Last Commented Dark Poetry Poems (2,492)

Thunderstorm warning in my head my foot inside the door. with opened eyes I breathe in whispers I stare into the darkness as shadows walk through me.did I die? did I live? As time transcends my heartbeat turns into an island drum I fly above the widows lonely looking for the harvester of dreams I crave a bitter sweet moment as this tranquil nightmare ends.

Unholy beings haunt this morbid temple...
Possession of the invisible.
Masters of nothing perfecting their craft.....
In the dark marble labyrinths.
Rejection of time,
Absence of will,
Incisions revealed,
Presence denied,
Parallel planes,
Abject existence....

If I had been genuinely saved
And I go back in sin,
Then I’ve thrown my gospel in the garbage can losing my inn.

It’s foolish to suck on bitterness
Just like a babies pacifier
Throwing away your gospel call,
So you can go out of your way to obey your bitter call.
Bitterness can start out small
And it can get bigger becoming an over sized snow ball.

If I go out of my way refusing to humble myself
Under God’s mighty hand,
I’ve become as cold hearted as the North Pole,
Keeping out of my conscience
Any kind of regret of conviction,
My gospel doesn’t have any compassion in it,
The risk being a friend with this one,
They’ll want to convert you
So you’ll know how to sink others down in to your dark quicksand.

I knew a man that was a reverend in the church
That had called the homeless, Tramps, creatures and garbage.

He had more money than what heart could wish for
A few would say,
His gospel had none of God’s honor because he loved to play.

Another Pastor tried to correct him when he was wrong and he said,
“you can’t put a coat on me that I cannot wear!”
You can’t force me to be humble,
when you know I was born an Auger,
when people come around I don’t like a bee I bumble!”

Everything the homeless had expected
That he was suppose to be,
His purpose was found nothing like
That hard working focused honey bee,
Too many times he was found saying and doing things
Just as stinky as a fly,
His actions smelled just like dogs doo-doo,
Just like flies are in their found favorite place to be.

If the prehistoric huge fly was still around,
Putting these two together,
They would love each other’s weather.

This reverend I’ve heard & seen too many times
He loves to mirror the fly,
& I've seen when the lost got a taste of his environment
they’ve ran far away from this reverend guy.

When your words and actions smell as stinky as dogs doo-doo.
When people come to your church
and they see something that’s terrible that’s all over on you
and they learn that you refused to get rid of it because you claim,
“I just love it to be all over on me.”

Just like that old show the Addams family,
They come walking in to their house,
And so quickly they come running out.

If the Pharaoh of Egypt was still alive today,
He would say, “I would love to learn from this Hoodlum Priest
So I can add him to my army,
I would love to see him scare the peace
out of people piece by piece.”

And as I wake from the nightmare the storms rage again. I turn to take a breath to find it wasn't a nightmare but a dream.the fires burn inside as deep as the shallow water can be. Stranded in my head but alive as far as I go but not yet dead this life I feel this tranquil nightmare does it exceed expectations are does it fall into the fear.troubled inside this weak heart I feel this nightmare this dream of despair.

And as I see that the reality is finally the end of me. Beyond all the refuge. Is the life and death of this tranquil nightmare of this dream. It burns to the bone as I crawl down on my knees. I see the ocean now isn't shallow but is even getting more deep. To face the wrath. To take the plunge into my empty soul. To fulfill my every need. This tranquil nightmare has finally came and went now I can truly see.

To look in the mirror
You never change
Same hair style
You never change

Your life in turmoil
You just struggle on
That british stiff upper lip
You just carry on

You cannot control what will be
The hardship the good times
You never now when they will be
You just carry on

Daja vue been there done that
Your stuck in a rutt
You can't change your
Stubborn ways

You say you will
But you just carry on
The same old you

Message in a bottle
Harbored on golden shores
Forgotten words
Written long before

"To my lost soul
Please don't forget
A forever promise
To love and hold
The love of my life
My sweetest Rose"

For those who are lost
May love guide you home

As I stare into the mirror the more I look the less I see
What happened to the man that used to look out at me?
He was young and eager with the world at his feet
There was no such thing as "Impossible", just hurdles
Young and naive, these hurdles were quickly leapt over
Even disappointments in love were just small set backs
The heart mends and we move on to the next great love
And so we put on a different mask for a different life
We adjust to each other, reorganise our thoughts
Then marriage, this you think will last a lifetime, another mask
From lover to husband to father, another mask to wear
Ignorance is bliss, what would we do if we knew?
Knew of the pain to come, the shattered mask of despair
Who is this face that looks back out at me?
I no longer know who or what hides behind this mask
All I see is a blank staring face with dead eyes

The one eye demon is alive,
Tonight we drink tomorrow we die,
Let me share with you the secret,
The man on the moon is a lie!

The wolves were counting sheeps,
On the queen Elizabeth ship,
It was not to fall asleep,
But to take a penalty kick!

Love is not blind,
Hidden can't find,
I don't really mind,
Who is next on line.

Lingering (in foggy haze)

Silhouettes of lost souls

(basket people muttering)

Lingering

(as they always do)

Culture of poverty
holding up signs
will work for food
the barefoot children
HIV and hunger
the powerless mothers...

Lingering

Cult of personalities speak
(the politicians)
eager for answers we listen
to false hope.

Lingering

Embers dancing in the wind
and the Spanish Moss
that hangs from magnificent oaks
begin to hang like funeral draperies
that echo meaningless sighs...

Lingering...