monster

Dark Hearts

Dark hearts are cageless in their frail ages  
and a slack pardon bruised the slaves wages.
Savage teeth tear deep as sleep in stifled air
and not a care drop to quench a thirsting dispair.

Harmonious discord made short by swift end
alone he must search for the sword to defend .
Then venimous measures may part with thier head
so envious treasures lay safe from the dead.  
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Monsters In The Dark

Now listen to what I have to say

For the wicked hide in the shadows of this day

 

You know nothing of what is of me

You may know the color of my eyes

But not of what they are capable to see

 

Now here, I've warned this upon you

For not every smile is ever true

 

Everything is not set in stone

You may say there is an answer

When nothing is completely known

 

Close your eyes, please understand

That what you may rely on is a blood-thirsty hand

 

Unknown of what they truly are

Watch think before you turn and talk

Someone so close to you can be so far

 

So remember before you go on and say

"But why would anyone do this to me anyway?"

 

Human nature can be full of evil and greed

Unwatched, A monster born within the shadows, full only of self pleasure and need.

To Become

Society's filled so dark
A sickness fit to last
A hasty hungry shark
A one that bites the glass

The air turns a poison mist
and the grass turns to a distant waste
A glare becomes a fist
and then a flower becomes erased











Dead Rat

Folder: 
Dreams

There was a stuffed rat with me,

But I was scared of it, see?

It was brown, it had black eyes

And I had to eat it alive!

 

But alive it was not,

It was dead, it was rot.

It scared the hell out of me,

It made me shiver, made me cold.

 

Why I have such dreams?

Of terror and dead things.

Do they come forth from him?

Or am I really a monster within?

Author's Notes/Comments: 

A dream I had about a dead rat.

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The Monster I Was

Folder: 
Poems

I have a vengeful mind,

most people think I'm kind,

but they are wrong,

and it won't be long,

till the monster I am, they find.

 

I begin to let myself show,

and I see people's fear grow,

they're petrified,

they're terrified,

and they want my blood to flow.

 

At this point, I'm being hunt down,

I've been chased all through the town,

now I'm trapped,

going to be capped,

 but can't help to grin like a clown.

 

And so, I die without a sound,

I fall to the ground,

a cheer they share,

and no one cares,

'cause the monster I was, they found.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Hey guys, sorry I didn't post right away, I kind of forgot. But to make up for it, I'm posting three poems today, one for the past three days I have missed! More are on the way! And as always, criticism of any kind is appreciated.

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Dr Clockstop's Sinister Sideshow

Off with your tweed and on with my silk,

The colourful carriage rears over the hill,

The Sinister Sideshow has come back to town,

Do you hear that unmistakable sound?

The clunking and banging of Clockstop's things,

Books and such, yes, and an army of strings. 

Strings, you say? Yes! His puppet display!

 Never been seen, always hidden away,

We know that they're locked in carriage number three,

If he sees you, I'll say it was nothing to do with me!

But enough of that now, On With The Show!

Starting off with a bow so unnaturally low, 

The leader's a dwarf, so we all know his face,

Then his ladies are adorned with silk, string and lace,

Blues, greens and reds dazzle drinkers and wives,

Diamonds glimmer lights into transfixed eyes,

There are songs of old friendships and songs of old lovers,

But the men see not stories, just girls in bright colours. 

'That's rather sinister...' Hmm? Yes, it is...

But old Clockstop knows where all these men live.

That is the trick of Doctor Clockstop's routine, 

You can leave if you manage to keep your hands clean!

Those who don't often boo at the Final Act,

As the puppet show dancers are emotionless and flat. 

But do not be fooled, for the puppets aren't wood.

I might have suggested you run, if I could...

Doctor Clockstop will follow with puppets in hand,

You can plead, but don't expect him to understand:

Men who grope women and make crude remarks,

Can expect to be treated with the same disregard.

"You were leering, and that reflects little respect..."

Now you're dead, with a puppet string tied round your neck.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

© Lizzie Ayres, 2013

Soothing the Savage Grimbledorfs

Folder: 
Dreams and Schemes

I lay asleep soundlessly

beneath the covers on my bed,

Only to be awoken by the sound

of Grimbledorfs above my head.

Now Grimbledorfs are ugly creatures

with ears the size of a fist

and their eyes are blood red

as if they were blood-kissed.

Their teeth were sharp like razor's

and yellow as the sun.

There flesh green and cover in scabs,

plus they'd all talk as one.

Grimbledorfs were savage creatures

who would feast on human skin

and the secret way to be spared,

was to tell them tales of the Moonlight Gin.

Now this gin wasn't really real,

or an alcohol of any kind.

It was just something they had invented

within their convoluted minds.

See Moonlight Gin had the power

to turn Grimbledorfs into men

and so they searched for it endlessly

but believed it was hidden from them.

On this night I told them a tale

of a land very far the way.

Where there was enough of the gin,

to cure them all they say.

The place lay beneath the sea,

looked deep within a metal chest.

I absentmindly pet one of these creatures,

a small one laid upon my breast.

I told them If they hurried

they could make it by first light.

Because Grimbledorfs would explode

If they weren't hidden before the end of night.

And so they clambered over one another,

diving off of my bed.

Saying that if it wasn't there,

I'd better have another tale or I'd be dead.

They closed the door quietly behind them

and I ground in sorrow.

For this underground island did not exist

so they'd be back tomorrow.

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

When I was younger I'd imagine these little creatures were sitting at the foot of my bed.

And they were always getting ready to nibble off my toes if I ran out of tales.

This is what they sort of looked like:

Monster of a Man

My Mum was a barmaid and my brother was a clown

In a miserable dump of a mining town.

 

The harbour smelt like mould

and the houses looked like brothels

and the cats killed your dogs and the drunkards pissed in bottles.

 

My school was a dump

and the children picked on me

and the ceiling had a leak

and the teacher had no teeth.

 

But I didn't attend for long,

and I wasn't exactly sad

but my mother needed help

 because my brother had gone mad.

You see, my brother was a clown

In a shitty little circus

Which was paradise for prostitutes,

for drunkards and for perverts.

 

Plus, my brother a good clown,

but others were pretty crap

so the Circus lost their customers

and that was the end of that.

 

So my dearest older brother

lost his job and joined my mum,

serving ale to vulgar lowlifes,

taking money from the Scum.

 

Despite all this, there was no money

nor was there food upon our plates

So Mum told me "Nell, you're twelve now,

so you should start pulling your weight."

 

I didn't want to do this,

But I really had no choice,

And the Lord Mayor offered me a job

In a most remarkable place.

 

My job was very dangerous and I'm sure it was a crime,

to send a little girl into The Lilac Mine.

 

The Mine was cold and slippery,

not to mention rather dark,

But I had to hold the lanterns,

for the Miners' while they worked.

 

And you might call me crazy,

But I know what I heard,

A gypsy band was singing

Which I know sounds quite absurd,

 

So I tried not to dwell on it,

Because I had to work,

But I was sure that I'd heard songs

Similar to those before...

 

One night, I hid behind a pile

of coal and waited 'til

all the Miners had gone home

and I was sat in the darkness still.

 

I ventured down the darkest parts

of the Lilac Mine,

I could hear the songs and smell the scents

of meat and scotch and wine.

 

This is where my life began to disintegrate to dust,

I don't wish to continue, but really I must.

 

At the bottom of the mine, I found

A cold, colossal cave

Inhabited by people who looked like

A mauve parade.

 

Dozens upon dozens of them jumping around and whooping,

purple clothes and purple hair

They saw me and started smiling.

 

"Join us, little blonde girl,

come and eat some human scraps,

Boiled leg or skewered neck?

Perhaps some belly fat?"

 

I stupidly joined them for dinner,

which was absolutely strange,

for we were eating human brains

and the Purples were deranged.

 

The leader was a sprightly man,

They called him Olly Plum.

He sang the songs and played guitar

and was loved by everyone.

 

The others were his brothers

and his multitude of wives,

but his daughter Violet reminded me

of an old friend of mine.

 

One summer, when I was seven,

I knew a girl called Sally.

We were close companions

'til they found her dead in an alley.

 

The thing about Violet was

not that she was kind,

although she was, and funny and crazy,

but she acted like a child.

 

She danced when her father sang,

and her brothers played the drums,

Her family adored her,

but none more than Olly Plum.

 

Although I loved their music,

I was a little scared.

What if they wanted to eat me?

Oh well. No-one would have cared.

 

I sang with them until Midnight,

by which time I was very tired

I'd hoped my Mum would be sleeping,

but she was waiting by the fire.

 

"Where the hell have you been?!

I've been worried sick!"

"I'm sorry Mum, I just got lost,

took a wrong turn into a ditch!"

 

"That'll explain the state of you. Off you go to bed!

Be sure to come home early tomorrow or trust me, you'll be dead!"

 

I knew my Mum was angry,

but I couldn't have cared less,

because I knew the Purples

would have caused me less distress.

 

I decided I would live with them,

and play their music too.

In hindsight, it was stupid and I'm sure

You think it was too.

 

I went to work and returned to the cave

on the day I turned Thirteen.

I asked to join their band

and Violet gave me a tambourine.

 

"We'll be just like sisters," she whispered to me that night.

But as she came close, I saw in her eyes, something which gave me a fright.

 

The Purples' eye were purple too!

And that's what made me scared.

If I stayed here and my eyes turned mauve,

would my vision be impaired?

 

Apparently not. You see, I asked

 Olly Plum, who said,

that the colour of their eyes

was nought to do with their homestead.

 

"Purple" was a curse of hate,

the townsfolk were to blame.

They chased them into The Lilac Mine

to the Purples' utter shame.

 

"Why Purple, though?" I asked him.

And he answered: it's what becomes

of us people, who are pelted with

the stones and pulp of plums!

 

I took his word for gospel,

and lived happily with his crew...

But one day, I saw in my reflection

that my eyes were purple too!

 

"What is this?!" I cried. "What's happened to me?

I've caught the Purple Curse!"

"Relax," said Violet, "Your eyes are purple,

your life could be much worse!"

 

She couldn't have been more right, you see,

For things began to change.

We'd eaten lots of townsfolk,

so the Mayor had a Search arranged!

 

One night at eleven,

Us Purples tried to be quiet,

but one person who could not sit still

was my darling Best Friend, Violet.

 

She stood up and danced and we begged her to stop

But her feet and arms kept going.

Then, the search party found us all

And the next moment: we were screaming.

 

The Townsfolk were ruthless and hit the Purples'

on their heads.

I begged a Gentleman to stop,

but he arrested me instead!

 

My brother Clown, restored to sanity

Bought me from my cell.

I was relieved, but then he told me

that the Purples were condemned to hell.

 

At their execution, The Magistrate roared:

"These cannibals now shall  hang!"

 But I screamed and I cried and I yelled at him:

"YOU MONSTER OF A MAN!"

 

The first to meet the gallows

Was my darling Violet, who smiled.

"Don't worry, dear Nell. We're both going to hell,

so we'll only be apart for a while!"

 

The rope met her neck and the townsfolk rejoiced

that this monster would soon be dead.

A masked man pulled the leaver and the whole world could hear

the "snap" which had broken her neck.

 

I live with my mother, and whenever she hits me

I can hear poor Violet's neck snap.

They have closed Lilac Mine, but whenever I see it,

Part of me wants to go back...

 

 

 

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Reviews are most welcome!

Deformity

Emerging from the depths of darkness,
lurks a being, so cold and heartless.
It's vision is gone, for many years lost.
Other senses are strong, well worth the cost.

It preys upon weakness and tracks down the small.
It plays with uniqueness, attacking us all.
The movement is silent, not even a sound,
A definite improvement, for a tyrant renowned.

It deals, it feels, with selfish ideals.
It steals and reveals it likes you for its meals.
Don't write or recite or attempt to excite,
The height and the might of the parasite.

Seek not to maim, blame, or even defame.
For the same frame gave the monster its name.

When caught in the light you see its enormity
Afterthought, you're right, its name is conformity.

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