Poetry competition CLOSED 16th October 2012 11:55pm
WINNER
diddi (Paul Summerscales)
diddi (Paul Summerscales)
DARK CORNERS IN THE MODERN WORLD
Poetry Contest Description
DARK CORNERS IN THE MODERN WORLD Last night my daughter and a friend were mugged, assaulted and robbed outside a night club.
DARK CORNERS IN THE MODERN WORLD ..........
Men pretending to be ~ Security ~ asked to search their bags. Once the bags were offered up and opened these (men?) ripped the bags from their arms and after an unpleasant altercation ran away.
If you would like to recount any experiences you know of that would help paint a picture of these dark corners that lurk in our modern world then your entries are most welcome
Devils from within...
They were stuck in a frightening situation,
Feared by their thoughts and shadows of themselves...
Stirred mind walking in great passion...
Demons of hell, shouting thy name,
"Hail the master of evil!"
They scream until they get insane...
They were like vampires, craving for the blood of the master evil...
They suck, they crave and they sip for they thirst...
They tried to unleash their burdens...
They tried to unshackle themselves but they failed to conquer the thoughts of hell...
As they wipe the pain of hatred and deceive the people of the master were killed
by the devils from within....
this is my old poem way back 2009, it doesn't have any connection with the title of your competition but the meaning conveys something; somehow related to it. We (HUMANS) are in a world full of evil. We crave for material things and we ended up doing evil things.. But in the end; after we realize everything, it's too late, there's no turning back.. we've been killed by our own demons... :(
They were stuck in a frightening situation,
Feared by their thoughts and shadows of themselves...
Stirred mind walking in great passion...
Demons of hell, shouting thy name,
"Hail the master of evil!"
They scream until they get insane...
They were like vampires, craving for the blood of the master evil...
They suck, they crave and they sip for they thirst...
They tried to unleash their burdens...
They tried to unshackle themselves but they failed to conquer the thoughts of hell...
As they wipe the pain of hatred and deceive the people of the master were killed
by the devils from within....
this is my old poem way back 2009, it doesn't have any connection with the title of your competition but the meaning conveys something; somehow related to it. We (HUMANS) are in a world full of evil. We crave for material things and we ended up doing evil things.. But in the end; after we realize everything, it's too late, there's no turning back.. we've been killed by our own demons... :(
Epitaph For The World
Avalanches of time rocks gather
in ancient lime state flocks
as the violin sky unlocks
releasing its corrosive weather .
The spinning , burning
flaming , war fire ring
how long
before its man kinds last rite song
how long
before the final analogue dong
the sound of the eastern gong .
Oil, ticking
the toil
starts slicking
mad Colonels are sickening
upon this rock
we just wait for the wave of shock .
Separatists
terrorists
hostage holding
rebel fists
religious
unindigenous
fundamentalists
sunburst colours crash through the mist
desert soldiers lie dead in the dust .
Broken bricks
burnt out wicks
a child stands crying in the eclipse
a world sits sighing
at TV's of blitz .
Vacant baby eyes
of sufferage
no yule tide surprise
at the orphanage .
An abandoned teddy bear
against a blood smeared kerb
a distant unclear
perturbed, smouldering Serb .
Artillery fire balls burning the air
in a glare
to sadden
Armistice or Armageddon
could it end or will it happen .
Freedom fighters
IRA bombers
semtex lighters
standing outside Harrods .
No more seas
and weathered rocks
ageing trees or building blocks
theres just the stagnant shattered faces
of a world and its dead clocks .
Avalanches of time rocks gather
in ancient lime state flocks
as the violin sky unlocks
releasing its corrosive weather .
The spinning , burning
flaming , war fire ring
how long
before its man kinds last rite song
how long
before the final analogue dong
the sound of the eastern gong .
Oil, ticking
the toil
starts slicking
mad Colonels are sickening
upon this rock
we just wait for the wave of shock .
Separatists
terrorists
hostage holding
rebel fists
religious
unindigenous
fundamentalists
sunburst colours crash through the mist
desert soldiers lie dead in the dust .
Broken bricks
burnt out wicks
a child stands crying in the eclipse
a world sits sighing
at TV's of blitz .
Vacant baby eyes
of sufferage
no yule tide surprise
at the orphanage .
An abandoned teddy bear
against a blood smeared kerb
a distant unclear
perturbed, smouldering Serb .
Artillery fire balls burning the air
in a glare
to sadden
Armistice or Armageddon
could it end or will it happen .
Freedom fighters
IRA bombers
semtex lighters
standing outside Harrods .
No more seas
and weathered rocks
ageing trees or building blocks
theres just the stagnant shattered faces
of a world and its dead clocks .
April
what kind of eyes
can look at a child at play
and see anything but a small child playing.
that's the thing about eyes like that
wicked warped eyes
be aware they come in many a slick guise
with equally slick mouths
to do their bidding.
http://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/crime/police-lose-hope-of-finding-missing-april-jones-alive-as-mark-bridger-is-arrested-on-suspicion-of-murder-81
what kind of eyes
can look at a child at play
and see anything but a small child playing.
that's the thing about eyes like that
wicked warped eyes
be aware they come in many a slick guise
with equally slick mouths
to do their bidding.
http://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/crime/police-lose-hope-of-finding-missing-april-jones-alive-as-mark-bridger-is-arrested-on-suspicion-of-murder-81
Anonymous
Crimson Balkan Snow
As I lie on my back, glancing up, I see the flakes
Falling like downy feathers, blanketing everything
Feeling the warmth of my friends beside me, I smile
Remembering winter playgrounds of our youth, till ...
Looking down I see the flow, warm and scarlet pooling everywhere
Melting the snow all around me, all around us school girls
Suddenly I am back here, to this moment, to this hate
The smell of cigarettes and gunpowder burns my nose, sulphur
Silently I lament my crushed innocence, plundered womanhood, torn and trampled, why me, why this ethnic cleansing
My life the last thing to be taken away from me, drip by drip
Fleeting thoughts, sensations, where is my little sister
To never know love's sweeping passion, marriage, a daughter of my own
Drinking, shouting, laughter from my violators, formerly friends and neighbors
Reveling in my defilement, our desecration, dirty Muslim whores
Closing my eyes, I keep very still, hold my breath
Finally, I am overlooked, dare to inhale, though I know it is too late, total numbness
Rolling over on my side, I start to cry, then I notice my pretty shoes
All covered with mud, I curl up, frantically wipe them clean
Graveling sound, the shovels fill, tossed one by one
Over me, over everything that I am, an earthen blanket, peaceful slumber
(Inspired by my discovering a mass grave in Kosovo back in November 2000)
As I lie on my back, glancing up, I see the flakes
Falling like downy feathers, blanketing everything
Feeling the warmth of my friends beside me, I smile
Remembering winter playgrounds of our youth, till ...
Looking down I see the flow, warm and scarlet pooling everywhere
Melting the snow all around me, all around us school girls
Suddenly I am back here, to this moment, to this hate
The smell of cigarettes and gunpowder burns my nose, sulphur
Silently I lament my crushed innocence, plundered womanhood, torn and trampled, why me, why this ethnic cleansing
My life the last thing to be taken away from me, drip by drip
Fleeting thoughts, sensations, where is my little sister
To never know love's sweeping passion, marriage, a daughter of my own
Drinking, shouting, laughter from my violators, formerly friends and neighbors
Reveling in my defilement, our desecration, dirty Muslim whores
Closing my eyes, I keep very still, hold my breath
Finally, I am overlooked, dare to inhale, though I know it is too late, total numbness
Rolling over on my side, I start to cry, then I notice my pretty shoes
All covered with mud, I curl up, frantically wipe them clean
Graveling sound, the shovels fill, tossed one by one
Over me, over everything that I am, an earthen blanket, peaceful slumber
(Inspired by my discovering a mass grave in Kosovo back in November 2000)
Anonymous
<< post removed >>
I was thinking about this today.
Mainly how I was meant to jot something down
about the woman who had made my baguette.
Nothing exciting, just tuna mayonnaise with
sweetcorn, lettuce and cucumber
on brown... please darling.
She was blonde had the makings
of an attractive woman in her fourties.
Sadly both her eyes were heavily bruised
and her lips torn ragged.
Stress had aged her badly.
The sandwich was okay,
but it tasted different from the one the other day.
Just tonight, walking home with a colleague,
I had to explain to her why, even I,
wouldn't walk home with my headphones in.
She told me the music was never too loud,
so I asked her to stop talking.
She couldn't hear my footsteps.
I showed her the place where a girl was dragged
from a busy night on the town
and raped no more than 50 yards from the high street.
I'd keep all my senses open, is what I said.
I hate to end the evening on a dark note,
but everything from the bicycle gangs
and the lack of real love
is starting to kill me a little.
Protect yourselves... And the best way to do that
is reduce how easy you look.
Don't wilt to these fuckers.
Keep your face
in these dark times
as influence doesn't offer alternatives
to break the flow,
but instead panders to the greater numbers.
The greater numbers of cunts.
Mainly how I was meant to jot something down
about the woman who had made my baguette.
Nothing exciting, just tuna mayonnaise with
sweetcorn, lettuce and cucumber
on brown... please darling.
She was blonde had the makings
of an attractive woman in her fourties.
Sadly both her eyes were heavily bruised
and her lips torn ragged.
Stress had aged her badly.
The sandwich was okay,
but it tasted different from the one the other day.
Just tonight, walking home with a colleague,
I had to explain to her why, even I,
wouldn't walk home with my headphones in.
She told me the music was never too loud,
so I asked her to stop talking.
She couldn't hear my footsteps.
I showed her the place where a girl was dragged
from a busy night on the town
and raped no more than 50 yards from the high street.
I'd keep all my senses open, is what I said.
I hate to end the evening on a dark note,
but everything from the bicycle gangs
and the lack of real love
is starting to kill me a little.
Protect yourselves... And the best way to do that
is reduce how easy you look.
Don't wilt to these fuckers.
Keep your face
in these dark times
as influence doesn't offer alternatives
to break the flow,
but instead panders to the greater numbers.
The greater numbers of cunts.
Anonymous
<< post removed >>