'Revengeful' poems - Hello Poetry

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Krys Pressey Nov 2011

****** ****** (song by Krystyn and Steff)

I want to feed on your blood
I’m so blood thirsty
So gut angry

You stood me up and it was wrong
You broke my heart so you will pay
I’ll get my revenge on you, so pretty

I’m dead angry, full gone crazy
You stood me up and it was wrong
She’s so happy, she’s getting flirty
She makes me ******* sick

I’ll tear up you’re ugly face
Rip your throat, drain your blood
Satisfy my revengeful thirst

There’s blood on my once clean hands
I love the taste, the coppery sweetness
The taste of my revenge

I’m so blood thirsty, so gut angry
You stood me up and it was wrong
She’s so pretty, getting flirty
She makes me ******* sick

I’ll smother your new *****
Choke her with my love, my hate
All my ******* anger

My thoughts of you when you hit me
Are my reminders, they feed my anger
I feel sorry for your new girl

I’m dead angry, full gone crazy
You stood me up and it was wrong
She’s so pretty, getting flirty
She makes me ******* sick

You’re so sick, the way you touch her
Don’t look for me any where
I’m all alone, cause you hurt me

I’m dead angry, you fed my crazy
You think you’re strong
But I was stronger

She was pretty, so, so flirty
And her blood tastes good in my palms
You caused her death

So you’ve read my diary?
Full of sick confessions
Now turn around, baby
I’m in your room, you’re not alone

You *****…

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Ted Hughes

Thistles

Against the rubber tongues of cows and the hoeing hands of men
Thistles spike the summer air
And crackle open under a blue-black pressure.

Every one a revengeful burst
Of resurrection, a grasphed fistful
Of splintered weapons and Icelandic frost ****** up

From the underground stain of a decayed Viking.
They are like pale hair and the gutturals of dialects.
Every one manages a plume of blood.

Then they grow grey like men.
Mown down, it is a feud. Their sons appear
Stiff with weapons, fighting back over the same ground.

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Flawless Contradictions Jul 2013

Abandoned admiration calloused with despair
A bottomless compass that leads nowhere
Impotent illusions that curse the starless storm
A revengeful wind swells undersea
Tracing underneath the sunlight

Beyond the aches of fingers
With handfuls of garden walls
Fragility that huddles impatiently
As the ivory magnolias flicker in the decay
Stains of the stagnant obscenities
As the nest of bones grieve
Crawling distances daring the dark
Outside the landmarks
We sneak into the tunnels
As a sheath of pungent amniotic poetry is found
Shattering as the sorrows erode
The appalling cracks stretching my skin
Theatrical anorexic anchors that pierce my flesh
With abandoned ******* and stinging hurt
The nakedness shrieks
With an intolerable shame
If I descend much deeper I will burst
I'll float through the cemetery because I'm already dead
The delirium has me caged

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preservationman Jun 2018

THE GHOSTLY SPIRITUAL GREYHOUND BUS

The hour of midnight of tomorrow dark
A vision like a stark
Fog thickened like solid mug
A Greyhound Bus Terminal ghostly in spiritual nature
Yet adding to the mystery appeared a Greyhound Bus
Driver and passengers were in nothing more than past spirits
They had often travelled this road many times
Flesh wasn’t there mark
It was a Greyhound Bus that just decided to park
The characteristics of the Greyhound Bus was the blinking lights
It became a circumstance contributing fright
But it will be a thriller starting tonight
The Stretched out Greyhound dog trademark with Evil on its mind
Car and Truck Drivers witnessed the disturbed revengeful Greyhound Bus on the highway
It was the look being the last highway to hell
The Blood was flesh thrown off the highway by the Greyhound bus
Most of the flesh had previously died
The spirits were on a rampage at Greyhound
Bus Dispatchers were announcing agendas and not schedules
The roll call being an assignment to destroy
There was no more happy in joy
The night was had a evil twist being fierce
The Greyhound Bus stretched had Dracula teeth and eyes being Red
A thirst to fulfill but with acceleration at will
There’s no time to be still
There was definitely evil powers having everyone being hypnotized
But it was the obsession of the Greyhound Bus under control
The number of the Greyhound Bus 1811
Years ago something on that one
The bus got into a terrible accident
Everyone died but Souls would return with a rage against the living flesh
Midnight will soon strike
Souls who died on that Greyhound bus 1811 will arise and walk the streets in rage
Midnight has struck and it’s too late
It was written on that very date
A hound bus will be bound and there will be no one sound
The town of Jeffersonville know all too well about the Greyhound bus curse
No time for any written verse
Souls have risen
Greyhound bus spiritual revenge having no wait
Again, it was anticipated
A night that would come
Don’t travel on Greyhound bus 1811 restored
There might be an evil plan having an accord.

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Oscar Wilde

Fabien Dei Franchi

(To my Friend Henry Irving)

The silent room, the heavy creeping shade,
The dead that travel fast, the opening door,
The murdered brother rising through the floor,
The ghost’s white fingers on thy shoulders laid,
And then the lonely duel in the glade,
The broken swords, the stifled scream, the gore,
Thy grand revengeful eyes when all is o’er,—
These things are well enough,—but thou wert made
For more august creation! frenzied Lear
Should at thy bidding wander on the heath
With the shrill fool to mock him, Romeo
For thee should lure his love, and desperate fear
Pluck Richard’s recreant dagger from its sheath—
Thou trumpet set for Shakespeare’s lips to blow!

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Hannah Gaines May 2016

In the snowy plains,
Upon the icy Russian lands,
Lives a spirit,
Whose soul is full of coldness.

The spirit was a Russian General,
Who commanded an army,
And had a wife and a son,
He loved them both with all of his beating heart.

One day,
There was a terrible blizzard,
And the army was fighting their rivals,
The General gave commands.

He met his demise,
By the raging blizzard,
Frozen to death,
Only feeling the revengeful coldness.

Now he roams the Russian nights,
Making horrifying blizzards,
Not showing any mercy to anyone,
Forever on the Russian snowy plains

#paranormal #russia #coldness #poetfreak

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Kayalabo Ngudu Nov 2016

To My Brother With Love

I Seldom express my emotions and
I wrote this for the Ngudu's to marvel and
For paps's and mama's heart to console

Though words describe, portray
And say a lot about a person
You are not just any person
Through the 18 years of loud mouth cursing
The raucous in the early morning
Shady and unpredictable plots
Being mischievous and devious
Being revengeful then forgetful
Disapprovals leading to arguments
The cause of the damaged Stellenbosch walls
Were the ceaseless and reneged brawls

Through the 18 years of living
I feel like I have failed
Failed to sum up the words that match you
Having them convey and having people understand you
But I feel the words do not get you
Like a lot of people that do not get you
If you knew him the way I do
The marvel of being a Ngudu
The marvel of knowing him like I do

Lightened my shoulders
You lightened my darkness
I love you very much like Maya Angelou loves her brother Bailey

Not only is he the Head Boy
The light skinned of the family
Nor the pretty boy of the family by default
He is a Master before kings
The doctors verified it on the birth certificate before Qamani
Rightfully on his high horse being all high and mighty
He is my inspiration
He is my motivation
The very reason behind my episodes of satisfaction
He is the Kid to the Son
He is Qamani Kideo Ngudu
My twin brother

This poem is originally composed by my nephew 'Songo Ngudu' dedicated to his brother 'Qhamani Ngudu' on his 18th birthday. Happy Birthday Champ #poetry #dedication #brotherhood #family #love

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ArthurDKid Jun 2015

First blood

tired and exhausted
both hard breathing
we've reached our limit
but there's no stopping

pushing each other to the wall
heating up with slapping
just waiting for someone to fall
down on the floor, her being pinned, sweating

not contented, I gripped both of her hands in one hand
then she wriggled, grunting, yelled each other's names.
pierced her with all my might; sliding it in one go.
She moaned but her eyes remains that i am the one to blame.

I pushed deeper and she moaned longer
leaving me with her final last breath.
from her and in my hands, i see blood
our fight finally ended, no more threat

I brushed my hair up; blood drips
a victory for a revengeful whip
from the window, heard the cop's siren
my face is nothing but a devil smiling

#****** #mature

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juan zavala Jul 2010

She Woke Up From The Dead

Dark starry night, all is quite.
Sounds of leaves falling flapping
and twirling a gust of scented nature.
Sitting alone in the dark pondering,
awake by memories like a rerun on a
Loop.

I Could just remember when I first
Set my eyes on her, my love the one
whos holds my heart in one hand and
the other.. the key to it. Beauty Unbearable
Shines light upon dark, cuts through
shadows and glistens with sun rays.

Im alone in the dark just sitting, rocking,
back and fourth like I have no self control.
I cant sleep phantoms whisper in my ears
reminding me of what I have lost dear to me.
"An accident!?!" I keep telling myself over and
over till its embedded to be well convinced.

No more my love is with me she sleeps
peacefully not temporary but eternity.
Her soul was lost from an accident I say.
No more but I still smell her presence her
touch I still remeber..but one day,
We argued while she cooks, her hand she
holds her ticket to death.(knife)

Cutting away on the table while we argue
I grab her to get her attention but she slips
down and with her, her death ticket.
As I watch horrified in shock she gasp for
Her last breath, I rush to her aid.
I looked at what ended my future, my everything,
my love..

Im holding her tight screaming to myself
but no words speak out. In a silence staring
into her eyes, my lips move telling her, begging
her for forgiveness. I kiss her to comfort
her letting her know that everything
will be alright. I look away to find help
but only to find emptiness, loneliness.

As I sit while she lays across my arms,
she gasp for here last breath only to feel
her heart take its last beat. No more she
calls for me nor her heart, I cried rivers
drenching her in sorrows and guilt.
Laying here lifeless only way I can keep
her forever if I was to bury her near me,
her home,her previous life.

Her body Im holding taking her to her
resting spot a dark shallow grave.
She deserves better my mind tells me but I
can't let a single soul know, soon ill join
my love so we can both be together again
just like it used to be...

Two days pass by but it felt like years crept up,
seconds became minutes, minutes became
hours, hours became days as if time just stood
still for a lifetime. I waited in my room no food,
no sleep, just to see my love would come back.

Midnight lingers outside wanting to
shadow over me. Im immune to darkness
only to accept it as my life style..but all of
a sudden scratching, crying, and pounding
outside my front door. I come to my senses
to discover only insanity like no other
only to hear an unexpected vistor late
night..

Walking pacing slowly hesitant to wonder
what could be the other side door this late
night, when all is dead with silence no trees
whistling no leaves falling. I open the door
as it screech loudly. My love stands before
me the flesh but to find a corpse decomposing
a smell so foul it reeks as it hovers and suffocates
the smell that Im use to smelling from my love.

She walks in..no words are spoken but to find her
holding my hand and leading me to the bedroom.
Eyes no longer show life but just sunken in the
sockets no pupils just a dark glaze over them
I see what she has in store for me as she points for
me to lay on the bed so I do. She joins me on
the bed but its not what I expected to be...

No soft touch, no light shining or no
sun glistening. We lay, I thought to myself
so this is it huh.. I close my eyes just to
picture what my love looked before her soul
went dark revengeful. I can feel without a
doubt that she holds my heart in one hand and
the death ticket in the other...

idea from steven kings pet cemetary

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Judgson blessing Feb 2015

GRIN AND GIN

This night the wind grew so chilled as a moist rainy season.
the air no stopped thrashing haggardly in an awful spray.
the suspended leaves are hovered and folded up and down .
as a hellish decorum .
as sorrowful sea rendering a sinister reminisce .
of furrow war that she is trying to get the golden sea pebble laying upon its edge .
deemed into red liquid fade and sullen as dead,
to be cleaned ******.
i felt this horror night deep down my vein in painful response and wander.
i remembered that i have been targeting in somehow ode way.
with revengeful knack.
i never been beguiled.
but i trusted the shimmered night, as a night for my foe.
still moving in me with similarly of dulling and no dawdling.
dragging me out of the course then and now.
and i felt my struggle going down a mop.
though i have a heart full of courage and action .
i never spoke of that tragedy yet.
but my heart is submerged of the sad decay.
and my front head is red of the rays gleaming of its span.
this is downturn .
it gave me nothing but nightmare for company.
flinging in any while at me the uncovered ground.
and cheating as the real saprophyte way .
oh... horror ..

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Edna Sweetlove Dec 2015

Eva Transfigured

A restless fire burnt in her blue Aryan eyes
And she wore a pretty dress
Because she loved to be beautiful,
Even though she was by then
No more than a bird in a bunkered cage.

But the man she loved did not see:
He had other priorities, affairs of state,
Still blindly fighting a lost war.
The others in the bunker wanted to live
And prayed they might escape to the world,
Such as it was in those closing weeks;
But Eva did not care, as she knew her destiny,
Finally coming out of the shadows.

She so much wanted to be young and happy
Even when there was nothing to celebrate,
Even when their world was disintegrating
In those final doom-laden Berlin days.
Eva wanted so to dance in the Spring,
But there was nothing to dance about
And no one to dance with.

Eva had no fear of death’s sad sting
As long as she was with her beloved.
But as the dark days went by,
Inevitable hopelessness set in;
And then the very last hours came,
When all hope of victory was finally gone,
Destroyed by the roar of the conquerors’ barbarian guns
And their wild revengeful **** and pillage.

So kleine Eva finally married him, her Fuehrer,
But to what avail and for what hopeless future?
Soon they would be joined only in death,
Despised by a scornful, hating world,
Their corpses burned by devoted soldiers,
And then fought over by divided allies.
Little Eva was not very bright,
But her eyes shone brightly as she died
Happily, died for him whom she worshipped:
To her, Adolf was her friend and lover
And a shining hero, not the devil incarnate.

#heroines

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Kevin Michael Kappler Sep 2016

The Realm of The Elders

Waves of deep, blue, and soothing Ocean Waters
Wash my body into a different plain.
Soothing and totally refreshed.....
The rhythmic way the tides washed my once chaotic soul.....
I awoke from insanity's Trance
A whole, peaceful, and less volatile personality...
My warmer energies are free to shine, on all, who pass my way.
What changes a once chaotic and jumpy sort like myself?
Choosing to deeply enter the realm of enlightenment and that secret place where only the elder's still true and living voices are able to speak to me...
Man to man....
The elder's spoke to me of a more successful and peaceful life...
Only after I turn down the fires of anger and jealousy...
The releasing of Venomous and Revengeful traits...
Now, I have awaken!
A more grounded, deeply feeling, and clearly travel destined soul..
Enjoying new friends he makes in his travels and letting go of those who, alike me are still worn and lost in an anger - filled and volatile soul.....
Bound to a world before I entered the "Realm of the Elders"
where my relaxed soul carried me in soothing and cleansing oceans...
Until after my untimely re return.....
After I became the listener and never a "Speaker..."
I returned a new man. Taught in the fine art of being "Human."
Losing materialistic,power hungry, and unneeded confusion ..
I then became a free flying creature.

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Bobbie McCord Dec 2013

Luxa's wrath

She runs.
Where? I don't know.
What I do know, is she enters a forest.
This is no ordinary forest, with no ordinary secrets.
It belongs to the snakes.
For all eternity she will run, seeking refuge from their control,
yet she will find none.

Doomed to unhappiness and uncompleted paths, is the life she leads.

The snakes will take away everything,
slowly, until nothing of hers is left.
She has been left defenseless and alone.
Cut off from society, stripped of her confidence.

The snakes will pay.
Their blood is the revengeful cost of what they have taken from her.

So, prepare yourself, beasts.
for she refuses to succumb. And now,
she is out for your blood.

That's what you get when you mess with a free soul.
Karma's a *****, ain't it.

Based off a book I read.

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Professor Marylyn-Dolly Nov 2016

WE ARE?

WE ARE

A city that radiates happiness,
A people of class and heritage
A Nation that has seen its station
A World of black and white.

WE ARE

A fire burning amidst the waters
A river flowing through
Children of the ancient ones
A world of black and white.

WE ARE

A people that prefers hate to love
A revengeful and boastful heart
A people that read more, yet less sense
A world of black and white.

WE ARE

The trueness of hate itself
The scandal of ignorance
The product of callousness
A world of black and white

WE CAN

Be love or bliss defined
Be the city upon the hill
Be the fighters on bended knees
We can be Great again

Only if we shun hate and accept love

Professor Marylyn-D©
All right reserved

Only if we shun hate and accept love

#love #hate #city #revenge #great #racism #wecan

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Abdullateef Moshood Jun 2019

Chess with the devil

And so I walk in
Into the devil’s inn
And Aye! I found the devil sitting on his usual chair
In that dark room filled with smoky air
Still seated facing his golden chess
Thinking who’s next he’d trick to hell
Knock! Knock! Is anybody in
He already knew it’s me
He pull his metallic door stylishly
Raising his hand Hi-ing me
Ehy man; here you are again
Tell me; this time, what’s your aim
Tell me; without me; what have you attain
After all; you understand my style of game
He offered me a place
To sit dimensionally face to face
Dear devil, after striving for a while
I’ve come to understand your style
Though I’m yet to realise
Why you choose this path
What has mankind done to ya
That you affiliate yourself to all his wants
Money, power, fame, skyscraper, empire
Even knowledge and earthy desire
Tell me; what’s your sole goal
I’ve seen folks
Sold their sole
For fame and gold
Cash, diamond, glittering things
And all other worldly things
I pinch a pawn
By its head and sets it down
The devil winces as if he knows my next move
Dear devil; what would you do
He reflect my move
By a pawn of his own too
This I’ve learn
That human are so greedy
They yearn for much interest
Than what they invest
They intend to gain huge
Than what they ought to
Celebrities thirst for fame
Louder; like china made
Politicians hungers for power
Even if it’d reduce their glass hour
The poor want to make it big
Survivers want to live
The wealthy want to get more rich
They force their way to top the cliff
I slide another pawn towards
his territories and slightly move it forward
As I always tell you man
God and I exist in different clan
With different plan
For you mankind
I am bestowed every glittering things in this life
Ambitions, dreams, power, desires
You want to live for eternity
I can give you immortality
You want that diamond ring
That bling and bling
Wealth and health remixed
Long life elixir
Geniusity; polymatheism
Supreme intelligence
Woman of perfect form
I can help you divert their thought
And they’d pass their love
To you alone
Mention any worldly luxury
Then my hand is in all of it
Let me give you a hint
Once you start craving for more than you worked for
Just know that I’m involved
The devil match past my pawn
I bouncingly count out squares
Then move my knight to a pawn neighbouring near
He quickly move another pawn forward
Oh devil; this time you’ve run
Into a concrete wall
See; I still have my soul
And I am sure will achieve my goal
Without you been in role
I move forward another knight
But yet the devil doesn’t feel fright
Now, dear devil
Why do you choose to be a rebel
Against human being
And the clan of jinn
And the devil reply
See; what happened between God and I
That got me demonise
Is man’s polymath
See; before the creation of man
I was once loyal; I live at the apex
I dwelt amidst angels
Worshipped God day and night
I walked in the path of light
But the interference of your kind
Turn me to this revengeful type
The fact that I was locked out of heaven’s gate
Filled me with rage and hate
For every offspring
Of Adam and Eve
He angrily slide his bishop between two pawns
Preparing for an attack
No matter what you do
I will not grant you my soul
Your attempts are futile
I don’t have a thing to sacrifice
I twirl my finger around the tip top
And advances another pawn
He take out my pawn with a knight
Intentionally opening a destruction path for my bishop
Oh; devil, this time I won’t give up
Though your intellect is far superior to mine
But this game will rather end up a tie
It’s too late
Man; you’ve fallen a bait
Right now; you can’t deflate
At this point you can’t walk away
From this game
The devil further takes out my knight with his bishop
Then suddenly, I screamed ‘Stop!’
He noticed my ****** expression
Filled with total frustration
I feel hesitant to move my pieces
The devil knew he'd ****** me
I move another pawn, though I know it will be killed
Dear devil; I am been careful with my piece
Don’t want to run into any deal
Dear devil; I can’t continue this game
I’d be back in few days
Until then; let me be
I won’t sign any deal
The devil laughed and somewhat grinned
But still baffled with the fact that he hasn’t win
......................

Salvation devil chess

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Natasha Britney Jul 2013

Do you not see me,
burning like flames?
It is you all along
who did me wrong.
Why was i blind
to think you were true.
I should have known better
to trust a wounded soul.
Wounded soul,
why so revengeful?
Wounded soul,
why take my happiness?
Did i not
make your life
a living peace?
Wounded soul,
watch out.
I mean you no harm.
I shall not be like you,
though you have taken from me
a lot of joy away.
Believe me when i say,
you will be healed.
Wounded soul,
take care.
I'll still be there.

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Karisa Brown Aug 2017

What?!?!

Do you stare
At a devil
In your shadow
I do?

Does he ask you
Or threaten you
Where to begin?

Rhetorical functioning inhibbited
Playing once again
With the demons
Called friends

Some are nice
Yet some too revengeful
To let in

Do other angels
Call like she used to
Singing sweet lullabies
But all you give
Them is fables

Spotlighted gaze
I hunt this maze
For self denying sacrifice

Only second
Isn't right
And turning left
Is now
Out of sight

#confussed #confessed #love

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Priscilla E Looney Sep 2015

Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust
Late at night alone in this life
Forgotten ignored; A secret door opens
A thousand voices whisper, alone in my grave
Seven demons help me sleep my life away
Surround me poking jiggling telling me jokes
Keeping me company giggling as I lay
Not here to hurt me letting me know
I’m not alone;  A laughing Legion
Dreaming a Dream, Hoping against Hope
When will it be over? When will it end?
Forevermore Forevermore
Tried to be good, holy, and wise
Made some mistakes, hope I saved untold lives
Alone but not lonely forsaken multitudes
Beg plead yearn to see a distant memory
in Someone’s mind unwritten unspoken
Loaned my soul to live a lie; Eternity beckons
The coffin slams shut, the dirt hits my face
I can’t breathe let me out of this place!
Then a Voice said, “Is This Her?”…

What will you do? Where will you go?
How will it be? What did you think
Was going to happen when you were caught?
When its time to meet your deathly hallowed
Hangman’s Noose, Lethal Drip, Firing Squad,
Revengeful Lover righteously indignant ...
Should everybody Thank You? Give you a Medal?

Write your Name on the Wall of Shame!
You are Busted! Going Downtown! Serving Time!
Now Who? Who now do you serve,
Fatefully Tragic Face of Death?
An Echo? A Sound? A Fury on the Edge?
Facing the music how do you plead?
Guilty as Charged? Or Insanity?
Give it a rest!  Give me a break!
You knew it was wrong so how is it different now?
Wasted your gift for a Weekend Pass!
A free Gift; a Ticket to Ride:  Kiss My ... !
You had it all; it wasn’t enough!
Lived well, go to meet God.
Sins forgiven by Innocent Blood
... until Judgement Day.

#ashes #dream #alone #secret #demon #night #forget #blood #dust

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Evelyn Colbolt May 2012

Murderous romance

these tears only fall for you
but the pain only i bring up
crying at the open slit of my emotions
cut and bleed
but still your there
taking away my heart away from my shattered hope
with only that one part of me you have the ability to cure me
as if i been resurrected
so alive once again
with your eternal promise
leaving death a pointless matter
I'd rather not have my worthless suicide take my soul to drown in hell
but prefer your revengeful beautiful ****** be it so
i love you enough to allow you to **** me
I'll give you the dark satisfaction
but as entwine our hearts are, let it be death together we'll face
with you and only you my love

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Seema Jun 2017

Felony (Tanka #5)

The rage crawled upon,
Skin deep, to slither darkness.
Fumes of agony,
Burnt the shattered heart pieces.
A revengeful felony.

©sim

#tanka #felony #darkness #revenge

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Kay-Ann May 2014

what would the world be without love?

earth would be a cold place

bitter and revengeful

somewhat like how it is now but more harsh

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Aishwarya Sridhar Jun 2020

Aghast was the feeling within,
the moment I heard saying,
"The grudge in me never ceases,
If I look at you, it upsurges."
What was that? Hatred or Jealousy?

Together we grew,
Together we played,
Together we enjoyed,
But she was loved more.
What was that? The age or Comparison?

Appreciated for her appearance,
Admired for the best smile,
Pampered for the sweet talks,
Gradually grew the inner bitterness unaware,
Igniting in her, the spark of arrogance uncompared.
As I was placed ever in contradiction.
What was that? Seed of praise or despise?

The child in us possessed the love,
while in the name of maturity the gap stretched,
The silence took deep breaths
Between each conversation
We, the alike thinkers
Now parted with difference.
The daughters of two sisters,
Misunderstanding cultivated the distress.
What was that? Distance or Belief?

The question still perplexed
Whose fault was that?
The childhood innocence ripped with arrogance?
Or
The comparison that planted the vengeance?
But ultimately, it is the misconception established with pride.

Now after these many years,
the love in me for her never faded
but grew more when we by chance interacted.
What was that? The pure love or move on?

Having the belief that our thoughts were alike,
My heart ceased not to pour my inner feelings,
As my childhood pal, my sister, my twin.
But still the ignorance in me continued to control,
My maturity to understand the completely changed person.
It took sometime to get in my senses
that her eyes looked hither and thither
with lies unrelated,
and conversations proposed,
not to share but to grasp
whenever connected virtually.
What was that? A changed self or Gossip Monger?

The vengeance inside gradually
turned to revengeful remorse.
And the love had turned to blame,
With pierce striken words she poked
Of accusations and falsehoods,
But none seemed to disturb me.
What was that? Mellow in me or Her immaturity?

With composed tone, I did stand for me,
confidently, a new me,
neither raised my voice,
nor reacted losing my poise,
but assured that in her life,
"Never could you forget to remember me and never, remember to forget me."
What was that?
A blessing from a mellowed soul.

————————————————

Comparison is a needle, if sewn with a positive thread, would bestow a Mellowed soul.

#mellow #life #soul #comparison #blessing #introspection #poetry #poem #relationship #immaturity

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Satsih Verma Nov 2016

Grafting The Lichens

We are going back.
Let it be.
I will never know―
when will you arrive.

In the aloneness,
going blind to the playing
light, you prepare to drink
the darkness of noon.

Becoming dishonest will
not be possible for me.
The times are revengeful,
come back in black to fix the smiles.

Like water hyacinth, the
disquieting worries will grab
you and hound you to the white bones
and turn away.

Where the blood and
nerves went down? It was
no sin to rise and
stand against the sun.

ShareShare Grafting The Lichens

#life

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Eris Oct 2018

Chaos

Following strife
Bubbling desire
Revengeful ruse
Sneer smirks
Contained rage
Crumbling cities
Unfolded by
Mischievous hands

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Yve Jun 2013

Your Mistake

Who am I?
I am Death, unfinished.
****** cuts covering me
Inch by dying inch.
Chained by strangely beautiful screams.
Stitches on your lips.
Awaken me,the ******, my love.
Speak quietly, my heart.
We are strange, the ones caught in between.
We will wait for you.
Revengeful we will come to you,
when you breathe your last breath.
Hunting silently,
I run wild. Barefooted in the woods.
Searching, searching, searching.
For you to ****. For your neck to break.
Your blood will be the one spilled this time.
Next time check the pulse before you walk away.
That was your mistake.

I've posted this poem on my deviantart also (moongirl64).
This poem is something I just thought of one day.
It's about a girl left in the woods to die only to find out she
is able to get up and find the man who (tried) to **** her.
In the end is she able to take her revenge.

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MS Lim Nov 2015

APOCALYPSE

APOCALYPSE

Civilisation will sleep
in time's graveyard
there's too much hatred
bad blood that would split
every artery and vein asunder
when the human heart
could feel no more
when reason has been
swept away by the soulless indifferent wind
and nights are but the ghosts
of anguish and perdition
when dreams are hellish nightmares
and sleep is but a trail
of torturous afflictions
when peace has bidden farewell
and hopes have sunk
into abysmal oblivion

what is left
and what is there to be lived for?

now in this grimmest hour
darker than the silent grave
rises only spectre's head
ugly, ominous , relentless and revengeful

this then is the apocalypse -
the world has lost its sight
splendour and beauty
and in every corner of earth
a signboard will be found
bearing the name : Dead

nil

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matthew scott harris Mar 2018

Inaction Of One Man

mass slaughter
     of innocent kids aye abhor,
an undeniable chance, some and/or all
     those slain Valentine' Day 2018,
     would be alive borne out
in living color before
killing spree resulted in unwonted deaths,

     when deputy Scot Peterson
     abdicated his chief chore
and did not intervene (perhaps...
     playing positive pivotal role)that fateful day,
     but walked up to a closed door
then rode a golf cart February fourteenth

     (appearing dumbfounded as Eeyore)
when seventeen people killed
     (lying dead on the floor)
     inside the Parkland, Fla. school
     seeds bracketed speculation galore,
sans officer at Marjory
     Stoneman Douglas High School did ignore

Shooting not "FAKE" baffles
     and begs question, why bemused
mentioned deputy did not
     strong arm gunman Nikolas Cruz,

Who unloaded his AR-15
     inside the school settling revengeful dues
as said killer explained,
     which no skew logic can excuse

     as the latter indiscriminately
     brandished barrel that fired
     bullets at random youths
     (unwitting targets) lighting a fuse

of explosive rage, and
     (leaving no iota of doubt) lose
zing no chance against death penalty,
     as surveillance video released into news
media Thursday (July 15th),

     truth one cannot refuse
to see, where young baby faced assassin
     blithely pumped bullets
     dooming lives, whose shoes
unable to outrun as classmates got felled by ones and twos.

#yes #an #individual #doomed #precious #lives

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Hasnaa Jul 2018

O1

Darling, I smell like you

Darling, I smell like alcohol and taste like the misery huddled beneath your tongue.

I wonder if you're okay and you pass me a shot knowing our laughs will smother our worries, and it will unravel another night of us swaying with the ashes of our cigars.

Darling, I taste like you

I taste like the absinthial hit of cannabis under a lit moonlight, with somber pants on and revengeful hands waiting to touch me.

Darling, I sound like you

I sound like if wrath was mortal and it went through heartbreak, the weeps of my soul caressing the empty streets where your home once laid.

Darling, I look like you

A vivid smile, a verbose tongue, nomadic arms, **** like eyes, and a jaded way of walking but all so beautiful that;

How come the smell of alcohol, the taste of cannabis and the sound of wrath all distracted from the fact that the next time we'd meet you'd be laying six feet beneath me.

where is my last shot of alcohol darling?

The fear of losing a loved, struggling with their own brain.

#love #death #suicide

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john chizoba vincent May 2018

Memories

(for chikbok girls four years after elegies of lost)

And we opened the book of remembrance again
Tickling all ears that are designed to be deadly.
We filled the cups & buckets with tears of blood,
****** tears as the cloud rises from dark night
& the horizon of our lives radio out our prayers
in pleasure & pleas recording poetry into broken
Rhythms of the kings bird' songs singing elegies untold. We recoiled this pages of cries into folded arms. Lost is our liberty ephemeral into chaos.
This light of darkness are now printed in our
palms of history tormenting our own feelings.

they left home through the corruption of their father's land. You know, their lies ferried them
into Sambisa to go & tell a tale of their crimes.
the chromosomes of their pigments lacked the bravery within the wrinkled nose of their cheeks.
Lives are buttered fireflies &worms of mediocre...
We may not know how pains taste until untitled chapters of sorrow unfold in our lives to seek revengeful voyage of our sins towards our home.
We televised their lies on the national televisions,
tilted the head of our cocked brain into gadgets
in a ballroom of miscreants clothing our beliefs.

I opened this book of remembrance again,
For my lazy sisters that struggles effortlessly amidst leaves and shrubs of looting leaders.
for their tears composed a musical notes,
for their fight created astraying street steer
I held upto these fallin' memories in a graveyard
into the abstract demon of my noble moralities,
into black races, into an abstract journeys.
brittle of the papers written in absence of our
ourselves, in the pictures of our lost self issues.
we will gather these soothsayers to the cloud
to sooth out those prilgrim girls in the moon.

till then, let this dance be of survival &revival,
of those deaf & dumb girls kept in the ***** of emptiness. they made them voiceless like the pages of a blank books but we know all their magic tricks in the closet of their ignorance.
No chikbok, no Dapchi girls but looting politics,
Politics that has strange mouth & shadows.
Until this madness is cleansed from our souls
Point towards your chambers & crack your mind
We are mocked movies trying to be seen by all,
a documented fairy tale in the heart of all.

©John Chizoba Vincent
FromAPenRefusingfrustration

#chibokgirls #nigeria

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WA West Jan 2020

The noise was incessant, a jungle in a suburban street. Their uninhibited laughter and carefree glide as they strutted down the pedestrianised street. All jumping in turn over the bollards at the end of the street; shrieking at each other. They didn't give two *****, cocky little *******. They were all hair, charity shop jumpers, and self centered to boot. One of them parked his sporty ****** car in the back-lane, like he was trying to colonise the space between his house and theirs. This prevented his easy access; he couldn't get out effortlessly on his bike any longer (several thousand pounds, carbon fiber, a serious model) or unload his shopping. In a semi-lagered up state; post-Friday night drinks up the town he had gotten himself into a revengeful state. He wanted to show the little ******* that he was not to be messed with. Thinking he was just some bald middle aged fella in a parka, he'd show them.

He let his resentment get the better of them, keying ''****'' into the car. **** them, a keying well deserved, don't want keying then turn Black Sabbath down. He had felt briefly guilty the next day; eggs on toast and coffee wondering if he should have done something so drastic. He was ultimately mild-mannered and avoided conflict where possible. His guilt diminished when the music started up again; he hadn't had a moment's peace since they moved in. He felt like they were insects on a hot day; constantly invading his personal space and making him feel uncomfortable. They woke him up constantly; he hadn't had a decent night's sleep in weeks. His skin was getting paler, his eyes bloodshot. They should try looking at excel spreadsheets for hours on end, punching in formulas on 3 hours sleep. None of them had worked an honest day's work in their lives, little *******. He hated their flat caps, berets and other arty accessories. Sometimes he thought about lining them up like dominoes in height order and pushing them off the Tyne Bridge. Or feeding them to the dogs at Brough Park- **** little *******. Sliding up the street- carefree and laughing at nothing in particular. Laden down with cheap cider and frozen pizzas. His friendly notes had been ignored, if diplomacy fails then it is time for military action. Politeness was no use anymore. They obviously couldn't care less about keeping him up; night after night, making him miserable. He put on his black Adidas tracksuit and his Berghaus jacket zipped up to his face with the hood up. He put a ball-peen hammer down the back of his jogging pants, he smeared joop on his bald-head, on his ears and on his neck. He walked next door ''Once in a lifetime'' playing in his head, jumped over the little garden wall and banged on the door. As he banged on the door, he heard the clanging of a snare drum bursting out of the window. He didn't have time to react as the stonework from the window ledge above fell on his head. He never did get a chance to make his grievances clear.

#ne6 #revenge #students

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Hira malik Jun 2019

shadow!!

they say
there is no space left
even  a void too large
to accommodate  all the sorrows and pain
still there is no space left
a heart of association is detached
its the story of time
under dust of moments
that are long forgotten...

a place where u find safe
whether in arms of ones
or the land so empty
its again
the matter of time
what ur heart decides
and affiliation is inseparable

love is like a growing tree
that tastes 4 seasons
from spring to autumn
it doesn't confide one season inside
kisses all four faces
and claims still to be in love
for love is the water
that keeps the seed growing
without owning it!!

i am a lover seeker
but a deceiver too
i am a wanderer lust-er
but  a loner too
i am a soother and a home , for homeless
but a ruthless and revengeful too....
we all live in a orbit of deception
a hide and seek space
where we ourselves unaware of the fact
who we really are...

this is the cycle of life
a wheel of love
a run on the road
a destination unknown,
still my friend
still,
we walk on a new dream
daily
after trashing the last one....
like crushed petals
engraved deep down
and sprout a new seed....

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— The End —