"hannibal" poems
Half eaten corpses
and the monster's
still hungry.
High, as well.
Cast down,
to the brim-stoned
side of mind.
Hannibal's House Of Cannibals
are out, for a night on the town.
An all you can eat
pedestrian buffet.
Is just a
munch-munch-munch
away.
Jul 26, 2012
Jul 26, 2012 at 3:25 AM UTC
whom do you trust
solider, sailor, tinker, tailor....
what eyes see the meaning of the blind
what tongues listen...which lies
in the picturesque morning
beauty spins its deceptions with golden hued sunlight
weaves its hand puppet theatricals made of
fleeting wisps of smiles
kissing gestures weakly delivered
solider, sailor, tinker, tailor...
they gather round the dead man
some come to mourn the lost
some come to rifle through his pockets
some come to silently wait for their own fate
he sits in his worn chair
in a pool of lamplight
with a small hammer in hand
his spectacles on bridge of his nose
tapping tapping ever so gently the thin metal mask
tinker...tailor...sailor...solider
the uniform of his mind shifts according to his lie
his tool is always the deceptions and misdirections
a sly smile...firm handshake...a signature style
'to whom do you trust' is a phrase that troubles him
her perfume lingers in the air
years have buried the cold war
but not its warriors
not their handiwork
they dress the dead man for his burial
with his decorations and platitudes
with his shiny sword and neat uniform
with honors they lay him
with truths his secret they bury him
why did he do thus....to whom did he answer
to the tomb with his truths and lies
to the tomb
he gathers the long coat
and the umbrella
walks out in london's chill spring night
to a bridge
and throws a small box into the river
long years after the cold war died
these men of shadows still play
these keepers of the gate still watch for hannibal and his horde
solider, sailor, tinker, tailor
whom do you trust
Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 11:03 AM UTC
I’m a Polyglot Polymath, Microphone’s a Polygraph,
Manners of a Sociopath-Rhymin’ keeps me on the path,
Else I’d be hackin you up like a cannibal,
Pullin the Chianti out-serve you up like Hannibal,
Words heavier than Elephants invading cross the alps,
Under Armour over Body Armour-waistline fulla scalps,
From the Belt o’ the Celt o’ the Schizophrenic Sandman,
You’re triple teamed by -EC- Raps new Xmen.
I broke me chains,some say I went insane,
But it’s simple,all I went and did was grow a brain.
be the Bane of your life,while Mal plays Dark Knight,
A rhyme Super Villain with a verse of Dark Light,
The searchlights on-watch the cockroach scatter,
We speak Dark Matter while your brain gets battered,
batten down the screws-worldviews get skewed,
Mal and Sandman's Positively Mental Attitude.
It’s the original Irish OG rough rugged and ready,
Battling me is futile keep your hands steady,
I’m no pacifist,and if you take the ****
I’ll clap you with a fist like an obelisk,
That’s a grave warning,-global warming,
The Dragon of Eire ,skies look stormy…
Since cassettes and disks I’ve been spittin ****
That makes wannabee’s wanna slit their wrists,
The Sandman’s calling,come in and take a mauling,
Rappin since clappin one two and yes y’allin,
from New Aulins to saint Pauls my kin,
Are gathering for the quickenin,pulse races,air thickenin'
Highlander in a land cruiser,take your teeth out like a dentist
E.C’s BRUISER.
batten down the screws-worldviews get skewed,
by Mal and Sandmans Positively Mental Attitude.
Apr 26, 2016
Apr 26, 2016 at 1:36 PM UTC
Was there even a cause too lost,
Ever a cause that was lost too long,
Or that showed with the lapse of time to vain
For the generous tears of youth and song?
5.2k
The primal instincts are not enough
To tempt me away from the thought of you,
This love of ours is dry and tough,
Discarded the bones because I know we're through,
The urge to ****
The rush of the thrill,
Let me strike you with a poisoned dart,
Just to have another taste of your beating heart.
I'm just a lovestruck Hannibal,
I want to eat your love like a cannibal,
I'm a savage, I'm a sinner, I'm living like an animal,
But all I want to do is feed on your love like a cannibal.
Sep 11, 2013
Sep 11, 2013 at 5:54 PM UTC
You were a friend to the end but the urge to
do it finally closed myeyes, when I opened
them yourlife had ebbed away. Just silence
which cleansed the screams away.
I knew what I had to do, I had thetools ready
to do those unspeakable things to you, but never
worry your not here any more just a cadaver
that will soon be in pieces all over my floor.
I use my knife cut you from throat to your *******
whoops I just chopped of your meat and veg ****
it you don't need them any more. I play with
your ribs blood once warm now cold in my hands.
I think of a xylophone as I tap the knifes, dull noises
but they sound like musical notes, I smirk and laugh
a bit thinking of what you would think, as I play
musical notes down on your ribs and laugh some more.
I take your heart, it slips on to the floor, ok mate it
slipped from my hands, don't look like that you don't
need it anymore. I unravel your intestines as they unravel
over the floor, reminds me of spaghetti just needs meat *****
I have played enough, parts of you on me, I tasted part
of your liver like Hannibal lecture, I wish I could tell you
this but it tastes like horse.
I cut patches from your back, parchment a canvas of
skin so I draw, blood is my paint as I draw a skull,
then a dove you are free like the bird, no pain or
fear any more.
I feel no regret, you were a friend, but I use your
blood for hand print pictures on my wall as I
put it on my face on my chest. I write I am the killer
and now I am complete the circle of life is complete
as I get the knife and move it across then I paint
with my blood now across the walls.
I feel tired, but I am in a red sea of peace the room
once white now red is painted on the walls. I think
of what I have done, I cant help who I am no one could
have changed me I've done what I have done I'm at
peace now slumped on the floor.
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 5:22 PM UTC
The Isle of Print
What a place it can take you anyplace you can meet anyone I met Sandra Locke when she wrote about
Her relationship then her break up with Clint she told about as a child how she sold pop bottles at a
General store that was one that took me back but even more exciting was where she was at a place
Called Shelbyville Tennessee I know it firsthand one reason it is seventy miles from Nashville and is the
Tennessee walking horse capital and all so my wife was born and raised there until she was six we would
Take trips there quiet often until two trips we carried her parents to the family cemetery on horse
Mountain we have my wife’s brother fighting Leukemia he said thats where he wants to be buried but for
Now God’s mercy is preventing that I met a guy and I’m sure you have met him many times also his
Name is Samuel Clemens he got a little more famous name when he had one of his many jobs as a Mississippi
River boat captain they called him just like when they measured the rivers depth mark twain he was a
News paper editor in Calaveras County he brought a simple frog leaping contest national notoriety for
Ever after known as the Calaveras bull frog jumping contest I bought three acres for retirement
Unfortunately I made like a bull frog and jumped off the property I drove a truck several times into
Hannibal Missouri you got a quick leap in your heart and head as you thought about the great river
Running by and all of the characters Twain created two losses are recorded there of course twain met
A fiery personage that was even greater than him a space traveler with a glory all together wondrous went by
The name of Haley the other less known but my heart slows when I think of her eight years old blond
Blue eyed her father’s and mother’s pride and joy he was a pastor in northern Illinois she lays in her
Sacred rest in Hannibal until that great waking up day as time goes on I get less and less patient if it
Weren’t for so many precious ones in danger I would be tempted to pray come Lord Jesus. Well not done
By any means just going to stop for now plan on going and doing some hard thinking
Jan 9, 2012
Jan 9, 2012 at 6:27 PM UTC
Sky blue, purple shade
The finest silhouette
Complaints,
Oppression
Negativity
Whining
Summarized in two words
Black thought
Dark mahogany rocking chair by the porch
Reminiscing the folk days
Projected in all shades of grey
Gloomy settings but a carved smile on his face
As he lost grandma Grace to the hands of less melanin masks
Trampling over the rosy ambiance that still lingered till this day
Going back and forth in that rock motion
Wisdom poaching, selena Johnson
Still taking on the black thought
I will simply have to clean my basement, all the crap and negativity idly poking me
Do feel my wrath worth the nation 's pathetic despair
Don’t think I will not clean this attic that has false hopes smothering your arrogant smile
Wait for the Hannibal in me to shut you down
As I closely walk beside that butterfly
Resting calmly in my palm
Waiting for the murderer in me to crash its living shine
But you,wait for the Hannibal in me to shut you down
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 8:47 AM UTC
The cruciferous prophet sticks in my teeth-
I think I'd rather have a tidbit, of thief;
All covered, of course, in a vinegar sauce
With just a light dusting, of the true cross.
Some rarefied spleen, set sideboard,
With red vintage wine; A.D. thirty-four
Frankincense and Myrrh, baked in aspic;
And saved for last, Shroud Flambe: digestif.
Mar 8, 2010
Mar 8, 2010 at 6:17 AM UTC
This is not a poem, a poet wrote some white lies about Israel and I want to share the truth that we’re not told by our media’s.
Remember, we can disagree about things and still agree about a lot of other things.
If you search, you can easily find this information.
Most of it comes from Israel media.
Israel already had over 10,000
Palestinian prisoners locked up long before the Oct 7 when the genocide begin.
Men, women and children in their prisons with no path to freedom.
Not to mention the open air prison that the Israeli’s kept the Palestine society trapped in for the past 50 years called Gaza. Committing human rights violation against the indigenous people of the land.
The biggest percentage of all the people that were **** on Oct 7th, were killed by Israeli’s killing their own people because they were ordered to follow the Hannibal directive.
I suppose you’ve never heard of that, no? Then your news source is limited.
Last year in Israel, their high court decided that **** and torture in their prisons, being committed by the Israel army was no longer illegal. Most of their society did not want these prison guards to get in trouble for torturing and ****** the Palestinian prisoners.
All those things you claim some unnamed source told you, have already been debunk by many credible sources.
Hamas did not do it, Israel rapes, cheats, lies and kills indiscriminately. They own our leaders using AIPAC lobbist who have Trump by the *** (They own Epstein’s library)
AIPAC is the reason you believe lies. They own media and congress.
Their propaganda rules the networks.
And just in the last two years, Israel has started war with Iran, Lebanon and Syria.
And of course their genocide happening now to the people of Palestine. I don’t understand how anybody support them. But I’m not a superstitiously impaired Zionist either.
Jun 27, 2025
Jun 27, 2025 at 12:29 PM UTC
I was drinking from the skull
Of a long dead bird, I had eaten
It a while back, it tasted like
Chicken!!
But not much to the bone.
I wondered if I was like
Hannah,
Henry,
Hello
Brain remember it, any way
Mind did wonder past my
Teeth, tongue it slid like
That jelly mother did make.
I gagged a moment, but then
All settled not a zombie,
But not a bad tasting brain.
"Hannibal"
"Lecture"
"Lector"
Snuck down stairs, DVD on
I remember the noise and
"Clarice"
Remember pinkie raised
When drinking from a cup
Haha...
Its the little things that make me
Smile. How you doing there friend
He doesn't talk much now, smells
Funny too, but even the dead are
Company when you only have you.
Apocalyptic
Apocalypse
Stopped
Everything, screaming, crying, chill
Its not that bad no tax, no big
Brother looking down on you.
"Ok running for your life"
"Keeps you healthy"
Plus
"Eating leftovers mouldy in a bin"
*"What doesn't **** you makes you stronger"*
"Negative"
As I regurgitate it back to the bin,
It has its pros and cons
But I miss the chatter
The one on one,
"How was your day"
"You look tasty"
"Why you looking at me that way"
Knife to the side of the head.
"BOOOM"
"O'no you didn't"
Skinny little freak trying biting moves,
This isn't PAC MANtm fool.
You meet interesting people on the road,
All I want to do is have some
"Apocalyptic Chatter"
"Howdy Mam"
That's a big knife I say!!
As I pull out old faithful,
She screams I cant take that
And runs off screaming the other way
**Run ***** Run,**
The Apocalypse isn't boring
But I do miss the day to day chatter waking each day.
Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 2:29 PM UTC
First Contact
"How did I get here,I can't remember,
my brains burning out like a dwindling ember,
are those tears in my eyes?-no its pourin' rain,
I'm lying on my back in the bottom of a stormdrain,
hunted like an animal,but still I'm deadly,
like a wounded lion,you better bet ye,
will lose more men than I've already taken(taken sample),
the hunter hunted? I think you're mistaken,
I'm a one man army,armed or not,
you didn't bring enough manpower,have you forgot?,
that the sandman(badman,phantoms in the dark)
has more in his bite than you do in your bark,
it's getting dark now,tables turning,
tyger,tyger,my eyes are burning,
better keep your guard up,I've been confronted...
but how can you tell who's hunter or hunted? 16.
Riposte
Better count your sentries,I think ones missin,
when you see his blood glistenin your pants your ****** in,
should have been listenin,I gave you a chance,
now its time for the Sandman to do his dance,
like a praying Mantis I move so swiftly,
bullet's fly like locusts,but each one missed me,
the Locus and Focus of my 3rd eyes movin,
got your sentries rifle,but I won't even use it,
taunt you haunt you,flaunt skills I honed,
from a broken home,to the streets to battlezones,
catch you alone,smash your skull with a hanbo,
appear behind you from the mud like Rambo,
bodies placed like hannibal,a deadly scene,
you're a ****** housecat and I'm wolverine,
told your boss you could get me now you know you fronted,
cat and mouse reversed-YOU'RE the one who's hunted.
Denoument
Now I know who you are,and I know where you live,
and in this line of work I can't forget or forgive.
We were partners once now you've betrayed my trust,
taught you everything you know,now it's ashes and dust
your bodyguards are good,but they know I'll get ya,
more ghost than man,a modern day ninja,
leave you injured,begging for mercy,
but you know the concept is alien to me,
grabbed the bull by the horns,my hand you forced,
you're a moveable object,I'm unstoppable force,
force feed your limbs til you beg for death,
line your family up and slowly take their heads,
then I'm in the wind,gone like keyser sozey,
the word is spread,don't try to **** me,
you were my friend,but you crossed the line,
try to hunt the Sandman,"you're all ****** dyin"
Mar 27, 2016
Mar 27, 2016 at 3:36 PM UTC
the poppies are selling moonlight on the street
as Hannibal is marching hares
through the Needle. again.
and again
no one laughing.
simply. no one.
II
in the real winter where the wind bites
and the snow corrodes '
we stick a pin in the blizzard.
we set jewels in the crowning achievement
of our disaster.
III
paint black our lanterns
Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 9:24 PM UTC
Jack and Jill were two mentally ill verbally armed cannibals
Doing there best to switch their diet to farm animals
They found this rough, like eating crackers with cotton mouth, this task proved to be little more than tough
They promised each other no more cadavers, but a month after this, they called each others bluff
Jack ended up addicted to crack, dope, and smack
Cause the supply of bodies was beginning to lack, spinning more off track
He began to look at Jill more like a tasty snack
Jill took the pharmaceutical cryptic approach
A pill could **** her flesh craving will and keep her from feeling like a post apocalyptic roach
She too was starting to drool and think of Jack like a snack bar,
and couldn't help but remember her first taste when she bit the arm of that high school track star
One night when Jack was asleep, Jill began to slowly creep
Into his room she crept as he slept stuck the knife in and drained the blood from his neck
Jack was gonna be her tastiest snack yet
Jill always seems to forget
Jack is always playing games and putting her to the test
She ends up paying, for Jack knew their growing hunger would soon cause a mess
Jack stepped out of the closet
Jill pulled back the covers to see she just killed her own niece
Jack said "Haven't you ever seen "Hannibal?". "If your gonna be a cannibal, you gotta be smarter than Clarice".
-J.A.M
Aug 4, 2013
Aug 4, 2013 at 2:32 PM UTC
eight, nine
nine, eight, nine
Hello, father, spare me a dime,
and pay the mime with
five landmines;
**** off the bridge if
we've got time.
Appalachian Yeti-man:
set fire to the trashcan.
Call me hobo-stan,
and if the beard fits
grow it.
Show it;
show me the D.
Dentistry,
stay with me;
Explain for free:
"Dichotomy
of the mind"
thoughtfully,
for a time.
Robot-o me,
Mr. Oregato.
Set phasers to ****
stunningly.
Make fun of he
for bad grammar
and intellectuality.
He dumber;
me smarter.
She's aderall;
I'm martyr.
Destroy my innards,
Captain.
I need them not.
She leaves me rot,
and he feeds me Scott.
Scottie doesn't know
that Fiona and me
eat him in a van while
he's sleeping.
Cannibal,
call me Hannibal,
and she's the Jane to my
Tarzan,
pulling the fruits of
my loom.
Sep 4, 2013
Sep 4, 2013 at 1:40 AM UTC
Standing in the vast range of nothing.
With the assurance of thinking you're secure with her
while you spin that thought on the tips of your fingers.
She slowly creeps into your life.
Embracing her crooked smile.
The virus is dormant until you look a little closer
inspecting her deceitful optical organs
the skylight to her soul
The mutation starts to grow.
She slices you open and tempers with the brain
peeling a layer back at a time.
Injecting tainted love into your system.
The true Hannibal Lector.
Her cunning looks and soft voice making you think Its okay.
Holding your hand she leads you to the mirror
what a fool you are.
Her laugh starts to bleed through her teeth.
Now the picture is painted of her wounded soul.
Dec 12, 2013
Dec 12, 2013 at 10:40 AM UTC
This fairy tale is over
I know it's never our story
Maybe, I'am feeling not myself
In a mirror saw someone else
What's the mystery, no one knew
Not even I, not even you
We don't have an ending
But a beautiful beginning
Things I imagine and that I knew
Are not meant to be view
Things I did and forgotten
Places I've never thought I'd go
When I told you my dreams
You just laugh and left me with a smile
I play always this kind of game
You scream, run and try to hide
I prepare this and enjoy it every time
The silence surrounds you now
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 10:54 AM UTC
I was born in the congo
I walked to the fertile crescent and built
the sphinx
I designed a pyramid so tough that a star
that only glows every one hundred years falls
into the center giving divine perfect light
I am bad
I sat on the throne
drinking nectar with allah
I got hot and sent an ice age to europe
to cool my thirst
My oldest daughter is nefertiti
the tears from my birth pains
created the nile
I am a beautiful woman
I gazed on the forest and burned
out the sahara desert
with a packet of goat's meat
and a change of clothes
I crossed it in two hours
I am a gazelle so swift
so swift you can't catch me
For a birthday present when he was three
I gave my son hannibal an elephant
He gave me rome for mother's day
My strength flows ever on
My son noah built new/ark and
I stood proudly at the helm
as we sailed on a soft summer day
I turned myself into myself and was
jesus
men intone my loving name
All praises All praises
I am the one who would save
I sowed diamonds in my back yard
My bowels deliver uranium
the filings from my fingernails are
semi-precious jewels
On a trip north
I caught a cold and blew
My nose giving oil to the arab world
I am so hip even my errors are correct
I sailed west to reach east and had to round off
the earth as I went
The hair from my head thinned and gold was laid
across three continents
I am so perfect so divine so ethereal so surreal
I cannot be comprehended except by my permission
I mean...I...can fly
like a bird in the sky...
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 7:18 PM UTC
See beyond the struggle is Hannibal
eating the face of identity and smoldering the heart
the repetition of bewildering sequels
names that don't match and feelings that can't compare
the original is the peak of a syndicate to steal
where the prequel is death
being left to, cult film destitution.
Jul 18, 2011
Jul 18, 2011 at 2:02 AM UTC
A Roman, noble and Patrician,
moved his Legions into position.
The morning Sun was in their eyes
as they advanced upon Cannae.
The Day was hot, they lacked hydration
as they fought this battle of annihilation.
The hot winds swept dust in their eyes
as they advanced upon Cannae.
Hannibal troops seemed to retreat,
The Legions were in hot pursuit.
The Carthaginians moved to surround
the Romans on the killing ground.
Eighty thousand Roman dead,
Mars’ thirst quenched by the blood they shed
Their arms and armor cast aside
upon the fields around Cannae.
Fortuna always smiled on Rome
before this battle at Cannae
Rome’s Senators refused to yield
though their Sons lay dead upon the field.
In the Pantheon of gods
echo prayers from the devout
to a new god born of that rout.
Some say it is the god of doubt.
Sep 1, 2013
Sep 1, 2013 at 12:24 PM UTC
Radiates over me like
the moon casting a
luminous gleam of light
over our bodies.
Devours my soul like
Hannibal, feasting on his
most lustful,
most passionate
****
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 10:06 PM UTC
in loving you, every memory that i have of myself has dissolved into nothingness
coffee in the morning is no longer sufficient why
has my head become a globe that can barely balance on its tiny pedestals?
in my solipsistic dreams somehow i can see your silhouette
even in the solace of my slumber you still manage to penetrate my inner most and intimate thoughts
like a shadow
that strays from the light
particles that amass and then leave again
the daisy to my gatsby-esque ideals of romance and hope
shaky visuals brought on by a familiar melody that conjures a memory that has given me stockholm syndrome
you are the captor but i
i am a willing victim
if hannibal lecter could dine on his friends, you can have me as dessert
and it wouldn't matter, for my life
has till this moment, been devoid of the one thing everybody seeks
love, in all its permutations and essence.
Apr 9, 2017
Apr 9, 2017 at 1:31 AM UTC
Bits of twisted red metal
And puppet fur fall to the ground
“Ha Mister Rogers
can you keep your face now?”
Mister Rogers looked up
in a sort of watery grin
“Try as you might
I will still be your friend.”
“Ah, but can’t you see those
Of whom you adore?
They are lying right there,
Right there on the floor.”
Henrietta the cat, and
dear Trolley I see,
but they are just children’s toys
sad though it may be.”
Hannibal’s smile was a
little too toothy
“Wake up Rogers, my friend
Can’t you see that you’ve lost?”
“my dear neighbor, my friend
Life is not a game of puzzles and costs.”
Aug 16, 2010
Aug 16, 2010 at 7:21 PM UTC
She offered up her heart
Upon a plate.
He feasted
Jun 7, 2015
Jun 7, 2015 at 6:19 AM UTC
*speckled cityscape compulsion
<>
it is 6:40am.
the ending credits roll on a Hannibal horror film
that I’ve seen many times.
but it’s just an old rerun, familiar deviltry,
slept through it thankfully
the kitchen window gives up a sunrise,
but it’s just an old rerun, familiar deviltry,
a streaking swath of burnt and bright,
so oft described, the color commentary
previously immortalized by better poets
than me, easy found elsewhere.
the speckled cityscape in this pre-awakened urbanity,
it is their moment, these red flashes, all about,
tall buildings chanting “stay away from me”
to you sleepy pilots, looking for a strip to safely land
in a tumbled jungled of obscene density.
still, they highlight against a river of deep, bright oranges,
burning surrounded by the most beauteous array of shades of blue,
compelled against my will to thankful write,
for gifts such as these cannot be so casually dismissed,
cannot be willfully ignored, to do so, denies our genetic commandments.
a hopeless, thankless task to ask of oneself.
the perhaps intrusive. Sunday, maybe the babies
will visit, macaroons, pre-halloween bags of candy bars,
at the ready, pre-opened by small, tall inner children for sensory testing.
Milk Duds, Heath Bars, Whopper malted ***** Hershey white chocolate,
checked by adults for safety and quality control.
all these I see, in realized eyes and whimsical musings,
in perfect silence, for the Sunday city morning
is worshiping the coming day in a church like silence,
where each patron fills in the empty sounds
with hymns of their own making...by moving their lips
in fervent unspokeness
the sky river reflects more modestly in the East River,
for a reflection is always a second best version.
30 minutes later the real and the apparition both,
disappeared, and a palest sheer blue, white streaked sky,
just an old rerun, familiar deviltry.
why is the sun rising
is so worshipped,
for there will never be a full day of
just sunrise colorations,
but the speckled reds still
a true color, still showing,
on perpetual guard duty,
bidding adieu to its
morning lovers,
until tomorrow,
in my city of lips.
sun. oct. 20 2019
Oct 20, 2019
Oct 20, 2019 at 8:21 AM UTC