Best Gore’s Writer’s Guild Presents: Gor-etry Contest

Best Gore's Writer's Guild Presents: Gor-etry Contest

Best Gore's Writer's Guild Presents: Gor-etry Contest

Hello there. Well, a little bit ago, Best Gore member Empty Soul proposed the idea of letting the members of Best Gore demonstrate their creativity by writing dark/gore-related poetry for the site as a new type of contest, much like our Caption This Photo Contest. What I saw was a predominantly positive reception to the idea. So here it is, my treat to you, the readers. Let your creative juices flow.

Originally, I was going to try and maintain a specific theme for submissions. Namely, gore and death topics. But I was thinking that “Death Metal” style fantasy writing would not be everyone’s cup of tea. Believe it or not, but some folks are turned off by such subjects as tossing fetuses into a giant meat grinder. So…Instead of enforcing a strict Brutal-Gore-Death-Kill! theme, I will let all writers submit a variety of work. Yes, Brokeback, if you really want to write a limerick about your dick, then feel free. Hung, if you feel the need to write a haiku about certain URGES, then go right ahead. Actually, speaking of haiku, Gorephan and IIP, I better see your asses on here at some point.

So, we’re gonna give this a try and see how it goes. If it’s an abysmal failure, we’ll just try to pretend it never happened. If it works, maybe we can make it an annual thing. But first, a little word on Plagiarism and Copyright.

As a writer, I take plagiarism very seriously and it will not be tolerated. Anyone caught plagiarizing will forfeit their stake in the contest (possibly all future contests) and be subject to public ridicule by their peers.

Since Best Gore is pretty much anonymous, some of you may wonder how to copyright your writing without showing millions of people who you are. Well, I can help you out a little. Before you submit, simply write it down somewhere else, sign it and date it. Then submit it. And Best Gore is also a first defense in a copyright claim. If you see your work months down the line on another site, under someone else’s name, you can point to Best Gore as having the actual date and time that the material was first published. Just some little things that might help you feel better about putting up something that has significance to you.

Being my contest, I cannot officially enter or win, but I will get the ball rolling.

Falling down
Sick of the sickening mortal coil
I’m wrapped around
My soul has spoiled
White noise fills my head
Whatever happened to trust?
Am I already dead
Life colored by rust

Falling down
Fear gives birth to rage
I wear my thorns like a crown
Red droplets on white pages
Torn volumes from my past
Erasing my own mind
A voice like broken glass
The words die in time

-obli

*In case you’re wondering, the image above comes from Laurie Lipton. A fucking god of pencil and charcoal, and one disturbed bitch. Check her out.

Related Gore:

199 thoughts on “Best Gore’s Writer’s Guild Presents: Gor-etry Contest”

          1. Went to the store,
            Butt fucked a whore,
            In her back door,
            Then got on best
            Gore,
            Then I got a beer,
            Lookin
            at there world,
            It looks rather queer,
            And is never dear,
            And is never near,
            So I laugh at it’s pain,
            For they would laugh at mine,
            So I’ll piss in a drain,
            Where the sun don’t shine,
            Cause I love the dark,
            And my mind is my ark,
            Keeps my head above water,
            That and a beer or a lager.

    1. Sittin’ here, an eigth,
      maybe nine-monther,
      overnitte, so late,
      mumbling I weight,
      showld I enter
      the Aware universe,
      under a banner of pole-traversed
      BBQ’d Asian whore?
      or click on puppy and leave Guest Bore?
      .
      .
      .
      Eurobabe galore,
      rightside click’n fuck,
      lefthand joints sore,
      any advice, Brokeback?
      Sexy.com, Punishtube,
      triple-intubates,
      rear-door lube,
      Girlie mouse starvates!
      Drivin’g me mad,
      (couldn’t call Brad)
      logging-in, heavy work
      turned into thick wad,
      just to post past-due homework,
      and (hopefully) hide porn ads!
      .
      .
      .
      Sunni,
      yesterday my world was gleaming with peace,
      today jew spread jewr Zio Zam’s piss
      and Jewllyhood-edible chop-suey,
      –givin’ some head
      the James Foley way;
      now, what narco-messages had said?
      “Esto les va a pasar”,
      shekel paycheck went through,
      Holly Alain’ Snackbar!
      Sunni, Sunni my love, go make my day
      rot in hell, godfuck jew!
      .
      .
      .
      Flapping their badges, or wielding their guns,
      crowds of sheeple, jewnited they stand.
      Some would wave, some would bark,
      at the unremittingly marching band.
      Leading the never-absent, stoic brother Mark.
      .
      .
      .
      Loved gory uncles, dear BG aunts,
      excuse those dummy connecting dots,
      words may come in bulkier lots,
      in eight, maybe nine months…

  1. If there were only repercussions, I?d welcome the judgement.
    I became a cold, dark void, an all pervasive image of the unspoken.
    In the flash of creation, there lies delusion and destruction,
    there is no love, only easy prey and self pity.
    Covered in the choking dust of fradulent mercy, all there ever was,
    was the agony of the ugly and lost;
    We both are useless garbage now and again, we look
    incurably for new illusions.
    In the screaming silence of the pitch dark,
    we float in the cleansing fire, awaiting the false hope of new life.
    But still, I?m not real, and wasn?t before, so what?s the punishment?
    What?s the promise?
    I never was more than the shadow of something I never desired.
    Now after I?ve entered this familiar dimension,
    the nexus of authenticity,
    the garden of mirrors shouts at my soul, and delivers
    an ambivalence of misery and bliss.
    But still, I?m not here, and never will, between the spheres,
    a mirage of an absent omnipresence.
    The past, the present, the future;
    The brain, the thought, the blind narrows of conceptions;
    Your words were deceptive, your devotion a camouflage.
    My revenge is a part of you now,
    in there is no shelter, just knowledge and truth.
    Quick with the trigger, oblivious, on a ride roughshod over yourself,
    you gave me the tools to finally enter my desiderated hell.

  2. I am not sure whether my attempt will be considered poetry or merely a short story due to lack of experience on my part but I will give it a go so as to encourage others still on the fence to have fun and try.

    (Farewell, Sorrowful loneliness)

    An open window, nature blows cold upon her place of rest,

    Her inner chamber, once a beacon of life now full of alcohol and pills,

    Her body shivers like a baby lamb on a cold winter night,

    Her sweat like dew drops, gliding down every shape; entering every orifice,

    The heavens stared down upon her mortal form; watching for any and all Earthly sin to unravel,

    The sweetest honey flowed from within; knocking at the door; only escaping once her desires are realised,

    Death was her promised one; her lover; her poisoned chalice. Lustful to the eye, irresistible to the touch; its icy grip stimulated her body like never before,

    Her sexuality was like a volcano. Intense vibrations; a rush of lava; an eruption of joy,

    Her body convulsed in the greatest of pleasure, her legs stretched far as she channelled every last bit of euphoria,

    Her once locked door now fully open, her bed sheets drenched by the aftermath of her desire,

    Her eyes now wide, the trembling subsides,

    The magma turns into molten rock, there’s no more movement from the clock; her eyes are empty; her time has stopped.

      1. @Obli,

        Thanks, but you don?t have to worry about giving credit regarding anything I say because I am usually drunk when posting in the late evening and so don?t remember half the stuff I say anyway.

        It?s good to try new things though, stagnation is the bane of gain.

  3. Ugh… Well i had fun making this one… But its as cheesy as fuck… šŸ˜ So… Screw it, here goes…

    Death is Death
    Some try deny it
    Who dares to hide it
    All born and fed
    Most lose their head

    Nights, days, months and years
    In every second, drops of tears
    Except for those who has none
    For they are dead, or they are gone
    With shut eyes, mouths and ears
    And the very end of their own fears

    Lived long or lived short
    It doesnt matter when it comes
    Let them be rich, or let them be bums
    Its just life turning distort
    And hope its last resort

    Painless or not, quick or slow
    Clean or dirty, or just for show
    Taking their last breath
    For Death is Death
    From head to toe
    Thats all we know

    It comes from nothing and sees no end
    No matter if you avoid it, or you intend
    Death is certain, and life is flawed
    So Hail your true God…

    …Death

  4. In the darkest corner of my cavernous psyche;
    I’m terrified of the evils that stalk me at night see;
    Madness creeps in and the bright red turns black;
    I think of the bodies I hid in plastic sacks;
    The normals they see me, but they haven’t a clue;
    That I’m nothing of the smiling girl they once knew;
    Amongst my brethren, congregated for gore;
    I’m no longer incognito, rather the deathfetishfemmale whore.

    1. I appreciate your words. They are very thought provoking of the truth many people feel every day. I don’t imagine that my response to your lines to be received well based on experience of reading the quality of thought that goes into many who write on this site; certainly many will call me a sheep and all else because what I wish to add here doesn’t follow the crowd of being a gore and depression addict. Perhaps though, some will realize that diversity of thought it what allows for any good thing from society, and surely it is at least the written intent of the authors and enthusiasts of this website that the whole purpose of best gore is to be a safe haven for unrestricted thoughts, coping with inner pains, and to not be restricted by “public opinion” of what is “socially acceptable”. I hope that anyone who wishes to flippantly comment on mine here would remember the meaning of the stripes they proudly wear as a best gore member and respect that I am one who has a different view of things; in the same way you all claim to have in frequenting and supporting the goal of this site.

      Here is what I thought of when I read your poem:

      Only, it is not here you end!
      It is not here, forever, you’ll be
      For one who loves you more
      Bled in Gethsemane.

      Our Glorious God
      Fought our same battle true
      It is Him who purges darkness
      Completely out of view.

      The evil side of Earth
      Not yet driven all the way out
      Would tell you not to believe,
      Claims death the only route.

      Listen not, to dark whisperings
      Listen not; that ghastly tune.
      For the ruler of space and time
      has prevented End and Doom!

      For the wicked of the Earth
      Will surely meet the fire;
      The fire they wished they had put out
      With pessimistic lies.

      But every mistaken wanderer
      Ultimately will know,
      Of one who loves him more than life
      Died, to protect his soul.

  5. Heads shall rise and heads shall weep
    Blood shall leak for those that are weak..
    The knife slices deep
    As the soul begins eternal sleep…
    Blood splatter mixed with intestine cake batter…
    The heart pumps blood for the last time as the chest cavity floods….

    Souldeath

  6. There’s a good looking guy who lives in a shack,
    he had a nice house but then broke his back.
    He then lost all his money, his friends and his wife,
    and all he could think of was ending his life.
    But after a while he met a new girl,
    who sucked his cock and tongued his knob with a swirl.
    He was finally happy and no longer down on his luck,
    all he wants now are more women to fuck.

  7. Weariness of Life

    Man will destroy himself
    I see it all so clear, now preoccupied
    with selfish intentions
    Not resting, to really think, how and why he is here
    Only to be maimed by other
    ignorance that contradicts his own
    A personal niche of this single world
    rarely ever changes
    Greed and hoarding
    To promote his upscale ranges
    Deviantly twisting minds with illusions
    of grandeur
    Leaving in content and unaware of
    the slander
    Yet, you will be back to try and recover the pieces of pride
    Start anew
    Gather mind and strength
    Insurgence is the lost key in regaining
    a solid conscience
    The ideal light is so dim, so distant
    It has left many in a black void and
    so very few ever recover at all
    Self pity, low morale
    Mutual bonds that
    cannot be shaken
    They only sit and wait, for this one
    person to come and they wait…

  8. Heads

    Heads with their intense significance.

    Heads with their utter worthlessness.

    Heads smashed on the concrete, removed from their necks by gods and monsters, imprisoned and set free by truth, filled with ideals, ideas, knowledge, lead, poison, stupidity, promises and lies to be rotting at the business end of a noose.

    HEADS, the reason why everything we know or can envision is doomed,

    and TAILS, why it doesn’t matter…

  9. A Thousand Screams.

    Tormented, the object of your ire.
    Each crime held, embraced deeply within.
    When your screams join mine, complete is the
    choir.
    Your time is up, I’ve had enough, the pain will soon
    begin.

    Through my twisted, tormented dreams.
    Upon you I unleash a thousand tortured screams.

    Do not cry mercy, for me there was none, pathetic
    how you cower.
    In this box my revenge I do hold.
    My death now complete, rest will my soul in this
    final dark hour.
    When the beat of your heart does cease and your
    body goes cold.

    Through my twisted, tormented dreams.
    Upon you I unleash a thousand tortured screams.

    ~Am0ur

  10. Gore
    Gore, gore we want more, day in and day out heads will roll, we watch in our nice beds as blood squirts and mud turns red.
    We will all be at the place with people with bloody face, singing gore gore we want more.

  11. She shot me in the gut
    I lay here bleeding out
    No whys or hows or buts
    No idea what shes pissed about

    She puts her gun to my head
    She really wants me dead
    I beg her “stop, please no!”
    Her name is… *BANG* she pulled the trigger so…
    Now you’ll never know…

  12. dark, bound ever tight
    we shift the fixating internal light
    wraped around flesh and bone
    spitting out arcane vibrations
    the growing pressure, your all alone
    bound we await our release
    mirrored self
    distorting the scene
    we awaken in the dream
    clarivoyance
    we dance and sing
    now crawl to me
    I see the strings
    I see the light
    let it bleed
    hold it tight
    trapped in a stasis
    watch colors explode
    your own creation
    abysm your all alone
    dark, bound tight
    in your own flesh and bones

  13. God has turned his back on you
    And now its to late

    know when you are sleeping
    I know when your awake

    I know what you are thinking
    In your head is where I wait

    I am the darkness to your light
    I am the end to your life

    From me there is no escape
    Your soul I will break

  14. Bungee Cord Rejection

    Jerking, jilted, peaceful melancholy falls forever.
    Plaintively Mother Earth rushes up
    to soothe the crushing betrayal.
    Someone is delighting
    and the crowd is becoming curious.
    Drawing close
    they gaze upon my broken heart.

  15. It’s been a while, but I’ll drag myself out of the shadows for this.

    Blank Verse-
    Brilliant blood spilled down my open wound
    My beating heart torn from my breathing chest
    A heart that is not of me resting here
    Here my hands hold another’s heart
    Beating as my heart would have was it mine
    Blood poured from my chest, longing for life
    The heart in my hands longing for love
    Then it strikes me, ‘this heart for mine,’
    I bring this foreign heart to my gaping wound
    Forging this dying heart in my open chest

    I have a short narrative as well I could submit, but I think it would be a little long to post here. Before I go to the trouble of posting a link, I’ll give you guys the first little bit:

    This place is strange. I can almost smell the fear and sorrow of those before me. The night attendant gave me papers to fill out to complete my admittance. The cool colors of the makeshift lobby are designed to calm. The large round desk for the attendants dominates the room, the section couch crammed in the corner where I sit hunched over a coffee table, trying to ignore the looming double doors next to me. The main difference is the medical equipment by the desk, the buttons by the doors that have to be pressed to open them, and the wide steel double doors that block the halls.

    “T’ings will bes okay. Not’ing can hurt you here,” the South African accent was thick, likely seeking to sooth the fear I must feel peering around the room. The fear I should feel.

    I felt nothing. I suppose I was in shock. Being frogmarched from my house by two officers to the awaiting ambulance with the cuffs biting my wrists still surprised me. I never thought I would be followed to my room, never thought anyone would be watching, never thought I would be tackled, never thought I would have to fight for my blades. It all shocked me more than my arrest.

    I finished the paperwork and the new attendants appeared. I never learned their names, merely followed to another room, removed my outsider clothing, let them catalogue my wounds, and put on the scrubs they handed me. They tried to hide sad, surprised eyes. They had seen a lot I knew, but I guess they had never seen someone like me.

  16. Life is a primrose floating on an open channel,
    Headed to the great wide open forgetting it’s many petals,
    Floating on and passing by,
    It’s fragile wings timbre with the wide open sky,
    Open again to the rain,
    Forgetting the names of a november pain,
    It bears the name of a million hairs,
    It calls the beauty of million stares,
    And reaches out to a million hearts,
    It beats on,
    Wanting more,
    Forever alone but passing many doors,
    It can’t feel,
    It can’t see,
    It knows no bounds like the open sea,
    It takes the veracity of a fiery wraith,
    It plunges into absinthe and a myriad of hope,
    Wanting and waiting for a peaceful hand to give it a rope,
    To hang or to tie,
    To live or to die,
    Life is death,
    You are swatter,
    And you are the fly.

  17. I thought id share this with you people. this was written by Dax Riggs from the band Acid Bath. its call The Beautiful Downgrade

    Fingered slowly like the first time you came
    The agents of oblivion descend upon the sane
    Caked with mud and mother’s blood
    Playing death games in the rain
    And we wonder how it feels to be free
    I thought I heard them whisper mutiny
    Living room rape scenes
    We cut their throats while they slept
    Dreaming and digesting shards of turtle shell
    The television’s blaring
    And the ghost of Hitler speaks
    Crowned with barbed-wire
    I smear my warm semen on the walls of my oppression
    I accuse God for the murder of eternity
    My everything that is nothing
    Christian propaganda and dog sperm
    Degeneration…
    The beautiful downgrade
    Do you remember the first sunrise?
    Sharpened bone clenched tight in your fist
    Screaming into the blue
    An urge to kill the sky
    I can smell the forest like pussy in heat
    Barefoot I run through the chaos
    The assassins of freedom tend the burning of truth
    As we walk these prison walls
    It’s maddening, always touching something

    by Dax Riggs

  18. Which are the scars that matter?
    Scars on skin or scars at home?
    Both the former and the latter
    Leave their mark inside the tome.

    The pain of one is welcome,
    But the ache inside is not.
    We are slashing flesh to feel some…
    Something more than rot.

    If healing ever happens,
    That would be the cruelest yet.
    Relief is harsh, misshapen
    When what we crave is depth.

  19. Writing an ode, for me is not easy,
    That is why this might sound cheesy.
    Trying to impress the Best Gore crowd,
    Talking shit is just not allowed.
    So with paper ‘n pen ‘n, time to think,
    I’ll try to write something that doesn’t stink!
    Should it be something about stinking Kikes?
    You know, those Jews that no-body likes.
    Or blood ‘n guts ‘n brains ‘n more,
    That’s why we love this site – Best Gore!
    I’ll rhyme about cops, US ones, with dread,
    Call them for help, you’ll be shot in the head!
    Two killers on bikes, guns in hand,
    Can only be one place – Brazil land!
    Car crashes galore, people lose their legs,
    Help me, they scream ‘n moan ‘n beg.
    Me? I come here, to laugh and chat,
    To members like @LF, who shows off her cats.
    Then there’s @boozer and @Am0ur and @Gnat,
    And @Hung and @Empty and @mamason and @Jack.
    @IS and @BTR and @ladybug and @Der,
    What happened to @Wicked Mama? I sure miss her.
    Then we have @blucon, boy, that guy’s on his own,
    Slowly though, on us he has grown.
    ’cause I wear my heart on my sleeve,
    Any I didn’t mention, will cause me to weep.
    So thanks to our writers @Obli and @Ate,
    @Treblar and @Acneska, we think you are great.
    To all those out there, take the leap,
    Forget MSN, don’t be a sheep!

        1. Thanks guys! Can you believe I actually forgot to put in @Brokeback? I felt so bad I wrote him his own, below, lol.
          I’m glad you took the time to read mine, I’m shocked I had this in me. šŸ™‚
          I feel bad about missing some others I like such as @Horrorgirl, @Justice, @thedre, @ladydeadpool, @uli, @YNEG, @blason etc.

      1. Haha, you would! I need to grow a harder shell, I keep thinking of others I wish I’d added too, It’s silly these are tough BG members, they’re not gonna care! @blayvier your name doesn’t rhyme well! lol šŸ™

    1. I am glad this contest served to be an impetus in bringing about the talented best side of you @tas .There’s an artist in each one of us .
      Welcome aboard the guild pedestal.
      Babe …….you are awesome

      1. Thanks @blucon, I hope you don’t mind what I said about ya, I didn’t lie! You have got a way with words that’s all your own šŸ˜‰ I know we’re cool, you sure have kept up with everyone, when others may have dropped out….well done. šŸ™‚

    2. @tas, I just KNEW you could do it. I’m honored to be included into your poem. Wow everybody, I’m really floored at how talented everybody is! And as far as Laurie Lipton, I saw her work last month in a gallery in Bevery Hills & viewing her art in person is really no other way to describe it but an “experience”….

  20. Today isn’t the time or place for tears
    sweet voiced Mother sat me down I’ve no fear
    I m not numb no white sheen no one’s my dear
    Its creepy ,shallow and hollow my mind’s clear

    Suddenly I find harder to breathe
    Someone’s calling out go get some wreath
    under the nightly sky its horror in white sheets
    stoic as always its over and beneath

    Dressed in my frock my gaze is your shock
    Darkest hour is here to take a stock
    conflicting visions but nothing is gonna stop
    silence has me in its grip its icy ;won’t elope
    lets out those screams Id listen in my dreams
    Like lullaby’s they’re some reams of dreams

    I can hear ” them spirits laugh, a cruel, cold cackle
    that’s freezing the air in its cold spot ,unshackled
    Neck to the jaws They nod I nod
    with no terror no frazzle
    From the downward up to the spiral its like my cradle
    And I want blood up to my tongue brim full in the ladle

    Today isn’t the time or place for tears
    sweet voiced Mother sat me down I’ve no fear
    I m not numb no white sheen no one’s my dear
    Its creepy ,shallow and hollow my mind’s clear

    Dressed in my frock my gaze is your shock
    Darkest hour is here to take a stock
    conflicting visions but nothing is gonna stop
    silence has me in its grip its icy ;won’t elope
    lets out those screams Id listen in my dreams
    Like lullaby’s they’re some reams of dreams

  21. Limbs, gore, and guts
    blood stained mud
    Fire , bullets and cuts

    Get your freak on
    Unsheathe your knife
    But leave the nads alone

    Jews, coons or booze
    Hate one or hate all
    Its whatever you choose

    Talk about your jizz
    Remark about dicks
    I dig the BG chicks

    Sever the fuck’s head
    Rip them to shrbed
    Then sleep sound in your bed

    Good night BG friends!

  22. Here is a poem ’bout Broke and his dick,
    on another site, t’would be considered sick.
    Not on BestGore, he’s one of our members,
    the size of his cock is what we’ll remember.
    He loves his viagra, he loves his pump,
    if you say it’s small, he’ll give yo a thump.
    He loves BG ladies, he’s really the man,
    he’s got us believing that he really can,
    satisfy us all, with an allnighter,
    he’s a lover, not a fighter.
    He asks all the girls,
    “show us ya tits”
    “go to hell” is what they might call.
    So Broke and his cock,
    will really go down,
    as the ‘dude with the dick’, in ol’ BG town.

  23. Well i’ll give my input on this one I guess. I’ve been a musician and songwriter for years so my entry is more structured as a song but here goes nothing!

    I call this “Rorschach”

    An existential threat.
    That permeates and manifests, hopeless.
    A permanent regret.
    It scars the tissue so we never forget, Now Focus;
    Just down the winding road.
    A crumpled heap of flesh and blood and bone,
    And in the depths below.
    We clasp and grasp at the air until we choose to let go.

    But what’s this fucking with me?
    Why’s this eating my heart out like a disease?
    And what’s the point of it all?
    From a cradle to grave, Fuck, spawn and repeat.
    Rape, pillage and breed.
    We fuck, spawn and repeat.
    Born to be buried.

    It’s just a pain in my head.
    When the voices stay and I pray that they will keep me sane.
    It’s just a little late.
    I’ve severed the nerves from the source of a world that causes pain. Just focus;
    Can’t stand your ugly ways.
    But I’m just numb with nothing relevant to say.

    What’s this fucking with me?
    Why’s this eating my heart out like a disease?
    And what’s the point of it all?
    From a cradle to grave, Fuck spawn and repeat.
    Rape, pillage and breed.
    We fuck, spawn and repeat.
    Just Born to be buried.

    So tell me, what do you see?
    Is it all or nothing?
    keep your eye on the prize.
    There’s no truth under lies.
    But tell me what will you get?
    Collapsing under the stress.
    The morbid truth that you find…
    I’ve told enough and I see through the disguise.

  24. Ship dead set
    For the land of dread
    I live my life
    And then I’m dead

    Logic abounds
    Then dies down
    Process repeats again
    And again

    Bodies twist and squirm
    Voices whisper and scream
    Nervous system yearns
    For stimulating dreams

    Bodies twist and squirm
    Voices whisper and shout
    Nervous system years
    For the soul to come out

    Ashes put in urns
    Vocal chords no longer shout
    Bodies come to terms
    For the soul to get out

  25. Death does not want me…it spit me back.
    It took from me but gave most of me back.
    I do not fear deaths promise of eternal peace for I have been there before and it is just unbroken sleep.

  26. I wish I was subtle, but here goes..

    Instrument prepared and primed for use
    Sweat and swirling guts, unholy deuce
    The hollow spike cuts deep through flesh and skin
    A flash of red and now I know I’m in

    A new sense that transcends a taste or smell
    Unholy deuce and others to expel
    Replaced with short term bliss and dreams and love
    Is this the Hell the elders warned me of?

      1. Thankyou Tazzie, I’m more of a song writer. I really enjoyed your verses too, especially the way you were able to sum up the BG experience so succinctly and with a touch of Aussie humor too. I’m one of those Kiwis who reckon you lot are ok.

        1. @leperjoose, thanks, mate. I warned mine was pure cheese and it was! You know I see Aussies driving around with car stickers saying “fuck off, we’re full” Well then I see Kiwis with their car/bumper sticker saying “too late, we’re already here” lol, I always say ‘that sticker is NOT aimed at Kiwis! We Australians are not usually bothered by Kiwis over here. They ALWAYS work!

          1. Lmao, awesomeness, I want one of those stickers on my wagon. NZ is crowdedwith gobshitegreenieswho want even more “refugees” so that we can be richer in mosques and burqa clad beauties

          2. I’m so glad you know who these ‘stickers’ are aimed at. There is even a polite one, Australia -We’re Full, ha-ha, I think I might burst into tears of rage if I saw a Muslim retort, you know a pic of a mosque and the “too late, we’re here” bit. It wouldn’t surprise me if they have them over East (Sydney way) I’m on the West coast, in the country, so I’ve only seen the NZ ones, thank goodness! šŸ™‚

  27. This is dedicated to all my lady SOBs…

    Tennessee Whiskey by George Jones

    “I used to spend my nights out in a barroom
    Liquor was the only love I’ve known
    But you rescued me from reaching for the bottle
    And you brought me back from being too far gone

    “You’re as smooth as Tennessee whiskey
    You’re as sweet as strawberry wine
    You’re as warm as a glass of brandy
    And I stay stoned on your love all the time

    “I look for love in all the same old places
    Found the bottom of the bottle always dry
    But when you poured out your heart, I didn’t waste it
    ‘Cause there’s nothing like your love to gettin’ me high

    “You’re as smooth as Tennessee whiskey
    You’re as sweet as strawberry wine
    You’re as warm as a glass of brandy
    And I stay stoned on your love all the time.
    I stay stoned on your love all the time”

  28. The reason Mary had a child was judas lacked protection
    As Joseph slept in judas stepped to make a love connection

    While Joseph snoozed he made his move to steal his wife’s affection
    For Mary this turns out to be a poor choice on reflection

    I suppose like me you’ve heard the tale immaculate conception
    Then how come Joseph’s willy nips its seeping with infection

    Mary your a little liar Jesus is a bastard!
    Judas had his leg over that night that i was plastered

    We flung a party Adam came he brought fermented fruit
    I thought I heard you say to eve that judas bloke was cute

    As we danced the night away I started to get tired
    I staggered to my bed of hay and for the night retired

    Woken from my boozy sleep I heard a woman scream
    I put it down to being drunk and thought it was a dream

    In the morning I had quizzed her did I hear you moan?
    She said she kicked sandals off n danced over a stone!

    Mary this charade is over it has run its course
    I’m leaving in the morning and I’m filling for divorce

    Mary many years have passed I hear your doing fine
    I heard your Jesus says a prayer and water turns to wine

    Mary if I only knew that I’d get drunk for free
    I would have claimed that little bastard did belong to me

    Mary please believe that I am saddened by your loss
    I heard they took the bastard child and nailed him to a cross

    I hear they took a crown of thorns and placed it on his head
    then they mocked him for the claims that he himself had said

    He bragged that he’d destroy the temple build it in three days
    Shouting I’m the son of God you lot should give me praise

    He cried out God please stop this torture please answer my calls
    Both my fucking hands are stuck and I’ve got itchy balls

    Hanging there with itchy balls it dawns his mums a fraud
    He’s just another peasant Jew and not the lamb of god

    Upon the cross a laughing stock deserted by his loyal flock
    He thought that God would tear the skies and off the cross he would be prised
    But too the cross he’s stuck like glue it’s only plus a lovely view

    In the end poor Jesus dies no intervention from the skies
    The moral is don’t trust a bitch at least in death his balls won’t itch

  29. Monsters

    I love monsters
    But not when they’re in my head
    I love monsters
    But only when they’re dead

    Why can’t I be
    What everyone else sees?
    Maybe I don’t want to be
    What BG calls a sheep

    I know I was born
    To a woman all abhor
    But it matters not to me
    As my gramps took me in you see

    Now BG is my second family
    Where I can say anything anonymously
    Whether or not anyone agrees
    I’m not here to please šŸ˜€

    P.S. Everyone has had such interesting poems & thanks @empty & Obli for making this happen!

  30. Some very good ones amongst those posted, an enjoyable read.
    I wasn’t going to but hey may as well:

    Why? Why this gore?
    For the red, guts and splatter or more?
    Some say, to scare
    Some say to know more
    Some say hey we were just bored.
    But a unity can be found here, a spark among shadow.
    We gather to feel together….
    That is why this gore.

  31. My 1st ever poem, gr.3
    Boxings like outerspace or mars,
    when you get hit you see many stars,
    Sometimes you see quite a few moons,
    when you get use to it, its like watching cartoons.
    hahaha, i know there was another para, butt i can’t recall it all.

  32. I don’t exist
    Maggots dance and twist, inside my organs
    He couldn’t resist
    Adding another dirty secret, another orphan
    I’m only telling you
    I’m dead under this house
    Because It is starting to snow
    And I’m worried I won’t be found.
    I know I wasn’t much
    I really wasn’t any
    But once I was cared for
    Once I was someones baby
    He tore my virginity to shreds
    He removed my clothes and had them burned
    And now I am under the patio next to his shed
    My skin blue, surrounded by worms
    A black plastic bag I lay in, now crushed amongst the trees
    I wonder what he will think of, when he thinks of me

  33. Excellent topic @Obli…

    I’m a big fan of poetry of all genres…

    Please do this ‘poetry contest’ again…

    I’m sure I’m not the only one who thinks this… Which is quite obvious…

  34. The last shreds of humanity in the hands of a Godless man.
    Staring at a cold and netherly abyss
    Only darkness drains his sanity then
    he thinks of all the wars he miss

    Perpetual torrents of acid ashes clouds the sun and sea
    The sky is a long forgotten tale
    The man doubts there ever was better than what he see
    He lay down to die solemn, frail.

  35. From dreams of tales of lore and gore,
    I have awaken.
    From the truth and freedom, I sleep no more;
    it has spoken.

    I was freed from the shackles of lies
    to which it bonded me to eternal slavery.
    I heard the loud freedom cries
    of those who bravely stood beside me.

    Brothers and sisters, now we know
    the time has come for us to show
    that we are not mindless, that we have our liberty,
    that we can think and choose for ourselves wisely.

    I raise a toast for all those who fought
    and also for those who sought
    to end this unreasonable tyranny
    so the children of our children can see the future clearly.

    I never was a poet lol but I am going to support you on this, Obli šŸ˜€ I just wanna say thank you Empty and Obli for this idea and an immense gratitude for those who entered. šŸ˜€ Thanks, guys! šŸ™‚

  36. I’m a very noob, but I saw this post, and just HAD to post one of my poems..

    “Burnt Skin”

    Breathing just to know that my lungs exist, & that I exist?
    solitude engulfs the flames fueled by fear and constant rage.
    Remains still.
    Not because the demons crave my blood, But because I give it up so freely.

  37. I guess since we are not being judgemental, I’ll contribute something. I don’t exactly follow the Shakespearean style of poetry, more hip hop/street poetry type of thing. Whatever, I hope the punctuations assist in cueing the cadence. If its not to your liking, don’t ask me to change it. I’m not trying to impress by anyone elses standards. Just creative expression, right?

    First comes the sharp pains, you try to ignore it,
    You went from snoring to clutching at your midsection, falling to the floorboards,
    Crawling through the dark, you feel it stabbing through your whole core,
    A solid note of pain, without that tiny break you hope for,
    You manage out a scream, to try and rouse the neighbors, so sure
    they didn’t hear it until they came bursting in through your door,
    You try to speak, but pain hits its peak, you start to freeze,
    a
    As you panic and you plead for any measure of reprieve,
    You never thought that anything could hurt as bad as this,
    Way too weak to fight it, but you still clutch your hands in fists,
    It feels like eternity before that ambulance,
    Comes screeching to a halt in front of your residence,
    The ride was just a blur, before you wake up feeling cold,
    I.V. pumping nourishment, a numbness in your bones,
    Curtains drawn around, like the stars above your head,
    Light displays a shadow show of the doctor’s silhouettes,
    It’s slowly coming back to you, why you’re lying in this place,
    When you quickly realize your stomach filling with the pain,
    As the monitor by your bed starts to beep a rapid pace,
    You struggle to sit up straight but get pinned by another wave,
    Suddenly, the curtains fly open, nurses rushing in,
    Reaches for a red button and ups the sedatives,
    You float back into a black void, suspended in your slumber,
    Thats your only escape from the attack that you’ve been under,
    Stabilized, a few days later, awake and fine,
    The pain subsided, but relief is slighted by a grim design,
    You never had an inkling in the blink that was your life,
    That you’re slowly being killed by the thing that lives inside,
    Now it turns into a daily struggle, enjoying whats left,
    Cashing in on life before you have to hand the stubs to Death,
    You find the worth of your life written in your doctors diagnosis,
    Because only the dead know the value of every moment,
    Live life, love long, at least you have that chance,
    Why live long if you don’t love life, I ask?
    Some long for a life to love, while theirs flies right past,
    As the ones who love their lives happen to die quite fast,
    And I love to see a life lived long at loves task,
    Because life isnt lived as long as you’ll find love lasts

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