"gory" poems
There's a door
In life
Its open to all
Who wish to walk through
It leads to happiness
And a better you
But to get to the other side
There's a decision to make
A choice to decide
Sometimes there's a sacrifice
Sometimes there's pain
But in life
Without losing there's no gain
It's give and take
It's love and loss
Just a random gamble
Gotta give the dice a toss
Because in the end
It's not what you had
Or the money you made
It's what in your heart
Even after your body fades
With every scary part
And every gory detail
Doing what feels right
Decides wether you win
Or fail
Walk through the door
Get to the other side
It's worth it all
Forget your **** pride
Choose happiness
And true morality
Nothing means more than family
Love and loyalty
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 2:56 AM UTC
My temple is covered in scars
Each scar telling a story
Though most of them are gory
None is more so than ours
The largest scar holds the key
To the reasons all the others be
No one but the two of us knows
How the true story goes
And so I covered the temple with scars
Attempting to hide the true tale
Then locked myself behind these bars
In the end to no avail.
Aug 2, 2012
Aug 2, 2012 at 10:37 PM UTC
Adult ABC
A is for *******
B is for *****
C is for **** hole
D is for ****
E is for everything that you are
and
F is for **** off
G is for Gory holes
H is for hemerroid
I is for invulents
J is for *******
K fly a kite
L is a loser
M is for moist
N is for nuts
O is obscured in your
P *****
Q is for *****
R is for the Reassurance that you need
S is for ****
T is for ****
U is for Underwear
and
V is for ******
W is for wort and
X is for ***
Y now You know your life is full of
Z zest
Aug 29, 2021
Aug 29, 2021 at 10:35 PM UTC
When Villains Win
Movies and books
They're all predictable
So unoriginal
I dream of a story
Where the plot is somewhat gory
And the villain
Isn't just chillin'
The hero and their nemesis
Are at a stale mate
And their actions aren't repetitive
Finally the hero's imperfections take over,
and he hits too late
The enemy takes control
And the moment, he stole
He doesn't hesitate
A second, he doesn't wait
Time isn't slowed down
He doesn't take his sweet time
So quickly, he cuts the line
The end of the hero
A new beginning for evil
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 11:16 PM UTC
While you cover your profile pictures with transparent flags
ranting how terrorism should stop
retweeting and reposting those gory pictures of the victims
keeping up with the latest news
and trying to flow with the trend
like if this was the new ice bucket challenge
but with blood water.
In all honesty,
Do you really pity the victims?
Do you really feel the sorrow?
Were your families even part?
Were your friends even part?
Were you a part?
Or are you doing it for the sake of Likes?
Only truly
if you hate terrorism,
act like as you really do
because you look stupid,
hating what social media tells you to hate.
And only truly
if you hate terrorism,
You would do something more than a click from social media.
If terrorists terrorize to change the world into their own,
what are we doing to change ours?
Nov 16, 2015
Nov 16, 2015 at 10:40 AM UTC
In blood, a precious cake dancing
aflame in whirlpool of
cyclopean darkness.
The triggers of sanguinary
guns are tumbling down tears,
sorrow and grief in gush on
the cliff of darkness.
The moon, a crimson cake of
venom toasting blind sun in
gory rays as stars twinkling
blood at dawn.
The orphan profusely wailing
for peace in her own bizarre
carnage in bazaar of iniquity
and rivers of blood.
Let the world stop this blood
Lest this blood stops the world!
©2018 KAYODE STEVE ADARAMOYE
Nov 23, 2018
Nov 23, 2018 at 4:55 AM UTC
You say a songs not a song,
Unless it tells a good story,
So here goes my tale,
Its full of misery, and it's gory.
It began in a time, not so long ago
When I was happy, I was normal,
I loved music, I loved the radio
But then on a night out, with my wife and a friend,
A guy attacked me, hell bent,
On bringing my life to an end
Blood poured from my eyes, nose, and my ears,
People staring silently, People to afraid, to interfere
As my mum sat waiting, she takes time to say a prayer,
She begs God for mercy, she begs him for an end, to this nightmare
He looks so peaceful, sleeping,
He's unaware,
His eyes shut tightly, His mind must be elsewhere
As time drifted by, His family try to stay optimistic,
But their hopes he'll pull through,
Are starting to look a bit unrealistic
The doctors tried everything,
They tried anything for a reaction,
But as hope faded, His eyes open slowly , he was back in action
His voice crooked weakly, His gaze was distant,
He was confused, he was angry,
He reminded me of when he was an enfant
Seven days later, the police now enter,
Showing me pictures, asking if I remember ?
NO !! I SCREAMED,
I was out on a ****** now get out there and find the offender !
Why doesn't anyone listen to a word I have to say ?
You say you do, you say Liam, Its OK, But that's not enough, thats not OK, you're just saying that,
SO I GO AWAY !
As you can tell,
that's all now history,
The pain, the depression,
the whole Brain Injury,
But why? I'm home,
All on my own,
To me, remains a MYSTERY.
Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 2:10 PM UTC
The divine walkway
To the river-side
Has began to warp in
Singing and whooping with love,
But I was in the palace
To witness the examination,
See how the evening sky
Has suffered with crimson
And delight, awaiting
The gorgeous joy of the dawn,
How can the nations
Begin this monthly journey
With a broken arm?
The old gossip proclaimed that
Mother Africa caused the
*** to burst into loud wails
Early on that faithful morning,
Whiles the companions took
No pain to grace the occasion,
Oh gosh, is that the time?
Is that an absolute
Gospel of the gory spectacle?
Indeed, we need to offer
Sacrifices of praise
To propitiate the gods,
Let the gracious protocol begin!
Mothers, please cover
That beautiful black skin
With that sunblock sheabutter cream,
And cover that gracious hips
With that piece of kente cloth,
My dear, please
Taste the sacred food
And swallow the egg also,
For sitting on a golden stool
Which stands on a precious mat,
Has become good news for the ancestors,
Now perceive this,
When the moonlight slipped
Past the curled edges
Of the shades of nature, and
The children faces gleamed,
I knew I had
Fallen victim to the sensual
Lures and snares of the
Twin towers protruding
From your glorious chest,
You have indeed kindled
The eternal flame within me,
My black eternal beauty,
You are truly
A fine African woman.
© PRINCE NANA ANIN-AGYEI
Email: [email protected]
Apr 7, 2013
Apr 7, 2013 at 12:55 PM UTC
This is the colour of my anger:
A white hot searing fever
Tearing through my veins like amphetamine;
A surreal dream that keeps replaying in my brain
Over and over again...
Life is pain enough
Without other people
Making it tough. Guess I ran out of luck:
Top of the class and surrounded by dumb *****
Whose only qualification is knowing how to trigger
The ticking bomb I've strapped on
In my anger.
This is the colour
This is the colour
This is the ************* colour
This is the colour of my anger:
This weird red mist with its fingers
Coiled around my brain,
Blurring my vision as I allow it
To make my decisions
For me. Again, it hands me the gun, then runs,
Leaving me to get the
Damage done. Well, aint this fun?
Three, two, one, and it’s time to take cover
I won’t get any sleep
Until I’ve shown you the colour
Of my anger.
This is the colour
This is the colour
This is the ************* colour
This is the colour of my anger:
A smouldering orange lava
That laughs at the wrath of the sun,
And I feel like the risen Son
As it pours out of me, heavenly,
Reducing everything in its path to the
Sum of zero
But this is just a fraction of what it’s capable of.
Hot and full of hell is my fury. Shit's getting gory.
It's time to remove the canker.
No more bluffing, I’m all in -
Let the games begin
With my anger.
This is the colour
This is the colour
This is the ************* colour
This is the colour of my anger:
The cloudless blue of my eyes
As I admire my workmanship,
Reflecting upon the new ********
That I have just ripped for you.
My smile spreads from ear to ear, like a slit throat,
Beatific in my ecstasy as this anger drains out of me.
The adrenaline that pumped so furiously
Now dumps its load in me, bringing me to my knees.
Enough, I say, as I see how small you stand there;
Let's call it a day, now be on your way,
Just remember the colour of my anger.
Don’t ever
****
With me
Again
Jun 25, 2012
Jun 25, 2012 at 10:40 PM UTC
Viking chiefs Valhalla bound,
at death, were not interred I've found.
On a fire ship they 'd place their chief
and cremate him per their belief.
Was it an obsequious grief
that gave rise to this strange belief?
For seafaring folk it scarce seems mete
to lose a captain, then burn the fleet.
With Dragon heads fixed fore and aft
Those ships brought terror, sword and shaft.
Irish Monks would think its fine
to burn one to the water line.
The ship of death was burning bright
as it sank within the fjord that night
carrying the Viking chiefs cremains
to his Viking gods' domains.
Was it conspicuous consumption
that drove the Vikings to this junction?
Perhaps after a life , ****** and gory,
they craved going out in a blaze of glory.
May 26, 2012
May 26, 2012 at 8:17 AM UTC
Prom night
Hoping for limelight
No fight towards the
Alcohol fueled lust
We just want what's just
To break off some rust
To end the night wrapped in her/his arms
Waking up to a cheesy love story
But nothing gory no glory
Just the generic songs
Playing through the generic throng
Of people looking for more
Maybe the unknown
Possibly the gold throne
But in the end
Teenagers aren't hard to get
So we danced young
Like we'd live forever
And at the end of the night
We made our own stories
Jul 10, 2013
Jul 10, 2013 at 9:09 PM UTC
You worth more than a thousand golden crowns
and continent wide silks
and all the brighter, wilting stars in the dark
and had you pulled the universe to you,
it will surely crawl under your thigh
as a machination made only for you.
And you worth more than the ten thousand horses that I had slain
and I pulled them onto your sheets
as whispery faeries gnawed onto its skin
onto its slippery vein
gory, but lovely all the same.
Alas, you worth more than another ten thousand of them running
hooves clattered across the impenetrable glass of auroral dome
and I saw you rode on another ten thousand that had not deserve you-
as you deserved gold and stars
and all the greater fury of this land,
not treachery and I.
Gold was the color of your ruse
and your words deify scorching stars into bloom
and you reek of rust — the finest yellow there was.
Mar 18, 2018
Mar 18, 2018 at 10:34 PM UTC
ARTERY CONFESSION.
_Her love to me is like moon light, on a starry night._
As rising sun at dhawn. Like vine planted on his heart's yard. _which he ought to water to flowery_ _And fruitage._
his love for her is as deep as the dept of an ocean, _with the fishes abiding therein,_ _as stars, moon,_ and the sun adhered to the sky, it never
departed away from her side.
_his love to her can simply easily be compared to_ _GOD's towards mankind._
So he confessed and rendered his heart to her. _Like a teeming downpour upon earthen soften, it surface._
so her love compassed his heart comforting, _like pabulum to mind._
As light rays to eye sight. His love for her is reality only can be told in tale of their love story,
_gory to glory._ _He so_
Much love her and
really ready,
_in for her, fell in the water._
Lost and found with her for ever. _He wish he could wash her feet wilt the waters of his soul, cleansing her heart._
because he see her heart compatible to his.
_Remembered old days of midnight calls, they never used to give sleep to their eyes._ While talk through night, dusk till dawn,
_Remembered promises and all the pain they both had gone through heaven and hell._
*Never forgot the only first day he felt the fullness of her ******* _how sooth her heart. Tongue on tongue, mouthy pleasure._
His hands on her curves. Briskly remembered she _told him that after her_
momma he be next to her.
_She call him dad he call her Mami._ Before she demised his mama used to asked about his lady. His homies do too.
_His young blood can't either forget her memories,_
last night he was asked about her, oh sweetness
_is all about thee._ _Can't forget_
her, _he always craves_ her. All he ever wanted and desires are all found in her, his boo. _He truly loves her because he knew she'd make a good mother,_
Hope she'd understand if he change sometimes just only because he never own everythang as his. _So remember he always told her_
that he will always be there for her as time,
_even in the world after here._ _Her love is so good to him_
She has the key to his heart.
_reminisce she told him she'd_
_rather die for him than sleeping at someone else side._
She's his inspiration like a transportation, his motivation only she can help build his cloud nation. _His aspiration_
all is found in her, _all in ONE no one else but she._
She source the past time joy and still the reason _for today's and the hope_
of tomorrow's glee.
Sacrifice his love for her because he believes in future with her, she's his destiny his fate mate his ruth, his batsheba,
_His mary, his eve and soulmate._
#c9_fm
Feb 9, 2021
Feb 9, 2021 at 4:26 AM UTC
Her Masterpiece Is Her Story
Her paintbrush is a razor,
Her canvas, her wrists,
"I deserve the pain."
She shrugs and insists.
One day the brush will push down,
And it will cut so deep,
That this girl will fall
into an eternal sleep.
She doesn't remember how she started
What brought her interest to this,
How do you discover,
that cutting is your form of bliss?
No one would have guessed that she does it.
No one would have considered this one.
This girl is forever fighting a battle,
that she thinks the demons have won.
Her artwork is all over her,
Her beauty is on her thighs,
and if you look in her old trash,
you'll find her letters of goodbye.
Her masterpiece is quite disturbing,
Her masterpiece is a little gory,
Her artwork is her escape.
Let me tell you her story.
She compares herself to every person,
She is compared to each girl.
She thinks she's hideous,
And there's this boy that is her world.
She was bullied and picked on,
She was teased from head to toe,
Hard to believe that her best friend,
was her one and only foe.
Then later she disliked every little thing,
Her body, face and even her mind,
Soon she saw she was a failure,
and it was just in due time...
That this girl couldn't take it anymore
She'd decided she was done living this,
So one day she went home
and decided to end it.
Everyday for multiple days,
This girl would try to drown,
Hard to believe this girl at school,
never ever wore a frown.
Sometimes she'd just fall asleep crying,
Praying that she'd be enough,
Because she didn't want to leave her family.
She knew about their sweet love.
This girl found hope in small things eventually,
She soon would see this beautiful light,
and find a REAL best friend,
that helped her put up a fight.
Her masterpiece soon was leaving,
Her artwork was almost faded,
and it gave her a sick feeling,
the feeling of being jaded.
She found a boy that actually loved her,
And showed her love exists,
And this boy too had a masterpiece,
placed close to his wrists.
He related to her and she related to him.
She kissed his artwork and said he's not alone,
When she cut herself it hurt him,
Her masterpiece now wasn't just her own.
Her masterpiece effected others,
Her artwork wasn't just for herself,
She now had people,
who saw her cries for help.
And then her family found out,
So then they saw the art too,
to them they were just scars,
To her they were the truth.
She's trying to be okay now,
She thinks she might survive,
Even though they didn't think
to take away the knives.
Dec 4, 2015
Dec 4, 2015 at 10:24 AM UTC
Normal has no home with me.
Rage is a wonderful mess.
Shake my hand...
Bend around my mind.
Bend all you can.
Sick is what I am.
Contagious is what I'm not, but you will flee all the same.
Satisfaction to my day.
Stay away so I don't have to try to explain.
Stay away...
PTSD, and a sprinkle of Rage...
Bipolar me will tarnish your day.
You will never understand my fears.
You will never understand the me that isn't me...
The desolate creation of Molestation, Physical Abuse, Verbal abuse, and ****
Paint me Not a Victim for you are mine!
I'm ice cold and brilliant in my revenge.
I am easy on the eyes...
I'm a wonderful disguise!
I'll fight with my word's, even though I can't sleep.
You can be the victim of you!
Karma and God will find you!
But first you will see me.
My other me...
Such things that I think...
What you have done to me is nothing compared to my friend Beelzebub!
My mind's damaged Razor Sharp.
The Blood my mind spills is Beautiful, and warm like Family.
I'm the creature that feeds off the stench of your decomposing corps.
In my mind all that's gory is miraculous art.
You are Glorious in your Death!
And it is ART!
Fantasic ART!
Unique in your final pose...
Unique is your Blood on my paint brush.
Victims, Vast!
My gallery is full.
Such Monster's you all are!
But as I write, and create...
I'm the monster Today.
For Survivor's of hate!
I'll create!
No victims of innocence will bleed today.
It's a new day!
I have spray paint filled with the blood of the ******* who stole comfort from your night.
Cry not tonight!
Your composing the nightmares this night!
Set your hurt free...
Let them Bleed.
It's time for art's & craft's.
Carry them to me!
Jul 14, 2017
Jul 14, 2017 at 4:54 PM UTC
Vivacious, atrocious
Super capricious
Precocious and ferocious
Precious and gracious
Malicious and facetious
Long lashes
Gory gashes
Fiery slashes
Tunic mashes
Souls igneous
In the end, it’s all ashes, just ashes...
Jun 6, 2013
Jun 6, 2013 at 2:26 AM UTC
you Tug, and Tug these Servile Strings,
you've Sewn inTo my Flesh
i've Sewn a Few on You as Well,
a Tangled Gory Mesh
Ev'ry Tug i Take will Rip
your Skin from Off your Bone, but
You've got Quite a Sim'lar Grip,
tug Rip,
cry Laugh,
and Moan
Two Puppets, Each Other's Masters
Together, Beget Disasters
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 8:20 PM UTC
they weren't wrong when they said
nothing lasts forever.
you promised me forever,
and left your empty promise at the bottom of the ocean
with the rest of the decaying memories from my head.
how gullible i was to think things would work out.
happiness doesn't come easy.
the hollow ache in the pit of my stomach will never go away.
these are just things we learn to accept in our lives and move on.
why do i still miss you?
May 18, 2015
May 18, 2015 at 10:03 PM UTC
I hate the distortion of what we are
right now
I hate not knowing who we are and
where we're going
as a whole
as a tribe of lost souls
but I can't dwell in the dream that we're all meant for something greater
this is all we're given, so why pretend there's anything better?
You're not abstract
you're not hyper intelligent
and I would rather deliver a gory blow to your face
than endure another profound hypothesis
I just want to feel something physical
for my skin hunger to be satisfied
I just want to improve something miserable
for my existence to go to the wayside
it's not there
we're all here
so let's go outside, please
and get some ******* fresh air
Jun 5, 2011
Jun 5, 2011 at 8:00 AM UTC
I killed you in my mind
I stabbed you to death 37 times
I gouged your eyes out
shot an arrow through your mouth
I may seem violent
but I'm really calm right now
I killed you in my mind
ran you over with a bulldozer
put you through the wringer
and hang you dry
it may seem gruesome
but I'm laughing so hard I could cry
I killed you in mind
drove a knife through your heart
and right now I'm being kind
I whisper, "It's okay" as I tear you apart
you may think it's gory
but sorry, I'm not sorry.
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 9:33 AM UTC
it's enough, because it has to be.
the brush of your chest in us crossing paths.
the rhythm of your voice as it fills the room with every story you tell and every joke you crack.
and i can't falter this time.
enough is enough.
that's the key word here, isn't it?
enough.
enough of me feeding off every glance we catch each other in.
enough of me trying to fill the gory space in my chest with the days you had me believe i could be sane.
that's not who we are.
so stripped of sentimental views, seeing the world for it's rationality.
never it's emotion.
and my god, did i want to know what it was like.
to continue on into each day with another being who couldn't wait until i woke up.
who waited for me until i did.
and you peeled the armor from my skin, touched each scar and made a map.
"you are so strong, and i have never been under the hand of someone like you."
you believed in luck then.
even if it was short lived.
and maybe, just maybe,
before you left me in the claws of the shadows that were starved of my suffering you had pulled me from,
i believed, too.
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 1:26 AM UTC
Deeming that I were better dead,
"How shall I **** myself?" I said.
Thus mooning by the river Seine
I sought extinction without pain,
When on a bridge I saw a flash
Of lingerie and heard a splash . . .
So as I am a swimmer stout
I plunged and pulled the poor wretch out.
The female that I saved? Ah yes,
To yield the Morgue of one corpse the less,
Apart from all heroic action,
Gave me a moral satisfaction.
was she an old and withered hag,
Too tired of life to long to lag?
Ah no, she was so young and fair
I fell in love with her right there.
And when she took me to her attic
Her gratitude was most emphatic.
A sweet and simple girl she proved,
Distraught because the man she loved
In battle his life-blood had shed . . .
So I, too, told her of my dead,
The girl who in a garret grey
Had coughed and coughed her life away.
Thus as we sought our griefs to smother,
With kisses we consoled each other . . .
And there's the ending of my story;
It wasn't grim, it wasn't gory.
For comforted were hearts forlorn,
And from black sorrow joy was born:
So may our dead dears be forgiving,
And bless the rapture of the living.
3.4k
a magician never reveals their
tricks to the joker is what you’d
told you that sunday night last
september as you had sloppily
crashed into a river and made
both of our cold bones shiver.
we both knew this was not a
typical drive down the road
because you had broken the
moral code and would soon
be toad while i lay with still
bones and a frantic call home
on a stretcher in the back of
an ambulance with hands
holding my body together
as you asked the police to
give you a moment so you
could have a breather and
a smoke or two because
you knew you were through.
they asked if you wanted to
leave me alone and head
down to the police station
and you just shrugged like
this was not your creation
because your court costs
were more expensive than
the knowledge of my pain
and i wished I had caught
that last sunday night train
instead of drinking with you
in the rain and making fog
against the window pane.
i was told not to move as
i waited for the helicopter
and you were pushed up
against the side of a cop
car and cuffed with angry
resistant will and the tears
spilled down hard and fast
from your pretty little face
because for once i would
not save your ****** ***
and get you out of this gory
mess that had turned your
sunday best into a disgrace
and made my bones buckle
and cry out for some rest
for they had been pressed
and strained under the now
drowned window pane with
blood creating a vivid stain.
your head ducked down as
you were pushed into the back
of the car and you glanced up
to see my motionless mangled
body watching from afar.
how’s that for a date night?
you laughed as the tube
down my throat made me
cough and the police officer
gave you a stern look before
slamming the door on your
smirking face so hard that
the car shook like my body
did with hollow echoing sobs
that made my eyes run like the
river that had made both of us
shiver as you had claimed that
the joker would always deliver
even if the magician would not
reveal their spells for the joker
had his own secret way to hell.
Dec 29, 2018
Dec 29, 2018 at 4:20 PM UTC
I look in the mirror and see
Wrinkles impressed upon me
Some from good and some for bad
I've earned each one, I'm not sad
Each wrinkle tells a story
Some glad some gory
So many ups and downs
Caused the smiles and frowns
I gaze the mirror and ask
Is this really me I take to task?
How did time fly by so fast?
My life is set in wrinkles cast
Upon my face, I wear my life
My sons and dearest wife
Some happened in the fire
Some took form because it was dire
I prefer the ones that came from smiles
A raised brow to see for miles
A ripple around my face pointed up
I wouldn’t remove a wrinkle, it's been my cup
May 22, 2019
May 22, 2019 at 5:37 PM UTC
I sipped upon your creative juices,
and drowned, another finger,
into that gory darkness
of thought;
these canopies breathe softly,
as I curl my fingers
and straighten my eyelids
to take another nap;
Yet that dying fetus haunts me-
it’s misted face still echoes
as an unwanted ultrasound,
of bubbling cysts;
I tried ******
yet the spirals scream:
in this pregnant mind-
and refuse;
So deal with me-
You’re mine.
Yet,
You’re born
...and never alive;
Oct 13, 2009
Oct 13, 2009 at 11:31 PM UTC