Most Commented Dark Poetry Poems (2,490)

Yes, I realize this is the Poets Corner...and while this story is grim...and you will wonder why I am putting up what appears to be a "war story"...and some may even get upset and immediately want to take me to task for posting this here... please bear with me and read this to the end.
Do that and you will understand why I chose to relate this here...

Also, I will not break protocol and go into details that would violate my oath.

I will tell you that this was the inspiration for my Post of "Dreams".
During the Vietnam War while on a joint mission with ARVN soldiers (South Vietnamese Military supposed-to-be "allies")...things took a turn for the worse. This "asset" my ARVN Captain counterpart insisted was reliable...turned out to be a North Vietnamese agent. Bad news. He walked us right into the meat grinder.
Things got hairy...and I noticed that our "asset" was gone...as was the Captain and several of his men.
You get the picture.
I called the mission broken, radioed it in...and called for pick-up at the river.
The ARVN soldiers took off...left us there. Enemy soldiers all over the place and they left us.
While scrambling through a twisting, boulder-filled ravine, we ran right into enemy soldiers. With the rocks and cliffs and being we were all mixed in together...gunfire was not a wise thing...and it went hand to hand combat.
I never saw the rifle butt coming that smashed into my right cheekbone and orbital, crushing the cheek and fracturing the orbital from cheek around the eye socket nearly to the middle of my forehead.
One moment I was on my feet fighting...the next, I was on my knees stunned and I knew I was hurt and that I had to get up...but I couldn't move for several seconds. I was absolutely helpless.
The enemy soldier stepped in to finish me...and my exec and best friend, Richard, stepped up behind him and shot the soldier through the spine with his .45.
The soldier went to his knees, then fell forward, twisting in midair and flopping onto his back right beside me.
And that was when I saw it.
When his torso hit the hard ground, a book slid from his breast pocket.
It was blue...and had embossed gold lettering on the cover. English. It was a book of poetry by Keats.
I was still young in years...but experience had tempered me...given me a cynicism that comes from being in war.
But this memory of a Communist Soldier, dedicated to killing the Imperialist Running Dogs of the decadent West... led to my writing "Dreams", posted here earlier.
Because I have wondered over the years if the dead soldier had been a teacher. Or maybe an educated small businessman...or farmer who just liked to read poetry...in English. Or....

When will the nightmare end, when will you see
You say you will, you say you might
When all our words turn into a fight,

Everyday grows darker still, calm waters turn to raging storms
I try to reach those deep feelings that lie dormant inside your soul,
But the snake lies waiting in the shadows below.

Scratching and clawing memories try to remain intact,
Melting away like an ice cube on a hot sidewalk,
Fading away seems like the only impact.

What do I feel, what do I say, you knew there come the day,
The lasting embrace that would be our will,
Tears the heart apart and the beating will be still,

Say what you mean, say what you want
I can’t see through these twisted thoughts,
Help me see the pain I have wrought

When will the nightmare end…………

A crafted gift that eternal hath designed,
A half minded wind blew through the face
A drop of water kissed the cheeks...
An unshaped darkness descended,
A thunder struck from the heavens,
A mystic poem is in the offing by nature,
Earth smiled with her thunderous roar.

Ecstatic mind sang with the branches of trees.
Left & right they swung with the dancing wind,
Clouds awaited the god's order with patience- endless:
Delighted Sun withdrew his mighty force
And the communion of earth & rain began........

Spinx
The magical cat wears the face of cofu
The blazing sun the golden sand
Behind lays ramsis tomb

Big and magestic rising to the sun
Built by the slaves of his peoples toil
His burial chamber his only tomb

Three pyramids lined up in rows
Built for the kings of the desert their pyramid their tomb
Built for lasting peace for their journey to ever lasting peace

Motionless I lay
I cannot move awake I cannot close my eyes
Can not wink can not blink
Frozen am I

Can not feed
Can not cry
Locked in this body of mine
My brain lives it hasn,t died it talks to me move I have tried

Motionless I am awake locked in my own body unable to move
Can not talk or blink to tell how I feel
Locked in this body
Wanting to live

But feeling trapped I wish to no longer live
Life carries on no matter locked in my body
stiil able to think and hear talk but
I can't tell them how I feel
For I have no voice

Despair I feel trapped no hope let me die

In the twilght they stand
These woman of disrepute
Their wares on display
For all to see

Goodies galore
Poeple knocking on their door
How much for the hour
be mine tonight

Cars roll up the windows wind down
Mmm you look gourges wanna be mine tonight in the car the women climb
Off they go for their first or second trick of the night
Will the be back these woman of the night displaying what they got

in a river a sewer or bush will their bodies be found or on their favorite corner that the like to stand

God you watching
Your planet earth
All the destruction
The wars and infightin
Why do you allow this to go on

Does it give you pleasure to watch this turmoil
Destruction of your creation your once
Vegitative earth are you sending your

Destructive power to remould your earth
to create and form your planet earth
You killed of the dinosaurs that ruled this planet with a flick of your creative hands they where gone out of sight

Will you destroy what you made or will these humans with there war game
Create the bomb to destroy this planet so no humans can't live again

Slowly I drift back to awareness
My head feels fuzzy, as if not a part of me
And it does not matter how hard I try
I cannot move, not even my fingers

‘Ahh, you’re finally back with us’
I have heard that voice before, somewhere
But try as I might I could not remember
‘You cannot move, the drugs take care of that’

Another voice that seemed familiar
‘Besides you are buried up to your neck in sand’
A third voice and I almost had it
Where had I heard those voices before?

When they walked into my view I knew
If I could have moved I would have been shaking with fear
These were the last three of a long line of women
Women I had beaten, raped and left for dead

I knew begging was of no use, yet I still begged
I realised I was halfway between low and high water mark
Tears were streaming down my face as I pleaded
Yet their faces remained stony, cold and hard

I could hear them behind me having a picnic
While low tide turned and crept up the beach
I screamed my pleas as the waves crashed over me
But all I heard over the waves was their cruel laughter

Wave after wave crashed over me prolonging my agony
Until the last wave that that did not retreat

Living on borrowed time,

when your happy isn't such a crime,

you forget when you have the power,

to count the days that grow from hours.

Life seems such a blur,

on you go no need to care,

when your sad its such a blow,

that you notice time goes slow.

For all that you endeavour,

you seem to think you'll live forever,

you carry on going round and round,

your feet never touch the ground.

Along the orbit of time you follow,

you consume but unable to swallow,

progress toward an unseen line,

you race towards the end of time.

You hear the starting gun,

distracted you forget to run,

overwhelmed in a complicated place,

left alone in your disgrace.

The sun never seems to set,

but yesterday you can't forget,

maybe the moon is grey with sorrow,

because it never greets tomorrow.

The days slip slowly by,

the nights just seem to fly,

its over before its begun,

you try to crawl but need to run.

You race to meet a point in time,

from the ridiculous to sublime,

but its a race you'll never win,

no matter how close to the line you begin.

There's no trophy for you and I,

for a race you run then die,

just a footnote on a piece of stone,

covered by weeds that’s overgrown.

Prologue

This is a drug induced poem by Bill who was an Hells Angel and a very close friend of mine he called me is little Bro' Bill died in 1992 when he rode his motorcycle off a cliff, it always seemed to me that this poem was (at the time) the final chapter of his life which he wrote 2 years before his death.

(Notoriety updated by request)

Blood pumping eye's burning, watch 'cos your mind is turning, digging deep into the bag, mainline the red white and blue, No! it's not the union jack, from whence before you had a clue, sweating cold, muscles aching, careful of the amount your taking, nevermind I'm not shy, I could tell you the reason why, digging deep, too deep for greed, can't seem to find my lines of speed.

pushing deep to far to see, the five mil rush, hunting for me, your eyes become voids of black, I hope I've got my trolly jack! somewhere your mind is screaming, bring back the hammer this boy is leaving, buzz yourself numb, speak untillyourdumb, in the morning watch the raysofthe morning sun.

Radioactivity falls from the skies, bearded men with warts in their eyes, cannonball run, tampon express!, no time to clean up that bloodymess, your spirit on its cosmic bike, leads you towards another spike, see the face of the moon, looking up from a spoon, no matter if you dig to deep, I know the mysteries that you seek, emptied my bag and I feel great!, I'm riding to fast to ejeculate, I could only speculate, has my sanity arrived to late?

Losing power, don't forget to bailout, the magical mystery tour is over, as to that there is no doubt, you fall like a brick from the sky, no longer all those miles high, well for six days now you've doneyourbest, done your drugs now take a rest, Oh! I see an angel, timely steed, tank full of petrol, bags fullofspeed, I've gone loco, now into acidnot the sulphuric kind, but those little micros which introducesyou toyourpsychedelicmind.

blow your skullular fuse, don't unplug now, because you'lllose, if you have the choice to choose, don't refuse, the more said the less fat to chew, but to those not stoned thiswillconfuse,

Laying beneath the balack oilydeep, they call the brimy foam, it dreams but never sleeps, heaves but never roams, that cold restless ocean, where those lost are never found, hearts like ships are broken, the screaming dead make no sound, the sea is never lifeless, yet it takes more than gives, its secrets though will not confess, and its memories not relive, my bike rolled off the cliff at speed, into the blackness below, my bones will rest amongst the shadows, of the mysteries and fall to earth assnow.

Epilogue

This poem was written by a close friend of mine who is no longer with us, Ive not altered or added or corrected his grammer published "as-is" the way he penned it so pleaseexcuseany errors. Bill Logan Ireland 1992