Poems About Death Seeking Honest Critique
#death
Poems about death seeking honest critique. Honest feedback has been requested for these poems.
“Who’s Next ???" ... A poem written by Big Virge 25/07/05
(Pt. III)
After the 7/7 bombing ...
This is part of a Trilogy of poems to remind people about
where some of their, " Anti-Islam Rhetoric ", started from ....
(BTW ... I am NOT, Pro-Islam)
People, as much as it seems,
disconnected from, the 7/7 attacks.
One should recognise,
The murder of Jean Charles De Menezes ...
Yeah ... Remember Him !!!
R.I.P.
It's CLEAR.
whether you believe, 7/7 was a Muslim,
Islamist attack, or not ?
...
After the 7/7 bombing ...
This is part of a Trilogy of poems to remind people about
where some of their, " Anti-Islam Rhetoric ", started from ....
(BTW ... I am NOT, Pro-Islam)
People, as much as it seems,
disconnected from, the 7/7 attacks.
One should recognise,
The murder of Jean Charles De Menezes ...
Yeah ... Remember Him !!!
R.I.P.
It's CLEAR.
whether you believe, 7/7 was a Muslim,
Islamist attack, or not ?
...
#grief
#dark
#death
#shame
#humankind
32 reads
0 Comments
Angel of death
The angel of death.
#death
#angels
#spiritual
61 reads
0 Comments
Death
Some people embrace
death without a trace
Of fear upon their face
But nothing in this world
Can ever fill that space
When their souls fade
From this place
death without a trace
Of fear upon their face
But nothing in this world
Can ever fill that space
When their souls fade
From this place
#grief
#death
#memorial
115 reads
3 Comments
Sarcophagus Calls
Sarcophagus calls
through delinquency
snowballing
into troubling frequency
will freaks finally meet?
what occurs first
crash or Burn ?
it's pretty obvious
that Fire
wont allow defeat
the Revolution
can wait
a little longer
it`s time
to ditch the porn
in all forms
cept` what`s in mind
marinating
through eternity
for opportunity
to apply...
through delinquency
snowballing
into troubling frequency
will freaks finally meet?
what occurs first
crash or Burn ?
it's pretty obvious
that Fire
wont allow defeat
the Revolution
can wait
a little longer
it`s time
to ditch the porn
in all forms
cept` what`s in mind
marinating
through eternity
for opportunity
to apply...
#dark
#death
#humankind
73 reads
2 Comments
My Dear Annabelle. (inspired by Edgar Allen Poe and Alesana.)
My Annabelle, where have you gone?
You left me behind to wander in the fog
Your death tears at my soul
Biting and clawing, creating holes
How can this happen now?
So sudden, so unannounced...
News of your death is stirring the town
Sobering the sheep safe in their homes
Some cry, some scream,
But me, I sit in silence
unable to comprehend it.
My dear Annabelle, Why the fuck did you leave?
You left me behind to wander in the fog
Your death tears at my soul
Biting and clawing, creating holes
How can this happen now?
So sudden, so unannounced...
News of your death is stirring the town
Sobering the sheep safe in their homes
Some cry, some scream,
But me, I sit in silence
unable to comprehend it.
My dear Annabelle, Why the fuck did you leave?
#dark
#death
232 reads
3 Comments
Crimson sky
I submit that there is no God
That there is no future
In the world after now or before
Where coffins lower
Black is the colour
Only a bird across a crimson sky
There is a head full of lead
A body filled with tumour
A leg full of pain
A heart full of ache
In the desert of mankind
Only a bird across a crimson sky
There she walks, there
In the white shroud of a Holy Ghost
Coughing and choking
Stamping her feet for God
As she lays in the tumour of despair hearing only
Only a bird across a crimson sky ...
That there is no future
In the world after now or before
Where coffins lower
Black is the colour
Only a bird across a crimson sky
There is a head full of lead
A body filled with tumour
A leg full of pain
A heart full of ache
In the desert of mankind
Only a bird across a crimson sky
There she walks, there
In the white shroud of a Holy Ghost
Coughing and choking
Stamping her feet for God
As she lays in the tumour of despair hearing only
Only a bird across a crimson sky ...
#dark
#death
#atheism #God
#atheism #God
155 reads
2 Comments
The Clockwork Madrigal
*For the Edgar Allan Poe ala The Raven contest**
Dreaming murmur,
as weary volumes
wrought open, whispered,
once forgotten chamber doors
from a stir of words—purple
the tongue silken hours
Souls always gather
like an echo's tongues,
where Lenore lay dying...
For centuries,
minutes like embers—
seconds burning
a demons harvest
for a glimpse
into and
beyond this world
and the scars
of nevermore.
The floor is weak
where ghosts
don once mortal shades,
restless
murmured the sunset...
Dreaming murmur,
as weary volumes
wrought open, whispered,
once forgotten chamber doors
from a stir of words—purple
the tongue silken hours
Souls always gather
like an echo's tongues,
where Lenore lay dying...
For centuries,
minutes like embers—
seconds burning
a demons harvest
for a glimpse
into and
beyond this world
and the scars
of nevermore.
The floor is weak
where ghosts
don once mortal shades,
restless
murmured the sunset...
#dark
#ghosts
#death
106 reads
9 Comments
The Glass Shatters
Darkness envelopes me.
A steel hand presses against my back, the glass shatters.
My black steampunk heart is my greatest enemy.
The cogs lock as it tells me the lies I need to hear, the glass shatters.
Despair is my best friend.
Tears are the acid that burn my eyes and face, the glass shatters.
Pain is my ally.
As I rest on a bed of razors, spikes and blood, the glass shatters.
Time is a thief.
It smiles a vile grimace, the glass shatters.
Shame is all I know.
Can’t look myself in the mirror, the glass shatters.
...
A steel hand presses against my back, the glass shatters.
My black steampunk heart is my greatest enemy.
The cogs lock as it tells me the lies I need to hear, the glass shatters.
Despair is my best friend.
Tears are the acid that burn my eyes and face, the glass shatters.
Pain is my ally.
As I rest on a bed of razors, spikes and blood, the glass shatters.
Time is a thief.
It smiles a vile grimace, the glass shatters.
Shame is all I know.
Can’t look myself in the mirror, the glass shatters.
...
#dark
#death
#despair #myself
#despair #myself
80 reads
0 Comments
Raven Call
Raven speak of dark and dreary night.
Wrapped in feathers of your fright.
Orange moon of Saturn's beauty.
Depressed thoughts of reality.
Whispering raven of my demise.
Sitting steady voice of lies.
Crimson drops of satins last kiss.
Mixed with Sirens forbidden abyss.
Swirls of black sin,
Creeping obsessions under skin.
Sending gallows of ravens breath.
Glowing anticipation of witches Macbeth.
Soft touches of glistening pelt.
Dancing black birds of ribbons felt.
Dying souls of beings lost.
Simple pleasures of murderous cost.
Dark...
Wrapped in feathers of your fright.
Orange moon of Saturn's beauty.
Depressed thoughts of reality.
Whispering raven of my demise.
Sitting steady voice of lies.
Crimson drops of satins last kiss.
Mixed with Sirens forbidden abyss.
Swirls of black sin,
Creeping obsessions under skin.
Sending gallows of ravens breath.
Glowing anticipation of witches Macbeth.
Soft touches of glistening pelt.
Dancing black birds of ribbons felt.
Dying souls of beings lost.
Simple pleasures of murderous cost.
Dark...
#dark
#gothic
#death
#birds
#night
182 reads
2 Comments
Childhood Trauma
She rests in Autumn leaves with a smile of spiders;
they've replaced her lullaby and her kiss.
I lie beside her and beg for resurrection,
and I whisper to her heart how much she is missed,
but she wont get warm.
She wont get warm.
Blood is splattered on the family album.
There’s a pool coagulating on the floor.
The hammer fell, but I’m feeling no justice.
I can’t feel anything any more.
She wont get warm.
She wont get warm.
Outside a church I stood in the rain.
Something is calling me into the wild.
When I feel the...
they've replaced her lullaby and her kiss.
I lie beside her and beg for resurrection,
and I whisper to her heart how much she is missed,
but she wont get warm.
She wont get warm.
Blood is splattered on the family album.
There’s a pool coagulating on the floor.
The hammer fell, but I’m feeling no justice.
I can’t feel anything any more.
She wont get warm.
She wont get warm.
Outside a church I stood in the rain.
Something is calling me into the wild.
When I feel the...
#grief
#dark
#death
762 reads
3 Comments
Unholy ghost in this machine
Brother John Staggered out of his desert:
picking teeth with a scorpion stinger.
His eyes wide, evidently blinded
by the bone white sand, and a mescaline vision.
Said- “Forty thousand years or forty God's-eye days
left me with no money and my devil to pay.
Now I’ll settle for a shot of scotch
and a chance to get a glance at the Reaper’s watch.”
It's so lonely being god, like,
your only friends are avatars.
I pay a visit just to get the spike,
and collect a few new battle scars.
Tiny crucifixions,
quaint...
picking teeth with a scorpion stinger.
His eyes wide, evidently blinded
by the bone white sand, and a mescaline vision.
Said- “Forty thousand years or forty God's-eye days
left me with no money and my devil to pay.
Now I’ll settle for a shot of scotch
and a chance to get a glance at the Reaper’s watch.”
It's so lonely being god, like,
your only friends are avatars.
I pay a visit just to get the spike,
and collect a few new battle scars.
Tiny crucifixions,
quaint...
#loneliness
#dark
#death #rhyming
#death #rhyming
196 reads
0 Comments
What the Water Gave Him
Drip of the faucet, steady and hypnotic, surf
of the bathwater creeping over his bloated belly,
rising and ebbing with each breath, his knees
protruding like icebergs, soft dangle
between his legs, safe as in the womb. Paris,
an oscillation, a rolling exhibition, vast
spaceship of a city just outside the walls
of his rented flat. He knows how to be alone,
to get inside the cave of his brain, to shut it all off
like a yogi, water a conduit. He is not well.
Murky screen, a hallucinogenic drive-in: the surface
roils, clouds...
of the bathwater creeping over his bloated belly,
rising and ebbing with each breath, his knees
protruding like icebergs, soft dangle
between his legs, safe as in the womb. Paris,
an oscillation, a rolling exhibition, vast
spaceship of a city just outside the walls
of his rented flat. He knows how to be alone,
to get inside the cave of his brain, to shut it all off
like a yogi, water a conduit. He is not well.
Murky screen, a hallucinogenic drive-in: the surface
roils, clouds...
#death
#drugs
#memorial
480 reads
7 Comments
DU Poetry : Poems About Death Seeking Honest Critique