted beauty in blood?
Oh, wicked numbness, Marry me! Marry me!
Feb 26, 2013
Feb 26, 2013 at 6:19 AM UTC