Love Poems About Horror or Horror Love Poems

Horror love poems and/or love poems about Horror. Read, share, and enjoy these Horror love poems! Also, try our sister website's powerful search engine for poems.

Poem Details | by SKAT A |
Categories: anger, death, horror, humorous, love, slam,

To all the heart breakers -a ZOMBIE's valentine

Wouldn't you rather~

Wouldn't you rather be dead?
Maybe shoot yourself in the head?
Over my dead heart, I'd never want to be a zombie like you.
The sight of your limbs are rotten all the time.
All synonyms say of you looks like a 3 legged swine.
Go ahead and do us all a favor, 
hide and stash yourself away from all your neighbor
I think I'd rather have my eyes stuck with glue
So I won't have to look at you
When it comes to family friends, you ain't got none.
You're always gonna be called the lonely retarded one.
Who could ever love a face like yours.
not even your mother see's pass your gores 
No need for privacy when you pee
Go ahead and take a leak and drown yourself in the sea.
Don't think for one second you are irresistible 
Love making with a zombie is impossible.

Wouldn't you rather be dead?
maybe shoot yourself in the head

The time to kill yourself is at hand.
Slicing your wrist is what we recommend 
Cut your tongue off, don't want to hear you squeal  
Blood all over, your face is no big deal
A sword or machete will only pick up the pace
I wanna see your guts pop out your mid-waist 
Contaminated objects is a must
Anything to remove your face of disgust.
The easy part is the best
Once you are gone we will all feel blessed,
The flaw of your existence  
Is what keeps us all in distance 

Wouldn't you rather be dead?
maybe shoot yourself in the head

Close your eyes and die
No one wants to hear you cry
You said you wanted to be loved
believe me~ you're better off unloved
I say do yourself off
Anyways you've always had it rough...
Go ahead and scream
This is not a dream
Now see how you make me feel
All I want is for you to end your ugly ordeal.
I will praise this day of course
Knowing soon you'll be a rotting corpse.

happy valentine ~ TO: All My DEADBEAT X-es from Texas.


Poem Details | by arthur vaso |
Categories: america, angst, death, eulogy, horror, power, usa,

I Love Guns

I love Guns


Guns make us safe
Guns are rights and freedoms
The more guns, the more freedoms we shall bear
Every man woman and child should be armed
So that we are all safe
All schools should be armed
Teachers, Principals, Janitors, arm them all
The finally we can relax
in total safety
knowing we are all armed
I say give arms to the amputees too

Gun control is socialist and fascist
We registers cars
Houses
Pets
Bikes
We have banned toys
We regulate all kinds of things
Yet we are free
Totally free
Because we all have our right
To bare arms
Ask Kim Campbell! she agrees!!!

Not only guns
They must be automatics
The more bullets you can empty out of a gun 
the better
the more freedom you shall feel
Its called projectile dysfunction


And........any man with a high IQ
Need's an assault rifle
Why of course to outsmart those ducks and turkeys
I firmly believe in a fair fight
Assault rifles to catch a duck
common sense to me
Quack quack

Guns have rights
Own a gun you have double rights
They are made to kill kill kill
Did I say they KILL?
Nothing more, nothing less
I need that right

Any child killed by a Gun
is only because we haven't enough guns

By the way
Children have no rights
Kill em all for all I care
as long as I have my rights

I am not concerned with facts
Evidence
Or the humanity of it
Is all about my Guns
Why
Cause I love Guns
More than humans
And thats my right
No matter how wrong it is


Poem Details | by Lewis Raynes |
Categories: horror, lost love,

Holding hands with the devil

What’s in her mind, sharp lines slice her in half, 
Into faded dark red, green and blue,
And the flowers cover up each emotional scar, 
From ever even shining on through,

To show the gouges ripped from her thoughts, 
To show the bruised, shaken, and torn,
Slit while she slept, in a nightmare of hell, 
For her public body to remain an unborn?

What does she think, where does she go, 
When her eyes are wide open to black,
When her eyes are blank to all of the noise, 
After her soul escaped the attack?

Does she remember those days that’ve gone, 
When she obeyed every little demand?
Does she remember those days when she sold her soul,
Just to hold onto his hand?


Poem Details | by Gary Bateman |
Categories: dark, evil, fantasy, halloween, horror, myth, scary,

Medusa's Love

Medusa’s Love

Medusa is a hideous and vile creature of Grecian yore
Medusa, once a high priestess in the Temple of Athena,
Suffered Athena’s unforgiving wrath for violating her 
Sacred temple as she and Lord Poseidon made love there.

Medusa’s Love entices all of her naive human victims,
Up to that special mesmerizing moment of her icy shock,
As they end up unwittingly gazing into her evil, hellish  
Eyes and their bodies harden and turn to stone forever

You can never trust those Gods who relish in making
The plight of mortal man more challenging on Earth.
Once a perfect paragon of radiant female pulchritude,
Athena transformed Medusa into this mythic monster 

As if this life isn’t frightening enough, with the advent 
Of Halloween Eve and the cold, dark nights preceding it;
Medusa’s restless spirit as this grotesque Gorgon can be
Conjured from her lair at the entrance to the Underworld.

From the hissing and viperous serpents adorning her head,
To the ever-present shaking death rattle of her reptilian tail;
Medusa’s sneering and unholy visage paralyzes her victims
As her fiery and demonic eyes bring them a stone-cold death!

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
(October 1, 2015) (Unrhymed Quatrain)


Poem Details | by Chris Boskovski |
Categories: beautiful, beauty, cry, dedication, depression, desire, devotion, farewell, fear, heartbroken, horror, how i feel, howl, judgement, loneliness, lonely, longing, loss, lost, lost love, night, pain, sin, sorrow, suicide, sympathy, voice, wisdom, write, writing,

Hounds from Hell

Hounds from Hell take their toll on your soul
as you walk the mainstreet of mainstream
and watch Saturn and Neptune dance to a simple tone
of silence in the outer space.
As you sit in the middle of the world
alone;
free yourself from the sense of hopelessness,
only see yourself in the mirror of deception
as your reflection laughs at you and looks right through you,
and doesn't have remorse for what it says or does to you.

Hounds from Hell take your soul,
chock you, cut of your air,
the smog and fog blind you in the city of ash.
Hear the hounds from hell howl for your soul,
go now, barracade your soul behind sins and temptation,
Alone, listening to your soul die away,
watch love go away from you, with suitcase in hand,
picture frames broken and collect dust through the sands of time.
Till the cleaning lady comes on Monday, to clean the mess
that you left behind.
You are gone, without a trace of ever returning.
Looks of the Hounds of Hell came for you and stole you from
comfort and warmth,
till the sorrowed heart cracks and pain spills out
and you look at it all spill out over the floor.
The Hounds from Hell have paid a consumable harmage to you,
and your rich soul of sorrowness burns away..slowly.

Fear darkens souls,
innocent souls burn with a new day,
a slumber that has no end
with nightmares haunting every light of hope
there is left in this desolate Wasteland.
Fear and darkness tears a hole in the darkened universe
and we all go to hell to see the Hounds,
who come for us all.
The graveyards fill,
and death guards the tombstones of the dead,
and the flowers burn away on the feet of the dead.

-10/14/2013-


Poem Details | by Bobbie Jo Price |
Categories: abuse, anger, betrayal, depression, first love, horror, pain,

Be My Own Version Of Death

wrap your arms around me a little too tight
let yourself be the noose that ends my life
tear ladders in my tights while holding me down
pull a little too hard and drag me to hell
take my heart, its in the center to the left
its yours, my darling, take it right out of my chest
clutch my hand a little too roughly
shatter my bones and call me lovely 
take me to the Eiffel tower, guide me to the top
hold me from behind and give me a gentle shove 
rip my ribs out with your teeth, one by one by one
play them like the grand piano, show them how its done
lather your lips with venom, careful not to taste
kiss me until my last breath, simply watch me break.


Poem Details | by Andrew Crisci |
Categories: death, gospel, horror, jesus, love,

If It Comes From Above: It's Love Indeed

Most of us don't know that Jesus preached true salvation,
in His time, the Roman sword was very mighty;
it killed anyone without any justification...
is today different from then? How bad is society?

If it comes from above, it's love indeed;
sinners rebel against God in the way of the heathens;
they live in sin, denying that He's the giver of grace.
If it comes from above: it's love indeed;
who has faith finds serenity, prayers are songs of praise:
they can make one happy and outrage all demons.

Jesus was the Holy One: He shunned sin,
wasn't He tempted by treacherous Satan?
Didn't he resist temptation to prove him wrong?
The Prince of light can give us unimaginable wealth,
but He'll laugh at us, because our reward is death;
how do we resist Him when desire is strong?

If it comes from above: it's love indeed;
we can be saved by keeping Christ's creed
Not everybody can carry His heavy cross, 
should we ignore who mocks and throws stones?
If it comes from above: it's love indeed!

Written on 4/1/2016
 
 


Poem Details | by Chris Boskovski |
Categories: betrayal, blue, color, confusion, corruption, crazy, cry, dark, evil, farewell, fear, girl, girlfriend, hate, horror, how i feel, i love you, jealousy, loneliness, lonely, longing, loss, lost, lost love, love, miss you, missing, missing you, poetry, sad, sad love, slam, suicide, symbolism, woman, world,

Put a bullet in my brain

Put a bullet in my brain
as the rain sweeps her out of my arms
and places her into another's.
Put a bullet in my brain
for I don't want to see love slip away
please end my suffering,
for I don't want to dare see her in the arms of another man.

I fear the tear that slips away from my soul
and touches the ground with a splash
as she is washed away by the lashed memories of the rain,
please, someone put a bullet in my brain.

I can't bear to see her with another man
laying in his arms
as he charishes her beauty
just like I did to her.
As she smiles and laughs at his jokes
my heart would not bare the sorrow and pain
that would tare my heart apart into pieces of tainted love.
Please tell the rain to stop,
as the pain grows when rain comes down,
please someone end my suffering,
put a bullet in my brain
and stop the rain
that washes away every memory of her.

Stop saying you miss me
and just kiss me
for I can't take the pain
of the rain that takes you away.
Kiss me and stop saying you miss me
for those are useless words to me.
Love is where it's at, so show me.
Don't go with him, he'll treat you wrong.
Love and laugh with me till the break of dawn
as we yawn the long night away.

Kiss me and don't say you miss me.
For if you go away from me,
I couldn't bare to take a tear and waste it away.
Tears, sweet tears crying for you,
doesn't that mean anything to you?
I ask you, stop the rain,
stop the pain and put that bullet in my brain.

Let the red blood flow from my temples.
Let the plow dig my grave,
for I can't bare to see you with another
in his arms, him kissing you, where I kissed you.
I can't take it, I have to make it,
make that pain go away.
Prayer didn't help, God turned a blind eye
when I came up and said why!
Put that bullet in my dome
and when I lay in the coffin, looking at the roof of the church
you come and kiss me, and then you can really say
that you'll miss me.


Poem Details | by Chris Boskovski |
Categories: absence, age, blue, cry, dark, evil, farewell, fear, hope, horror, how i feel, leaving, loneliness, lonely, longing, loss, lost, lost love, prayer, woman, write,

What did I do to deserve this

What I do to deserve this heartbreak,
this horrid and unnatural pain,
this cleche of events that strike me simultaneously
as the time ticks away,
and as the grinning faces pierce a whole through my soul
and my heart turns pale and slowly beats.
My heart is torn in two,
and I cannot find the doctors to stich me up.
I ask an old man,
how does love go about,
he smaked me in the face and went on.
The pain and the sorrow,
it is too much to feel,
too much to gain in one serving,
When I eat, I taste posion, not passion,
familiar faces turn grey, with ruby eyes and sharp fangs
they hiss at me, like a cat to a mouse.
I don't understand why I deserve this.
I am a good man,
who loves with open arms and a big heart.
With every hug I give,
I recieve a knife of betrayal in my back,
I feel the blood ooze from my open wounds,
suicidal tendencies roll through my mine,
but I quickly throw them out,
because Mama didn't raise no coward.
I see the blow, I clench my fists
and swing away,
God cries wanting to stop this madness,
Death laughs and soon joins in,
people join in and punch away.
I lay there on the concret blood everywhere,
my heart torn out of my chest,
each with a thousand knives stabbed in it,
as it slowly beats,
I lay their on the pavement,
looking up to the heavenly skies,
and as it starts to rain droplets of hope
I ask myself,
What did I do to deserve this?
Then, I shall close my eyes
and rest for awhile.

-9/23/13-

Inspired by all the betrayal and heartbreak I've faced, by so many cowards who didn't want to recieve my lovePeople I had thought who were my friends, came with invitations of humiliation and hate, and now I see who my real friends are; this pen and paper..Have a good day.
P.SNo one should ever be shown this much betrayal and heartbreakI wouldn't even wish it on my worst enemyHave a good day!


Poem Details | by Stephen Kilmer |
Categories: addiction, horror, love,

Leave this Place

Dark wing
In the night
Flying towards
The moon
Tis’ but a demon
Upon it’s way

Makeup on the counter
Teeth in my drink
Powder by the faucet
Canned roaches
Don’t run or skitter
They fly in the night

A white wing in my hand
A gun upon my soul
Snapshots of posters
Rotting on a train
Rumbling through a vision
Of coyotes and dogs that bite

Waiting for a dungeon
Damp and dreary
Chains around my heart
I can’t leave this place
Now
I can’t leave this place tonight.


Poem Details | by Zamreen Zarook |
Categories: absence, age, anger, beautiful, betrayal, birth, cancer, care, caregiving, character, courage, cry, dark, dedication, depression, emotions, feelings, funeral, goodbye, grief, hate, heartbroken, horror, loneliness, love, lust, me, memorial day, missing you, parents, peace, people, self, time, world, youth,

Speech of Tears

Speech of Tears – Zamreen Zarook

Drops of tears from our purl conveys a lot,
Each an every shedding has a ballot,
By identifying the core, our hands should allot,
Because, some might be extremely as shallot.

Chipper and blissfulness gives you cool tears,
Whereas in console and divesting flow hot tears,
Fear and pains give drains of tears,
Nothing that can be patch with dollars.

Some deliveries are automatic,
While some productions are acoustic,
Another drain says I am really bombastic,
Tears are at last solely cubistic.

They convey the emotions,
People go in search for solutions,
They become happy when they are with the precautions,
Reactions again as the tears, it’s the real abbreviation.


Poem Details | by Chris Boskovski |
Categories: abuse, age, beautiful, blue, city, crazy, cry, dark, evil, goodbye, horror, how i feel, london, lost, miss you, missing, missing you, night, poverty, power, psychological, relationship, romance, romantic, sad, sad love, sick, sin, stress, suicide, summer, sun, water, woman, world, write, writing,

Can you feel me

Feel me standing there
on the draw bridge
that stands stubburn and erect
over the rushing waters blown by the wind
back and forth.
I listened to the crows
posted on gargoils designed
of eightenth century Gothic architecture
singing their death songs,
when the sun is setting in the far.

The voices of women passing
startle me with a feeling of sorrow
I can't breathe, I am dying.
Feel me, can you feel me rot away?
Slowly but surely rot away
as time passes with ease,
and taxi cabs take smiling, intoxicated faces
to wayward cafes, oh how they screech to a halting stop
and wave to me to get in.

"No thank you, I'd rather walk." I say to the smiling faces
highly intoxicated with the thought of the birds and the bees
rattling around in their empty minds.
Then they drive off, into the city lights and turn a darkened corner.
I look at the rushing water
and feel myself rot away
slowly but surely rot away.

Can you feel me?
Can you hear me?
Can you see me?
Feel my heart thump with slow paces
that manage to keep up with fast melodies.
Of songs that play in your mind
only the ones that make you sigh
and think those one days in Spring time
as you walked over the draw bridge
and paid no mind to the water underneth.
I hear no more talk of you and me, I hear no more talk
of the good old times we all shared.
Time has passed, as I take my last breathe
and hold my chest and shead a tear.
Feel me, can you?
If you can, put your hand to my weak heart 
and feel it thump away with every second wasted
on useless items.
Now, see me a man of one time greatness
reflect his life with a reflection in the water below.
How I sigh and cry and breath heavely,
as I feel myself rot away.

The voices of woman pass me by.
Tomorrow is a new day,
for the smiling faces in taxi cabs will go home
and soak their raging hangovers with cool, wet rags.
As I still stand on the draw bridge singing with the crows,
feeling myself rot away.

Can you feel me without you, rotting away?
I surely can feel myself rot.
Such a heavy word, "rot"
So vulgare, yet a great description of me,
without you.

I pull out a shawl you once wore and I kiss it.
As the wind gusts and the sun rises and my shadow
comes to meet me, the wind shall take my last memory
of you away.
And I shall weep no more.
Then what will I do? Shall I walk the streets
and think of you.
Yes you, still rambling all throughout my head
like a lose screw.
Can you feel me? Feel me rot away
feel me think about you, and all your works.
Can you feel me?


Poem Details | by Shanity Rain |
Categories: child, confusion, death, faith, fear, funeral, growing up, halloween, home, horror, image, international, life, loss, moving on, mystery, river, sad love, spiritual, suicide,

The River home

It was a home on the river we lived
It was the ghost of a young man whom had taken his own life.

I still remember the vision of him walking by me with a blank stare 
We,  as a Family of  seven , moved into this river house 
Panoramic views right out to the river , I should mention

I was home alone as a child , looking out at "The Julia Belle Swan " as she went by
Upstairs in that room as I saw a figure walking by , with very nice features , auburn hair 
I thought he was my older brother , a handsome young guy 

Then I realized the young man was not my brother , a  apparition he appeared
He was not there to scare or frighten , 
the message I believe he wanted to shed light on, so clear.

He walked right by ,then disappeared through the window, out to the River

The Ghost knew I could see him , a gift I have been given
when I was a younger child of five , I had once died for a short timeI was lifted by Jesus in Heaven Death is not for us to decide

Later in the years we moved from that home , every home we lived in had a story 
or a presence of its own My Mother had told me later , a young man took his life there

 Keep fighting your way through life and its despair , 
you are important to someone whom cares  If you feel alone and want life to end , Please pick up the phone , call anyone ,  call for help , call a Friend

"This is not fiction , it truly is a gift I have been given "


Poem Details | by Vee Bdosa |
Categories: anxiety, beauty, emotions, horror, slavery, true love,

The Burying of The Virgin

    THE BURYING OF THE  VIRGIN 
The gloom of death gone bad so near that night,
as circumstance played out a mournful tune,
and echoed through my brain, as if it might,
give credence to the shadows of full moon;
and buried I my virgin, thin and bare,
she bathed in lilac, head down to her toes;
I laid her sixteen feet, to keep her there,
and marked her with a name that no one knows.
Then lest the devil wolves, who loved her dear,
should get a sence of lilac in the night,
and smell their way from there to over here,
to raise her from her tomb, as sure they might!
     I could not bear to end her chastity,
       and so she died a virgin willingly!

She was an early purchase, just a child,
of seven years from gypsies passing by,
and in her eyes, the look, both free and wild,
yet of her bondage never questioned why.
All ladies saw her beauty, as she grew,
and changed from childhood to maturity,
to be more woman than they ever knew,
and virgin that she was, was due to me,
but at her end, her body was afire,
and yearning for the love I would not give,
lest I should lay to waste, in my desire,
the greatest beauty of this life I live!
     So sleeps my virgin, as she'll always be,
      unless my passion gets the best of me!
© Ron Wilson Arbuthnot
aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet


Poem Details | by Ezra cook |
Categories: beautiful, death, horror, lost love, marriage, murder, mystery,

Lady In Red

The Lady in red
awaits my arrival
 The Lady in red
lays and waits
The Lady in red 
never-more so beautiful
The Lady in red
Who is my newly wed
The Lady whose white dress covered in Red
is no more


Poem Details | by Earl Schumacker |
Categories: absence, death, horror, identity, image, life, love,

When Love Dies

            When Love Dies

When love dies it takes sanity under ugly 
Drops it in a foreign land beneath cold sand 
No rock will take it underneath
It cannot fit or breathe there with the bugs
Because it stinks of death
Lost in decay disinteresting
Rocks have better things to do 
They sit there on the brink 
Some are solid in their dark
Say nothing of their fate 
No reason to think of culture or living things
Malignancy is not their cup of tea
When love dies trees forget to grow
They know the better part of valor
Rooted in the truth
Discretion knows nothing of the pain
When love dies the memory remains


Poem Details | by Luka Obradovic |
Categories: abuse, dark, horror, lonely, symbolism, true love, writing,

The Bestseller

It’s easy for them not to try
when their love shines as bright as the Northern Star.
I’m thinking about you and I can’t stop
wishing you were right next to me all the time.
But you’re just too blind to see the story
we make when we’re togetherI hate

that I sometimes think that you hate
the idea of us being togetherThere’s no use to try
to ask for something moreYour eyes tell a story
when you smileYou could be the star
in the movie called “My Life”Maybe over time
you’ll change your mind and stop

denying what I feel for youI have to stop
being scared that you might start to hate
everything I doWe’re not like thatTime
can only prove how eternal we areTry
to see me as more than just a star
in your night skyI can be your moon and our story

doesn’t have to endWe don’t have to be a short story
a seventh grader wroteOur clocks don’t have to stop
tickingWe can last forever just like a star
does in the skyEven though it died years ago, we don’t hate
it because it still illuminates the cold nightsCan you try
to imagine us together? I’m not wasting my time

no matter how much you say I amOne time,
 I remember, you said you were writing your first story
and I asked you if you were going to try
to include me in itYou begged me to stop
and to go awayYou screamed, “I hate
you, you freak.” and I felt like a star

falling from the skyPeople think a star
can solve all of their problemsBut the time
you got the restraining order proved that you hate
letting other forces solve your problemsAnd the story
you tell about me is just lies nowI won’t stop
loving everything you do even if you don’t try.

I try to love the fact that you’re now a star.
But I can’t stop thinking about you all the time,
and that maybe your story, “The Stalker”, is based on hate.


Poem Details | by Sam Toil |
Categories: hope, love,

A Horror

i lay searching  
the night-grain nothingness
discharged from the world.
still, It comes.

oozing through undefined space
in fire-grinning simplicity.
humming like steel
It beckons.
and i am ready.

but It has long been in place --
this....dying
as all men die --
slowly,
by suffocation.

yet,
the black streaks 
violet and orange.
you stir.
your untainted eyes open.

hold me 
precious wife
in the world 
a while longer.


Poem Details | by Gretchen Cruz |
Categories: crazy, dark, deep, horror, love, scary,

Warped and Twisted

WARPED AND TWISTED

HARSH WORDS, VIOLENT BLOWS
HIDDEN SECRECTS THAT NO ONE KNOWS
EYES ARE OPEN, HANDS ARE FISTED
DEEP INSIDE I’M WARPED
I AM TWISTED

SO MANY TRICKS, SO MANY LIES
TOO MANY WHENS, TOO MANY WHYS
NOBODY IS SPECIAL, NOBODY IS GIFTED
JUST WARPED AND TWISTED

SLEEPING WHILE AWAKE
CHOKING ON MY DREAMS
LISTENING LOUDLY TO
A SILENT SCREAM

CALL ON MY MIND
THE NUMBER IS UNLISTED
LOST IN SOMEONE SO
WARPED, SO TWISTED

DOWN ON MY KNEES
ALIVE BUT DEAD
LOOK AT THE INVISIBLE BLOOD
I HAVE SHED




I’M NOT DEAD
MY MIND JUST HAS DRIFTED
DO NOT EXPECT TOO MUCH
TOO MUCH FROM ME
FOR I AM WARPED AND TWISTED

BURNT OUT, WASTED
TODAY, IS YESTERDAY’S TOMORROW
THE SUN DIED OUT, THE ASHES SIFTED
YET I AM STILL HERE
WARPED AND TWISTED



















(c)GDC2014


Poem Details | by Jim Pemberton |
Categories: character, christian, dedication, depression, devotion, faith, family, forgiveness, freedom, god, grave, heartbroken, history, holocaust, hope, horror, irony, jesus, life, loneliness, lonely, loss, lost, lost love, recovery from, religion, religious, snow, social, society, today, usa,

Times of Trouble Are Ahead

Read the Bible and the words that are said. Times of trouble and tribulation are ahead! All one has to do is read the book of revelation. To read about this world and this nation! Days of wickedness and evil that abounds.. Shall very soonCome “crashing to the ground!” For our sin, there’s a price that has been paid! Many have become sin’s servant and slave! Many will not escape God’s judgment and wrath! They’ve chosen the wrong direction and path! Right now.. There’s a path and a way to “escape!” Please do it right now! Before it’s too late! The right path to take, is through Christ alone! He must be the lord of your heart and home! Jesus alone, can bring hope to your soul! He’ll never leave you! Is what he wants you to know! Times of trouble and uncertainty are well on their way! Christ can help you to overcome! He can do it TODAY! By Jim Pemberton


Poem Details | by Reynaldo Mast |
Categories: abuse, adventure, anger, baby, betrayal, bullying, care, child, childhood, children, conflict, confusion, corruption, courage, crazy, culture, dark, death, desire, devotion, discrimination, emotions, environment, evil, faith, family, fear, friendship, grief, growing up, growth, heart, hope, horror, image, innocence, life, loneliness, lonely, longing, loss, lost love, love, me, memory, pain, poverty, sad, sick, strength, stress, sympathy, violence,

Physically and Mentally Abuse

I was born in a world of poverty and soiled life of a third world country
The way I lived till I was five years of age was walls of boundary
These walls had towers of guards that had no heart or care
If a child would try to climb the wall they lose their life I swear

Father had drank and threatened my mother with a knife
My father lost his job and wife and that was the hardship of life
He stopped my mother from taking off with me in her arm
Hoping that my father would ignore and left me be with no harm

When my father went off to drink one night and came home with rage
My brothers stood by my crib and took a beating that set up the next stage
My father had woken up to three scared children half starved and in pain
His final words as he walk away from the orphanage gate live life do not go insane

I was still a baby in the orphanage; the caretakers did not really care about the babies
They stole items and materials those wicked men and maternal evil ladies
They starved all the babies because it cost a lot to keep them alive
As a child of that age I could feel the sins and greed that gave out bad vibes

I was ignorant about what I drank and ate, as I see white maggots move in my bottle
As I see them move I thought about how they were playing and some were hostel
They ate each other to keep each other alive in a manner that took me by surprise
In the back round I hear others throwing things with sounds of painful cries

I got very strong at a young age I was able to start pulling myself up over the cage
My feelings were to see my brothers with strong lungs that I cried out of rage
My two brothers came to see me and sneak food into my crib
The caretaker would find the food in my hands as they grabbed it and hit me on my ribs

As painful as it was I kept eating the food with blood in my mouth as it was instinct
I sometimes laid in my crib dazed and confused with smell of death so distinct
With all my might I kept myself strong and climb the small wall
I finally was old enough to get out of the building and I could hear my brothers call

With tears of joy with short legs that ran as fast as my heart
I ran to my brothers arms and held their hands to have a new start
I grew stronger everyday but more things came into my life in a manner of dismay
If my brothers stay by my side I could smile and everyday their would be okay



Poem Details | by odwa mdeyide |
Categories: change, cute love, dream, fear, horror, image, metaphor,

CHANGES

CHANGES

The day begins with promises, 
from the east as the sun rises, 
it has hope that to all it carries, 
lighting our way from bitterness, 
that we wish to leave with yesterday.
The promise to shine away the pain, 
bring smiles and joy to its prey 
that it feeds from everyday.
Then the wind changes its direction, 
twisting smiles into smirks, 
clouds try to get each other’s attention, 
light shines from the grey sky,
threatening to take life by a flash.
Then the blue hides under grey, 
then small drops of tears of the sky.
That is how love passes by.
			The loving OW-JAY 


Poem Details | by John Arribas |
Categories: betrayal, conflict, evil, grief, horror, lost love, magic,

MY VOODOO BRIDE

MY VOODOO BRIDE
by
JOHN MARRIBAS



Married only three hours still in jubilation
My beautiful bride natures finest creation
A seaplane trip to an island just east of Haiti
I had in my life a model of unmatched beauty
She was tall and ambled with a certain flare
Red ruby lips contrasted her long black hair


Creamy smooth tan skin and dark green eyes
Any man would cede her the ultimate prize 
As we approached the island something amiss
The plane banked sharply and ended our bliss
We crashed violently I don’t remember more
When I came to  I was crawling on the shore


I scanned off shore   the horizon was clear
We crashed nearby  how else did I get here
There were no signs of the plane as night fell
My idyllic dream has become a painful hell
Nearly asleep I was aroused by an eerie  feeling
Silhouetted by the moon a man is kneeling


I asked who are you? No one should be here
My name is Sedah I come here once each year
I heard the plane crash earlier in the day
Couldn’t help I was at the other end the bay
Coming here I found a woman on the beach
She alive? No  she’s crossed over the breach


We both raced to where my beauty was lying
I spun out of control with hysterical crying
I hugged her and kissed her motionless face
I’ll  do anything for her to return my embrace
Sedah asked  you mean you would “ anything”
Vow  what you say and your wish I will bring


Voodoo (2)




Do you vow for her to be part of you forever
Will you swear to keep her with you forever
Would you pledge under penalty of fiery death
To keep her close to you  til your final breath
If you undertake this oath there is no reneging
The wrath of the Abaddon will not be forgiving


I vow my honor in blood   I just want her back
Leave us alone for I have rituals to enact
When I awoke the next morning lying at my side 
Still in her wedding gown I found my new bride
I tried to talk to her she had nothing to say
She  moved so slowly and looked rather gray


The next few days she struggled to act normal
But slowly her language turned into to garble
Her eyes had shrunken n  receded into her head
With dark rings and a glaze not a was word said 
Dark spots oozed thru onto her once white gown
The skin on her face had turned greenish brown


Parts of her body took on a greenish grey hue
Her face a frozen pose with a distorted view
Her fingers had twisted into gnarled trusses
Her muscles contorting due to  rigor mortis 
Moving of her stiffening body a macabre ballet
She had totally entered into a state of decay


Now indentured n shackled to my own zombie
Wedded to a decomposing corpse I must be free
My unworldly request an eternal curse on me
Pact with a Mephistopheles   I must break free 
Tricked into vowing  she’d never leave my side
I’ll extract myself from a burden I can’t abide



Voodoo (3)
	



To outwit the  devil is a formidable endeavor
You need to be cunning audacious and clever
I have formulated a plan to escape this plight
Totally incinerating her body this very night
Recovering the ashes which I will keep in tow
She will  be a part of my body wherever I go

Back to New Orleans a friendly doctor , Paul
A platinum pellet with the ashes in me he’ll install
I’ve beaten the devil at his own game
When I die I don’t want him to call out my name










 


Poem Details | by G. Jay |
Categories: art, depression, horror, loneliness, lost love, sad,

Paint Me an Ugly Duck


Awakened and degenerated, I feel I am clashing somewhere
The clouds appear and then depart, just another face amongst billions 
Millions of colors of the rainbow at one point I thought I was rare    
Surprise, it is another birthday, traveling through the flow of time  
Stop this ride, we have encountered a problem but no one seemed to care 
There are many screams and awfully many more tears carved on these walls.
Votive candles consigned happy wishes, but overlooked my prayer 
Only a color in a mosaic frame, thought I was something more 
Wearing a pale jacket, apparently I’m an infectious nightmare
Everyone else appears to have vibrant smiles and briskly smooth motions  
Unbalanced, cannot advance, unable to conform to this wheelchair.
I was searching for deliverance perhaps from Slipper or Charming  
Flames blew out, crocodile ate my cake, and chains enveloped my footwear 
Watched the paint smear as a toddler topple while dancing on a wall  
The dragon loves to steal treasured chroma by hoarding them in its lair
Artist! My obit will say, "Counterfeit, pathetic, unfit misfit."    
Wishes are unfair,  there is no cake or prayer for my teddy bear

Standing near the periphery earth's end with a serpent knotted around my neck,   
I, the dead color Fool for faithfully believing but having failed everywhere       

Owing to the profusion of unfastened pins, the moment is prepared for the recycle   
Not the populace inadequacy, I was manufactured with all the faulty hardware    

Weathered and stagnant, desiring the second chance, I once had a dream
I’ll need a needle and thread for something has unraveled at the seam   

A shattered stained glass window, the Artist has answered the Devils instead   
An anachronism, a blunder, it's painful to breathe, a tub of abhor memoirs        
Frozen in dread, my guardian snow angel's wings broke and vanished in red    
Sun evanescent, flocks depart, flying westward to the frames of the ending shores
Too many things undone and too many undone things will go left unsaid

The flare's brush anoints the impressionist rainbows on the canvases waterbed  
The melodies of torment, the child yearning invocation, but no one seemed to care
Chamber of lead, the heaven's bled, gently cradling the head of my sweet teddy bear     
The lunatic, awakened and degenerated, pulls the final threadClickDie guck 
Saturated fountainhead turned the cotton ball red, twilight and nothing more 

Closed Healthcare, a chupacabra scare, and the last raindrops fall and stick
The lame duck resides at the bottom of the tub, muck and out of luck 
In the black Milky Way aqua, the baptized erotica necrophilia, left lies lost love Lady Ophelia
With impasto insignia sangria droplets, the Artist graffiti on the wall the picture of medusa.

17 July 2016


Poem Details | by robert johnson |
Categories: black african american, depression, desire, heart, hope, horror, loneliness, love,

Dear Depressed Girlfriend

Though your heart be breaking and you don't know what to do.
I think it's time to quit mistaking and maybe get a clue.
The writing is clearly reflected in the mirror.
Away from this cad, you outta steer clear.

You see my dear misguided soul, it's plain for all to see.
He hasn't any need for you, so you should let it be.
You have two sweet and beautiful kids who need you to be sane.
So try to find somebody else, and start to use your brain.

Your Agony Aunt who never say's can't
But surely will advise you, that you shant.


Poem Details | by randy johnson |
Categories: animal, horror, love, tiger,

An Animal's Attack

Last year I was attacked by a fierce animal.
I shot it but the bullet only grazed its skull.
I began to pray because I knew I'd be harmed.
That creature severed one of my legs and my arms.
The creature that attacked me was a ferocious tiger.
A woman drove up and luckily I was saved by her.
The lady's car scared the tiger and it ran from fright.
If she hadn't drove up, I would've died that night.
The tiger that maimed me had escaped from the zoo.
I fell in love with that woman and she loves me too.
When I was escorted to the emergency room, I had to be carried.
Even though I'm deformed, she loves me and we're getting married.

(This is a fictional poem)


Poem Details | by Wilfred Aniagyei |
Categories: adventure, death, goodbye, horror, love hurts, sorrow,

An Endless Encounter

Seated in a corner to my left Were travellers who appeared to be deaf I knew not who these men were And their purpose I have no true care Slung over his shoulder, one rose to aim At the conductor amassing her claim Tut-tut! Bullets marched, making peace with her neck In desperate haste, Les masses went berserk! With my mind acquiese and body nervy The prospects ahead were quite scary Two more to the roof...tout l'argenterie clattered An untimely error by my fidgety created In the quiet of my carrel, three breaths from sight A sheer bystander in another man's malice Scribbling my death song away from the fright To recount, mon amour why we will never have Paris But before the end of this lengthily horror and me In merest simplicity and pitiful hope My dearest Naina, should this get to thee I pray the heavenlies will make us a new home
--------------------------- Inspiration: French train shooting of August 2015 & The spur of Naina's dare ??


Poem Details | by Steve Hanson |
Categories: abuse, anger, betrayal, cry, how i feel, i miss you, lost love,

horror of heart

Working on the weather oh the hell on the side of this moonI am only slightly screaming cause my dream girl is the nightmare of youGrowing up together now broken this tree and its branches still growLiving and loosing life together its only in the hidden roots we still knowPaths in these embers I see a flame easily bought easily soldHolding out to forever I see the one i love sold her soulTo her its just getting by but in my tears stained eyes I knowI will hate you forever the one who bit the bullet for a easier roadI will miss you forever cause if God only takes cheap tickets then your goldIde rather fight to the moon and back again for the ones my soul holds.


Poem Details | by peter walsh |
Categories: film, horror, poetry, sad love,

Queen of the Damned

As gently, she drifts through the darkness
Waiflike, she flows on the breeze
Her eyes never resting on anyones
Appearing to all Ill at ease

She wades in the depths of her carnage
Pressed by the weight of her sins
The humans, mere collateral damage
Ever conscious the thirst always wins

Her games will be played in the darkness
She's queen of the damned, you're her pawn
And the best, of the worse, you can hope for
Is to last 'til the break of the dawn

Lost in the wonder of bloodlust
A little too long in the tooth
She's witnessed her friends turn to dust
While she Lives on, enchained by her youth

The curse of the love of a demon
Taints the flow of the blood in her veins
It has ended her innocent dreaming
Now none but her nightmare remains

As she calls to the night, ever knowing
Her hunger can never be filled
An insatiable thirst, ever flowing
Through rivers of blood that she's spilled

As Black as the night that enfolds her
As dark as the road that she travels
She moves with the grace of an angel
Whilst waiting for time to unravel


Poem Details | by Timothy Willard |
Categories: betrayal, dark, dream, gothic, hope, horror, lost love,

Pursuing the Memory of a Ghost Through the Gates of Darkened Perception: The Depths of my Ascension

Dreams crumble just like my thoughts,
At least when I think of you.
I'm left gathering myself'
My minds eye's mirror's breaking through.
Broken shards of silver glass,
Reflecting horrors of broken paths.
I've let down myself in everything I do.
And I seem to have lost myself in the process of forgetting truth.
Or at least what it used to be,
Before you fed it to the moon.
Now I'm fading with memory,
Just like shadows of you.

I'm a ghost in the night,
passing graves in pale light.
Cemeteries weep with me
echoing the requiem of an aria like the lullaby of fright.
Digging up the corpses of another dying life.
Condemned to walk in darkness,
A pallbearer weighing his own stone.
It appears i live in dust amongst mist & hollow bone.
Sleeping in a grave,
A bed I've made my own.
I turn tombs of my despair into a sepulcher's throne.
Collecting ashes of the dead longing to see the sun again.
Trapped in dirt for months,
I haven't seen the light of day in your eyes.

Winter chill drawing near,
Freezing all I fear.
The world frozen in white perfection,
My heart through the snow.

Walking through the gates i was Engulfed in a great light.
A voice said i was merely sleeping,
Dreaming everything's alright.

I saw visions of your ghost as you were leading me home...