Most Viewed Dark Poetry Poems (2,487)

Do we arrive?
Screaming from the womb
Maybe to most
It hardly seems like
A fleeting moment ago
How the fruitless years
Take a vengeful toll
On many a wasted life
We should set a time to die
Like Sunday week at 2pm
And concentrate fully on living
Until then

How the nerve ends would sharpen
As each wasted moment annoyed
A little more than the one before
How the eyes would sparkle
When set before outrageous beauty
Then suddenly
Change to panic
At the wanting more

Would we be decisive?
About all our daily decisions
Or would we throw them away
Like old this and that
Where the sell by date
Lingered in the past

How would we choose?
Between this and that?
Would we try to please others?
Or seek a more obscure comfort
Hidden under a favourite hat

And when the appointed time came
Would we say?
I have far too much to do
I think I’ll leave it
For another week or two

Or
Would we be content?
By Sunday week at 2pm

never knowing what we are, always attempting to go beyond a star, relying on our own thought, believing in our own beliefs, alone in our own myths, stories told that never uphold, reincarnation, heavenly gates, hells tormented in our own faith, a position of power to live within an empty hour, a lost man of life, maybe a found man at death, a twist a turn, a regret of a burn, satisfaction when will it be shown, to know to have prove that we arent the unknown, an erorr in humanity an erorr in eternity, no point knowing confusions forever showing that we arent what we speak, we are just lost in our own mystique!

That poop is a part of me
Don't be stealing my poo!
As far as the urine
Don't be takin my plastic bottle of piss!
That really pisses me off!
So maybe I have cat skeletons in my living room
Maybe to ya'll civilized folk
It stinks in my place
But after a couple hours you don't smell it no more
I don't have any money to hire a plumber
If I did then maybe I wouldn't have to do my business in a bucket
Back in the olden times they used a chamber pot
So in a historical sense
What I'm doing is just fine and dandy

She's told herself often, that she was an artiste, but no one buys her paintings, and her art is the least. Yet she just won't give up, and persists with the dream, but the rent must be paid, and she hears the kids scream. Took a comely young boy friend, who himself pushed the idea, that he too was an artist, without talent sincere. Got her fat with a child, and like many another, left both quite alone, just like his dad did to mother. Now on dating sites hot, with the radar up high, for a schlub who can bankroll, the fantasy nigh. Hope she finds what she needs, since she's not in the way, to work for a living, each and every day. We've all met such types, who are good for a roll, in the hay now and then, but not for one's soul. Nor for marriage sincere, as commit we all should, unless a prenup gets signed, legally tight and quite good.

Laid to rest the relics of the god for sacking world you call a home, buried alive in the sands of time, only the dust of the bleached bones and spew it remains are left behind for it will not matter who you know or how much you pay, for your crimes are written down and carved in stone, your faith well be sealed but don't worry your not alone!

It's like when you're at the carnival,
You see the big fancy rides with the loops and whoops,
While some people are obviously having a great time,
Others are screaming,
Some even crying...,
You can see it from beginning to end from your point of view...,
All the highs and lows,
Ups and downs of the whole roller coaster,
You can imagine what it's like as if you are there doing it...,
So now you dont have to ride it...,
That's how I see life...as a giant amusement park,
I look at the long lines and sometimes some rides dont seem like that they'd be that much fun...

High above the world I stretch
A structure steel and glass
Maddening hurry, Quickly scurry
Like ants they are below

Sun does sparkle on my glass
And people stop in wonder
Tall and slim, so elegant
Heavenwards I reach

Home for thousands within my walls
Rooms of sparkling white
Many comforts I bestow
All your heart desires

Time it races quickly past
And life is much too short
Steel rusts and mortar crumbles
All will be but dust

///////////////////////////////////////////

Over the moor
Gray dark sky
Wind sweeped
Gale force winds

Blow
Pounding icey rain
Chills the bones
Pounding
One body and soul

Pounding rain cold to touch
Ground swollen wet
Blizard drenched moor
Cold and bleak
Dark skies roar

Thunder clouds sail over bleak moor
Noise belows
Sweeps across dark skies
Over moors deep

Where once dry and skies blue
A hint of cold
Now turns eiry cold
Bleak is the moor

Isolated desolite
Alone darkness
Desends

D.own and deep in
A.t the bottom of a dissociative soul
R.ests the one I love and rests the one I hate the most
K.eeping me away from evil, hiding me away from me
P.rying from a good, safe distance
A.lmost like I'm there to be
S.ilent whisper that inhabits
S.elling peace for bloody bills
E.very time I’m week and tired, he’s got strength for us to be
N.ever stray or break, nor startle, only if I pay the fee
G.ranting him my self esteem to feed on
E.mty, sweet tranquillity, in a solitaire and hollow silence
R.ight until again he hisses ‘come on back and comfort me’