"horrify" poems
The end of the affair is always death.
She's my workshop. Slippery eye,
out of the tribe of myself my breath
finds you gone. I horrify
those who stand by. I am fed.
At night, alone, I marry the bed.
Finger to finger, now she's mine.
She's not too far. She's my encounter.
I beat her like a bell. I recline
in the bower where you used to mount her.
You borrowed me on the flowered spread.
At night, alone, I marry the bed.
Take for instance this night, my love,
that every single couple puts together
with a joint overturning, beneath, above,
the abundant two on sponge and feather,
kneeling and pushing, head to head.
At night, alone, I marry the bed.
I break out of my body this way,
an annoying miracle. Could I
put the dream market on display?
I am spread out. I crucify.
My little plum is what you said.
At night, alone, I marry the bed.
Then my black-eyed rival came.
The lady of water, rising on the beach,
a piano at her fingertips, shame
on her lips and a flute's speech.
And I was the knock-kneed broom instead.
At night, alone, I marry the bed.
She took you the way a women takes
a bargain dress off the rack
and I broke the way a stone breaks.
I give back your books and fishing tack.
Today's paper says that you are wed.
At night, alone, I marry the bed.
The boys and girls are one tonight.
They unbutton blouses. They unzip flies.
They take off shoes. They turn off the light.
The glimmering creatures are full of lies.
They are eating each other. They are overfed.
At night, alone, I marry the bed.
9.2k
I never did know when to shut my mouth,
So I guess it’s no shock to feel it smarting against your back handed swing,
But to be honest, I bet it hurt you more, does it sting?
Can you feel it in your bones ?
Copper taste against my tongue,
I’m choking on my own blood,
Does my manic laugh horrify you?
This Cheshire smile plastered across my face,
Do my cheekbones slice your knuckles?
That’s going to leave a bruise,
Not that you care,
Twisted my head back by my hair,
My body is peppered in greens, purples, blues,
But with the way you turn your head down you’d think I was the one abusing you,
When you wrap your meaty fingers around my windpipe does it give you pleasure?
What goes through your mind while your holding my life in your hands,
How many of my ribs have you cracked upon your feet,
Only to lick my thighs later like a treat,
One of these days it’ll be my fingers around your neck,
And I won’t stop squeezing till your dead,
Until then use my body to your hearts content,
This dangerous dance,
Like egg shells beneath my soles,
I’m waiting for you to slip on the blood you painstakingly draw from me blow by blow,
And in your own sick way you actually love me,
Convinced the only way to save me is to hurt me,
But I’m not that sick or twisted to believe the words you croke out,
One day very soon it’ll be you who shouts,
Ya I never did know when to shut my mouth,
So I guess it’s no shock to feel it smarting against your back handed swing.
Dec 14, 2018
Dec 14, 2018 at 9:57 AM UTC
Satellite dishes line the sky
Sending signals and on standby
Can't see the horizon
Many buildings rising
Concrete jungle horrify
May 31, 2018
May 31, 2018 at 7:27 AM UTC
I work all day, and get half-drunk at night.
Waking at four to soundless dark, I stare.
In time the curtain-edges will grow light.
Till then I see what's really always there:
Unresting death, a whole day nearer now,
Making all thought impossible but how
And where and when I shall myself die.
Arid interrogation: yet the dread
Of dying, and being dead,
Flashes afresh to hold and horrify.
The mind blanks at the glare. Not in remorse
- The good not done, the love not given, time
Torn off unused - nor wretchedly because
An only life can take so long to climb
Clear of its wrong beginnings, and may never;
But at the total emptiness for ever,
The sure extinction that we travel to
And shall be lost in always. Not to be here,
Not to be anywhere,
And soon; nothing more terrible, nothing more true.
This is a special way of being afraid
No trick dispels. Religion used to try,
That vast, moth-eaten musical brocade
Created to pretend we never die,
And specious stuff that says No rational being
Can fear a thing it will not feel, not seeing
That this is what we fear - no sight, no sound,
No touch or taste or smell, nothing to think with,
Nothing to love or link with,
The anasthetic from which none come round.
And so it stays just on the edge of vision,
A small, unfocused blur, a standing chill
That slows each impulse down to indecision.
Most things may never happen: this one will,
And realisation of it rages out
In furnace-fear when we are caught without
People or drink. Courage is no good:
It means not scaring others. Being brave
Lets no one off the grave.
Death is no different whined at than withstood.
Slowly light strengthens, and the room takes shape.
It stands plain as a wardrobe, what we know,
Have always known, know that we can't escape,
Yet can't accept. One side will have to go.
Meanwhile telephones crouch, getting ready to ring
In locked-up offices, and all the uncaring
Intricate rented world begins to rouse.
The sky is white as clay, with no sun.
Work has to be done.
Postmen like doctors go from house to house.
2.4k
I've never liked the expression
'Sticks and stones may break my bones,
But words will never hurt me."
I think it undermines the power of words
It's undeniable that words have an impact on people
Letters strung together can sting a person's soul
When they are spoken with a tongue used like a whip
Words evoke passion,
They inspire us,
Make our blood boil,
Horrify us,
And yes, they can hurt us
To say that words can't hurt,
Is to demean all that words do
Look at Marat,
Martin Luther,
Shakespeare,
Darwin,
Hobbes,
Freud,
Orwell,
Paine
And tell me words can't change the world
Words are what I turn to when I have nothing left
I'd rather my bones break,
That would be much better,
Than to lose my dignity,
To have a record of voices
Tell me I'm useless,
I'm stupid,
I'm fat,
I'm never good enough
Always on repeat,
Always on my mind,
Always ringing true
Maybe I'm over analytical
Maybe I care too much
About things said in the past
But here's to all the "I love you's"
All the "I hate you's"
To saying "I don't give a ****
The pen is indeed mightier than the sword
Because your words
Are what made me turn the blade
On myself
Mar 8, 2014
Mar 8, 2014 at 5:38 PM UTC
when my father smoked,
i was a child.
terrified by every inhale.
the thought of his tar riddened lungs was unbearable.
but he was a lost cause,
long lost to the tar stained tobacco on a stick.
I would clutch my teddy in the back seat of the car,
fearful that my lungs may ingest such vile and villainous fumes.
when I smoked I was a teen,
dragging on the stick I once feared so much.
inhaling and exhaling as if my life depended on it.
I recalled the fear of a child's eyes, myself.
so afraid of death and toxicity
but now, seventeen,
I had long forgotten my childhood wish to stay alive,
to grow up
because I had.
and while doing so had learned that life is bleak.
my tar stained lungs don't horrify me like my father's did,
they push me further,
smoking faster and harder until I may become a small pile of grey and cremated ash kept carefully within a decorated vase upon a mantle piece,
an ash tray of sorts.
Nov 11, 2018
Nov 11, 2018 at 5:21 AM UTC
it will always fascinate and horrify me
how the people responsible for bringing you into this world
are the ones who make you rapidly sift through the file cabinet in your mind labeled "suicide attempts you haven't tried yet" in order to exit it
young girl,
you will scream at the top of your lungs
and they will call your cries crazy and your eyes will swell
young lady,
you will run down the streets of a city that will consume you
and you will pray it gets to you before they do
and you will age and you will return
maybe for a visit, maybe for a funeral, maybe for an answer
and you will be quieter, softer, and a little less angry
you might not understand why they pinned you in a corner
or locked you in the garage
or tried to quite literally **** you
you might not understand why they bought you plane tickets
and cars and shiny new things
you might be haunted by long car rides, equally terrible in silence or otherwise
"you know we love you"
"i know"
say it back
say it back, you ungrateful *****
you want to complain about how oppressed you are but they gave you everything, didn't they
everything money could buy, right
what else mattered?
**** your spiritual sanity and intangible desires
what kind of hippie nonsense are you whining about this time
ungrateful
******* ungrateful
then leave
run away (again)
you won't have us when you come back
come back
how dare you abandon us
******* ungrateful *****
don't you know we love you
at least say thank you
at least say thank you
at least say thank you
Sep 25, 2016
Sep 25, 2016 at 9:07 PM UTC
To a deprived Lamb
Death is my bed
A light
Which is not seen
Laid in darkness
In a possess form
For no reason
To be tortured
Am I a sacrifice
Living and Working
Into the horrible nights
Eating away wisdom and knowledge from dead foes
With uncontrollable views
Enters my soul
Where are they?
Crumbling enjoyment
To horrify inner self
Dismantle thoughts by combating
One's blemish life
Lewdness of words
Crossing thresholds into a chi
Feeding voices
Each night as daybreak
Storing a being forgone
Nov 19, 2009
Nov 19, 2009 at 7:13 PM UTC
IT'S NOT MY FAULT
i don't have any regrets
it's not my fault and i don't have any regrets
Because you are awful
you act like a terrible person
and you've been acting so long that maybe that's what you've become
I wish I could say to you what I've been thinking quietly in my head for years.
That if you really wanted to be connected to me you would have
Made room in your life for some other than yourself
You would have bought an apartment that could fit more than one bed you would have cleaned up your life and sacrificed a bit of your happiness for mine
But you didn't you stopped listening
To the point were talking isn't even worth it
You stopped wanting to know me and tried to project what you thought should be real
to the point that in your eyes i am two dimentional
You have broken me so many times
to the point were I'm surprised there is any of my heart left to love you
You have never been there
Never cared for me while I was sick
Never Taught me the lessons you should have
Never cared for me in the way you should have
But beyond this you blame me for all that happened and you tell
me that I will regret it
You threaten, belittle, and guilt me until I'm shaking
and even the words and tears are try to escape
I wonder what you think after these talks of ours
Do you think "Ah well done, you've successfully convinced her of your kindness and love, charitably and insurmountable generosity."
I wonder how far below football and laundry I am on your list of things that matter
It would make no difference how much I tried because even then you would go back to your despicable, insignificant, and hurtful ways just the same as it's ever been
How many times are you going to blame her you our problems
While you put in a half effort she gave everything she could give and more
She is by no means perfect but she never has put me down or let me down like you have and
You will never be one thousandth of the person she is
You horrify me
I am grateful that I'm an only child and that you have no friends because I would not wish your treatment on anyone
So as I sit here trying not to cry because of how much I would love to be able to hate you I think what I've been thinking for years when I'm around you
**** YOU
IT'S NOT MY FAULT
I HAVE NO REGRET
IT'S NOT MY FAULT I HAVE NO REGRET.
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 5:31 PM UTC
Embryonic visions
Slide in and out,
Induced insomnia
Creates
Crazed awareness,
Small auditory hallucinations,
Kaleidoscopic images
Burn the retina,
Horrify,
Terrify,
Electrify,
It's just the monster inside,
As real,
As vital,
As an *****
Aug 17, 2013
Aug 17, 2013 at 1:00 AM UTC
I can't write what I feel,
Not even if I want to,
Accept what you get from me,
Because the rest will horrify you,
I can't write how I feel about love,
Or how I think that its all just a fairytale,
Accept the smile that I can give,
Because the rest will drive you away,
I can't write about my emotions,
Or how I battle with all that is inside,
Mixed up into a constant frustration,
That always puts me on the brink of going mad,
I can not tell you everything you want,
Just accept what you only see,
I assure you its for the best,
To let the rest of me be,
Apr 3, 2017
Apr 3, 2017 at 5:19 PM UTC
I'm getting lost on this trail of my thoughts now I'm surrounded
Repressed how the shooter was dressed and how he sounded
Detectives saying recalls selective, I'm not clouded
But it's all boiled down to his dead and I've allowed it
Bang!
The gun shots rang out, his whole chest caved in
Body hit the ground, the older folks began their praying
Shooters car peeling as soon as they finished spraying
My mind's still saying there's ways that I could've saved him
But
Concrete beneath seemed to stick to my feet
I kept screaming, "you're not dead, wake up, you're just asleep!"
A horror scene, real things he always sees in his dreams
When nightmares control your life so much more than they seem
To
Checked the vitals, there was no trace of a pulse
Lost his life to some men who just shoot, **** and bolt
Men who rep to the death their colors, trapped with heat
But colors don't mean **** when you're covered in red, dead in the street
Dec 5, 2010
Dec 5, 2010 at 5:15 AM UTC
Black nights and the sound of you through my bedroom wall
Sing about her so you can see past your own skin
Flaws and fault lines captivate and horrify so you pick apart what you can
Young man trying to balance civilization with the old magic you once felt in your heaven that soon after became my hell
But don't cry for them
In time we all change
In time we all rearrange our feelings and heartbreaks
We all figure out all role models fall
But it broke you
And down you fell into a sea of your own discontent
The winter of 2014
Quiet brilliance never one to avoid a fight
You kick and you scream where you should lie back
And I loved you for it
Millennial abomination that you are
Spit your voice and chase her off your chest
Drink away the excess feeling and burn the rest
Don't you know that what the fire leaves untouched isn't your load to carry
Leave her along the side of the road for someone else to burry and pick up your megaphone and preach your gospel of self reliance on the streets
Born of Walt Whitman you speak of dependancy like a curse
But I know you need the stage to breathe I know you weak shouldered boy better than you know yourself at times
Though I only know you through the wall of your bedroom
I've watched you fight demons and cowards alike
Watched you been bruised and forgotten for years
Disciple of your innocence you were ignorant to the faults of your fellow youths
Pinned them up like prize fighters on your walls
Don't you know I watched it all
And one by one they fell
Unfaithful, thankless wretches and they took the life from you while you washed their feet
And you swore off dependency and trust for years on years and let it all go
And now it comes out soft and sweet through my bedroom wall
Let down and hanging around you sing for every ******* that forced their way in to your chest
It's a wonder you survived the rest
But here we sit after all.
Jan 11, 2016
Jan 11, 2016 at 1:02 AM UTC
Bored of information;
Our world has too much noise.
It has to shock and horrify;
What is wrong with calm and poise?
I simply have little interest
In celebs, their lives, their loves;
Or pointless social traffic;
Who wants to know you bought new gloves.
We really need to learn
To better choose our priorities in life,
The things that really make us happy
It is these that will ease our strife.
Jun 8, 2014
Jun 8, 2014 at 5:04 PM UTC
We came and saw our last days
In time pleasure will stray
No more happiness
We forget so this our last terror slay
In magnificence we are glorified in our own demise
Becoming wise within our judgments
Our souls reanch with lies
With no reply we detonate bombs
We are our own terrorists
we horrify our own lives
A lethal medicine
Cannibalism becomes physical forms of irrevalence
Sorting the evil by truth is this all revalent?
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 2:43 AM UTC
People think it's a disease. They tell me I'll feel better if I take care of myself, if I listen to my doctor. And I've tried everything I can to get better, but with no results to show.
After endless nights of emptiness, and thoughts that horrify my very soul, I realised that it never was a disease, it's an addiction.
Jul 3, 2016
Jul 3, 2016 at 10:12 AM UTC
Your moped.
disgusts me
Sometimes you take the 271 bus- passed, remorseless
You horrify me. Disgusting
Your nasal voice is your fault
You take computing while I'm convoluting
Over thoughts
Why couldn't I take computing
I saw a homeless man outside CIDA
I saw a homeless man outside CIDA
Why couldn't I be the homeless man outside CIDA
Your moped
Your lies
You disgust me, Liam.
Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 3:35 AM UTC
A snakepit, a lion’s den,
a second-hand shark cage.
The Big Apple, the Little Rascals,
everything after the Victorian Age.
These things scare me on sight,
but not as much as
Veronica Cartwright.
The Trix Rabbit with a gun,
The Dodgers winning a World Series.
Parallel parking with Mark Hamill,
Sesame Street conspiracy theories.
These things make me shake at night,
but not as much as
Veronica Cartwright.
The White Album, the Black Plague,
toenail clippers, salad bars and Disneyland.
The Richter scale, the Mendoza line,
Any and every last teenage boy band.
These things give me such a fright,
but not as much as
Veronica Cartwright.
Television reruns of H.R. Pufnstuf,
An opened jar of Miracle Whip.
The names of Frank Zappa’s kids,
vacationing on a Carnival cruise ship.
These things horrify me alright,
but still not as much as
Veronica Cartwright.
Feb 27, 2020
Feb 27, 2020 at 6:00 PM UTC
Since you've been gone, it’s been hard for me to think.
Since you've been gone, whatever I type or write
would always seem wrong and I just end up erasing everything.
Since you've been gone, I start to space out and don’t know what to do.
Since you've been gone, all i want is some sleep to dream.
Since you've been gone, dreams begin to horrify me,
not because they’re scary,
but because i’d rather stay in slumber
as I dream of the scenery I can never have in the real world
than to wake up and know some part of me is gone.
Since you've been gone, I tend to forget what is real and fake.
Since you've been gone, I feel lost in everything I do.
Now that you’re gone,
I realize that I can never be me.
I’m gone.
Nov 1, 2013
Nov 1, 2013 at 5:58 AM UTC
when have such tendrils of terrors
had such a strong and everlasting grip?
for as i stretch there is not strain but
i feel the bruises of the past days
as they only remind me of
the places I can no longer go
the reach of the mares
horrify the ones that have no experience
no matter their years
will feel the way some fingers crunch
delicate bones may bleed strength
into those who run into the grasp of the lost
i have not thought in such a long time.
the arms of my mind have not since been feeling
such as the numbness that takes over my mind
only allowing for a lose for any of these around me
i don’t think i want to be such a black hole
hiding my misery only makes the depths
all that more eminent
i was not that sure what all the others see
but i know in my wholeness that i can only
use my own eyes for such a burdening task
they may not see my sadness,
but any and all calls for help will be veiled
sometimes thinly and sometimes
under such a thick swimming smile
the branches of hope at the back of many minds
may have been living for such a long time
that i no longer see them reaching for me
but reaching for others as i lose my will
to be able to notice their bodies
and their angles within such an effortless and unforgiving planet
their grasp will not be lost to them no matter the meaning to me
Sep 26, 2016
Sep 26, 2016 at 10:46 AM UTC
sending shivers up our spine,
twisting our eyes to believe what we think,
unable to move because we have forgotten how,
staring at the thing outside the room,
the hands slowly slid inside the room,
wishing to horrify us more,
grabbing the **** to twist the door open,
the long creaking noise that makes us grab our covers,
the shadow looms over,
their voice was cracking and raspy,
"what do you fear, child?"
our words seem to be taken away from us,
we are helpless like a lamb when its getting preyed on,
the shadow only chuckles,
"you fear, fear itself."
you can't answer
no, you don't want to answer,
"how unfortunate for you child, for i am fear itself. "
the thing it was,
was my mind,
their was no shadow but only the thoughts that wash over me,
for our mind is fear itself
Feb 14, 2018
Feb 14, 2018 at 9:04 PM UTC
Your Pawprints
Always
Infeceted,
Frozen,
In Pain
With Time
Never Could
Fine
The One
Like You
The Star I
Could Never
See
Again
In The Hail,
Of The Snow,
Your Pawprints
Always
Leave
A Trace
Of Pain
That I
Always
Unfold
With Care
That Horrify
Others
In Misbelief
Of The
Harash Truth
That Always
Leads To
Isolation
Because Some
Wolves
Don't Understand
That Which
Others
Would Reject
Would Savage
For Any Purpose
To Only Help
Themselves
I Look Into
Your Pain
In Your Pain
In Your Eyes
It Freezes
My Soul
And My Heart,
My Tears
Always
Washes
Away Your
That Always
Makes Us
Closer
Love Until
The End
~Paris Styron~
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 7:52 AM UTC
This world, is disgusting.
Filled with wild beasts
whom we walk with and upon
everyday.
Beasts in disguise,
vile ignorance,
they horrify me.
I'm also a beast
and i hate my kind.
I have something different
something the other ones dont have
I dont know what it is
nor will i ever
But it's there
as a weapon
and a blessing
Feb 3, 2016
Feb 3, 2016 at 4:12 PM UTC
Six boys in blue are walking by,
Find a child who'll do or die.
Then one dies, to feed the flies,
They were caught off by surprise.
Five boys in blue are walking by,
With a child who cannot cry,
Then one dies, to feed the flies,
He looks into the flaming skies.
Four boys in blue are walking by,
They use the child to petrify,
Then one dies, to feed the flies,
Boys in blue say their goodbyes.
Three boys in blue are walking by,
Use the child to horrify,
Then one dies, to feed the flies,
Pumping lead into both eyes.
Two boys in blue are walking by,
They shoot the red boys, eye for eye,
Then one dies to feed the flies,
Screaming just to end their lives.
A boy in blue is walking by,
He knows they're coming, says goodbye.
Then he dies, to feed the flies,
The child ends him to terrorize.
Sep 26, 2017
Sep 26, 2017 at 5:21 PM UTC