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Listen to the sound of wolves
And zombies who are often cruel
Vultures hovering, seeking flesh
Must keep on the move, no time to rest.
All of this for an adventurous trip
Nobody warned about the risk
Or gave a clue of what lay ahead
For fear out there is one of dread
Running forward no looking back
One false move could be the last.
Footsteps approaching, something is near
Shaking the branches causing fear.
The echoing sound of haunting cries
That awful feeling of peering eyes
Now this is the end, no more to be
Watching horror movies on my TV
That is all enough has been said
I am tired now, so I am off too bed.
Bus Poet Stop Jun 2018
~for those who will read this and weep~

the quiet ones,
the silent Job ones,
who quote not from the
Book of Lamentations,
but author their own,
based on-the-job experience

localized versions of cryptic elegiacs
accepting the wooden crosses borne,
stepping up to the
unrequested unforeseen,
then buried under, burnt alive,
yet never relieved by dying,
nailed by words, stronger than iron,
promises sworn, promises kept
with no ending date relief,
promises by and to themselves,
but not for themselves!


the wearers of crystal glass shackles,
adorned with decorative locks for which
no key did the maker make,
nor any divine creator
dare conceive an early release,
never no escape contemplated,
for the lock human, unrepentant unbreakable,
a decorative useless metaphor gesture,
a blunt “life *****” advertisement

I compose amidst a
bus pond of mismatched city folk,
a tapestry of ages colors and differing views on god/no god,
none would believe that as the bus sways me,
it’s in rhythm to holy choral music,
hundreds year old,
divinity masses and motets worships,
where one human can hide temporarily
a safe house,
to calm his questioning relentless
from the horrors of no answers,
for when the mind has no solution
to the rough and tumbling lives,
lived in glass shackled confinement,
the poets desperation equals theirs


summon eagles to transport these imprisoned,
but the shackled refuse,
I come to them but they wave me off,
I go crazy for once I was enslaved,
thirty years war that left devastation,
from which so many poems created

so I speak with heightened regard
of one who planned futures for others where his
non-existence was a founding father (ha!)


but the day came and
I was released by my own inactions,
but means nothing until a way to
away found
to release the yet bound early


got a couch, airline miles, hundred dollars
in my pocket and an unrelenting need
to save them, a consumption disease,
the glass shackled, at ease,
won’t rest till all are freed
this my creed
no one left behind

these cyber words do not mock
for they are unbounded, set free,
when
the flesh connects and the needs of the flesh
are stronger for they are in heart conceived
Jaxon Thomas Jul 2019
Crimson carpet floor,
Buzzed by the silence; drip, drop
The pendulum swings
Mary Zollars Oct 2017
Before I looked forward, I looked at the sky
I looked at birds whose numbers will die
I looked at the plane threatened with tragedy
I observed the moon conquered by humanity

Before I looked forward, I looked to my right
I looked at the gas stations that filled me with fright
I saw the grass littered with trash
I looked at the stores begging for cash

And before I looked forward, I looked to the ground
I looked at the bubblegum blackened and browned
I saw the asphalt crumbling fast
I looked at the coal which once was vast

So before I looked forward, I looked right behind
I looked at the coal burnt sky drifting high
I saw the foundations of our nations
I looked at the people ignoring the implications

Then I looked up, and I looked straight forward
I looked for an end to all our horrors
I saw that soon it would all be done
And I looked forward, and I saw the sun.
Naveed Murtaza Aug 2019
The Past Horrors,

And now Chaos,

Followed by Angst,

Fixed by Lies,

And then, False brief relief,

That escorts throes;

And,

The throes endured by father,

for the son,

turn out to be,

The Past horrors
Ivo Yankulovski May 2014
A word is there for your expression.
Is it time for your confession?

The night is dark and full of horrors.
I wear my mark to seek my honors.

No one sees the divine in me.
All is dead and waits for me.

Gods regret about the light.
I will vanish from your sight.

A Dream exalts upwards this world.
The others lead us mostly swirled.

True words wind off my mind.
I will never leave you blind.

A code is there for me to find.
Deeply hidden and always undefined.

Everything appears one of its behind.
But shatters your illusions once combined.

Stand up and break this truth in parts.
Create a world made of arts.

No one brings the pain aside.
You better take it as your bride.

There is no second paradise.
Drop your eyes and do this sacrifice.
Come join us in the garden
Your army days are done
Sit down and take it easy
Enjoy soak up the sun.

Now you need no longer worry
You will never be going back
Relax no need to hurry
Just forget about the past.

You say it's hard to carry on
Leaving the horrors of war behind
You often have those nightmares
From behind the enemy line.

So look now toward the future
The poserbilitys they are vast
There is that new horizon
Even though it's hard to grasp.

Come join us in the garden
Leave those fearful days behind
Look at all the lovely flowers
Representing peaceful times.

Look at this gardens beaughty
The war just had to end
Who knows what lies ahead of you
Your enemy could become your friend.
From the days of war come the time of peace
After the second world war came that new horizon
Never the less wars still continue.I had a friend who suffered PSTD.
To me that says humans are not designed for war.
Andrew Rueter Oct 2017
You act callously crude
Like Cronenberg's brood
You keep the body horror
In the naughty drawer
I feel my body's poorer
So you convince me I'm rich
Then treat me like an itch
And scratch
To detach

You invited me to your chateau
Then left me on this plateau
For my beating heart exploded from my chest
Once I foolishly entered your nasty nest
There I lay
As immobile prey
My body was infected
By your touch
And my mind dissected
Way too much

You passionately present me with body horror
I really resent you for being a shoddy sawyer
Cutting me down but not completely
Your lackluster love travels obliquely
Dislocating my horrified heart
My rib cage begins to part
As my mangled love
Escapes with my blood
My fingers are breaking
Trying to carry the relationship
Happiness I'm faking
When you crack your elation whip

When I'm powerless to the *****
I become showerless in a hurry
And my skin starts to rot
While I lie on your cold cot
You're my unforgiving cop
And the horrors never stop
Graff1980 Sep 2018
I look for compatriots
in this callous and cruel
world.

I seek allies who will help
me overcome
the horrors that were done
to everyone.

I long for
the warm storm
to wash away
the wicked muck
of too much
hateful stuff,
deeply paining
dark rhetoric
that wealthy men
generate,
to create
fear and hate.

I wait
subdued
by the desire
to inspire
in contrast
with a need
to find peace
from a
spiteful past,

but even among peers
I am alone.
40 years we have lived in the light and baunty so bright,
then comes 40 Years of darkest night.
Our town sleeps one last time in our lovely homes before we set off for the land of safety and light.
The twilight is here to the town's dismay,
the horrors come forth from the darkest pine-forest beyond our friendly place.
The town here's the evil waking in the dark place beyond and sounds the horns to board the ships that will carry them to safety from this soon-to-be horrid place.
We left a lovely town in the shadows of death,
we will return in 40 years to reclaim what we have left.
Good luck to those who stay behind for we are the lucky ones that flea from the coming endless night.
Those who stay will face their ugly nightmares,
but fear not for we will be back to bury your bones beneath our lovely Town in 40 years.
Whether you're brave or stupid we shall not know.
Death awaits you beneath the snow.
Good luck you poor soul.
Copyright Michael Robert Triska July 2018 This is a Dungeons & Dragons 5th edition game called Endless Night. The players are besieged by all manner of ****** has the 40-year night Falls over the town and the town villagers have all left the village for safer climates.
ghost queen May 2019
death is coming, it is a dark point on the horizon
it will be here, sooner than expected, the planet is dying
why are you preparing for a future, the future
why are you denying it is happening, sticking your head in the sand
going about, living carefree, when your children will suffer, millions will die

do you need a quatrain, a burning bush, to see the horror racing towards us
nostradamus didn’t see it, but we did, like a slow train wreck
the air will burn your lungs, the oceans scald your flesh
by the time you react, you will have reached the point of no return
your children are an army of dead men walking
their bodies catching up to their environmental fate
it is too late to cry, it is time to die

what will we do, how will we choose, who lives, who perishes
your cozy lives will disintegrate in social chaos as individual fight for survival
our former rules and norms will vanish, as the strong and ruthless vanquish
you will witness horrors, etched into your mind, re-dreamt every night

scream and cry, it could have been avoid, such is the tragedy of the commons
complacency of the masses, mass graves of the innocent
gods will die, civilizations will fall, as you huddle, shaking in a dark corner
Darkness, by Lord Byron , 1816, year without a summer

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/3322429/pale-horse/
Growly Wolfus Jul 2019
End
Life intolerable
Death inevitable
Desires insatiable
Things unreal

Words unspoken
Evil awoken
Vows art broken
Pain, thou feel

Fearless leaders shamefully hiding
Within cowards, still confiding
Helpless people slowly dying
Horrors thou hast never seen

Demons unleashed from their cages
Hellish, endless fire rages
Now unto the end of ages
Sins of all the world run free

Acts unthinkable
Power unimaginable
Disease incurable
Rots our souls

Gates of Wrath
Flank Satan’s path
Splitting in half
All he controls

Bowing to our God eternal
Pray to leave this world infernal
Careful not to wake nocturnal
Monsters of abysmal night

No response art thou receiving
Being led by hope deceiving
Finally, art thou perceiving
No escape, for all wilt die

Torture endless
Methods boundless
Leave thou breathless
Still afraid

Pain unending
Death descending
Hand extending
But betrayed

In this hellscape, thou art living
Only in the flesh existing
Forever art souls suffering
The carnage surrounding thee

Abominations now released
To feed on fear and the deceased
Destruction shalt never be ceased
Souls ****** for all eternity
I wrote this from the notion of the end of the world...
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