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Shane Leigh Nov 2018
A fine feat under darker skies when he left again in the mourning hours, and I woke again in the morning hours. Had I have held longer, tighter, I would have no poetics in steady stride. I find it is comfort that I fear in the deepest hours, alone and to myself, I dream – not often thinking. Dreams made real by gentlest touch of my thigh, my breast, my neck, my chin, then my cheek. He will not rest for I will not rest in the tint of a blood-orange sky following a dark deeper than the depths in the pit of one’s eye.


Cry and I will bid away in silence at which you will no longer need to worry: not of the mourning hours, nor the morning hours. We will not be bothered any by the dark where I will no longer want a gentle touch for it will be cold - cold like a chilled night in the palm of my hand; but this chill is not cold for I will have seduced you and I will be warmed again in the morning hours.
© Shane Leigh
Tawana Aug 2018
Death he follows me wherever I go Werther it be in the depths of the forest
Or the deepest of seas death he follows me wherever I go.
He follows me in my dreams painted with the face of an angel
As we dance on the dirt of the earth, death he follows me wherever I go.
He follows me into the darkness and covers me with sadness, I tell him I don’t want him while he screams that he loves me death follows me wherever I go.
He lays next to me as I wake and sings songs of the days to come, death he follows me wherever I go.
He wraps his arms around my body and bores his fingers in my soul, death he follows me wherever I go.
He whispers in my ear when I try to speak and wraps his hands around my throat death he follows me wherever I go.
He lays on top of me as I sleep running his wicked finger down my body death he follows me wherever I go.
He pushed himself into my life and I fell in love with him. Death I follow him wherever he goes.
This poem is about falling in love with who I truly am instead of hiding under a ruse and being the person people want me to be or doing what people expect of me. At the same time, it is also about my anxiety and how it feels at times just having a large looming shadow over me.
Caio Consoli Apr 2018
When life Ends;
It comes Along;
He and his Friends;
Waited for so Long;
The end is Near;
In the Night;
Fell the Fear;
Try to Fight;
They are Here;
There's no Escape;
And you're Mere;
Just an Ape;
He is Nature;
Honorably Unstoppable;
And to Capture;
You're not Knowlegeable;
Life isn't Fair;
You'll Lose;
And in Despair;
We shall Choose;


He's Sneaky;
Death's Calm ;
Also Tricky;
On his Palm;
Just Surrender;
Do not Taunt;
With no Gender;
It will Haunt;
What have you Done?;
It passed By;
You had just One;
Oh My...
You won't Rest;
Death's Endless;
In this Nest;
Of Greatness;
For the Reaper;
You'll Fall;
Be a Sleeper;
That's all.
The one, The only
Sonia Ettyang Sep 2018
You're a grim reaper
Looking for a soul to devour
A mind to hack and a body to axe
Your empty eyes and that evil smile
Can't hide the fact that you're dead inside
You got the Jezebel vibes
Sound like a saint and feels like the devil
Forbidden is your tag
Dead and gone, your heart's nowhere to be found
Luring innocent souls into your empty shell
Got that charm that disarms
You're a grim reaper
A grim reaper
© Sonia Ettyang
Reem Jun 2018
a little girl ran across a field of sunflowers.
when she reached the end of it,
she was met with a much older pure being.

“what lies beyond, God?”
“what lies beyond sunflowers,
are moon poppies my dear.
moon poppies are eternal, ever blooming.
they don’t belong on Earth,
only here, at the end of the line.
moon poppies are prettier than the moon!
might even compete with your eyes,
and the song you were singing yesterday.
would you like to see one?”

“must i die to see a moon poppy, Eternal one?”
come, i’ll show you around.”
Silverflame Aug 2018
my old futile dreams
make the windows all misty
ripping up the seams
blood mixed with ancient whiskey

a smile around the corner
lures the naive mind
******* up the world order
another death wish signed

overhead, brick by brick
the november wind stands still
heart oozing of homesick
empty thoughts keep my glass refilled

delusions cover my sight
faraway lights blink with eager
fixing the crooked night
dinner with the grim reaper
Everyday I wake up with the storm in my chest
No, you don't know nor understand
I am okay or somehow I look okay
My mind is clear,
My heart in turmoil
The knife in my hands ready to stab my heart out
I am exhausted, yet I want to ****
End not your life but mine.

I am ambitious
Sinner for her ambition
Deserves nothing but a life sentence
Behold, the disappearance of my presence

Eyes are watching.... judging...
Do I deserve their piercing gazes?
I've let down the people in my life,
The ones that really matters

Now, I am surrounded of booming laughter
Thy name, hold up to shame
Ridiculed for trying to achieve a star so far
I should have known that it's impossible to fly.

This suicidal note is not for you
It is for me, for I need to calm my nerves
For I am holding the knife that is ready to rip my heart.
Enigmatic Sep 10
Fear is the trap that confines all
Fear is holding hands with the grim reaper
It will haunt you to your grave
Taunt you in your dreams
Tie you back with the strongest rope there is and the hardest knot to escape from
Fear takes no time to find you
Takes no time to hypnotise you
Distorting your beliefs, questions are all that linger
Yes fear is strong but we go on
Individual death is not enough.
Cities of death are not enough.
Entire civilizations of dead, now dust,
And they are not enough.
Extinction events are not enough.
Galaxies of death. Infinities of death.
Extinguishment of all life everywhere
At all times past, present, future,
Real and imagined. One last time,
Eternal and absolute death.

I read a story about men in long black coats...
A rose lay in an open grave, the essence of beauty in death.
Eternally resting your eyes to sleep
This is the slumber in death.
A complete state of peace of mind
This is serenity in death.
Knowing you can any moment be acquainted with it,
This is the reality of death.
When we born
with the first breath we take
from that moment it's a step towards death
this is reality
this is not a myth
we push it to the back of our minds
so we can learn to live.
Shadow Dragon Oct 2018
Diamond shaped hearts
cracking into two
forming elegant earings
for you to wear
once the reaper comes
and invites you down.
Just like beauty hurts,
so does love.
Sam Aug 2018
Why can't dying be delightful?
My feverish smile
Pathogens far too strong
I've failed this trial

I'm facing the end
My blood boils within
This cancerous fate
Carries my soul away
Crafting up pain
As the medics embrace

A dance with the darkness
I won't last too long
Carry me under
Where the sun fades away

Lost to the coffin
Finality's somber
Led by the reaper
To eternal slumber
No breath in my chest
I'm finally at rest
Moments Before Aug 2018
I have stared into the beckoning
for far too long

Against the white of missing home
diving as the doves and swallows

Addled from the letting blood

Reborn from a shattered ****
the ashes of a drowning child

Hands my mind hands my eyes
dream in arrows and vines enclosing
I love the one, the wolf whose stalks
like death does autumn leaves

Clinging to the pride of nature
life escaping from my being

Fingertips are tracing the heartlines
buried in a coffin of roses weightless

No dagger can touch my dejected skin
Every sharpened point begging for sin

From which the hole means more to me
than the crown atop my head
knowing myself from the cauldron
a roaring flame set underneath

From which the whole means more to me
I've placed bandages on cuts too deep

The sister who speaks to me in riddles
the long lost friend

The forgotten souls
never forget

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Anya Mar 6
Youthful soul who risked your prayers
Do not let your mind be taken
Forget their fear and well known snares
It was not you we had forsaken

He of bone and ghostly drape
Who greets us when we’re ill
Do not disown your late escape
Until the dying lay still

Man of marrow protect his lie
As many have seen it so
And it is why the virtuous die
As it is a life they would forgo
lX0st Nov 2018
In the night
I find myself
Insane, profane
As if bred
From flame
Celestite May 1
from day one he held her fragile hand
tugged her along the cliff's edge
watched her through even the longest of days
or peered throughout the green garden's hedge
he tugged a bit harder the older she got
until her skin drooped like elastic torn apart
fed her alcohol like a bottle to a baby
popped her pills till it paused her heart
As he'd comb his hands though her soft brown hair
streaks of gray followed the strands he once brushed
he'd press his black lips on her sun spotted cheeks
and place a rotten finger over her mouth whispering, "hush"
he tugged her night gown once more in the rocking chair
as wind from the open window brushed by with a chill
he held the jagged dagger up to her neck
although his intention was not to ****
as he sliced her open, the scythe hit the ground
her eyes of glass finally stood still
he brushed her hair behind her ear and whisperd
"i promise, my intention was not to ****."
They walked away from the old rocking chair
hand in hand like it was from the start
because although life gives you your pulse
the reaper steals your beating heart
Khoi-San Jul 2018
Extermination decapitation
Nocturnal obliteration
Armadillos anteater bafoon
Typhoon heatwave...
Grim Reaper
No grave can keep Her...
Men march on as to heaven
Twenty four seven
Three Six five days
Ten different ways
Passionate professional
Daring sharing nurturing
Caring...Monsters within Minions
Amazing people aren't they
There is no substitute for hard work
Just observe Ants
There is no substitute for hardwork
Just observe ANTS not a lazy bone there
Imagine the Queen becoming A motivational Speaker?
Dani Jan 10
Creeping crawling
Waiting stalking...
You sit there in wait
As if a planned date

Of which, I do not know
Why are you staring little crow?
You sit and watch beating hearts
'Til the harvest starts

I almost tune out the evil laugh
That you bellow from deep within your wrath
And almost forget where you reside
That is, within me, deep inside

Your jar of souls collected slowly
You take your time being unholy
You go into hibernation away from the watchful cavists
You do not mind though, for winters calm brings great Spring harvests

You feast and feast devouring bit by bit
You take piece by piece encouraging me to submit
Fighting the pain,
Fighting in vein...

Tearing me down, nonstop
As if I your crop
Little crow caws in joyous evil song
Release me from your grasp, I beg all night long

You come and go
And reap what I sow
Taking my strength and will to fight
Chomping down into flesh throughout the night

Released once more, you hide away again
I almost forget, but you have written it in permanent pen
You wrote "Never forget, sweet child, I am you keeper.
The Soul Reaper."
Cavist: A hawk which is of proper age and training to be carried on the hand; a hawk in its first year.
A symbol of strength and protection for me.
Húmblëkídd Apr 2018
Soul reaper, night creeper, dark angels and spirits teasers.
With no hearts or hearts of ice that will not accept you as teacher.
But beware of their lust, they lies that can make you cry,
Because only the light can shine to show your path in the night.

Soul reaper, heart stealer, evil doers and demons pleasers.
Who stay up late, with no hope but faith, that lurking out your gate.
To come in at night and take a life, leaving a family in fright with hate.

Soul reaper, evil redeemer, satan the saviour of all broken dreamers.
Why now, why here, why them at this time and hour.
Yes death is assured to every being, but why other's are earlier.

Soul reaper, night creeper, dark angels and spirits teasers.
With no hearts or hearts of ice that will not accept you as teacher.
But beware of their lust of lies that can make you cry,
Because only the light can shine to show your path in the night.
CK Baker Oct 2017
Iron bench, open sore
dragon rock, three in score
flesh on body, tortured soul
arms high, in hell's hole

Corner bulb, neon light
drake hotel, second flight
jolly pop, rizla plus
open flame, behind the bus

Broken fixtures, tully hat
channel swimmer, at the bat
blind alley, words of cuss
dealer waving, in a fuss

Grim reaper, boys in blue
super bee, armored shrew
****** sips, swollen glands
potpourri, on demand

Black death, huddler's arch
beat the cold, and summer parch
toothless grin, ****** glare
obituary, to be shared

Dead of night, decontrol
cheeva tar, black coal
east central, chinatown
mr. freeze, is coming down

Foot soldier, skidder row
chicken feed, and white blow
silver spoon, casted hand
demons surface, on demand

Frantic sounds, below the glass
poison waiting, to be passed
crack pipes, over coat
bodies flat, begin to float

Gospel sounds, from union square
friends gather, deep in prayer
guardian angels, now deployed
thornton park, without a void

Covenant house, in holy charm
welcomes all, with open arms
salvation spreads, on chapel row
kindness that, cannot be sold
Mary Gay Kearns Sep 2018
My friend dressed in grey
A round neck jumper rests
His head on the armchair
Of years and sleeps briefly.

He is my reaper of hours
Gathering in the last joys
Folded head behind that
Soft embrace of his hand.

Love Mary ***
Yes it is true I am the Reaper...but I don't seek your soul, I harvest your smile. Don't want your spirit but I do love your style.
Won't want your sins, I prefer a win-win.
Don't crave your blood,
Cleaning up's such a dud.
I just need the laughter, the butterflies in your chest, the look in your eyes that's sighs..."you're the best".
For all to read but make no mistake....this is penned for MY girl....the Queen bee herself, the Speed Demon Angel and my Twin Crimson Flame.
Irah Rahim Jan 2014
Today I wrote a pathetic poem again,
With the pencil of soul that I had sharpened nights and days before,
I then tied it to an old, weak pigeon's feet,
To be sent out to unaddressed land—
Carrying my sorrow and gloom along.

I've always been a hopeless soul,
Dreaming about peace of heart-
Which seems to only exist 6 feet under.

Now I'm waiting by my window again,
Wishing for the pigeon to return,
With a poem tied to its feet,
With the voice of the Reaper,
Coming for me, here at last.

King May 2018
Would you run?
Or would you fight?
For freedom?
For country?
Or legacy?


Where would you run?
or who would you fight?
When battles are waged,
with a swap from left to right.
Who's going to have,
the privilege to be free?
When civilizations are smashed,
sunk and taken by the sea.
What nation,
can survive?
Would there be victors,
from either side?

Who's going to welcome you home?
And make a movie, about your valor and bravery?
Which books are going to speak of you?
When there's no one left to remember history.

This is the finale.
An ending without screams.
For there shall be no more future,
a ruin to all dreams.
Everything shall perish
in a blink of an eye.
When you see the iron reaper
descending from the sky.

The end of the world.
What a sight to see.
I'm cracking a cold one.
When we dance to world war three.
Bill Johnston Apr 28
dark matter tired and
riding gravity waves-
lonely grim reaper
Bants RJ Jul 2018
I’m alone, with smoke and bottles.
With an itch around my neck,
my feet kicks off the bench.

Surrounded by darkness,
a figure has come to jest.
“Did you do your best?”

Feeling hypoxic,
I try to shake my head “No.”
I look at him whilst my feet kick, longing for the ground.

Lighter by the second,
darkening complexion,
I silently scream, “No. No. No.”

With knowing eyes,
the angel sighed,
raised his scythe, ready to chastise.

Although red, my eyes see the light.
But wait, this doesn’t feel right.
Mr. Reaper had nothing to do with me tonight.

My back felt the cold of the floor.
I’m dying no more.
The ancient one cut my rope.

“Don’t.” he says to me.
“Promise me, try to live.”
But I see him nightly.
A cradle of scythes lay in a chariot.

You reap what you sow, I grow plans.
Plant them in my mind, let them expand.
Watered with thought,
Spruced with consequence,
Implanted quietly, with utter nonchalance.
Meanwhile, in society
I digress entirely.

Later when fruition has come to bear,
A portion of the harvest will have been ensnared.
The scythe has a name: Benefit Of The Doubt.
Don't fear the reaper,
Fear without.
Opportunity, patiently.
Lizzy Jul 2016
i sometimes think
that i've defeated the reaper
that lives in my finger tips.
the reaper that commandeered my hands
and made them weapons of
self destruction.

he lies dormant
long enough to convince me
that he's found another home.  
but he takes me hostage
every now and again
to remind me he's here.

i forgot the thoughts
of an early death
and lived like i was planning
for next year.
i've been expecting a future
that i'm not sure exists.

but the reaper has made me
recall the consideration
that i may not be fit to live
a life as long as i would like.

as of right now
i have no plans to interrupt this life
with eternal sleep.
but i cannot promise
that in some time
the reaper will not convince me.

so while he sleeps
while i still have time
theres so much
i need to do before i die.

i need to feel love
without the fear
of that love being expunged.
i need to find my God
whether he be the one
i've been shown or not.

i want so badly
to look at myself
the same way
i look at a flower.
i want so badly to see
what others say they see in me.

i've always wanted
to be something good.
a good daughter,

and i have this desire
to help where i can
and not need any myself.
i want to matter
in a life besides my own
and hold value above my worth.

i don't want to
be a burden anymore.
i don't want to be
a pressing responsibility on anybody.
i don't want the few i love
to feel obligated to pick me out of
my own disasters.

i worry i won't fulfill
these aspirations in time.
the reaper will wake
and take control again
this time with the force
of ten thousand men.

ten thousand men
wielding my hands
instead of swords.
they turn my hands against me
as they had been turned before.

this time i will not survive.
such an incredible might
will devour and destroy
this fragile self i defend.

but what does it matter
what i want?
theres so much more
things that are so much bigger
than the desires of a deranged
little girl
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