[x]

Rich Man's BoxesThe Stench is unbelievable,
He masks it with his sleeves.
He unearths his hidden treasure,
Stashes, and swiftly leaves.

By day he buries for those in black,
( I watch him from my tree)
He marks the box-holes with a cross,
And leaves the worms for me.

By night-fall he returns to dig,
The indecisive man!
He takes the still-one from it’s box,
And drags it to his clan.

Ah! What a life it is to live.
Though morbid as it seems;
These bountiful wooden boxes
Are born of rich man’s’ dreams.

I bury them for the mourners,
Read from their book of lies.
But little do these mourners know,
I feast on their demise.

Judged only by the g

The wellThe well, the well
draw no water from the well
The secrets of the depths no living can tell.

Listen, just listen
and then you will hear
the whispers of the children who were murdered here.

The girl, poor girl
she came to the well
a babe in her arms which in the water now dwell.

One more, one more
soon followed the first
crying so fiercely his tiny heart burst.

The girl, poor woman
brought a third to the grave
dead in her womb there was no life to save.

The fourth and fifth were born as one
she brought them to the well
and then there were none.

The woman was hanged from the old gallows tree
when the children grow silent
her soul shall

She Isn't Sorry...Somberly pacing darkened halls,
She harkens to the midnight calls
Of silken-shrouded, haunted Things
Which soar on ghastly cobwebbed wings...

Her honeymoon ended in a flash
Of steel; her knife left a gash
Deep in her lover's faithless heart;
Such is the price of seducing art!

Primly she sits in her padded cell,
Smiling as she harkens to the knell
Of funereal chimes in the graveyard cold;
"They're burying him in the dark dank mould!"

I am the MurdererEleventh hour of the day,
You will learn to fade away,
In the darkness isn't it right?
To be forgot in the night?
Keep on moving what do you see?
Oh are you behind me?
Try to kill me yes i see,
Just a knife is what i need.
To leave now without further to do,
For i will murder you,
Hurt my family kill my friends,
Damage the insides of all that mends,
To be punished damned to hell,
You won't know what i tell.
Take it back now you see,
You decided to hurt me,
Death and pain comes with a toll,
Never wanting it to show,
A murderer now walks the street,
For now it is me.

Reoccurring SlightlyThinking and thinking yes again,
But its reoccurring not so bad,
Although death is seen in my eyes,
My death means nothing to those who cry,
I wish a farewell to not be seen,
But i'm not killed as i used to be,
Death is common as is the scene,
I look to the left and think again,
Wondering where it will end.

Things Ill Never ShareIt’s been too long since I have seen
A familiar face inside my dreams
Covered bodies, constant blurs
Voices echo into slurs

All I see are eyes that stare
There’s bloodshed in my nightmares
And, although I never try to be
The killer ends up being me

I awake and never feel at rest
Sleepless nights weighed down by stress
That instinct lives within my thoughts
A sickness, a virus that never stops

It seems I’ve lead myself to think
I need a smoke or maybe a drink
An outlet, but I must resist
Biting my nails or cutting my wrists

I will always fight this urge to kill
I can remain calm and tranquil
Its only human to have this d

Jack the RipperLooking up
From a body cold
Withered skin
Decades old

Are frosty eyes
Unseeing and still
Staring out
After a gruesome kill

Done by a man
A merciless mystery
Jack the Ripper
A piece of history

Or is he?

Executioner.Feel that heart drumming?
Well it's gonna stop one day;
so better get your adrenaline running.
If wise you'll seize no delay:
Because that knife I pulled from my back will take your life away.

Blood still drenches it fresh-
I bet you're anxious to sense how it coheres with your own.
Like a viper she'll maim your flesh,
bury herself into your chest,
and find her way to the marrow of your godforsaken bones.

I see liquid copper gurgle from your throat already;
you can't breathe- I wonder why it's no longer slow and steady?
What was a tongue, now nothing but a incompetent lump of carrion,
but worry not, knave:
Those whose mouths are poisoned by

Insane otherEvery single drawing drove her upset,
Every single drawing came like the rest.
Never satisfied with all divine,
Knowing it all just began with a rhyme.
Just like her drawings she can't speak a thing,
Thinking and thinking made her insane.
Looking around so frequently,
Waiting for death to come swiftly.

Rich Man's Boxes (re-drafted)The stench is hard to misperceive,
And so he masks it with his sleeve.
Unearthing his hidden treasure,
Drags it home at his own leisure.

By day he buries for those in black.
We watch from our trees, holding back.
He marks the box-holes with a cross,
Leaving our worms and upturned moss.

By nightfall he comes, with his spade,
Takes the still ones, his common raid,
Returns the box where it began,
O, Strange and indecisive man!

Ah! What a life it is to live.
Though morbid as it seems;
These bountiful wooden boxes
Are born of rich man’s dreams.

I bury them for the mourners,
Read from their book of lies.
But little do these mourners know,

A Very Short Silent Hill PoemBlood and rust on the wall, she's planning to kill us all.

Might as well enjoy the carousel. Spinning horses with no tail.

"You can run, but you can't hide..." A voice giggles from inside.

We cry with all our might, until god is satisfied.

Don't Go In The WoodsIf you ever go walking in the woods.
Late at night.
Take my words into consideration.
And beware.

Beware the blood red moon.
For when you see that.
It is when you know..
That the Hessian is on the prowl.

He races through the night.
Hunting for his prey.
His gaze and teeth are razor sharp.
He'll chop off your head..
And steal your heart.

If you seek the bloodthirsty one.
The one known as the Hessian.
Make a turn to the Indian trail.
To the tree of the dead.

But be sure not to come alone.
As he's always looking for more victims.
Climb down carefully to the Hessian's lair.
Can you hear him roaring?

If you can.
Say your prayers.
And don't fo

Blogmonstres-et-miroirs.kazeo.com/

*The Crypt*In vampire crypt eternal sleep
Decades pass and mould does creep
Where time no longer has a place
Dormant bodies beyond embrace.

Lured to sleep in timeless portal
Ancient ones who were not mortal
Vampire hunter with garnet eyes
Showed no mercy, they won't arise

Millenia passed they are not missed
Secret lost like morning mist
Crypt is safe, but who knows where?
Dormant fury caught in snare.

2013 Delice1941
23rd May2013

The Night Shift.I’m down for a diaper change because it’s about time, I put trust in you and you ask me of mine.

I lie on my back and let you undo the tape, unaware to you now but the time will soon change.

You stare down the look on my blushing red face, and wonder how it feels to be in my place.

I know what you’re thinking from my eyes that see all, eyes that stare back as your guard starts to fall.

Without a warning you’re trapped in my gaze, your eyes start to haze, you’re lost and you’re dazed.

I reach from the floor and put my hand on your heart, your soul’s in the light but afraid of the dark.

I know tha

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Poisoned Roses

by ~TheForgottenKing, Dec 13, 2011, 7:14:01 PM
Literature / Poetry / Horror / Traditional Fixed Forms

Underneath a red, red moon,
in the garden of a red, red demon,
roses will bloom
red, red blossoms.

Darker than black,
destruction, hate,
born from the suffering
of this world.

Underneath a white, white moon,
in the garden of a white, white angel,
roses will bloom
white, white blossoms.

Brighter than light,
hope, faith,
created from the happiness
of this land.

But slowly, slowly,
the moon turns black.
White petals
begin to fall.

A black silhouette
against a blacker sky.
Night is crying
even with the moon shining.

Red petals
dance across the horizon.
The moon is turning black
with poison.

Thorns are failing
to do their job.
Protect the rose
from shattering.

The world continues to turn
as darkness falls.
The light is gone
from this existence.

Poisoned Rosesby ~TheForgottenKing

Literature / Poetry / Horror / Traditional Fixed Forms

This was done... whew, two years ago? I was going over my old writing and I stumbled upon this, so I since had nothing more productive to do I decided to upload it. Yeah!

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~DracoHearte Dec 13, 2011 Student Writer

You're very depressing. LOVE IT

~TheForgottenKing Dec 14, 2011

Why, thank you! I actually was depressed when I wrote this, so it makes sense. I'm also just incapable of writing cheerful stuff.

~DracoHearte Dec 14, 2011 Student Writer

Not incapable just un-wanting.

~TheForgottenKing Dec 15, 2011

Nope, incapable. I tried to write some happy stuff, and it turned out morbid and depressing. And I probably just don't want to write happily either, that's true.

~DracoHearte Dec 16, 2011 Student Writer

Isn't it?

~TheForgottenKing Dec 25, 2011

Spot on, bro~

~DracoHearte Dec 25, 2011 Student Writer

Spot on eh old chap?

~TheForgottenKing Dec 26, 2011

This is just the best animation. Ever.

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