The Street I Lived, Poetry by Chey Laine

 Genre: Life, Society, Dark, True Story, People

In the brilliance of the night
screaming believers rage the streets of plenty
looking for holes in hope
needles and thread they carry in the plenty
band aids won’t help here ~ friends
there’s more than enough of the ill and the lost to live on
and here with the wheelers and dealers
the screaming believers and do gooders’ and not so good at doing much
Is someones little taste of paradise
thats all gone to shit

Down here with the lost and ill chills
There’s a taste for lost souls
Where the angels fly close to the ground
many a feather seen found
being worn in one of the lost crowns
For they are all Kings and Queens here

From times of once before and could have been and dreams
Yes dreams ~ There are dreamers here
those that will forever be lost in a dream
Mostly its nightmares and fallen frowns
that now blanket over once upon a time smiles

Here the smudged out blackbird eyes wear misery
thats been stubbed out like a coal butt
burnt down to its filter
to suck up the grease and shit off the street

Such is the movements of notes here
Conducted by the skinned boned pimps
that smile with croc teeth
hungry for fresh meat

Here is my street
here is where I was found
in the lost and found
here is where I lived my youth
taken by the smile of croc teeth
here is the place where I dreamed of escape
and lived nightmares
here is the place I will sometimes return
to remind me
life is priceless
dreams
can
come true
to get out
mine came with a price

Loss of life
the sentence
to carry for the term of my life

By @beezknez aka beezlaine on Twitter
Kind Regards Chey Laine off Twitter :))
 

 

 

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Happy, Poetry by Samrat Rudra

Genre: hurt, dark, death, sad

—–

 When I was happy
I didn’t bother to care
that people are dying, orphans are crying
I satisfied that I am here…

Here so happy and cherish and good
But still I wish for more,
But what about the beggars on street
or people who died ashore..

I am so happy but still I am crying
that so much I didn’t get
Think about the soldiers who die
Their funerals don’t have a bed

Blood is shed, sacrifices made
It’s how they leave their loved
So when I compare them with my life
I am happy and its not so hard…

 

 

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~Unforgiving~, Poetry by K.L. Porter

Genre: Dark, Angry, Hate.

~Unforgiving~ by K.L. Porter

Humbled forgiveness

Is of that which
thy cannot grant

For I do not posses
such ability of respect
to the type of creature
that I see in thee

Only god himself
or high end angels
close to the golden throne
may release such a gesture
from within thee

for such an effort
so great
may kill my being..
and for a child of
the witching damned
thy shalt not willingly
enter her fatality

I, a woman
of high morale
in contrast with
an illness
to which is unbalanced
slightly to the left
of sickness

Yet… I am more
humane than thee

Never seeing eye to eye

for this lady refuses
to stoop to such a distasteful level

where thee dwells and rots
in the slumber of life
fit for a rat such as thee

 

 

 

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Child of midnight, Poetry by Anthony Silva

Genre: Dark poetry

Child of midnight by Anthony Silva 

“I am a child of midnight.
A zealous priest of black.
The shadow of necessity.
Sustaining light by contrast.
The night’s keeper,
who releases the praised day.
I am the downpour,
that allows the intangible rainbow.
The hidden weakness of pride,
found in all men’s hearts.
The indifferent ear given,
to the evil you speak in solitude.
I am the restless fear,
in all of your secrets revealed.
My lying tongue,
gives truth to your love’s lips.
I am the selfish freedom,
had in all your regretful nights.
The saddest story,
you learn absolutely nothing from.

That is why.
I am hated.

That is why.
I am cursed.

But…I am a child of midnight,
and victory I find in my dark purpose.”
 

 

 

 

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Gasoline Tears, Poetry by Gina Walker III

Genre: Relationship, Dark

Gasoline Tears by Gina Walker III

She looked at him with anger

How could he impale her with his wit

You could have said that you hated me

As the black sun rose in the dead of winter

Scars to last a lifetime

Blemishes of a renewed threshold

Torn to shreds like a lions prey

Guess we will never know love she said

As the gasoline came out of her eyes

And the sweat of blood upon the pillows and sheets

Fire of vomit project out from her mouth and heart

There it is; lust, hate, love, desire

And he burned just like her daddy

With those gasoline tears

 

 

 

Twitter: Ageless@FirstOnesVamps
Instagram: firstonevamps
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Vigorously Upbeat, Poetry by Kelly Rice

Genres: horror,dark,fear,depression

Vigorously Upbeat
by Kelly Rice

Vigorously upbeat
Flashing panicky and
Overtly audacious

He fidgets

Alone in a room
To a tepid water faucet

Strenuously standing
With his hands out under
Running luke warm water

All along the dresser and nightstand
Lay a-strew empty beer bottles
Disheveled and impure
Lay out old pictures on the floor
And in a suit case sitting open on the bed

His bare feet stood
On the bathroom floor
In a pool of blood
Where he shaves his face
And cuts the butt of his chin off

Dripping down his neck and
His naked shaved chest
He leans over the toilet
And grabs a towel from the rack
He lifts it to his face
In attempt to clean up

The blood soaks through the cotton
And all through the room
The porcelain white tile
Lavish in blackened crimson liquid

He lifts his head back
To better ease the bleeding
But the drip doesn’t stop
He takes his finger to the wound
And presses down hard on it

It’s not until he manages to
Fling blood across the room
And splatter his photography
Over his black and white pictures

Then the bleeding comes to an end

Traveling the highway
Hitchhiking from one place to the next

Photographing old towns and people
The man draws a bath
And retires down in it

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Dismal, Poetry by Sonya Devyatkin

Genres: Dark, morbid, bleak, discontent

Dismal
by Sonya Devyatkin

Never have we seen a day as dismal as today,
shuddering rain of contempt,
on ours paths of concrete and subversion,
we soak in the mists of our mentors; delusionary stories,
traced with anthrax & disdain.
Traditions and séances
help us achieve Nirvana.
A day so bleak
we’re bound to break,
Fall into eternal slumber of empty vanities,
of translucent fabricated fictions & dreams of empathy.
To return,
back to our graves of the subconscious,
we loathe disturbance,
give power to the grief & days ivory dull like today.
Illuminated sky; a galaxy of wonders and melting ice,
Furies of fervor and fire,
in the midst of the dark.
Now we wish to return
,to slumber,
where Home surrounds
and noise is unheard of,
where visions are foreseeable
and we mistake the future for the past.

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