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Christian Ek Aug 2014
My pen is a wand. It can write a curse or a powerful charm. My pen is a mirror. It can show you a monster or a beautiful figure. My pen is a key. It can free you from a trapped door or it can lock you inside that door until the oxgen runs out and you can't breath. My pen is a weapon.  It will fight righteous battles or make a gruesome dissection. My pen is a balancing scale.
It is a balancing scale because it tilts when the yin & yang of my being begins to out weight one other.
Nothing is safe from my pen if i choose it not to be, my pen writes freely without filters or censorship.
My pen is a ship in the sea unable to maintain equilibrium set on a course to land. One day it will stay still, but on that day my pen will run out of ink.
harlee kae Sep 2014
on days like today
i  can only pray
that my life will end
in a gruesome way.
Aural auspice austerity audible , augur aorist actuator , accidence ambience acoustics .
Counterfactual categorical imperative hubris .
Anarchy iconoclasm, invertible investiture, objectified manifest.
Chicanery dynamism's fealty.  
Ethology's entelechy, zoomorphic zoolatry's social contiguities, élan-vital's apotheosis, oneiromancy's apotropaic.
Chagrin ; fecund cogent apposite germane , inane inert inertia innate , propinquity habitation, proximity parameter perimeter peripherals .
Manumission gambit alluvium aloof , putschist kitsch , pandemicly phatic futurity fatidic, annex annul, extraversion embezzling euthanasia extortion.  
Extravagant exorbitance flirtatious flamboyance, flippantly flighty flit-ness.
Laborious beleaguerment, hypercritically meticulous tedium, diabolically maniacal dementia brusque macabre abrupt.
Ominous phenomenon portrayal spontaneous synchronous.

Financially responsible fiscal policy , plenary plenipotentiary fiduciary principle .
Incarnate encephala enunciate , synthetically conjugational conjecture juxtapositional adjunctly .
Noumenal sentience semantics.  Precociously petulant pedantic antics.
Zenithal azimuth entity zeal , transpicuous opacity , in extremis extremity cantankerous cantilever capacity .
Fulcrum fulgurous fulham presumptive.
Spanned collapsible feasible, vicinity victual vigilante villain, execration eventuation evocative vindictiveness vendetta vial.
Atrociously impetuous impudence impromptu innuendo juncture.
Ephemeral metaphor semantics flaunts , ***** affectation exserted protuberance .
Sepulcher stratagem objectified manifest , protractive analysis dimensional delineation .

Impetus intrigue intuitional intrepid , impertinence important , inadvertency inapplicable , initiate innate interpreters intervene intricacy.
Investiture annuity equity indemnity capital appreciation .
Preeminently preemptive retrospectively retroactive , aegis vagary incite.
Quixotically enrapturing mesmerist .
Sycophant swagger asymptotic hyperbolic, estranged ensemble orchestration .
Histophysiology mendacity somatology morphology metamorphosis, blasphemous farcical fugue preterit orchestrations.    
Terrestrial equestrian tellurian terrene, spatiotemporal telemetry tactician.    

****** matrix apex axis crux , actuarial acuity incursive .
Semantic dialectics eclectic synectic’s , wanton wayward warranty evitable.
Catalyst , relative rationality / rational relativity , circumstance contingency .
Incessant barratry omnipresence presage , decadent arrogant , irksome ire Zen.  
Grotto grouch gumption .
Bailiff rake-ness rails , prerogative presumptive judicature.  

Carousel ceaselessly ceremony chaos character charisma , clambering clamorous clangor .  
Catatonic phonics , concoct catenary concatenation , conjugationally conjunctive clairaudience clairvoyance .  
Ambrosia elixir libation inebriation , mirador bartizan panoramic tableau.
Citadel pinnacle pique piquant , altruism endemic intrinsic indigenous innate , existential allegorical .
Prosthesis pseudopodium prognostication , crude lewd , social stigmatism blind , ghastly gruesome grotesque meld .
Bizarre bazaar demonically deviant denizen , grimacing gremlin greaves gauntlets gamut catalyst abstracts .
Hideously horrible heinously horrendous awfully terrible , imagination's immaturity impromptu innuendo juncture , nuance ***** ,   incarnate encephalic enunciate .
Trajectory sordid transposition interlude rubato hi-jinks , nimbus nimiety nihilism .
Aura roan rainbow mare.  

Explicate zoomorphic zoolatry , exogamy of homogeny ontological ontogeny .
Astral projection prophylaxis protocol , telepathy teleportation .
Extraneous extemporaneous , embark embargo extradition , transcendental accession ascension , ecstatically euphoric meld .  
Deontological probity interstitial endemics , agnate aggregate amalgamated anathema android .
Translational interpretation , epistemology audacious pugnacity impunity.
Executant emulation simulation , evocative malfeasance mens rea  , geomancy effete.
Maieutic fallow feral .  apropos ipso facto ergo , carousing marauder syllogism .
Apostrophe means talking to the dead or perhaps those who aren't present; my use is a little bit looser, talking to the clairaudience of clairvoyance.  Astral projection distance traveled time spent.  Formidable foundry foyer fracas.
zebra Sep 2018
the cosmos
a web of plantary oppositions squares and triangulations
curses and blessings
demons, humans and gods
friends and enemies
each a constituent
a revolving carousel of heavens and hells
the macro, an umbrella of spilling stars
like shattered glass in flames
outer and inner stone & gas planets
wandering infinitely
like strays
others in tight gravitational ellipses and eclipses

the elements of fire air earth and water
from the most subtle formless
to rocks flames oceans and the air we breathe

disjuncture
in a  
a mix-meister
a gruesome churning mouth swallowing our delicate membranes

and we wonder
why
we are in pain
why
we are nourished by flesh
as we ourselves are consumed
filled with blood and nothing
and deadened by marking time
all hungry shells

and why
we wither to dust
as do suns and moons
and gods themselves
all of us children of monsters
and corpse eaters
born of magnitudes
episodic collisions
and  harrowing creative destructions
the dead living and the living dead
with eyes that flicker only on half a landscape at a time
a holloween
of pyramids and bones

always running from wolves
because we are meant to be eaten

okay my darlings
now
lets try
focused breathing,
and boundless light

lets try
being Hindu
Scarlett Aug 2018
my clumsy limbs
                           held together with wet cement
              taught rubber bands
                         struggle to bind my flesh

I am but a mess of unimportant matter
another aimless being to fill the space    
unique for my twisted thoughts  
hysterically pleading with a calm face                    

speaking warped words i do not mean
         lips sealed like the lid on my boiling ***
                      dumping oppressed feeling into its contents
                                     bubbling over sweetly burning my raw skin hot

blistered I hide behind my cotton disguise
my misshapen body covered in a gruesome sweat                    
     sickening wounds throb for the sight of others                          
witness my plague of dry sobs and cigarettes                        

and so i shriek silently like my sister and father
hold my tongue saturated with sour emotion
my poorly constructed moth-eaten being
self sabotages in a desperate motion
the oppression of a disheveled being in hopes of better presentation of self for others
Flavia Nov 2013
Once upon a day or night -- Wait, it was day, there was a light
a light, which shone upon a moonlit drive so dark and drear.
At keeping track, I'm sadly slacking. Forgive my memory, it is lacking
memoirs of this day of days I could not -- would not -- hear.
But now alas, alan, alack, something gruesome did attack, my dear.
Something's **** head did rear.

Indistinctly, I remember, was it June? July? November?
Moments burn together as I recollect the fear.
And though he knows it gets to me, he will never set it free,
the truth of all the memories I used to hold so dear.
The truth you chose to hide from me for days, turned months, turned year.
But no, I will not shed one tear.

He held my hard heart high in flutter. Stomachs full of bread and butter.
Our love could not be jaded, for he traded tea from beer.
And though we were the oddest pair, I thought by now he would not care
how people chose to say their puns of nuns and hateful jeer.
Of wolves and sheep, of awkward sleep, of hunters hunting deer.
I thought we had our life in gear.

Sadly, though, I was mistaken. Blast, that awful wretch has taken
my whole soul and everything I previously thought mere.
He broke it off, and with a cough confessed, a darkest truth repressed
of everything, how twas a lie, and that the end was near.
And with four words, a looking glass of sorts he handed me to peer.
These the blue-eyed snake hath spoke: "Honey, I'm a *****."
Dated a guy who turned out to be ***? Here's the poem for you. In the style of "The Raven".
Stephanie Frank Dec 2016
Behind these stone cold eyes of grey
Is a companion loyal come what may
Through the night and through day
Loyalty forbidden to go astray

Behind this unreadable ****** expression
Is a heart sculpted in unlikely fashion
Ready to love with blissful abandon
Ready to hate with gruesome passion

Behind this ***** nonchalant flamboyance
Is a very well hidden calculative spirit
Very unwilling to leave life to chance
But very willing to cross the sky limit
Umi Apr 2018
A crimson day unfolds with sunshine,
Horrid, the creature of hatred creeps around and blocks the sun off gruesome dark rainclouds summon up from the east, counciling,
The mother of purity, caught in endless fury as her child was taken from her, before her very eyes, an eternal spring dream, shatters now,
By her own mistake, she invited prohibited emotions for this creature, The angel of hers she wanted to take under her wing and raise, was now gone, as if it was all an illusion which is lost due time, due evil,
A sea of flowers is blooming, a warmer season has arrived finally, but for her misfortune, her inside remains cold and distant to her grief,
Raging storms within her clouded her mind, she can't even think straigh but to believe, of what a bad mother she must have been to let this happen to her most precious treasure, ah demons of ones past,
Repressing her true feelings gave her headaches, but it was alright because the pain would surely fade, then she could be pure again,
But deep inside she knew that for this child she had given up a part of herself, so maybe things would be different, even if everything returns to its old shape, or rather if everything appeared that way,
Mother Purity would never be the same again, as her daughter faded,
After all, even she is only human.

~ Umi
Ylang Ylang Jan 2018
Went down, slippery cold stairs
Spiraling down, words on walls,
The paper sheets?

Heard the music down there...
Down... Down...
I've heard it before;
Down... Down...  Rumble down...
An underground celebration,
                      So I went - down.

        (the cave)
Infants were there, dark rooms,
Bathing in the boiling red wine,
Laughing madly in the fumes,
The ceiling and walls were moist and dripping.

These babies, visages of chimera,
Evil grins cutting their faces,
Evil smiles, gruesome masks
and cigars in their hands, claws...
          -Stop!!!

This I will unleash,
One day, whiskey, liqours,
Yeah.
Beers, drinks... rumbling.
Calm dark surface of the lake
At night
And the carnival nearby,
Mile away or so...
you can hear their sounds,
muted slightly;
faint lights of torches,
at the other side of lake.
Weird tribesmen
Praising the summer solstice
With howls, maracas,
Tiny bells, dance,
Fire.

-But listen to me now!
Now, when you hear me,
Look here, look closely.
Put your hand in me,
Can't you feel I'm almost boiling?
I'm no mud, I'm a clear water,
Almost as a spring!
Swift and clear - and hot.
                                
                           ­        and dark.
Pure of Stars Oct 2018
i wrote about a girl who always looked for lightening bugs
she took her time to smell the roses
march with gentle care and love
and oh how i broke when i realized this wasn’t all she was
she wasn’t really in her garden of pretty flowers and exotic bugs
instead she was a place that no one knew of
dark and gruesome painted walls
with words so nasty pointed above
it must be selfish for me to think that
she must be alright
when really all those lightening bugs were light in my life
Baqir Talpur Nov 2018
There it is,
A blank piece of paper
Looking at me like a homeless child
Asking me to fill it up
With love and care.
But I have got nothing.
Words lost, feelings deaden.
Eyes dry and heart frozen.
Sitting here, hopeless
Looking back, speechless
I Feel its pain and heart break
But I couldn't do anything
Except for thinking
How could i be this gruesome?
How could world be this gruesome?
Shane Rowe Oct 2018
Where is the beauty in death?
I ask,
A figure of light answers
"I have never looked beautiful in your mind,"
"When a cloud of darkness consumes you, you see me as a gruesome way out."
I have never imagined you as something graceful, I answer
"I have only been **** because you want me too quickly."
I shiver at my truth,
It echoes in the depths of my soul,
I did not reply
"I am complicated and painful, but never when one is ready. Never when their clock has stopped ticking on its own."
Why has mine continued,
Why has it felt as if the world cursed me with time?
"I am afraid you'd have to ask life that, you have not given him a lot of attention lately."
I am in between,
I feel stuck,
When will you come for me?
"I will hold you gently when the time comes, I promise you it is not today nor tomorrow."
What if I invite you graciously?
"Do not wish for me, I am not a wonderful savior."
But what do I do with this agony? The agony of living?
"You continue on like the rest, you will be able to, I have seen your clock, it is a strong and lasting one."
Being hopeless is annoying. So here we are. If you are reading this, hold on. I hear it is worth it.
Brandon Conway Oct 2018
Smoke signals from a silent cigarette
float to the heavens and linger
in the mucky conscience of regret
resting on the temple, my forefinger

Thumb lifted to expose
a metaphorical gun
countenance in prose
staring at a midnight sun

When will that monster again ****
another that I love,
Why did I so feel
like I could best the powers from above

I created a ghastly Adam
and I dare not create an innocent Eve
my future I cannot fathom
all time left to grieve

I will chase this gruesome snake
no matter where it slithers
across ****'s frozen lake
this calamity summons me hither

My final and only ambition
is to cast a life to silence
his and my cognition
will clash and bite in violence

I created a monster
and a monster created me
Madness! How it so saunters
and wails as if a banshee

Look over on the frozen horizon
a horrid shadow stalks
I, a fire stealing Titan
will march out to solve this paradox
Jason Lingaya Mar 11
Here there little fella

Here there

C– l – o – s – e – r

Down the aisle

Follow the sign

Tick-tock

Teases a clock

In the shadows

Be brave hither

Heroic never

Trust your host

To guide you

Through an abyss

Of unprecedented bliss

Jack was a wimp

The Ripper I am

At your service

Hesitating still ugh

Never mind fella

Pray hang on

One moment more

Jolly and bright

The darkest alleys

Are my quarters

The austere grounds

On which I Rip Rip Rip

Gluttony is the name

Of my game

Instead of teeth

Dear Lord

Mine are grim lethal

Razor sharp blades

And my throat

A gruesome One-Way ticket

No wonder my stomach

Knows no rest

At your service

The Ripper I am

The infamous

Snowflake Moray Eel.
Childhood fishing memories from Poste-Lafayette, Mauritius.
Arke Aug 2018
pull my skin back and mark incision lines
cut my flesh open in jagged streaks
the smell of iron and steel delights
wait for the knife to hit muscle and sinew
slice through viscera and veins alike
it's always been this disgusting
messy, trickling blood and intestines
horrific and gruesome to behold
this is what it means to see inside a person
the sticky stains of good and bad
fat globules and disease and infection
dead cells and organs, tissue and bone
I am disgusting
but you cut through me
and saw light and darkness
the core of my very being
and its surprising anyone
could still love me after

but you did
Joliver Aug 2018
When I was young
I found amusement
In my ability to sleep through storms
And other calamitous events
It seemed so silly to me
That something so obvious
Could go by unnoticed
But as I've gotten older
The nights have gotten subtler
The nightmares have
Become vivid reflections
A gruesome parody of life
I startle awake most nights and
I don't sleep so well anymore
-
I wonder when I stopped being
A deep sleeper
And began fearing
Waking up a second too late
Shelby Mar 31
Dear ex lover...

Our love was water
Refreshing but it left me needing more to survive
The words you spoke were intoxicating
I became easily addicted
Our relationship ended a year ago
I'm still thinking about you
I shouldn't have left
You loved me more than yourself
Showed tenderness and compassion
This letter was supposed to be an im thinking of you
Not that I still love you
I miss you
Do you miss me still?

Love
Your girl


no no...


Dear ex...

Why must you run through my mind
Dipping into the inner pools of my serendipity
Night fall brings no comfort
As I rest my eyes for a deep slumber
I'm still startled awake by remnants of a 3 am phone call
Waiting to see missed call displayed across a bright screen
And a voice mail engaging in another pointless fight you created
Please leave a message after the....
Baby wake up
You're supposed to answer
I'll be waiting for you to come over
I need to find sweet release
Give me what I need
Or else there'll be **** to pay
My memories of you have a few genuinely blissful moments
But those are over shadowed by gruesome visuals and agony
I stuck through everything you did
So I wouldn't have to hear how worthless i was
And that I wouldn't find better than you
I stuck around hoping that I could admire the roses wrapped in a walmart bag
only to realize it would only be one time I received them
because you had to
and they were the result of a heartfelt apology
that would cut deeper than the thorns
I held too tightly
crying over the hatred I felt for you
as blood darker than the red roses trickled down my ivory skin
I hate you
but I will always hate myself more


With regards
Your ex


no no....


Dear abuser....
This will be the final draft of the several letters I ripped up in the trash
You don't deserve it
But you kept invading my peace
So here's what you wanted
Here's your ******* closure


I loved you
Before you turned into the demon you swore you never would
Because a man that calls himself a Christian would never do what you did to me right?
Stories were told of girls you damaged
Why was I so naive to believe they were lies
It was that cunning smile and sugar coated words
Making a man that could do no wrong in public
But a monster behind closed doors
Proving the stories weren't lies

You showed me love wasn't one found in movies
It was never going to be a fairytale I longed for
No
Love was shown when my clothes were off and I was submissive
Still knowing the touch of your coarse hands
Running across my skin when a slight breeze hits the air
I've scrubbed my skin raw with hopes I wouldn't but to no prevail
Love was holes punched in the dry wall above my head
Love was loving what my body over my mind had to offer
You told me love was ***
But *** never meant love
Love wouldn't leave me shaking alone in your bed
Hoping the door didn't fly open in rage
That i forgot to say good morning
Scared whether the day would bring a fake happiness
Or
Knowing our true love was another fist to the gut
With tears flowing out of mascara blackened eyes
As you took what you wanted
Again
Again
Again
Pleading intensified your ****
Tears got you off
My pain was only valid when it was able to make you gleam
Your true smile was only shown with my back pressed against a hard box spring
I love you was only whispered when you were finished
But don't get me wrong that was love....

Sincerely
Shelby
Andrew May 2017
I could've sworn I saw a younger version of you
going in the opposite direction on High Street
I wanted to stop and say something
But I had to die a gruesome death
It's just that you looked like the edition of you
I'm ashamed to have tainted
And we've been down this road before...

Like the time we saw that guy hit that telephone pole
I knelt in the muck with a stranger in my arms
His fleeting life transfixed me to his world
But once life returned
My interest was gone

Similar to the time I saw that fox dying in the street
I left the solitude of my car to gaze into it's primal eyes
Without communication
All we could do was cry together
I couldn't decide whether to **** it or care for it
So I did neither
And just drove off
I understand it may seem cowardly
But the thought of it living and continuing
to suffer and survive was too beautiful
And the thought of responsibly nurturing it was too repellent
Not to mention those things can be dangerous
no matter how small they appear
I guess what I'm saying is bad things happen when I leave my car
Usually, I drive with the windows up and the doors locked
Loneliness fills the cabin
I opened my doors but nobody entered
Only tears filled the cabin
They cascaded out onto the road
Forming ice in the subzero winds
I lost all control
And just before I crashed
I could've sworn I saw a younger version of you
going in the opposite direction on High Street
Grace Conde Oct 2018
I exist
on the border
between Reality,
and the Imaginary.

I breathe in belligerent Black,
and Withering whites.
I am incapable of grays,
a gradient of gruesome Grief.

I dance on the Border,
exhaling exuberant fragility,
my border is made of glass.

And I rise from the ashes,
a Byproduct of the
bridges I've burned.
Craving soothing touch,
Yet silently seeking
Incriminating Isolation,
Addicted to my own destruction.

A shattered soul dutifully
Dances on the Border,
Held captive by her sins.
Trapped between Good
and Bad. Happiness
and Heartbreak. Lost
and Found. Death
and Resurrection.

Born on the Border, a
Simple Figment of
Immoral Imagination.
Mr Morningstar Nov 2018
There's a body in my bed but a whole in my chest, I try to spit it out yet I always digress cause I can't focus on it for 5 seconds without dying, a little inside like a bird who can't fly or the biker who can't ride. My mind is a war zone but I'm a battle hardened vet, **** won't claim me and heaven doesn't want me yet. My  body keeps fighting with a need to survive so out of this dark hole I will try to rise, more pain less pleasure a gruesome endeavor but necessary for my life to get better, a freed mind ravaged and robbed blind stripped of his rights by my emotions all the time, there's a body in my bed and a hole in my chest sorry I just noticed I digressed
-VNC
Bob B Oct 2018
The cauldron bubbles and sputters and pops.
Odors from a foul witches' brew
Fill the mansion. It's called the Nightmare
On Pennsylvania Avenue.

A ghoulish warlock babbles gibberish,
Spreading deceit, anger, and fear.
He summons his lackey ghouls to his chamber.
They bow to the ghastly profiteer.

Their incantations reverberate
Through the rooms and down the halls.
The din stifles the voices of reason
And bounces off the windows and walls.

Witches assisting the grisly assembly
Grovel and spew nonsensical chatter,
While friendly ghosts, horrified,
Grab all their belongings and scatter.

The leading warlock raises his staff
To silence all the ear-piercing shrieking.
"Our work here has barely begun,"
He shouts, "in a manner of speaking.

"We have a lot more poison to spread
To circulate anxiety and doubt.
All we must do is stir the ***
To give them something to worry about.

"Fan the flames of division and discord.
My techniques are tried and true.
Keep 'em guessing; then you've got 'em.
And then you cater to the chosen few.

"We have more rivers to poison,
Coastlines to alter, lands to sell,
Coffers to fill, coffers to rob,
And voices to quiet. Welcome to ****!"

The glowering sycophants dance and cheer--
Thirsty for blood, eyes agleam.
"Dishonesty is the best
Policy," they fervently scream.

Oh, it's a frightening Halloween night
When one's worst nightmare comes true:
The gruesome, macabre, spine-chilling Nightmare
On Pennsylvania Avenue.

-by Bob B (10-31-18)
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