"sinisterly" poems
Did you see the swelling
The telling loss of control
I cut down the tree of reasoning
Then stood on the stump of withdrawal
The river of rage lies deep and calm
Beckons sinisterly it's coy call
"Come , come ,
fools , one and all .
Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 7:32 PM UTC
I can’t let society get to me
as I’m walking down the street
A white cat in the window of a white house
stares at me so sinisterly
He smugly licks himself
and tells me to stand up straight
To pin my shoulders back
he tells me “walk THIS way”
To hold my head up high
cut my hair and shave
Give poetry a break
“do something with your life”
Society grins
and invites me to come in
Come and breathe their air
but only what they feel’s fair
I feel my chest tighten
my lungs gripped by anxiety
squeezing the life out of me
I can barely breathe
As society stares at me
I feel a growing need
To walk my way
Talk my way
Walk away from here
So as I leave the white cat behind
I smile with relief
I’ll choose the air I breathe
And it won’t be societies
Jul 8, 2020
Jul 8, 2020 at 11:02 PM UTC
I am riddled with holes;
Poked, prodded, punctured.
Names called
that drill their way
into my stomach and thighs.
Words yelled
that dance
around my ears in pinpricks.
Slaps given, shoved up
against the wall until
my arms are swiss cheese.
Sinisterly sickening hands
that crave more and
leave my legs riddled with bulletholes.
What he wants
taken, forced out of me so that
I've been gouged with a knife.
The same knife I hold
against my neck that
threatens my life.
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 6:17 PM UTC
Hear it, feel it! Above the live oak
and Spanish moss, above their
gnarled, grasping canopies, the
night wind flies savage and free.
Without constraint or direction
it inhales, blows, flings about at will,
tearing wantonly at primeval fears.
And higher yet, to the east there's a
cooper moon rising sinisterly, lighting
the way for wary night hunters.
Is it the howling of their hounds, or
the howling of that feral wind, or
something more I hear?
Yes, something more, I fear.
Such an eerie night on the bayou,
where fireflies pulse phosphor green,
dangling, dancing like marionettes
above jutting cypress knees. Along
the farthest bank, tip-toeing in mire,
a pale night-heron walks as a ghost,
dropping its head to strike, to give
final croak to some hapless frog.
Were crows awake on such a night
they'd caw and clamor and sidle up
to each other to see which could
provide the most reassurance
against such a dreadful night.
Latch every door, shutter every
window, light every candle!
The night wind is on the prowl!
---
Sep 15, 2011
Sep 15, 2011 at 9:00 PM UTC
My desolation fuelled demon drove me sinisterly to the edge,
“dying by your own hand is the only way out” it alleged.
So I walked to the bridge over the M25 and stood inclined.
Then I jumped- but halfway down, I found I’d changed my mind.
Nov 13, 2015
Nov 13, 2015 at 7:52 AM UTC
I miss our kisses in the stairwell
The way you played with my hair
The way you would smile
Maybe sinisterly
When I would give you an off-handed compliment.
I miss when you taught me how to drive for the first time
Illegally, of course
Did we ever do anything ethical?
I was only fourteen
But I thought I was hot ****
I thought I was tough enough for you.
I miss the first time we..."you know"
As you would say with a wink
You'd send me texts about where to meet you
It felt so secret, so sensual
And it was, for a while.
A quickie in the church boiler room
Our first time in the parking lot
It was the only place we could be alone
Well, unless you count the Big Guy upstairs
I guess we're both eternally ****** to Hell.
And somehow, I'm okay with that.
It was so wrong,
But we were so right
Too bad we lived like a train wreck.
We were built up by adrenaline
We had every reason to believe in ourselves
So young, so in love
Isn't that what they all say?
It's all cliche to me, anyways.
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 8:58 PM UTC
Am I not a fool for writing poetry
for the sake of writing poetry?
Am I to be rejected for using words
such as ennui?
Am I to be ****** for figurative language?
Or burned at the stake for
poising a period at the end of
a stream of
consciousness?
And yet my inner critic
yearns to yell
to scream
more words!
more passion!
I see their faces when
they look at me,
their empty eyes,
like corpses.
They believe morals
are paintings on
walls
and
scruples
are currency in Eastern Europe.
They do not know.
They do not drink
in the moments
that they cannot breathe.
They are silent tombstones.
Sinisterly and silently scorning Shakespeare
They trample over
Chaucer,
calling him dull.
And I too am seen as a
heretic.
for thinking of such
fantastical, whimsical
thoughts.
Was it ethical for Socrates to drink Hemlock?
Did they giggle like a couple of school girls
as he downed it like it was a
shot of whiskey?
And yet we heretics
are given the poison
of judgement everyday
swallowing the bitter cup
How much do I remember about not fitting in?
Is there reason to believe I ever will?
And yet faith has accepted the girl with
the curly hair.
Imagination
intuition
emotion
perception
reason
All qualities which
poetry blends into
passion.
For is not poetry
the expression of passion?
And yet this can be said of communication
in any way:
art
music,
writing
And yet you don't
see Romeo whispering
the Pythagorean Theorem
to Juliet on her balcony
No it lacks
sincerity
the Words are not his own.
No true poetry is the language
of the hidden soul,
the quintessence of life.
Yet another quote I will never be
quoted for is:
"Self education is better than none"
but that has nothing to do with poetry
except for how to write it.
And yes, I do enjoy
writing poetry.
and reading it too.
From Dante's inferno
to Poe's Raven
I have swam in the
channels of print
in everyone,
drowning in the words.
And yes, I do enjoy
being a heretic.
I may never stand in,
so all I can do is
Stand out.
Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 6:23 PM UTC
There's a streak of sadness
that lines the backdrop of my facade.
There is much discontent
that lurks sinisterly beneath.
Gone is the confidence
that these legs might see me
through the ribbon at the end.
Instead I’m all strung up,
all hung up
and all choked up
with misplaced guilt and grief.
Dec 6, 2017
Dec 6, 2017 at 10:45 AM UTC
And then, once upon a sultry twilight,
Amidst the ruins of bygones chivalry,
Whence maidens most fair lived in sheer delight;
Free from lustful relics of rivalry...
Until a day came, and a knight was born,
The toast of town once tranquil, now thrilling;
Thence, jealousy stirred up spite as wild thorns,
To ***** wanton urge to crave fulfilling...
Itches unrequited by chevalier
Under whose spell the whole realm pined away
In splendor bedazzling like chandelier
Lovelorn stings strewn damsels in disarray
These conte chronicled that sultry twilight
'Fore splendiferous valour bared as blight
~~~*****~~~
Then later, will come that sultry twilight,
Whence moist lips stained with warmth, those beaks will kiss,
To reverse the spell cast to eclipse light,
Through insidious vipers with hearts unease.
Him, they cooked strange from coven of contempt,
As monstrous man halved into an aves;
Whom none will forever attempt to tempt,
His elixir lost beyond avarice...
Altar possessed by essence most cryptic,
Breathed upon him, sinisterly omen,
Fanned into frenzy most epileptic,
'Pon this bound besieged to efface women.
'Fore that once upon a sultry twilight,
Darkness gnawed all fresh and bones into flight.
~~~*****~~~
And now, once upon this sultry twilight,
That monster they created spoiled the living,
Into desolate and deserted site,
With venoms from fang of unforgiven...
Save for that last damsel left to be stung;
The fairest of them all found from time past;
Apotropaic maid, serene and strong,
Condemned to kiss away that spell once cast.
He aimed to slay, instead her lips he touched...
As curse recoiled, estranged from evil hold,
Till every grouch from within him was hushed
To find the future, lost in past foretold.
And now, once upon that sultry twilight,
He kissed those lips fated to make wrong right...
May 18, 2016
May 18, 2016 at 5:29 AM UTC
I have uncovered that there is no word that holds more sorrow than potential.
Fate lies as only an unwitting alibi,
Malice only a valcher in its wake.
Potential is the reaching, unavoidable canyon in the soul,
So very tainted and saddened for things that never existed.
It is a pitiful nostalgia for words never spilt to the floor.
For the kisses that never stained the lips.
For the fingers that never brushed the skin,
With the electricity that was never felt.
For the places that were empty of you.
Potential, I have found,
Is a human construction.
Sinisterly designed to haunt you with who you are,
Remind you of who you are not,
And the vast, treacherous difference between the two.
-
(I mourn you in all the things we had not been,
I mourn you in all the places we had not seen.)
Apr 8, 2014
Apr 8, 2014 at 8:52 AM UTC
Still Night
written May 14th, 2021
The stillness
of dark night
surrounds me
swallowing the light
suspending animation
sinisterly whispering
stealing my breath
stifling me
and I wonder
how long will it be
still night.
May 22, 2021
May 22, 2021 at 12:05 PM UTC
You sit among those with dark thoughts
malice, malevolence, horror, atrocities
but there you are
with your terribly crooked smile
and those eyes
oh
those
eyes.
That don't stop shining
with the tears
of sorrow that
never quite reaches your heart
but your heart
oh
your
heart.
When others look at you
they see a kind smile,
a warm face,
a heartwarming embrace
but when I look at you
I see cruel eyes,
a fake smile,
a halfhearted embrace.
Your hugs don't warm me.
I only feel your cold collarbone
that juts out against my skin.
Your smile hides the sharp teeth
that bite at those who cross you.
Your bite is way worse than your bite
and oh how it bleeds
but
oh
your
eyes.
They sparkle sinisterly
gleam devilishly,
cry wholeheartedly,
but your tears don't
hurt
me
anymore.
Nov 6, 2015
Nov 6, 2015 at 12:27 AM UTC
I have a fear, an irrational one.
But it glows in me deeper than the sun.
A fear of looking in to a mirror
I'm afraid I am a sinner.
Why mirrors? I have been asked,
I believe they have been sinisterly tasked.
When I look into one and I stare back,
I ask myself sharp as a tack.
One question I really dread,
But for far too long has been said.
"With all the life that you had,
All the times happy and sad.
After all the things you had to take and give,
My friend did you really live."
I'm have always been afraid answering that,
My voice refuses to be flat.
What have I really done?
Have I really come undone?
A rat race that I voluntarily stepped into,
A fallacy that was committed unto
Myself, I really wanted to be offbeat,
But instead here I am taking the heat.
But then I think about the happy times,
When I sat around and made stupid rhymes.
I loved a girl and was loved in return,
For all of that my life sweetened.
I made friends I made people smile.
Even if it was for a while.
I had fun , I grew a lot,
Not just in age but mind and thought.
So maybe my fear is dwindling how,
Perhaps I am not afraid to face mirrors now.
For the next time my reflection stares back,
I can answer myself sharp as a tack.
"With all my life that I had,
All the times happy and sad.
After all that things I had to take and give,
My friend I did....I did really live"
-Vagabond
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 8:33 AM UTC
When my victim wakes up in the morning, I am by his side,
he know me all too well so I have no reason to hide.
I smile sinisterly at him and tell him he is weak,
lazy, disgusting and convince him that his future is bleak.
I shriek that he's not trying hard enough;
and I make him feel worthless and rough.
I constantly whisper that he is broken and beyond fixing,
"you are undeserving of love" I can't help but keep hissing.
My lies destroy him beyond compare,
and to my delight he is full of despair.
I crush his world into infinite emptiness - I know it's uncalled for -
then give him a plan and say "ssh baby, nothing matters anymore".
I slowly cut off his friends and family so they cannot save his life,
and soon enough I make him go to the kitchen to pick up a kitchen knife.
I convince him suicide is the only way out of this mess,
and cutting vein by vein he takes his life after a long while of distress.
Dec 23, 2015
Dec 23, 2015 at 1:02 PM UTC
that's the thing about a murderer
they become so broken and haunted
that even their own hand
seems sinisterly daunted
but it's kind of humane
what their mind will have done
it has broken a reality
it refuses to let them run
they will only see
the life that they took
every single eye
is their victims look
and in a way they are new
nerves exposed to the earth
for a search for calm
their being is rebirthed
and isn't it insane
that a person is made new
when they **** another
without leaving any clue.
Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 10:21 AM UTC
Don't my words look good on paper,
Dripping from the warmth of conviction
Trailing honestly leading you along.
Spreading like ink blots doctors use
To show how sinisterly I am wrong.
Keep growing, smearing onto your hands
At long last, you look back at a page
Coming to see, it's only ink.
The story disappears within
Like a cave, not visible how far it goes,
How far it goes and how deep you're in.
If it's all the same, in darkness,
No one notices how far they drop.
A year can pass in seconds
Losing a second of eternity without the clocks.
Catching yourself from spinning, dizzy,
When the ride abruptly stops.
You can never get back on,
The entrance looks all boarded up,
The lights all shut off.
But don't I look good on paper,
Illegible scrawling no one read.
Before the ink took over,
They'll wonder what it said.
Jul 14, 2020
Jul 14, 2020 at 10:23 PM UTC
I just wanna hang
Hang out with you
I just wanna hang
Hang in with you
I wanna hang
Hang with you
All these little feelings seeping deep in my heart
The whole is **** compared to all these tiny, hazardous parts
It might be time to buckle down and get a grip
But I've never known how to stop guzzling, and just take a sip
You smile sinisterly as you peer into my soul of souls
You reap the constant benefits of resurrecting these feelings of old
May 18, 2016
May 18, 2016 at 1:44 PM UTC
accursed creepily haunting
phantasmagoria wraiths
vandalize residents psyches
within their sleep induced state
sublimation shunts
slumbering souls
unknowingly held hostage
successfully sacrificing
semi-smothered silent species
snoring simians steadfastly succumb
subsequent sibilant sounds
woo woebegone wicked transmogrification
dilapidated divested bodies deposited
wizard waves wand
watching whirling wretched lovely bones
whipsawing (in toto) within abyss
whooshing whistling wheezing
whets warlocks appetite wakening
brutish nasty nightmare
sinister hulking spirits
steal assorted corporeal essence
monstrous mashing somnambulant
mephistophelian shadowy satanic satyrs
supremely swallow senior citizen bankers
deep within catacombs
of Highland Manor,
deadened defeated Delphic Oracle
relegates human husks,
viz spent embodiments
to the under world lay siege
sinisterly seeding, via sinister spirits
one pure evil particularly wicked
witch thy capering
sickening ghastly plot against
unsuspecting spouse snatched
parch trey gnarled warty claws.
May 13, 2018
May 13, 2018 at 9:50 PM UTC
Alas! ominous moon magnified
The very soul of the silence of the night;
Like an eerie ghostly still lamb
Breathing her horror across shadowy sky...
Gloom glories of dreary darkness
Spread wide wings across heavenly breadth;
Stirring awake the sinisterly serenity,
Sleeping in branches of silhouette of doom...
Whispering winds of gory woes
Streamed beneath the chill of this creepy realm.
Tonight wholly belong to the grey moon
And her evil winged cronies to reign supreme...
Blood of apocalypse will bleed and flow below;
None shall be spared till the moon drips with blood.
May 18, 2016
May 18, 2016 at 11:26 AM UTC
Moonlight reflected
Off her long black hair
Pale skin illuminated
In lush sweet grass
Something sinisterly seductive
Hid behind her innocent smile
The closer she came
The darker the sky grew
Until the moon was covered
And I could see nothing
Her hand touched mine
In that inky darkness
I felt as if the sun
Would never rise again
And that thought
Filled me with pleasure
Feb 21, 2017
Feb 21, 2017 at 1:39 AM UTC