torture

Burderned

Spent most of my life, trapped in the dark

Chasing some sort of light, mindset so stark

I go deep into the darkness, all consumed

But somehow I emerge, hope renewed

It happens every time, like it's a game

Every day wondering, is this my last play

Focused mindset, clouded by negativity

Hoping, praying, for a moment of serendipity

This light that I'm chasing, it seems to fade

The edges of my sanity, they seem so frayed..

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I don't remember writing this. I was looking through a notepad I sometimes write in, saw this and thought I'd upload it. This is the first poem I've uploaded. The art of English is not a great subject for me. All comments welcome, negative and positive.

C J Box

Folder: 
Poets And Writers


user img

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C J BOX

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Of the writer C J Box:

 

1 product placement
booze mongering for a rightwing owner
of a Western brewery,
2 lying about 911
by blaming it on other than the Mossad and
rogues within
the US Government (hundreds of novelists
and writers have lied in order to be published)
3. warmongering defense of the imperial
invasive illegal wars of the last 30 years
4. promoting the animal agony, human diseaase,
environmental destruction and energy waste
of Wyoming, Idaho, and Montana ranches,
5. unnecessary descriptions of brutal torture
6. praising falconry, a brutal blood sport
7. glamorizing demonic revenge
8. giving retired killer cops from Los Angeles
the famous last names of animal rights and organic activists
Ingrid Newkirk, Peter Singer, Robert Rodale

Nevertheless
C J Box is a poetic writer who grabs people
from the first chapter and never lets go.

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- s shriver-

http://static.guim.co.uk/sys-images/Admin/BkFill/Default_image_group/2009/9/17/1253224943996/A-worker-tries-to-lift-up-003.jpg

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LEGS ON MY BELLY BUTTON!!!!

 

 

   Daddy incest, spider legs on my belly button!

 

Give me the seed of life, the one who create me!

 

Mother lips on my innocence flesh,

 

Well done, you create the beast,

 

The one who shall kill you!

 

 

 

I painted my lips with blood,

 

Smiling on the shatter mirror,

 

This glass of memories, remember!

 

Cunt playing with you my memories!

 

 

 

So tell me if you see her?

 

Tell me if you see him?

 

Love me or vomit me!

 

My body is a doll,

 

Let play!

 

 

 

Ask my number,

 

Ask my address,

 

Just don’t ask my name,

 

I am the ether,

 

The purity of whore!

 

 

 

One more barbiturate!

 

Is a dangerous game?

 

so why keeping at it?

scream banshes at me!

mother'sface!!!!


cela fait 28 ans que je ne peux pas dormir sans mes Dolls!!!

 

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

cela fait 28 ans que je ne peux pas dormir sans mes Dolls!!!


what more can i say?

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Black Galleys

Folder: 
Cthulhu Mythos

The race of the moon-beasts

Inhabit the far side of the Moon.

Sailing Earth's Dreamlands,

In sinister black galleys,

Trading for gold and slaves.

 

Hideous to look upon,

Concealing themselves below decks

When they come into the port

Of the ever-beautiful Dreamlands.

One I recall is Dylath-Leen,

Whom no man has ever seen.

 

The horned-men of Leng,

Take care of all trading marks.

The galleys take the slaves

To an island in the Cerenerian Sea

Called the Nameless rock,

Where they are tortured till eternity.

 

The evil vessel galleys

Sail off the edge of the world

Past the great cataract in the west,

And through the gulf

That separates the Earth from the Moon.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Mythos poem.

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Oh No, You're Dead

Folder: 
Poems

You anger me so much,

I want to kill you.

But that would be too easy,

there's torturing to do.

 

The blood on my hands,

feels so nice.

The touch of your corpse,

cold as ice.

 

Oh no, you're dead,

just like I'd bet.

But don't you worry,

I'm not finished yet.

 

Kidneys, liver,

stomach and lung,

but the fun has only

just begun.

 

Brain, heart,

need I say more?

I am truly a fan

of blood and gore.

 

A couple hours,

of disembowling,

soon the wolves,

will be howling.

 

I think perhaps,

I'm finally done.

And it seems the battle,

and war, I've won.

 

If I were to go blind,

it would be for the best.

For I'd only want this sight,

no need for the rest.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This entry for today is my anger manifested into writing. Sorry about that. My thoughts get kind of twisted when I'm angered. Anyway, leave any criticism and I'll see you all tomorrow.

View eebee's Full Portfolio

Why?

Folder: 
My Love

Why do you do this?
What is it for?
Why can’t you see
She’s the one I adore?
But what do you care?
Her life isn’t fair
So easy to take
Her heart and tear
It seems so unreal
And yet I can feel
Her sorrow, her pain
Standing in her rain
Her heart’s tears, falling down
Slowly going to hit the ground
Splash against the hard pavement
And now I wonder what you meant.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Just something fast...created in about two minutes :P enjoy

View seraphim's Full Portfolio

Tortured Soul

A tortured soul wanders the land,
Tired of being bind by hatred,
Wishing to feel love and comfort,
Only wanting to belong to something that appreciates it.
The world can be cruel,
Filled with anarchy,
But the soul must learn to overcome the sadness,
To live in the chaos and see through the madness.
Only then will the soul see,
How truly beautiful life can be,
Seeing how purity can manifest in the darkness,
Growing stronger than the evil around it.

The right to play creator

"What manner of experiments are these...these are abominations, you don't have the right to play God!"
"I am God."

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Safe Zone 12

Folder: 
Camino

Safe zone 12, the place that was said to offer protection; that was said to welcome the uninfected, had long since become a living hell under the rule of the Sergent. Women were randomly selected for his deranged breeding program, which was nothing more than slavery, girls from puberty were routinely passed from one solider to another as though they were stock to pass inspection; however those who attempted to escape or defy his authority would know what true hell is. Many were tortured savagely and publicly shamed for disobedience, or worse; stripped of their skins and bound, and left on the outskirts to the rabid infected. Those who were simply shot, were the lucky ones.

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