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Dark Poetry Thread

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#81 Boots


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Posted 10 September 2017 - 05:34 PM


Damon was a sorcerer
He knew how to concoct potions
He could cast a magic spell
And cure disease with his lotions

He mingled with young creatives
They enabled his sorcery
In the hamlet of Adrian
The locale of fine wizardry

This lasted for four decades
Till he lost his vitality
Then he sought an apprentice
To pass on his great legacy

Damon found his apprentice
Who would conjure when he was gone
There was hope for the morrow
The magic would somehow live on

The apprentice was a lanky boy
Named Jordan at his christening
Though he had a humble upbringing
He absorbed almost everything

One day Damon sat in his study
As he read a sorcerer's tale
And when it was time for his breakfast
Jordan brought him rye bread and ale

The ale tasted sickly sweet
Like nothing he'd known before
It made him feel much younger
So he asked Jordan for more

Damon drank all day and night
Until he lost his clever mind
It became an addiction
The ale was a magical kind

Jordan slipped a rare herb
Into his master's sparkling ale
It worked its dark magic
Until Damon was deathly pale

The herb was a languid poison
That impaired the old conjuror
The apprentice tricked his master
And became the new sorcerer

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#82 JohnnyBlaze


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Posted 10 September 2017 - 06:02 PM

View PostBoots, on 10 September 2017 - 04:40 PM, said:


Peyton Manning was a behemoth;
He was never a pretty boy.
He dominated the field for years
And governed it like a viceroy.

Peyton was All American,
The burly leader of the pack.
Forever the fan favorite,
He was the people's quarterback.

He had everything he ever wanted,
A great mansion and a charming wife.
But for some reason he still wanted more;
There was something missing from his life.

His coach and his fans were relentless;
Peyton heard their phantom screams.
The clock was ticking away for him
Along with his hopes and dreams.

He tried to find some allies in Denver
And another Super Bowl ring.
He was supposed to be the game changer;
They thought he could do anything.

He drank a can of Heineken
As he sat on his patio deck.
The Dark One appeared before him;
He placed his hands around Peyton's neck.

The Devil shed droplets of sulfur
On the patio where he leaned.
In spite of his large, bulky stature,
Peyton was frightened by the fiend.

He said, "I know you, Peyton;
I can sense your greatest desire.
It dwells deep inside your heart
And burns violently like a fire."

Peyton asked, "How can you know me?
And where, pray tell, did you come from?"
To the dark beast who gripped his neck
Who could send him to Kingdom Come.

"I know more than the eyes can see,
And I can hear your innermost thoughts,"
Said the Devil in his terse way
While Peyton's stomach was tied in knots.

The Devil said, "What you covet most is
Another shot at the Super Bowl.
I have the power to help you succeed,
But you will have to give up your soul."

Peyton reflected for a long time
As the Devil relaxed his death grip.
He wondered if he needed his soul
And if his team were a sinking ship.

Then after much consideration,
Peyton made a deal with the jinn.
In his next season with the Broncos,
He would trade his soul for the win.

His game improved at lightning speed
As if he were a young buck again.
He rushed the field like a soldier,
And he had the strength of twenty men.

As the Dark One had promised him,
Denver made it to the final round.
Peyton was hailed as a hero;
A finer quarterback couldn't be found.

His team played like never before;
They put their opponents to shame.
The Broncos owned the football field,
And they won the Super Bowl game.

Peyton hoisted the trophy above his head,
But the Dark One returned to collect his soul.
The crowd gasped at the horror before their eyes,
This ghastly conclusion to the Super Bowl.

The Devil's cloak billowed behind him;
His glowing eyes and horns were a sight.
Black smoke filled the air all around him;
He stole the entire show that night.

It was quite an unfortunate ending
For a glorious, eventful day.
The Devil latched onto Peyton's helmet,
And then he carried him away.

[April 27, 2013]

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#83 Mr. Not

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Posted 10 September 2017 - 06:32 PM

The Breakup

I'm dead
That's it, I'm dead
What am I gonna do now? Die?
You're breaking up with me.
Three years down the drain, and for what?
I don't even know anyone else who I can date.
I'm dead, that's it.
Game over for me.

#84 Mr. Not

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Posted 10 September 2017 - 06:33 PM

Oh Man I'm So Angry

All around me are sheep
I just wanna put a bullet in each one of their heads
I feel the rage bubbling up inside me
Oh man I'm pissed off
Don't even look at me funny, or you're in for a world of hurt

#85 Mr. Not

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Posted 10 September 2017 - 06:35 PM

View PostAnalyticalEngine, on 25 February 2013 - 07:14 PM, said:

It's obvious that all poetry, when broken down, is about death...

(No its not that's just what pretentious and misguided High School English teachers say)

One of your English teachers said that? Good stuff.

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