Creepy/Dark Poems: A Macabre Literary Collage

Creepy/dark poem series

Jack the Ripper

I stalk the hazy gaslight streets and slums of East End Whitechapel London,

Clad in hat and cloak, identity a mystery to all, I am but a shadow lurking in the alley's, but a deviously handsome one at that

They call me a monster a butcher, brutal...but I just call it taking pride in my work,

Finding a victim, a nice "working" woman, whores we call them, maybe I hire them, maybe I use my charming personality and lure them?
only I'll know.

We take the back alley's nice and dark, secluded but just light enough to see what I'm doing,

I slit their throats ever so gracefully
as they choke on their own blood, unable to scream for help

I get to work slicing all the way down their abdomen with a nice mutilating gash,

So that I can really get into their guts and insides, maybe I'll just spew them about, maybe I'll just rip them out hahah,

By the time Scotland Yard finds the body I'll be long gone, and by the time I'm done the scene will make even the most hardened police cringe in fear,

They say it'll be brutal....but I find it rather artistic don't you?

It seems though they're rather slow especially their head detective Mr.Lusk and that's no good, I want them to know, to know that I did it,
I even sent him a letter, a letter from hell with a gift from one of my victims.

From hell

Mr Lusk
I send you half the
Kidne I took from one women
prasarved it for you tother pirce
I fried and ate it was very nise I
may send you the bloody knif that
took it out if you only wate a whil

Catch me when
you Can
Mishter Lusk.

They call me Jack the Ripper, but why do I rip?

Maybe I was hungry, maybe I was bored, maybe I wanted to refine my surgical skills, or perhaps I wanted to draw attention to the state of East End it's a rather depressing sight,

Or perhaps it will forever remain a mystery, I suppose unless you find me you'll never know.

Catch me when
you Can

Legend of the Sealed Kingdom

The sealed Kingdom is a horrifying place
where the Werewolves howl chills the blood and sends ripples of fear down your spine
a place that never sees the light of day but always the dead of night
a place were the screams of the damned echo through the spectral wind,
a wind that never feels warm but always an unnatural cold
like death itself is imbued within it,
and as the darkest part of the eternal night approaches,
the moon rises over the Fortress of the condemned,
and gleams its dreary light upon the kingdom making the land glow a ghastly silver,
just light enough to see were you are going...
But faint enough to not see what's hidden in the darkness...
the Birthplace of evil Land of eternal darkness,
this is the sealed Kingdom forever drenched in shadow,
hidden within the trenches of eternity, lost in the currents of dream
beneath the tides of time, lying broken in the cold, lifeless abyss
in the place of wolves, that roam betwixt mortality and mortality's dream
in a place of hidden demons that dance upon the winds of mystery
atop a lone mountain, assaulted through eternity by the howl of treachery
so lies the Sealed Kingdom, forever drenched in shadow,
and so lies the darkness that once dwelt upon the land.

The darkness that once breathed.
That once walked.
That once thought.
That now lies in slumber, awaiting the day,
when the eternal companion of darkness shall awaken anew
a companion by the name
of Fate...

Slumbering in shadow, the stars beam down faint light
In the moonlight, they respect the interlopers
in the darkness, twisted inside reality
people will now believe my story of.

The sealed kingdom, in slumber
the blood night keeps the morning dew away
The lost tale, of this damned place
will be sealed away, until its legend fades, then all...
will be true...

Beneath melancholy black clouds and above mystic black waters lies the Cursed Castle of Ages Old; the castle long abandoned by the living and captured by haunted souls of those not yet fully dead lies in a plane of forgotten time evermore. The sun has forgotten what that place looks like, and the darkness has erased the glory that once shone out radiantly from the splendid nation. Now it is little more than the sporting grounds of ghouls and monsters worse than can the dark woods hold. The dark stone road greets no travelers and the mountainous landscape conceals the skeleton of a castle from any would be adventurous soul who may by chance find the relic of a nation and wish to exploit it. Such places should never be found by such people, for certain agony is the only outcome. Shadows fade into darkness and mist vanishes into black rock. Such things should never be seen by men...

By a border of fear,
was a kingdom of cold,
sealed far away,
yet so very near...

Enter who may leave,
And leave all ye who enter,
for in the shadows
lies the spider's weave...

Across a barren land
Of death and sorrow
Fight or defend...

The darkness yearns
It lies in wait
To kill all that returns,
You fall to your knees in despair,
For your love lies behind the walls,
Never to be seen again,
Inside the Sealed Kingdom...

When the night is in peril,
Monsters come out.
The wolves howl,
And blood drips.
Always seeing the dead of darkness,
Never to see the moon.

The Darkness rules here forever more, the lorde who owned it died.
The castle still mourns it's owners death, and lets none but him in.
Perhaps the Darkness isn't evil.
Perhaps it needs a friend.
Join the Darkness, one by one, line up in your graves.
Let the Darkness come to you, let it be your slave.
Let no-one tell you that you cannot be.
Let them tell you not.
Instead just bring them to the shadows.
The Darkness will take their life.

This masterpiece was made possible by several writers myself included for writing their own sections of this legend



Asher Labrousse


Renee Nicole


Myself Evan Stokely Aka Phoenix

And finally Donavan Martinez for his section of it and for his brilliant idea to put all of our separate poems into one giant legend

The Poets Pain

Pain, depression and suffering have defined poets for well over a century, the poets pain, our pain manifested into words upon parchment.

The mark of a poet is how much he has suffered for his craft

it's funny though what inevitably destroys us is also what makes us known.

It is our untimely demise that opens the worlds eyes to our presence
in the first place and it happens in a myriad of ways.

Sometimes we are driven to madness by our own creations or subjected to depression and on rare cases insanity, such are all the cases
with H.P Lovecraft and Edgar Allen Poe.

And sometimes you're like me standing standing in the middle of the perfect storm, teetering on the edge of madness and insanity wondering should I delve in?

That is the question we as poets and writers must undoubtedly ask ourselves one day when on the edge of madness do we let it take us? do we continue on,

Continue on writing in blood n tears and flame like agony
that sears and licks our flesh like the flames of hell,
to continue reaching our shadow stricken hands into the dead of night,
To pluck dead the abyss, to drag from nightmares,
And dark corners were lunacy and madness lie curled
to bring shape and form to monsters and things of nightmare?

But at what cost, our lives, our souls? do we just stand there, always teetering on the edge,
fighting it back for the rest of our lives always standing in that crossroad of shadow and light, boarding two lives, two paths
or do we finally conquer our demons and nightmares and step out of the shadows, out of the madness if one can and finally be in the light?

time will tell....time will tell for us all.

For that is a poets curse, a poets pain..

Enjoy ! and now two funny memes just because


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