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I saw your face in a paper sky,
Saw how good it looked in black-and-white.
The light in your eyes is
One of those pre-lit things-
That is, to say,
That when you wink,
The sky goes gray.

Heart Ripper, you're a decorative lover,
One red-hot summer.
Heart Ripper, what a gorgeous shame.
Love is love, under any given name,
But after a hit, it's forever lame.

You're the classic American case
Of mud inside a jar,
You air-brushed lonely-heart.
Perfect imperfection,
A photograph in a frame,
You're smiling, but dustless.
Dustless, and perfect.

Heart Ripper, you've gained a red list,
And another little lover wrapped up in your fist.
Heart Ripper, she's on my side,
If I can't give it back to you,
She will in good time.

Just like some music in the canal,
You remind me of a favorite song.
But this final number's old,
Over-played, over-sold.
Skipping in that broken-record fashion,
Really,
I mean to say,
That this is a tune from the past,
That's closing fast.

Heart Ripper, you're a powerhouse lover,
The blanket superior.
Like a windbreaker in December,
You're there, but not quite enough.
Heart Ripper, never fixing what you've torn;
The needle, the thread, the sewing hand--
Take this as a tune of pity,
As a brand new set of plans.

Hero, hero,
Get it while it lasts.
You're invincible now,
A regular rough horse from the city.
Go home,
And just for good measure,
Repent, before you receive
More than just a tune of pity.
MARK RIORDAN Mar 2017
IN LONDON LONG AGO
PEOPLE WERE BEING KILLED
AND THE PUBLIC DIDN'T KNOW


WHO WAS JACK THE RIPPER YOU ASK
THE BOBBIES AT THE TIME
WERE ALL BROUGHT TO TASK


A MAN NAMED ABILENE
INVESTIGATED THE CASE
HE AND HIS MEN
BEGAN THE CHASE


IN 1888 ALL THIS OCCURRED
THE EVIDENCE AND SUSPECTS
HAVE ALWAYS BEEN BLURRED


THE KILLINGS WERE GRUESOME
THE VICTIMS WERE SLAUGHTERED
FATHERS LOST SONS
MOTHERS LOST DAUGHTERS


MANY SUSPECTS CAME TO PASS
BUT JACK WAS NEVER CAUGHT
WHO WAS JACK THE RIPPER
NOW CONCLUSIONS CAN BE SOUGHT


SO THE KILLINGS WILL REMAIN A MYSTERY
TILL THE END OF TIME
WAS HE A DESCENDENT OF YOURS
OR A RELATIVE OF MINE
ONE OF MY BOOKS COMING IS CALLED " TELL ME STRANGE THINGS" A COLLECTION OF POEMS THAT WILL BLOW YOUR MIND. HERE IS ONE
D Conors Aug 2010
Although the actual authenticity of this poem's authorship is questionable, Jack The Ripper was credited with sending various taunts in verse to the police during his killing spree. The following poem is especially creative and chilling...very akin to the style and sound of The Ripper's literary exchange with the authorities.
______

(Transcription)

Eight little ******, with no hope of heaven,
Gladstone may save one, then there'll be seven.
Seven little ****** beggin for a shilling,
One stays in Henage Court, then there's a killing.
Six little ******, glad to be alive,
One sidles up to Jack, then there are five.
Four and ***** rhyme aright,
So do three and me,
I'll set the town alight
Ere there are two.
Two little ******, shivering with fright,
Seek a cosy doorway in the middle of the night.
Jack's knife flashes, then there's but one,
And the last one's the ripest for Jack's idea of fun.

__

The letters of Jack The Ripper set to poetic formation. EPILOGUE. "for Jack's idea of fun."

__


With appreciation to Casebook: Jack The Ripper, the largest public repository of Ripper-related information.
http://www.casebook.org/ripper
letters/
D. Conors
09 August 2010
D Conors Jul 2010
"29 October 1888 -- this letter was sent to Dr. Openshaw, who performed the medical examination on the portion of kidney received by George Lusk in conjunction with the From Hell letter."
_____

Old boss
you was rite
it was the left kidny
i was goin to hoperate agin
close to you ospitle
just as i was going to
dror mi nife along of er bloomin throte
them cusses of coppers spoilt the game
but i guess i wil be on the jobn soon
and will send you another
bit of innerds

Jack the Ripper

O have you seen the devle with his mikerscope and scalpul a-lookin at a kidney with a slide cocked up.
_____
The letters of Jack The Ripper set to poetic formation. Part the 5th
__
With appreciation to Casebook: Jack The Ripper, the largest public repository of Ripper-related information.
http://www.casebook.org/
D. Conors
12 July 2010
anastasiad Dec 2016
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D Conors Jul 2010
I was not codding
dear old Boss
when I gave you the tip,
you'll hear about
Saucy Jacky's
work tomorrow
double event this time
number one squealed a bit
couldn't finish straight off.

ha not the time to get ears for police.

thanks for keeping last letter back till I got to work again.

Jack the Ripper
______
View the actual document here: http://www.casebook.org/images/coddingc.jpg

The letters of Jack The Ripper set to poetic formation. Part the 2nd
______
With appreciation to Casebook: Jack The Ripper, the largest public repository of Ripper-related information.
http://www.casebook.org/index.html
D. Conors
11 July 2010
Jason Lingaya Mar 2019
Here there little fella

Here there

C– l – o – s – e – r

Down the aisle

Follow the sign

Tick-tock

Teases a clock

In the shadows

Be brave hither

Heroic never

Trust your host

To guide you

Through an abyss

Of unprecedented bliss

Jack was a wimp

The Ripper I am

At your service

Hesitating still ugh

Never mind fella

Pray hang on

One moment more

Jolly and bright

The darkest alleys

Are my quarters

The austere grounds

On which I Rip Rip Rip

Gluttony is the name

Of my game

Instead of teeth

Dear Lord

Mine are grim lethal

Razor sharp blades

And my throat

A gruesome One-Way ticket

No wonder my stomach

Knows no rest

At your service

The Ripper I am

The infamous

Snowflake Moray Eel.
Childhood fishing memories from Poste-Lafayette, Mauritius.
they never caught the ripper perhaps the never will the legend that he left is with us day still.
he roamed the streets of london many years ago but who he really was no one will ever know.
could he be a surgeon or  a millionaire no will ever know no one was ever there.
he would leave a message and sign it in it his name though they never caught him the ripper kept his fame.
D Conors Jul 2010
Dear Boss,
I keep on hearing the police have caught me
but they wont fix me just yet.
I have laughed
when they look so clever and talk about being on the right track.

That joke about Leather Apron gave me real fits.

I am down on ******
and I shant quit
ripping them
till I do get buckled.

Grand work the last job was.
I gave the lady
no time to squeal.

How can they catch me now.

I love my work
and want to start again.

You will soon hear of me with
my funny little games.

I saved some of the proper red stuff
in a ginger beer bottle
over the last job
to write with
but it went thick
like glue
and
I cant use it.

Red ink is fit enough I hope
ha. ha.

The next job
I do
I shall clip
the ladys ears
off
and send to the police officers
just for jolly wouldn't you.

Keep this letter back
till I do a bit more work,
then give it out straight.

My knife's so nice and sharp
I want to get to work right away
if I get a chance.

Good Luck.

Yours truly

Jack the Ripper

Dont mind me giving the trade name

PS Wasnt good enough to post this before I got all the red ink off my hands curse it No luck yet. They say I'm a doctor now. ha ha
_____

The letters of Jack The Ripper set to poetic formation. Part the 1st
_____

With appreciation to Casebook: Jack The Ripper, the largest public repository of Ripper-related information.
http://www.casebook.org/index.html
D. Conors
11 July 2010
D Conors Jul 2010
You though your-self
very clever I reckon
when you
informed the police.

But you made a mistake
if you though I dident see you.

Now I known
you know me
and I see your little game,
and I mean to finish you
and send
your ears to your wife
if you show this to the police
or help them
if you do

I will finish you.

It no use your trying to get out of my way.

Because I have you
when you dont expect it
and I keep my word
as you soon see and
rip you up.

Yours truly

Jack the Ripper.

PS You see I know your address
______
The letters of Jack The Ripper set to poetic formation. Part the 4th
_
With appreciation to Casebook: Jack The Ripper, the largest public repository of Ripper-related information.
http://www.casebook.org/ripper
letters/
D. Conors
12 July 2010
D Conors Sep 2010
(STRANGE, BUT TRUE)

Dear Boss,
I keep on hearing the police have caught me
but they wont fix me just yet.
I have laughed
when they look so clever and talk about being on the right track.

That joke about Leather Apron gave me real fits.

I am down on ******
and I shant quit
ripping them
till I do get buckled.

Grand work the last job was.
I gave the lady
no time to squeal.

How can they catch me now.

I love my work
and want to start again.

You will soon hear of me with
my funny little games.

I saved some of the proper red stuff
in a ginger beer bottle
over the last job
to write with
but it went thick
like glue
and
I cant use it.

Red ink is fit enough I hope
ha. ha.

The next job
I do
I shall clip
the ladys ears
off
and send to the police officers
just for jolly wouldn't you.

Keep this letter back
till I do a bit more work,
then give it out straight.

My knife's so nice and sharp
I want to get to work right away
if I get a chance.

Good Luck.

Yours truly

Jack the Ripper

Dont mind me giving the trade name

PS Wasnt good enough to post this before I got all the red ink off my hands curse it No luck yet. They say I'm a doctor now. ha ha


The letters of Jack The Ripper set to poetic formation. Part the 1st


With appreciation to Casebook: Jack The Ripper, the largest public repository of Ripper-related information.
http://www.casebook.org/index.html
D. Conors
D Conors Jul 2010
"On October 16th George Lusk, the president of the Whitechapel Vigilance Committee, received a three-inch-square cardboard box in his mail. Inside was half a human kidney preserved in wine, along with the following letter. Medical reports carried out by Dr. Openshaw found the kidney to be very similar to the one removed from Catherine Eddowes, though his findings were inconclusive either way. The letter read as follows:"

From hell.
Mr Lusk,
Sor
I send you half the Kidne
I took from one woman
and prasarved it for you
tother piece
I fried and ate
it was very nise.

I may send you
the ****** knif
that took it out
if you only wate a whil longer

signed
Catch me when you can Mishter Lusk
_______
View the actual document here: http://www.casebook.org/images/lusk
small.jpg
The letters of Jack The Ripper set to poetic formation. Part the 3rd
________
With appreciation to Casebook: Jack The Ripper, the largest public repository of Ripper-related information.
http://www.casebook.org/index.html
D. Conors
11 July 2010
Den Nov 2013
You ripped the wings off of her so suddenly that, ****, I didn't see it coming.
Well, to make it fair, I wasn't there. ****, that's so unbecoming
of you. Well, *******. How could you?

She used to soar into her dreams a lot—her dreams that featured you.
You and her, together—storming all the weather, and all the idioms I have wronged before.
I'll be frank, kid, I've always known it was so much much more.

I'm a cynical ******* but I know beauty when I see one, recognized hope—
as hopeful as her hope could get, despite all the steep, slippery slopes
that could have, should have pushed her off the edge, but didn't.

Because she believed in you.
She believed in wrapping oneself in soft flimsy shell, and waiting for it to harden
until it can finally protect you—metamorphosis was what she believed in.
Like the monarch butterfly, she believed in it all.
She believed in larvae and crawling for the emerald pupaic goal.

She believed you'll grow wings one day, for you're only just a kid
She kept waiting and waiting, won't let you open the lid
of her jar. She loved her jar but she loves you more.

You love her, too, I can tell. Don't tell me otherwise.
I'd be insulted, little kid. Oh, but wouldn't it feel nice
to disprove my accusations, Mr. J the Ripper?

For months, you pulled her wings apart ever so slowly
So slow, in fact, that I somehow hoped you would stop and proceed to sew it back
But you never did—no, you ripped her ******* wings off, bones fractured with loud cracks!

YOU RIPPED HER ******* WINGS OFF, YOU ******* WATERSAC.

I've only seen the horrid wound once and I can still smell the ichor from her back.
I must commend you though, since decency was something you lived not to lack.
I just wish you'd grown the wings she wished for you to have.
But that cocoon must have felt cozy, so you never really left.
I'd like to be polite now so beware of your first steps.

You'll see the flesh whose skin you tore enough to expose.
You'll see her face everywhere, in poems and in prose.

(Now, I must bring my poem to a close.)

And like the monarch butterfly, dear, she will remember—
not just one, but all of it: all the pain you caused her,
hurt you chose not to lift—dreams that used to hold her adrift
Young lad, she'll remember everything
I assure you: She will remember every. Single. Thing.

(I wish your heart the heaviest of anvils, your mouth the tightest of zippers, your limbs the strongest of chains. I wish you luck, lad. I sincerely do.)
There's no point in trying to make other people listen to art. We whisper things differently down here.
Simon Soane Jul 2013
I'm a schizophrenic hypocrite
thankfully not in a medical way
i don't have to pop pills everyday
to keep an essence of danger under control
and to stop my head doing backward flips and forward rolls
to curtail bad thoughts and contain OCD
wake up and think "what's happening to me?"
but sometimes i'm full of mazey bomb blasts
and crazy contrasts,
I'm a schizophrenic hypocrite
I say work i'm not even gonna give 50% percent never mind double
but i'll stay just below the warning threshold so i don't really get in trouble,
i do see my sick days as extra days of annual leave
but my bums on my seat most of the year and at least one Eve.
I'm always ducking and diving, i hide and they seek,
but i hit my targets every week.
They can say put down your pens,
strip your pencils of lead,
you can't stop me writing in my head
But you'll sometimes dictate what time i go to bed.
I'm a schizophrenic hypocrite
Nearly every road i walk down i've got a ***** cat friend
there meowing never drives me round the bend
but if me owing then just a letter i'll send.
I’ll rescue  spiders from the bath, without any exception,
But I’ll clean their webs and evict them when I have a house inspection.
Giving up pork, on a parity with pigges at last
But then i broke my faste with bacon for breakfast
Watching lambs a gamboling there frolicking is fab,
but i'll see you on a plate later if i'm craving a kebab.
I'm a schizophrenic hypocrite.
Money and the capitalist structure baffles, no thanks, no ta
but before i go out a quick sub off Ma and Pa.
I'll pay for a taxi, i don't care about the amount,
while checking fervently the statement from my bank account.
Cash cannot be eaten it just gets you into Eton
but i'll rifle through my pockets for pennies to get an eat on
i don't adore you, i'll say your the means to an end
but then i spend some more and ask for a lend.
I'm a schizophrenic hypocrite.
I'll say anarchy  is everywhere, petition and abstain
then  read in the late edition who i think should take the reins.  
I scream smash the system without any regrets
but then start stubbing out where they deem no cigarettes.
I'll say **** big business they are always looting tons
while cutting out Asda coupons to get the soup with croutons.
i'll say **** materialism, to that i am adverse,
"ohh if you want to get me some trainers Mum can you make em Converse? "
I'm a schizophrenic hypocrite
One Saturday i found it hard to move
crying out for water, more than needing food,
stomach emptier than the packets in my pockets
Early winter scribble
spoiled by the ripple of rain,
deadened and dull
on a precious day,
the time I crave
passes through a husk
full of caves.
Each inhabitant curses
and burns
the stagnant soil under their feet,
I want something to eat.
I need to drink.
The cold slab of sink
lures flesh to rest,
unsatisfied
with retched offerings
flung from a scorched earth
so next Friday, a few beers and l I’ll hit the hay
Ten beers later, where’s the MDMA?
And my staunch resolutions go up my nose
Chatting through the night, striking a pose,
Music accentuated, stars sparkling hard
World’s discussed in magic back yards,
Focused and fraught in tumultuous thought
Ten cigs in an hour
An hours too short,
As the morning comes, I start feeling a mess
It slowly disintegrates the treasure in my chest,
Feelings of strength crumble to a feeble frame,
Spears in my head, WHOOPS I’VE DONE IT AGAIN.
You’ll stop this time, I curse and lecture,
Two bottles down next Friday etc etc,
I’m a schizophrenic hypocrite
I remember an uneventful Tuesday when i wasn't working
belly full of rice
and i saw you twice,
two times a day,
on a day in lieu,
time stood still,
smiling at you
i thought i'm gonna have to write about you,
so i park myself in a bar after a joint in Netto carpark
and start using words to build an arc
and if you you do wanna walk in two by two,
can i walk in with you?
Is it this green ride that's getting me high
or the regret i seen in the gleam of your eye
that as soon as we said hi we said bye,
as disappointed as the catcher when he dropped the rye.
If i may be so bold,
if you were cold
i wouldn't hail these stones
i'd pummel Jack Frost until he knows he's lost,
i'll leave all the lights on to hasten global warming
make Obama declare winter a season of mourning,
If you met an iceberg of Titanic  proportions
i'd cut through it quicker than the Ripper does back street abortions.
If you were in prism
i'd try to unrangle the science of triangles
so i could build you a pyramid with all the right angles,
my stomachs in knots;
the most tranquil of tangles.
Then i saw you get out of the lift
and i wanted to play you a rift
until you exposed your midriff
because you set me adrift from chains and shackles
my mind goes crazy and fills with cackles,
i crackle with lightning, my energy heightens
my heart tightens
and not cos of cholesterol
cos i think you're special
and celestial!
I got dreams from naught, my head feels taught,
i prised a lesson from your eyes,
love is the greatest prize.
But now that's gone, all things
pass evolution in transience
faces that were everything lost to balance
blue it merge
but seldom a residual surge
and your bark today was worst than your bite
it said something softly,
i sow the seeds for the sycamore trees
we can carve our names on next summer.
Under an endless stretching sky
you wrote you
and i wrote i,
the lights in our eyes don't lie
they are gateways to the suns inside,
our hearts couldn't hide from this brightening tide.
I'm a Schizophrenic hypocrite
I remember this guy from work, cooed to me
look at the **** on this page 3
he drooled over Nuts magazine like he belonged in a zoo
i bet he frequented strippers too.
He said seen this clip, it's ******* great,
it ad turn a couple of queers straight
it was these two twins with rouge lips being rude,
the way she chomped on her like food
and they defo loved it,there is  no doubt
it's just just ***** Eskimo ******* kissing snouts
and sharing with her sister the joy of getting licked out.
Wonder how they looked in the family car?
giggling about some exciting destination,
like all kids displaying a lack of patience,
“are we there yet” chorused with glee and duality,
dressed in the same clothes to ensure parity.
Ice cream for tea.
Maybe they might be way into drugs
or addled with addiction
lacking hugs
and sore from the friction.
Not liking the glare
feeling scared.
maybe?
He said nar they love it up them baby.
But then,
i have it
about 3 or 4 times a week
after the 5th time of hitting snooze,
or a heavy night on the *****,
or sometimes no beer,
even after a sonnet of Shakespeare
a sudden urge comes over me,
GET THE LAPTOP!
GET THE *******!
Then it's
Japanese teen lesbians spitting,
finger ******* wearing mittens,
****'s ******* Britions,
oap creampies
***** covered eyes
***** flicking,
extreme suction,
**** destruction,
Captain Birds Eye gobbing
Batman ******* Robin,
A ten inch plumber ******* in a kitchen sink drama
Robert de Niro unpeeling Bananarama
Marty doing the Doc
a gimped up Kirk whipping Spoc
Rita  ******* Norris
Gail licking Fizz
Sally doing Dev
and Kevin doing ki.............Kevin, get out of the room.
Back to
a **** doing a ******
a pre op pleasuring granny
two ***** one *****,
then i chuck my muck all over my tunic
flip over and continue reading The Female ******,
I'm a Schizophrenic Hypocrite,
i've gotta split.
Shaded Lamp May 2014
May I present a challenge?
Imagine if you will
You have created a flying explosive device
And it needs a name that will thrill.

A name, a good name, which name?
Well, none of those below.
Some twisted suits have already used them.
****, EVEN Tacit Rainbow.

What really goes through their minds?
As they sit and discuss the name
Of their creation that's destined to ****
Butcher, destroy and maim.

Just try if you can
To read the whole of this edited list
Imagine how many have exploded of each
With out angrily clenching your fist

Little John
Honest John
Hellfire
Matador
HARM
Terrier
Nike-Ajax
Corporal
Sea Sparrow
Redstone
Bullpup
Mace
Nike-Hercules
Regulus II
Atlas
Thor
Lacrosse
Jupiter
Quail
Hawk
Tartar
Falcon
Polaris
H­ound Dog
Pershing
Entac
Firebee
Shelduck
Jayhawk
Cardinal
Firefly
Petr­el
Redhead/Roadrunner
Redeye
Mauler
Skybolt
Nike Zeus/Spartan
Condor
Phoenix
Typhon MR
Falconer
Overseer
Taurus
Kingfisher
Cardinal
Walleye
Hornet
Ma­verick
Big Q
Minuteman
Blue Eye
Viper
Firebolt
Bulldog
Harpoon
Focus
Perseus
Firefly
Stinger
­Compass Dwell
B-Gull
Agile
Seekbat
Delta Dagger
Thunderbolt[7]
Patriot
Aquila
Teleplane
Streaker
Tomahawk
­Firebrand
Roland
Peacekeeper
Penguin
Pave Tiger/Seek Spinner
Sidearm
Skipper
Wasp
Sea Lance
Ripper[7]
Trident II
Midgetman
Tacit Rainbow
Pave Cricket
Have Nap
Peregrine
Exdrone
Javelin
Pointer
Hunter
Coyote
Skeeter
Outlaw

­Wow, you're still reading
And you've managed not to throw up.
Just wondering how many innocent victims
Of a tax funded device called Bullpup.
The Mulberry butcher was amazed

a packet of kidneys arrived and glazed.

Where did this wonderful treat come from?

It said on the label, Choice, US, One,

The Chief of Police was having a fit;

twenty young women  

reported missing and found ripped.

Ripped through the throat and the back

as well

somebody was destined to go to hell.

The coroner cried, My God, look how they died!

He sliced their neck, took out their eyes and

then, My God the kidneys too!

This man surely belongs in a zoo.

The Chief, he knew, at once,

the Rippers return had given him lunch.
KM COLBY 2010@
An acolyte of White Chapel, I walk the streets at night,

I strut the dark to feed my lust, my mildly selfish plight.

Don’t mistake me for insane, my demonic thoughts are clear,

Come to me my little *****, I show you why I’m revered.

-

I walk behind, step by step,

As I stalk my little coquette

she leaves the brothel, all dressed up,

Awaiting young gentleman to sup,

I’ve chosen this one for my knife,

It calmly grins to end her life.

-

Her caller leaves with no tip to spare,

Her saddened face hidden by her hair,

I follow her back until an alley,

The hatred then shall take my lead.

-

Twenty feet there from the door,

I felt her heart drop to the floor,

As I choked the breath out of her lungs,

I saw the sadness from being so close to home.

-

Upon my shoulder, I take her back

To the venue of my attack

I sneak through the darkest paths,

Until my home, we reach at last.

-

And at this part in my confession

I warn of the graphic, due to depression.

-

Upon my medical table she lay,

My scalpel awaits the ****** flay,

A little anesthetic, here and there,

Keeps her awake but still and fair.

-

She cannot scream but her eyes do widen

Though to be fair, my form does frighten,

When I lay my other instruments out,

Of leaving alive, I see her doubt.

-

“To business then my dear, my dear.”

Out of one eye, I spy a tear.

-

Because of paralysis I need no restraints,

She remains still, her heart remains faint,

I start with the kneecaps, just in case,

She breaks free of the spell, so I needn’t chase.

-

I place them upon my “excess” table

And then her legs I begin to cradle,

I take then every one of her toes,

And place them in a neat little row.

-

I take my time stemming the blood,

So death doesn’t come misunderstood,

Also that she may not pass out,

She remains conscious and without clout.

-

“My Sweet,

I cherish the sorrow I see in you eyes,

I enshrine the abhorrence of love I’ve revised,

acrimonious am I, animosity guides me,

I’ll **** everything you’ve ever believed.”

-

I move up onto her thighs,

Upon the blade, the sanguine does shine,

I split each side to sew again,

Except the muscle taken from within.

-

I stitch her fingers there together,

I rip out the nails to put on a tether,

Her arms have no concern to me,

Lest I graze an artery.

-

And  my favourite, the chest cavity,

I’ll make it a shrine to my depravity

Now is the point where time is a factor,

As I do this, she will die faster.

-

I hammer away with the sternum-splitter,

It cracks and cracks, her heart does flutter,

I eagle the ribcage as she stares in horror,

The sound of my laughter begins to adore her.

-

Her organs gaze up at me in fright,

I begin extracting in delight,

She looks up, looks for her God,

But he is absent, he is a fraud.

-

I witness the beating grow faster,

She is in shock, this could be disaster,

A little more solution for the pain,

But just enough so that she remains.

-

I slowly take a needle and puncture the left lung

Her other grows violent when its marriage is undone,

I extract her spleen and then,

Her heart does pump, her blood thickens.

-

Involuntary muscles in her lips tighten,

I barely catch it with her lips stitched in,

Her eyes, how they wonder everywhere,

Searching for some thing somewhere.

-

I see in them, she questions me,

‘Why have you forsaken me?’

Darling, I think that is not the question

I did this of my own suggestion,

-

You may ask why I left her womanhood alone,

Her ******* and ***** no violence shown,

To that, I answer you now and simply,

Frivolous things such as *** do not concern me.

-

You may ask why and where she may be found,

But you won’t find her, though don’t let that cloud

Your idea of me or what lies inside,

Don’t worry however, I allowed her to die,

After I had taken her precious heart,

She likely could’ve lived half a minute to start,

But at about second “fifteen”,

I cut her throat ever so gently,

She gurgled so quietly, ever somber,

I’m sure she would’ve thanked me regardless,

But in the end I don’t feel I’ve robbed a father,

After all, what father has a ***** of a daughter?

-

You will never catch me, I have no motive,

Other than sport, and a mind supported,

With thoughts of these wretched street walkers,

May they all be mindful they’ve gained a stalker,

Perhaps one day you may of me learn,

A clean city and plain interest, is all I yearn.
Rob Sandman Mar 2016
The Ballad Of Jack Hammer (Concept by Jay Byrne)
=========================
Jack Hammer-Jay Byrne Black Fang Rob Sandman aka Schizophrenic.

Listen up I got a tale to tell.
About a black jack rabbit known for raisin' hell.
Jack Hammer's his name. Retribution the game.
Out on the plain with his kinfolk he did dwell.
Til that fateful day. No forgettin it.
Loss so painful. Jack was but a leveret.
While playin' out back.
Along the track came Black Fang and the Red River Pack.
And they were lookin, for blood.
Notorious outlaws up to no good.
In the low sun and The Pack started gunnin'.
So Jack started runnin'. The damage was done and it was over.
No time for goodbye. He just stood there.
Lookin' the Devil in the eye.
While his Momma bled.
The wolf walked up and this is what he said.

Are you sore that the Fang took away your Paw?
and the River Run's red with the blood o' your Maw?,
well hop away little blackjack eyes red raw,
-tell the rest o' the prairie what you done saw,
Red River is the Pack,I'm the one with the crown,
I'm the big bad wolf who blew your whole life down!
so cower and quiver little wabbit,have a cry...
you little ******* you took my **** eye!


From out me back pocket, pulled out me slingshot..
..I'm a real crack-shot when it comes to bringin' pain across lots.
Ya never saw it quicker.
Lickety-split I skedaddle into the thicket.
Then he was gone...

Spent the next few years wanderin'. Ponderin' recompense.
Lived paw to mouth honing his defense..
..and offense. Hell bent on atonement.
Twin six-guns blazin', layin' judgement.
While The Pack kept killin'.
Full split, full chisel, goin' the big figure.
Black Fang said it himself.

none bigger none badder than the Pack I'm with,
spit venom that hisses,hogleg never misses,
no-one messes with the red river,do and you die,
cry wolf-get engulfed,leave your colt lie,
whole pack'll rip lead to your head if you try,
but-one thing niggles while I sup down Rye
is to **** that rabbit that took my **** eye,
heard he built some fame,got himself a name,
Jackhammer IS MINE I STAKED MY CLAIM
.


Like a freight train runnin' on collision course.
Jacks fate's been comin' like an iron horse.
Tour de force, pent up, fired up ready to blow.
On a stormy night into town he did stroll.


Jack walked into the saloon.
Black as all hell, no light from the moon.
Fang at a table playin' poker.
Soon to be Dead Mans Hand for that joker.
The pack'll pay.
I'll put the red in your river bringin' Judgement Day.
Stormbringer I'll deliver. Got an itchy trigger-finger..
..cos I'm quicker and fitter. Juiced up, not goosed up on hard liquor.
Then he catches me eye.
Takes a sip of his rye and says..

if it ain't the **** nipper that took the fang's eye,
waited all these years to come here and die,
no odds no winnin' no end to my sinnin' ,
Pack back up,fair game fangs winnin
last chance saloon,I'm too old for you,
ain't no-one ever outdrew me and old blue,
Navy Colt revolver,dead problem solver
so 'ware this wolf,you couldn't **** with silver


Black Fang, I've come to collect.
Anybody that don't wanna die better mosey outback.
But the pack can stay.
For what ya done did you're dyin' this day.

as I opened my mouth and slid my paw to old blue,
twas like the heavens opened up on my whole **** crew,
twin revolvers spitting,splittin' open my pack,
last shot ripped ripper my lieutenant in the back

cause I dragged him over me,hit the deck too,
little rabbit thinks its,over cause I  was hit too,
then I let rip,aiming straight for the head,
coulda sworn that shot left Jackhammer dead
... (but did it?)
Another unfinished track by myself and Jay Byrne... give us a few likes to hear the end(lol cliffhanger style!)
The stage was  set the little untalented ***** monkeys gathred
like bizzar attention seeking ******  all for the title
of  Hello Poetry's top poet.

But enough with the weird named carbon copy poets
who now **** the charts im just saying im a little bitter.
Lets take a look at the judges you silly little donkeys.

It was a who's who of people who actully were something
that what in the real world we like to call original.
Jack  yes the loveable kinda ******* ****** who deep
down would probaly have more in common with Jack the Ripper
than Lord Byron  im just saying.

Baths  yes the queen of Hello  and i'd  be a smart *** now but im scared she'd hurt me  and not in a good way  not that im into
pain dam you Marv  Albert    i never knew the tijuanna brass were so freaky.

Chris Smith  the poet  the model  the all  around  hansome devil
with a heart of gold  you go girl.

Phil Roberts  the silent  yet  down right evil  arch enemy of
all things  sweet and pure finally off probation and his meds.
Still the restraining  order was in full effect thank God  Barney
that devil worshiping dinosuar was no where in site  and as long as the voices in Phils head were happy we were all safe.

And the man the myth the pervert drunken *******  of Hello.
Just back from his recent vist   to  Shady Pines  resort slash mental
institution.
Gonzo  along with his court ordred doctor .
Dr Jerry  Who held many degree's in bartending,Massage therapy with happy endings,And chemistry yes  he was a real busy ******* slash drug fiend okay dealer.
What a girl has her needs.

Sitting at the judges table it was the usal chatter how are you.
Nice ***'s  hey Phil  put down the knife.
Jack  wear did you get that muzzle and straight jacket?
Baths  reminding me she didnt wanna have to use the pepper spray
like at the Hello christmas party.

Gonzo pouring his wild turkey.
Dr Jerry yelling  hey just what do you think your doing?
What are ya drinking by yourself?
Good point  you silly *******  so after four strong drinks
some lines of uhh  sinus powder from Columbia they dont just
make records  to my suprize we were off like lindsy lohan
on a drug I mean  well a drug run.

The first couple of guys read there genitic poems all of which
were like taco bell food.It  pretty much  would either give you food poisening or the ****'s.

Person after person read there poetry the drinks poured
people gave there opinions  Chris well the poem was great just maybe pace it better.

Baths giving another deep comment that was always welcome
that and the contestants outta sheer fear knew not to cross her
cause **** happens after dark around here and the Hello dumpster
is filled with not just bottles of wild turkey yeah remember Drew?
Exactly.

Jack gave a long muffled  comment  that must have surely been brillant someone should really remove that dam muzzle.

Phil  goddamed dinosuar  i'll teach him for playing hard to get.
oh yeah he'll like it he'll like it real good  oh look
a puppy dog.

Okay kinda weird  but well yeah.

Then the  attention turned to the attention grabing little *****
of Hello  no not  Gary ****** man.
the only G that matters beside's spot  Gonzo.

Well I think you need to lean more into the microphone  when you
read  and um well to relax  show more clevage.
And may I say if that was a samba   it totally ******
1 star.

The room and other judges must have been amazed by my depth
for they were all silent.
Dr Jerry aplauded  dam he really knew how to fill out that cheerleading outfit   we really needed to take a fishing trip im just saying
male bounding is okay sometimes  just ask Phil.

The people kept rolling in i slept through most of the mens readings
the women  because im a gentleman  and a scholar I had DR Jerry give my card  cause if Ican help inspire and guide maybe cuddle  fresh hot
young poets im all for it   I know what your saying yes I am  
giving back to the Hello community and not just STD's and hangovers.

But enough with the foreplay  finally  with the tension built up
like little catholic school girls waiting for there savior Justin Bieber to make a appearence   it was time.

Who was Hello's top new poet.
The short little **** *******  slash  napoleon of hello walked to the mic.
And after several  attempts at reaching it  one of his many  
assistants slash  friends with benfits of staying on the charts forever
assumed the possition.
So he could stand on there back and talk in the mic.
Get your mind outta the gutter.

The winner is  for there poem the Gentic.
There began a rumble beside me ******  Dr Jerry
stop jerking off were public man.

But it wasnt my dealer I mean doctor .
It was My fashion forward amigo Jack.
The rumbling continued slowley the straps began to snap
as his color changed to red once would have been to green
if not for copyright infrigement dam you king kong.

The red devil burst from his restraints  like a  stripper off
a four week ******* binge let loose  at Macdonalds.
tables flew  clothes were ripped.
Bathe's yelled  at the top of her lungs  look ****** I have a tazer
so if you try to cop a feel i'll use it.
Must have been talking to Phil or Chris.

I knew what to do  in this chaos i quickly ran with the special talent of Hello  to my dressing room  DR Jerry  emergency bring  wild turkey duct tape  a video camera  a inflatable swimming pool  some jello mix and  a Kenny G  cd  and some roofies .
Im kidding  I never listen to Kenny G.

The screams were that of a german shapard ripping a smurf to shreads.
Help me  plaese  mommy I almost felt sorry for Eliot.
But i did what a true gentleman slash long winded journalist does in these time's. Sat back with some cocktails and enjoyed some jello
wrestling  opps  I think  the tickle monster is loose.

Me first  me first  ******  Phil  well if it keeps the voices at bay
why the **** not.
We laughed we danced  Jack Horner  bathed in Eliots blood.
While Chris said please  stop including me in these ****** stories
Gonzo.
    
While Baths  kept her tazer in hand  and dry white wine in the other.
Much like  a bad habbit I grow on you.
Jack looked at me as old brothers in shared insanity often do.
Hey Gonzo  when ya  gonna end this one mate?
Hey amigo  as soon as ya get that  *** on stage and close the show
with a lady gaga  preformance.

The *****, the *******,  the Brits,And Gonzo,
With his doctor slash roadie slash personal man servant bartender
who could ask for anything more than a purple dinosaur's head on a platter but enough about Phil.

Untill next time Stay Crazy  Kids.
Gonzo.
Im back *******   and  back to being a true gentleman of Hello.
Okay more like the lovable **** slash drunken perve you all love
okay tolerate cheers
‘I used to work for the council here,’
Said ‘Ripper’ Jones at the bar,
Fortified with a Beam or two
And a pint of the best, Three Star,
Trelawney winked at the barman and
The barman, he winked back,
‘We’re in for another ripper yarn,’
Said the bearded Cousin Jack.

‘They always gave me the ***** jobs,
It was always just my luck,
They’d point to me, say, ‘Ripper’s free,
Break out the tipper truck!
You know, that beast with seven gears
But only three of them worked,
The brakes were non-existent, and
The Foreman, he was a ****!’

‘We used to call him Father Time
He was always on the prowl,
Calling time to the Smoko breaks
With an ever present scowl.’
He said, ‘Pick up that giant rock
In the Commer Tipper Truck,
The ocean’s sprung a giant leak
And we have to seal it up!’

‘It took us a crane to lift this rock
It was seven feet across,
‘This mother has to be fifteen tons,’
Said my mate, crane driver Ross.
‘What did he say you need it for?’
He yelled, in a sort of screech,
‘I have to drive it down to the shore,
There’s a great big hole in the beach!’

‘The Commer sank right down on its springs,
This rock, a hell of a load,
I had to drive it in second gear
With the tyres flat on the road,
I finally made it down to the shore
And thought, ‘I must be a mug!’
The sea was circling round the hole
Like a bath when you pull out the plug.

I had to wait for an hour or two
‘Til it emptied out the bay,
All you could see was a dry seabed
For a mile or so, each way,
Then I drove the truck right up to the hole,
Thinking to tip it in,
When a giant geyser of steam shot up,
The sea was turning to steam.’

‘You know what the brakes on that truck were like,
They hadn’t been fixed for years,
I thought I’d better get out of there
Or it all would end in tears.
But the truck rolled forward, over the hole
And began to sink right in,
While I climbed out of the window there
Determined to save my skin.’

‘The truck sank down, under the rock
And it plugged that head of steam,
You could barely see the tip of the tray
When the tide came rolling in,
And that’s the rock you go fishing off,
You can say it was down to me,
While you were throwing your schooners back
I was out there, saving the sea!’

David Lewis Paget
Prologue... Voyeurs Notes: Two lovers entwined in the blue black room of the ante meridian (a.m.).


Under a cutting ******* moon
he enters you
You took him in with Pavlovian drooling eyes. He took your innocence and you shrieked in dripping compliance:::
Only that sickle overseer in the night sky bared witness
to the end of my pleasant fiction

Halogen orb
Halcyon days


Left only with the abscess of the apparition
that was “us”
and a
Phantom pain for the never was

Perhaps she is
somewhere
quieted by enormity of it all
Life in fast forward, a fallow future, a vertical victim of his ***** ****

Predawn...
Coldness without catharsis on a cobblestone street  

she is again spread before him,
he’s already tired of her
, and again that ******* fading crescent
watches:::  
she’s wishing for a flashback, a do over,
a dream of sanity before her teardrop salinity (it could’ve been us)

But here I stand eternal
Butchered by your lunar lunacy::: alone
Against the backdrop of a pockmarked sky
Madisen Kuhn Feb 2019
sitting across from you
at the white kitchen table
or cross-legged on my side of the bed
is someone hollow.
not as sweet as a fig. not as dead
as the inside of a black rotting trunk
but close. i do not hold beautiful things
like a terracotta vase. inside my head
is a seam ripper that splits everything
down the middle. sometimes
you are standing in front of the bright window,
glowing like a saint. sometimes
i let you fall into an algae-lined pool
that i will not pay to have cleaned.
everything is floating within me.
i haven’t figured out
how to anchor this stuff down.

no one ever taught me how
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2016
sometimes a private message on the sly
outlasts a poem,
i'm no quack - my prescription list
if a bunch of theories,
i can't the Hippocratic oath even if i wanted to,
which also means a theory here,
or a theory there can't hurt -
it's levitating as a chanced choice of consideration,
in terms such stated, there are
the questions of consolidating the problem
socrates faced as to how confront a unity
of particulars and universals -
well, a mathematical impression
with the prime expression of division would be
a start, a comprehension of units
akin to millimetre, centimetre and mile
would be due a referencing to.

i hardly know what to call the cartesian
subsequence equation -
sartre tried to invert it -
let's say that thinking is an *essence

and being is existence -
drag in newton's causality and einstein's
lack of causality - i do believe
descartes is pivotal in terms of causality
and what existentialism suggested
via sarte: that existence precedes essence
or vice versa - causality i should think -
but if the itemisation of space
as divided enduring placebos of millimetre
and centimetre with each point
as the Freudian id to divide is loosely estimated -
i understand Sartre's argument when
being a revisionist via Descartes -
existence does indeed precede essence -
you learn from your mistakes -
first can existence example itself
before thought (essence) begins its learning process -
indeed it can't be otherwise, intuition
does exist to a cloning zenith reached by animals
who're only vociferous via the medium
of onomatopoeia - ferrous sounds -
but among men there are more enzyme-related
processes to create the Enlightenment from
the Renaissance - the latter an artistic progress
the former the scientific -
study chemistry or physics and philosophy becomes
a playground - biology for some reason
has too many octopus tentacles attached to
obvious things - mutations of Chernobyl to mind -
and history, **** sake's the stone age and the
17th century will deviate far between on the spectrum
of analysis - there is much more bureaucracy from
the 17th century than crude cave drawings from the stone
age - i'm hardly saying it's not plausible
but the time-scale leveraged with boiling a cup of tea
is the worst kinds of distraction - scout's honour,
cross my heart and count to 20 in under 10 seconds.
anyway, for the majority, people are hardly
innovators, a few can claim to be a pure res cogitans
(a thinking thing), since such a being would require
an id scale of division, not necessarily a scale of division
akin to the majority of people, with their
9 to 5 working days, monday through to sunday,
january through to december -
with the latter list of exemplification we're talking
about a res narro / a narrative thing - alt. include
res transloquor (a thing talking over -
a loss of etiquette when talking over older people)
etc. -
           since i find that thinking is primarily
about innovative feats - but most of the time what we
call thinking is actually narration -
a book never written, an idea never materialised -
and the existence of the Buddhist "mindfulness" /
simply not thinking, a full cartesian sum embodiment,
akin to driving a car, a bike, whatever you like.
or i could have written about the news review
articles from sunday: the boo! that's Broadmoor,
the lush living conditions in blocks 2 & 5
and the squalor in blocks 1 & 6...
names include the murderers:
jonathan lowe (aged 52) writing a letter about
the Ritz hotel like conditions in 1898,
croquet and cricket, tea weak beer and gambling,
tobacco luxury and servants via the lesser
fortunate inmates,
william chester minor's addition to the inaugural
edition of the oxford english dictionary (ex-military
surgeon he was),
chippendale bookcases, bathed once a week,
shaved three times a week,
(now you can understand my fascination with
Ezra Pound) - thomas harry a would be assassin
of the p.m. Gladstone of 1893 walking about
the asylum gardens mentioning Gladstone's
last plea with a smile akin to the eager buds of
may appealing to harry's sense of "remorse",
a dutchman who attacked his wife with a mallet
pleading to renter the lunatics' Ritz circa 1895 -
a jack the ripper suspect amongst them -
dr. richard brayn hardly ***** burroughs' dr. benway -
a madman had never so much luck under **** brayn -
but the less fortunate remarked:
'my name is T Perkins, i have been murdered here,
by those that know not what they do,
because they have ether in their heads!'
i'd guess ammonia to add to such a confession,
or skunk ***** to mind the least.
thomas cutbrush was the ripper suspect.
jimmy saville wetted his ***** in the female wards...
can't complain with ******* adolescent girls
why complain about ******* crazed chicks -
Michael Meyers in the room? i thought so,
democracy is the ideal export, people know
jack the ******* by compliments from the toilet's
perfumery as described: strawberry scented,
mm hmm - Kentucky tattooed on my left buttock's
cheek. but boo! a.k.a. Broadmoor is closing,
pristine lunatics on the street - mind you
in the news review they had an article about
seymour hersh - what he called
dum-dum and darth vader of the galactic empire
surround fashion trends of 9 / 11...
joy uu bushy and st. francis cheney -
prior to this poem looking at russian sables in
fur farms going berserker over the size of the cages,
a lynx rummaging in a theory of geometry
walking out lemniscate treading on its own faeces,
and i felt good for the jews
not wearing leather on Yom Kippur -
in their orthodox black attire walking into a
synagogue wearing trainers -
yep, lived next to a synagogue for several years,
a flat above an estate agents...
but of course weddings and mazel tov a rekindled
happy event!
scurrying like rats in an area not allowing pride -
apologies for the comparison,
but Gants Hill wasn't exactly Golders Green,
well the Hanukkha did stand proud at the roundabout,
but then the social project took over
and subsequent evictions proceeded -
Bangladesh came over - and half of Pakistan.
Olivia Kent Jul 2013
Stands tall in dark cloak.
Menacing shadow smacks the alleyway.
Wall dressed in gaslight.
A bag of tricks grasped in his hand.
To turn tricks of his own on night ladies.

The night ladies cackle in raucous laughter.
In the grasp of inebriation's smile.
A stallion bedecked in funeral regalia.
Waits impatiently for his return.
Heavy shod hooves heard scratching the flag stones.

Stallion awaits acknowledgement of death.
Death soon to approach the first sweet soul.
The first of five.
Sweet Mary Ann Nichols.
Throat unceremoniously slashed.
Her abdomen was broken too.
The work of the devil maybe.
Whitechapel August 1888
Was no place for a lady of the night to be.
Despite the chapel, in the name.
This was no religious lair.
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Trevor Gates Jan 2013
It’s good to see you again.

We’ve been expecting you
Please
Sit.

Now…

Lights!
Orchestra!
Curtains!


Bringing forth nighttime lore, the charming chamberlain of Libertine plays
Summoning forth demonic myths, the illustrious weaver of unspoken entities
Dancing on memories, the enchanting fairy of skeletal trees
Sizzling behind magenta curtains, the voluptuous seductress of throbbing blood
Laughing at the potluck, the swollen headmaster of flab
Killing in the alleys, the inscrutable Ripper of Jack
Fornicating in the wild in the dragon’s keep, the ***** of Babylon

Swell the strings!
Blast the horns!
The cast is assembled

The symphony of sensational voyeurism
Yes, you in delight
Don’t deny your
Sacred rite
That’s right



Join my dear

Don’t be shy

Ascend the stairs

And come on stage



Good



Take my hand and venture now through the broken mirror of Assyria
The dunes of sands
Mounded and layered beneath the crisp blue sky

Not a single cloud
Not a single soul

Except for us

My dear
Feel the sand

It’s cool to the touch

The wind encircles your lush hair

The air feels and smells like the breeze of the sea

Where Athenian, white houses line the shores of this desert-sea world


Look up into the blue sky

Witness the open dome in the center

Above our head


Past the blues sky dome is the space between spaces.

Orange silk stars and red trimmed planets
Violet smeared nebulae and green morphing galaxy clusters

Float up to the top of the open space dome in the center of the sky

Reach out and extend your hand

As you touch, the area between this world and the next, ripples spread out from the imagery of the universe.

You touch water in the form of visual, ethereal paradise

The ripples of time expand like the vibrations of sound across the sky

Painting a new canvas of dripping oils and melting clocks



Close your eyes.

Your body hovers in the air

Far from the ground

And far from the person everybody knows


No matter how much a person perceives to know about another, there will be a part us that no one will ever comprehend.



Because to completely absorb the entirety of another life

memories

personality

thought process

dreams

Soul



Is incomprehensible

Inconceivable

Futile



A new world attrition
Through masturbatory perdition

A raging, unquenchable and suffering desire that plagues

The bold

The young

The old

The naive

The smart

The swift

The innocent

The ******

The addicts

The self-proclaimed purists

The self-proclaimed “good people”

“innocent people”

“trusted people”



We are all what we live for: a lie

A lie that consumes the norm

With invisible abnormalities

We are the blind

The deaf

The mute

The chained

The ignored

The punished

The poor

The dumb

The frightened

The dead



The end





Thank you for being here once again.  None of this couldn’t be possible without: Clive Barker, Iron Maiden, headphones, batman, duplexes, Salvador Dali, The hour of the Wolf, folding chairs, wool blankets, Silicone *******, chocolate icing, Bruce Campbell, 28 Days Later, true love, true grit, The seventh seal, black widow spiders, Vishnu and anyone else I forgot to mention.



Please come again.
Yes, yes I know you are probably asking, "How many of these entries are there?" . I couldn't say really, but hey stick around and found out. Let's see what my mind has to offer.  Probably not much, but is it quality or quantity that should out weigh each other? Boing! Hey look, Pizza.

No need to fret, protesters outside my window, this is now a declaration of war to your lives (or is it?), just a free verse/form writing exercise.  Till we meet again my Peeps, minions and droogs.
Filled with hate
He picks his blade
Awaiting the next victim to take away
As scary as it is
The ripper has a sad soul
Only he know why he does what he does
A nice cruise from New York, I thought

From down by Pier two-one

I thought I'd head to England

For a good old spot of fun

An Ocean trip, some nice fresh air

Eleven days at sea

I thought this would perfect to

Help inspire me

I'd never been to Europe

So I did some reading first

The history's insane there

The books did quench my thirst

I couldn't wait to get there

To travel all around

And take all sorts of pictures

To show folks what I'd found

On board, I met a punter

A real hard boiled chap

He told me of  "his England"

Not the funny, tourist crap

He asked where I was going

I said "I've no idea"

He told me that he'd show me things

As long as I bought beer

I asked him what he meant by this

He said "Just wait and see"

"I'll show you things...will curl your hair"

"You watch son, follow me.'

He told me of a werewolf

Running loose in London town

He was killing folks in Soho

And they couldn't bring him down

He said "Two nights from now"

"The moon would be real nice"

"A full moon brings out werewolves son..."

"That's your first bit of advice"

I shuddered then, I wasn't sure

If "this England" would be right

But, I begged off from the table

And I settled for the night

My mind was working overtime

Nightmares and dreams came quick

And with the heaving on the water

I woke up to be sick

I went up on the deck to walk

And grab a little air

But who to my surprise was

by the railing standing there

He said " I thought you'd be here sooner

Isn't it a lovely moon?

Just a few more days to go

The werewolf walks real soon

"Let's go and get a coffee"

"I figured I won't get back to sleep"

"And my nerves are really shaky"

"I know I won't sleep deep"

He said "Don't worry laddie"

"I've lots more tales to speak"

"But their stories for the hearty"

"And you son...seem so weak"

I asked him about Whitechapel

He said ...."Oh, Jack the Ripper"

"He murders girls down that way son"

I then peed in my slippers

He goes around at night you see

And picks up girls in the night gloom

Then he takes them back and guts them

In the comfort of their room"

I thought, I wanted jolly stuff

Like palaces and such

This tour of London ****** sites

Well, it seems a little much

I said "I've heard of Harley Street"

"Can we go there for a ride?'

He said "No problem son..

"We might meet Mr. Hyde"

"Dr. Jekyll drinks this stuff

Thats turns him to a beast

The monster's name is Mr. Hyde

It's in London...to the east."

I thought, this isn't what

I signed on to go see

I didn't want the next victim

To end up being me.

I said "Is there a place that's safe at all?"

He said "I can take you by the palace"

"We can go walk up the mall"

I said "that would be perfect"

"That doesn't sound so hard"

He said "Just watch for Moriarty"

"Sherlock Holmes and Scotland Yard"

At this point I got up and said

"I think I'm off to bed"

"All this talk of horror"

"Caused an aching in my head"

I said " I think, I'll just move on

And travel somewhere like Albania"

He said that I must see His friend

in southern Transylvannia.

He said Mr. Van Helsing

Would take me for a tour

And with what I'd see in Europe

I'd forget the London gore"

I thanked him and I went to bed

And I then asked him his name

"Dracul" he said...but call me "Vlad"

"I'm sure we'll meet again"

I changed my plans, went to my room

And I figured "What the heck"

But I have this one last question"

Why was he staring at my neck?
.
Pauline Morris Mar 2016
You walk with purpose down my street
Thought you wanted to taste all my sweets
Like every other man I meet
That on their wife they want to cheat

You choose me, why I do not know
But on me you did bestow
Your surgically sharp knife leave rivers that flows

Me, you saw fit to disembowell
All that was heard was my painful howl
You ****** that knife into my gut
Made a smooth quick upper cut

I watched my intestines hit the floor
You calmly walked right out the door
I was left with the messy gore
Waves of panic hit my minds shore

As the realization that my life was over
No more looking for that four leaf clover
Nothing mattered any more
This act of yours I do deplore

I grab my body's innards, to shove them back
But didn't seem to have the knack
Such a sad way to end my life
By the blade of Jacks shiny knife
Gin Aug 2012
I am your dark side
A cold wave of destruction
In the night of your soul i hide
Whispering sweet ****** temptation

Your blood feels thin
As i clutch at your heart
To your fear, give in!
Before i torn you apart

You'll pray & hope to resist
Closing your eyes, clenching your fists
For the voices to finally desist
A feeble faith to stand alone amidst

Brain wrapped in chains
Consciousness fades away
You break all restrains
A murderous rage you obey...

Envy, Lust, Wrath, all will begin
As you fall into the abysses of each of these sins
Swallowed in flames, you'll burn from within
Hate oozing from each pores of your skin

While the night reigns
Hunt down your preys
Their blood filled veins
Soon spilled away

You will **** their souls
Invade their bodies & mind
As your ripper within howls
Hellish wrath & lust combined

You will rip them open
Crotch to chin
Tormented in pain
With a cold blade of steel...

Dark blood gushing out on your face
Their screams filling your ears
An ****** of furry you will taste
Crying a liberated flow of tears

On their lungs, you shall carve your name
As they breathe you until their last moment
A death they will meet so inhumane
For your own twisted amusement

Breathe in their fumes
Of their grossly opened guts
Sickening stench inner perfume
Steaming out from a thousand cuts

Life leaving their eyes
As sun rays come to rise
Your inner beast satisfies
By the blood lust of their demise

Your humanity to awake
As your Demon asleep & gone
The horror of your deeds taking shape
Oh tell me, tell me, what have you done?!

Razor claws & fangs that gnash deep
Hold the Bible & grab a crucifix
For the Demon back again as you try to sleep
Night after night reborn as the Phoenix
Okay, i said on my profile, all my poems were based on true past or present events / experiences, but not this one... promise :)
Silence Screamz Oct 2014
I have hid behind broken shadows, disappointed daydreams and somber reminders.

I have been bitten by the black widow of life, poisoning my veins with her venom of death.

I have been mutilated like one of Jack the Ripper's victim on the dark streets of London, left to bleed out.

I have escaped the evil smiles of Pogo the Clown that crept in my dreams as I slept at night, crying my black tears.

I have been Bound, Tied and Killed by the innocent friendly neighbor, twisted in the head by the devil himself.

I could hear the screams of the pregnant actress as the Family took her life in a blood bath, as they began their Helter Skelter.

I can not escape this Alcatraz of torture in my mind, that has been placed there by the lunatics of our time. But it is fun in this asylum.

Welcome to my padded cell.
Olivia Kent Jul 2013
Sweet Catherine Eddowes,
Second lady one of two,
On a night of grisly finds in the square of the bishop's headdress,
In London's not so fair city,
On this the Sabbath's tragic night,
'Kate' tragic shrew was tamed, not by Petruchio,
This murdered lady from tragedy of night walk,
Tatooed lady, hazel eyes and fiery auburn hair,
Bonnet left on after death, protected her beautiful hair,
Perhaps the ripper cared,
Kate filled usually with vile temper,
Her temper not apparent on that sad night,
Appeared to put up no fight,
Her beautiful face was sliced to ribbons,
Cruelly disfigured by this evil,
Usually was a jolly gal, loved to sing and dance,

Unable to make a flight to escape the merciless wrath of this mystery man,
Carotid artery slashed and dashed,
No blood left on the ground,
Smeared foul faecal matter all around,
As ripping evil stole, her bowels,
Lain, like sleeping naturally ,
Still warm corpse discovered,
Fellow passing by saw a woman pass,
May have been her with a chap, fair haired,looking shabby,
Different description from the others,
Poor Kate left family of three behind,
A daughter and two sons,
The sun had set for the last time,
For their poor dear mother.
The forth ripper victim!
By ladylivvi1
kirk Jan 2019
A starship is in orbit, around an unknown planet.
Science officer Mr Spock, is just about to scan it.
Lieutenant Uhura's on the bridge, she's on communications.
Unscrambling the garbled messages, from different alien nations.

At the weapons station, Pavel Chekov's a good aim.
Birds of Prey and battle ships, torpedoes locked on again.
Helmsman Hikaru Sulu, he will take evasive action.
Avoiding fleets of enemy ships, with his fast reaction.

Bio beds are operational, report to the sick bay.
Doctor McCoy's ready to heal, with his hypospray.
Christine chapel will assist, she is the ships top nurse.
Helping with the medi scan, if anything gets worse.

Way down in engineering, you will find Montgomery Scott.
Tending to his engines, he's giving it all he's got.
The captains personal Yeoman, will always lend a hand.
She's versatile and beautiful, and known as Janice Rand.

A planets cultural Interference, this directive is our prime.
Is Kevin Reilly going to sing, "Kathleen" one more time.
This is Starfleet's finest crew, it comes as no surprise.
Captain James T Kirk's in command of the Enterprise.

Tricorders at the ready, step of the turbo lift.
The Galileo Seven needs Dilithium, the shuttle's set adrift.
Let's look in the engine room, there's an Enemy Within.
Transporters are malfunctioning, creating an evil twin.

The Changeling Nomad got destroyed, a classic computer error.
They matched the Romulans ship exact, in Balance Of Terror.
Tomorrow is Yesterday, with a sling shot around the sun.
Phantom bullets will not ****, The Spectre of the Gun.

A shape shifting monster is aboard, a Man Trap to revolt.
Just give it what it desires, a large amount of salt.
Young men like Mr Evans, shouldn't be all that complex.
He can **** with just a look, that's why he's Charlie X.

Wasn't it the Deadly Years, when the crew got old.
Jack the ripper then returned, in Wolf In The Fold.
Pon Far fighting to the death, this was a Time Amok.
Believing captain Kirk was dead, and killed by Mr Spock.

McCoy had to heal the creature, before they could Embark.
The Horter was protecting her young, in The Devil in the Dark.
Vampire clouds smell sickly sweet, It was a valuable lesson.
Firing sooner makes no difference, cos it was a pure Obsession.

Kirk used the Corbomite Manoeuvre, Balok was just a boy.
Captain Garf took over the asylum, in Whom Gods Destroy.
A parent's death, no remorse, And The Children Shall now Lead.
Kahn's a genetically engineered superman, found frozen in Space Seed.

They had Trouble with Tribbles, too fast in reproduction.
Light In Operation Annihilate, caused the parasites destruction.
Caught in the Tholian Web, lost in between dimensions.
Mudd's Women had an agenda, and their own hidden intentions.

An Arena was selected, so Kirk could fight the Gorn.
It's guaranteed when Kirk fights, his shirt is always torn.
On a Journey to Babel, Sarek hadn't seen his son for years.
Him and Spock are logical, and both have pointed ears.

What are Little Girls Made Of, was replaced by robotic law.
Three Witches sent a warning, to beware of the Catspaw.
You will be accelerated, within the Wink Of An Eye.
Doctor McCoy will say " he's dead Jim" if anyone should Die.

United planets quest for piece, the federations ultimate desire.
The Klingon war, a warriors way, to create their own empire.
Phasers charged and set to stun, grab your communicators.
Save the ship, protect the crew from all war instigators.

The final frontier is out there, turn over treks first page.
Captain Pike was in command, and captured in The Cage.
Number one was female, but she didn't take the glory.
Pike relived The Menagerie, but it's still the same first story.

We've scanned for alien life forms, and stepped through the Guardians door.
We have been to Vulcan, and Where No Man One Has Gone Before.
So live long and prosper, the captain is on deck.
Beam up the landing party, to continue our star trek.
As many Trek fans will realise many episodes have been referenced in this poem about the original and in my opinion the best Star Trek Series.
For those of you that are not as familiar with the series here is a list of the episodes mentioned.

Season 1:

The Cage
Where No Man Has Gone Before
The Man Trap
Charlie X
The Enemy Within
Mudd's Women
What Are Little Girls Made Of ?
The Corbomite Manoeuvre
The Menagerie
Balance Of Terror
The Galileo Seven
Arena
Tomorrow Is Yesterday
Space Seed
The Devil In The Dark
Operation Annihilate

Season 2:

Amok Time
The Changeling
Catspaw
Journey To Babel
The Deadly Years
Obsession
Wolf In The Fold
The Trouble With Tribbles

Season 3:

And The Children Shall Lead
Spectre Of The Gun
The Tholian Web
Wink Of An Eye
Whom Gods Destroy

I hope that if this is read that it will give you
a slight insight into some of the situations encountered by the crew of the Enterprise and what happened during their five year mission.
Of course if you want more detail you will have to consult Starfleet records which come on DVD discs and see for yourselves.
Is there more to come well who knows, space is of course infinite and there are always possibilities.
Born and raised in Georgia where the A stitched in to the fitted
We let the streets be the streets but some of yall gone snitch
I'd rather be broke with the team then get swallowed into greed
I always kept it hundred living by the family creed
I'm tatted on my arm a last of a dying breed.
One Life to Live while rhyming All Eyes on Me
All these busters wanna be a G
While I'm just trying to do the right thing like Spike Lee
L A P D has their lasers pointed at my back
brothers turning police I don't believe that giant Shaq
I'm going in I'm going in cause I'm trained like that
Pistols in their holsters with a rifle on my back
I'm not a Violent person but a heart is what I don't lack
I won't be gone long if you Hindu then I'm coming back
Last of a Dying Breed look the future in my eyes
last four hundred years some of us been struggling to survive
looking at the world today I see the people tranquilized
this generations music is the reason why they're hypnotized.
Better guard your girl because my voice will have her mesmerized
I'm the Phantom of the opera can't you tell by my disguise?
Smoking on some ***** maybe one day they'll decriminalize
Smoking on the best that will have you bleeding from your eyes
Medically prescribed by a Doctor in a tie
They victimize the victims and they glorify the killers
yet don't realize these symptoms
got these youngsters pulling triggers
Little girls becoming strippers
just so they can make some figures
guess they missed the bigger picture
My knowledge helps reconsider
I'm a country boy at heart
with the style of city slickers
I leave you looking ignorant
you think that I'm a ******
The last man to **** his own people name was
******.
I'm more mysterious then that
compare to Jack the Ripper.

— The End —