"revengeful" poems
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 *****
Nov 29, 2011
Nov 29, 2011 at 8:53 PM UTC
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.
7.5k
to more than I can be...
a sad isolated man,
throes of an agonizing,
stretched by her for painful
revengeful gain,
kissed with pointless avarice, divorce.
children deeming
him alienating, his faulty
insensitive sensitivities,
to easy blame
little do they know of the
piercing lowliness, the looniness of
nights he listened to sad-eyed singers,
and his late-of-mid of night scribbled scripts,
where he
off loaded the agonies of a midlife
disaster, not entirely of his-own
sown making,
but still his to bear and bare alone...
some accidents happens for unintentional,
unintended intentional new seasons appear,
stumbled, tumbled, fumbled his way onto
this H~oly P~lace, where someone might listen
to his explanations, expiations, excoriations
of his all too common tragedy, and said:
this broken human, he's got his reasons,
read his overly long treatises, his entreaties,
to those that prowl, rowing, in this corner
of the silence of the internet, where only the
trolls, the cold, the easier to-be-meaner oft thrive,
and found none of that, but an oasis of sheltering,
embracing comforting, those who actually admitted
his writings could be loved, and perhaps the writer
himself, was
deserving
of a second chance, a verbal embrace. a rereading forgiveness,
a pat
on his natback, a sympathetic sensory intaking,
and perhaps-this debt, eternal, that put the
for and the fore in a new baby born, named -
new forever
came into existence
the very same
e
that begins those conjoined words
***e~ternally grateful
"and now I sleep in peace when the day is done"
but the night time
is still the
write time
Sep 13, 2025
Sep 13, 2025 at 11:42 AM UTC
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
Jul 26, 2013
Jul 26, 2013 at 10:03 PM UTC
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.
Jun 3, 2018
Jun 3, 2018 at 1:26 PM UTC
(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!
1.8k
*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*
May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 9:18 AM UTC
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
Nov 20, 2016
Nov 20, 2016 at 5:41 AM UTC
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.
Dec 28, 2015
Dec 28, 2015 at 1:43 PM UTC
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
Jun 27, 2015
Jun 27, 2015 at 11:41 AM UTC
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 ..
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 11:16 AM UTC
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.
Sep 28, 2016
Sep 28, 2016 at 10:38 PM UTC
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.
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 5:19 PM UTC
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
Nov 10, 2016
Nov 10, 2016 at 3:26 PM UTC
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
Aug 26, 2017
Aug 26, 2017 at 1:58 AM UTC
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.
Sep 8, 2015
Sep 8, 2015 at 2:37 PM UTC
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.
Jul 22, 2013
Jul 22, 2013 at 4:10 AM UTC
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
May 9, 2012
May 9, 2012 at 1:00 PM UTC
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.
————————————————
Jun 24, 2020
Jun 24, 2020 at 10:53 PM UTC
The rage crawled upon,
Skin deep, to slither darkness.
Fumes of agony,
Burnt the shattered heart pieces.
A revengeful felony.
©sim
Jun 26, 2017
Jun 26, 2017 at 6:39 AM UTC
earth would be a cold place
bitter and revengeful
somewhat like how it is now but more harsh
May 16, 2014
May 16, 2014 at 11:42 AM UTC
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
Nov 5, 2016
Nov 5, 2016 at 11:48 PM UTC
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
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 1:28 AM UTC
Following strife
Bubbling desire
Revengeful ruse
Sneer smirks
Contained rage
Crumbling cities
Unfolded by
Mischievous hands
Oct 24, 2018
Oct 24, 2018 at 5:35 AM UTC
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.
Mar 15, 2018
Mar 15, 2018 at 4:29 PM UTC