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Tammy M Darby Sep 2015
Loves shadows and hates fire
Whisper softly my hearts desire
To a cold dead moon
As the old demons howl
The ground in terror will tremble and shake

A bloodless murderers hand
Into my steaming cauldron is thrown
Long toothed Blue bats wing from northern caves
Mixed with enchanted grave dust stolen from the fairy land

Out of my blue colored feather covered bag
A tiny sticky yellow red eyed frog
One shiny two horned pinching beetle
That will bite no more
Into the ***
Three long gray hairs from a rabid dog

I sing the song humans fear
The notes fall upon frightened ears
My words travel deadly and silently
A venomous arrow into the night
Laying upon my victim
A fine coverlet of blindness
By spell removing their sight

Loves shadows and hates fire
Whisper softly my hearts desire
To a cold black dead moon
As the old demons howl
The ground in terror will tremble and shake

Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright
Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3), Tammy M. Darby September 9,  2015.
It takes a certain type of moodset
To create anything worth catching the eye
And sometimes....
Sometimes I just don't wanna dive too deep
Because the depths are where the treasure lies
And the darkness is terrifying.
OpenWorldView Apr 16
Death should be certain
for time to ensure renewal
by pulling life's curtain.

Be fearful of what lives forever
as hubris clouds its mind
and terror will be its only lever.

We are delirious to fathom creation
of a god without its creators flaws.
Beware of this eternal aberration.
Umi Mar 2018
Of ones heart with shadows lurking to take over spite is made precious to be felt exciting while it is in fact trecious, but a sleeping terror awakens at times as well, thus a rampage is made amongst it,
A thrill wandering down your spine when you wrong someone and see them tremble through your actions a cold shiver followed by spite
Choosing a carefree life, yet unable to hide the fact that no spark would be able to illuminate whats in your dark, where angels fear to tread, only to explore this loitering abyss within you for some time,
All this blood lust must bring you to insanity, make you a lunatic,
But let it happen, in this emotionless shell it's what feels majestic,
The storm raging inside, waiting to feed on this caused chaos,
Evil and vile, heartless not carrying a smile while mercilessly continuing this riot of a resented soul waiting, longing for destruction
Feeling alike to be burning up, priceless about this act of cruelty until the wanted realisation drives its way into your soul and you question yourself what you have done, or why you have done it for anyway,
But the time will come again for sure, so be ready for it to arrive
When the sleeping terror awakens for another dance

~ Umi
George W. Bush said, Bring ‘em on
And welcomed the World of Terror

Confidant he could kick its ***
No way he could make an error

Millions then died in Iraq
Grandpas and children and women

He lives in riches in his Texas home
In his fancy pool he’s swimmin’

Mass destruction may well be found
Sometime in the future

When historians see what he did
Cannot be healed by suture

The terror now is all around
Chickens home to roost

If America was just and not obscene
He would hang in public from a noose.
MicMag Aug 2018
.
              (  (  growing gray cloud of smoke and ash  ) )
              (  (  expanding mass of poisonous gas  ) )
                         (  ( billowing upwards into the air ) )           a
                            (  (    dark    omen    of    )  ) ­                   s
                                 (  (      despair      )   )                         h
      (    \           //    )  
                                       (   \        //   )                                 g
                                           (  \     //  )                                     e
                                              \\\  /////                                        n
                       ­                         \\\/////                                           t
                                         the                                                     l
                                    peak's        top           ­                         y
exploding     right off
                       glacial snows melting down                       f
                     lava flows heading for the town                     a
                   terror! destruction! fright erupting out                   l
               extinct beast awakens, roaring primal shout                  l
           mountain trembling, earth shaking, people quaking           s
       in fear and wonder, transfixed by summit torn asunder       
fire and fury blend with the sky as we flee and ponder why
we await this rage from the earth but the beauty makes it worth
all the deadly risks we know we face in living at this volcano's base
I recently visited some stunning towns
sitting at the base of active volcanoes.

I was left contemplating this tension
between the beauty and potential carnage.

(This one doesn't seem to look quite right on a phone.
Try it with a rotated screen.)
lenore Apr 2017
Be kind to your own mind:
When it wakes you in the middle of the night,
(Your thoughts afraid of their own shadows;)
Hold it like you hold a child:
Softly, yet with all your might,
(Turn its terror into a fable;)
Don’t ever be ashamed to love yourself.
My soul is a deep dark bottomless well
A place where all my thoughts dwell
Walk across the bridge of gloom
Find the place where bad things bloom.

Thoughts of revenge & torture, thoughts of pain
Thoughts that would make the normal insane
Tiptoe the tight rope across the well
But if you fall in the bottom you’ll find hell.

Take the plunge, now it’s your turn,
feel the terror fell it burn
Like boiling water pouring down your back
A heart of gold is something I lack.

My soul is like fire, violent and warm
Like Nathalie Imbruglia I feel torn,
ripped apart at the seams
Head filled with bad dreams
And thoughts and wonders all forsaken
No one to love for my heart has been taken.

But since you’re here stay a while,
you won’t have fun, but I can make you smile,
and laugh at all you are afraid to face
This is my soul, an unnerving place.
Read more at http://******-in-oncology
Knit Personality Oct 2018
Cthulhu wakes.
The mind of Man
His heart forsakes:
His psyche breaks.

With acid rain
The clouds are thick;
And Man, insane,
Regrets his brain.  

The dawning doom
Refractively splits
The heavy gloom.
All nightmares loom.

O.O
Land of the free
words fed intravenuously
like opiates into opened veins
until the lies they tell us become truth

Propaganda filled drips
drown out the screams of the innocent
killed by fear and misdirected hatred
and soldiers fighting "wars" on terror

How then does the aggressor become hero?
while handing out oppression labelled as democracy
liberty  comes encased in the shell of a bullet
and if you resist.........freedom

comes quicker than you wish
Ylzm Apr 21
Satan Rejoices:
On Day when Life Resurrects,
Lives sacrificed to despise Life,
that Death begets Death
and Death is stronger than Life.

Satan Rejoices:
For Lies are believed and Died for,
that the Desecration of Life's Sanctity
and Usurpation of God's Authority
are rewarded and glorifies God.

Satan Rejoices:
Brother turns against Brother,
Cain reigned supreme,
Circle of Revenge and Hatred turns,
Evil and Sword worshiped.

But Abel's blood still speaks
Blood-soaked Earth's cries are heard
Victory is assured but unseen
Patience is mercy not weakness
Evil shall judge Evil
Sri Lanka Terror Attacks, on Easter 2019
Scarlet McCall Apr 2018
Lucifer, save us; come up from Hell—
take a good look at the place that we dwell.
You were right all along
to refuse to bow down
to Adam and Eve
and their limitless throng.
And how could you have known that the apple you gave her
would plant seeds of pollution, destruction and terror?
You thought that we’d only use knowledge for good.
I know that you’d take it all back if you could.
Lucifer, we aren't angels like you.
We joined your rebellion, and soon we’ll be through.
Now the recourse from the wreckage that is,
is to bring on the foreshadowed Apocalypse.
So come on, Luci, don’t hesitate:
The Four Horsemen are pacing; why delay Fate.
After the End, there will be a new start,
perhaps without humans; we’ll bow and depart.
This may be a PF re-post but I lost the original and this is what I came up with from memory.
Jules DelPercio Dec 2018
I dreamt of a dream last night.
It crinkled my nose and shattered my bones.

Pacing,
shivering, looking for you.

Terrified, I grab the phone that looks like a hero to me.

I dial your number so fast I could feel my fingers shaking.

And when you answered,
with your tired, low, raspy, voice,

I knew I had to open my heart a bit more
for you.
I will probably elaborate in this poem later on...
Girard Tournesol Nov 2018
Pale the drown of tears before the light
That loneliest hour of the day or night
From breathless slumber to death's door
Seeks the soul the haunts of peace
Em MacKenzie Oct 2018
All work, no play and neon screens
menial tasks even coat my dreams.
Overboard in bored and a silent phone,
oh no, I think I’ve evolved to drone.

Punch in, punch out, this is the wrong route.
Punch in, punch out, a life of drought.
This technological terror
has caused life to flash in error.
For lady dollar; I can’t bear her,
as the riches are even rarer.

I’ve become a machine, to crush numbers
with no log off for needed slumbers.
Now my brain’s racing, a million miles per hour,
oh no, I think I’ve gained A.I’s power.

Punch in, punch out, this is the wrong route.
Punch in, punch out, now what life is about.
This technological terror
has caused life to flash in error.
No sudden movements; don’t want to scare her,
she’s updating with no carer.

Learning binary,
a breathing library,
processing slowly
but still a finery.

I forgot what my hands were for
they used to write all that I adore.
Now fingertips type, each key a shot,
oh no, I think I’ve grown into a robot.

Punch in, punch out, this is the wrong route.
Punch in, punch out, no one hears me shout.
This technological terror
has caused life to flash in error.
Pure absorption; a simple stare,
life’s equation could be fairer.

Learning binary,
a breathing library,
walking geometry
complete machinery.
I fear! I tremble in horror!
I am a witness,
and right before me
bloodstained grass

Oh, not because of the terror
of ******

;

the colors don't mix.
is this something that the joker would say?
Steve Sep 2018
Witches  scared me as a kid
I went behind the couch and hid
Little did I ever know
Witches  knew where I would go
But they never tried to trap me there
Or even rock the rocking chair
Instead they’d wait until I slept
Then in my dreams with stealth they crept
And kept me in the depth of night
And preyed upon my fearful plight
Laughter ringing in my ears
Witches  feeding from my tears
And if I went to run away
It was like my feet were made of clay
‘Help me mum’ I’d try to shout
But I couldn’t make the sound come out
They’d strip me bare and burn my clothes
Cover my mouth, squeeze my nose
I’d plunge into a deeper sleep
Then in my soul I felt them creep
Cackling voices filled my head
I promised to do whatever they said.
Witches   scare me, they always did
And it never helped when I ran and hid.
I wasn’t keen on red indians either but I got over that!
ISIS Juggernaut


Another
Bombing
Crisis
Darkens
Everyone's
Fearful
Go­od
Home.
ISIS'
Jugger­naut
Knocking
Loud,
Malignancy
Noxiously
Odious.
Plants
Quickly
Rooting
Suicidal.
Terror
Under
Vile
Wings,
Xenophobic
Yet
Zygodactylous

Logan Robertson

4/29/2019
Xenophobe-a person having a dislike of or prejudice against people from other countries

Zygodactylous- In birds, applied to feet in which two toes point forwards, and two to the rear. How this concept applies to the poem is that ISIS can strike from every direction, swoop down at any time, with eyes and a network lurking from every tree branch so to speak. Sad.

Sad was this last Easter Sunday in Sri Lanka, 253 innocent victims, as mankind watches in horror. These birds of a feather flock together, and their flock is getting bigger, and I wish that it would fall and end.
Lazhar Bouazzi Jul 2018
What ails thee, pilgrim of the mall,
Silent, earthen grief of the fall,
Pushing beneath her branded mask
A chariot to manage her task?

A writ of habeas corpus on paper:
'"Garden rocket," "lamp," and "mirror"'
For your inward eye and the terror
Of the still blast of oldhood and time
That left you with no place but rhyme -
And the mall.
What ails thee, woman of language
And the fall?

© LazharBouazzi
What's it like to **** from that position? It doesn't hurt so much.
Have you tried it without buckles? No. You should. My brother is
in the army and he says that no one uses buckles there anymore.
April Nov 2018
In the dark of night wind shrilled
he had to let go of the terror of which he was filled
soon came sun, ready to steal the spotlight
she danced and beamed, she was a delight
and wind accepted this defeat, he let his fear be stilled
my take at writing a limerick
Loryn Jan 1
you're terrified of feeling complete
you have a fear of becoming whole so
you've accepted being broken
Broken Hearted
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